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It is a little before midnight as I look up from my book and decide it is time to call it a day. Walking to the window, I gaze up at silhouetted cliffs surrounding us. The air is filled with the sound of frogs and crickets; a smoky aroma wafts across the street from a brick hut somewhere down the road.
This is the first time during our eight months in China that I have felt isolated from the never ending crowds.
We arrived in Xingping this morning…
Leaving Guangzhou a couple of days ago, we take the fast train to the city of Guilin where we spend two relaxing nights. On our first night we meet an artist who shows us some of his incredible paintings and collectibles while sharing with us a sweet tea made from the flowers of the Osmanthus tree. Guilin is known for its beautiful scenery and his paintings were a reflection of that.
As we leave our artist friend, he directs us towards the Sun & Moon Twin Pagodas about a mile down the road. We walk in the warm night, until there in the middle of Shan Lake, we are
greeted by the sun and moon pagodas soaring high from the calm, dark waters. The towers are perfectly lit in silver and gold. From there we continue down a meandering pathway, crossing footbridge after footbridge while enjoying the scenery illuminated up by thousands of hidden lights. We feel quite relaxed and feel as if we could walk forever.
The next morning it is time to move on, and in the early morning drizzle, we are driven to the pier where we catch a boat that will take us 83 kilometers down the winding Li River. The five hour trip takes us among some of the most incredible views in China, with soaring karst peaks rounded by millions of years of erosion.
At the end of our river excursion, we arrive in the town of Yangshuo, comfortably nestled in a scenic valley. Dating back 1400 years, the town has only recently become a tourist destination, its main street lined with kiosks, small shops, restaurants and boutique stores. After lunch overlooking the old stone road, we catch the public bus and make our way to our final destination, Xingping.
As the battered local bus bumps along twenty-five kilometers of
broken road, we begin to feel that we have finally found China. Tiny plots of farmland line the sides of the road and extend to the base of the mountains; old farmers work the land, hunched low after decades of toiling under the hot summer sun and high altitude winters. We have stepped back in history; oxen are still used to plow the fields and poor country folk wade through angle-deep mud harvesting their crops. The chickens that share the bus with us cluck knowing that tonight they will be the main course for these hard working families.
We are no longer amid the hundred story skyscrapers that fill the big cities; these poor farmers live in brick huts with nothing more than a cot to sleep on and a fire to cook over and keep warm. The fortunate ones have power and sometimes even a television; in most cases the picture of Chairman Mao adorns the walls of these tiny houses, a reminder of the Communist revolutionary who established the People’s Republic of China. While the city people remember Mao as the dictator responsible for the death of as many as seventy
million Chinese and the destruction of
traditional Chinese culture, the farmers remember him as the leader who modernized China while driving out international imperialism.
Upon arriving in Xingping, we wander the empty streets, finding it hard to believe that we were still in China. Where are the people? Where is the noise and garbage littering the streets? Instead, we find empty streets dating back hundreds of years and occasionally we stumble across an open doorway where an old family is peddling local foods and art.
Eventually we find our guest house, one of only four small accommodations in the town. This street is slightly busier and we happily search for a place to eat and relax with a drink. As we sit enjoying our tea, we hear the loud sound that we are so familiar with. As the sound grows louder, fifty or sixty young Chinese people stream by dressed in high heels and formal clothes; they are led by a tour guide, and as the day passes, we notice more and more of these groups.
This is the new China and we quickly realize that this tiny, sleepy town will only exist a few more years before it too is engulfed by
Chinese tourism. With their new-found money and billions of people to spend it, China is quickly destroying what was and creating nothing more than replications of every other town. The locals, however, are excited about the prospects of rising from their impoverished lifestyle and we are reminded that it is all a matter of perspective.
After retreating from tour bus central, we enjoy the remainder of our day immersed in the scenery and quiet streets. We walk along the river and stop at many of the little authentic shops; it is just what we need.
* * * * *
My eyes are heavy. It is time to sleep. Tomorrow we leave this peaceful town and make our way back to Guangzhou and the fifteen million people that surround our home. Xingping is a town we will remember fondly, though we know in a few years it will never be the same.
As I drift off, the sound of frogs and crickets sound like a symphony of nature. Tomorrow we will be gone, but the memories of this moment will linger forever.
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Dancing Dave
David Hooper
Guangzhou -v- Xingping
I'm understanding more and more. As you live in Guangzhou I kinda get it how Xingping can pervade your soul. Having traveled in 16 provinces in China so far I am constantly amazed with its massive population how many places you can be alone in China...yet once alone how soon before someone stumbles along. Lots of such areas in Guangxi I'd expect. Must be somewhat surreal to be in Xingping and suddenly a tourist hoard following a tiny flag held aloft can dash the serenity.