Yangshuo: 4 Days, One Post

OK, so back to things we’re actually doing. Or, well, things we’ve already done; I’m catching up, so this is going to be a long one.

After we chowed down in Guangzhou, we jumped on a sleeper bus to Guilin, from there to catch a bus to Yangshuo. Apparently, “sleeper” is a term that is short for “bus on which you can sleep with medicinal aids or perhaps blunt force applied to the head.” Fortunately we had the former, which would have made the latter imperceptible. The road between Guangzhou and Yangshuo is a tour de force in pothole frequency and depth, and at times it felt as if we were on a boat pitching in high seas, sans the ocean spray but avec unsatisfying air conditioning.

While we were expecting to endure a 13-hour ride to Guilin, we were awoken at hour 9 by a couple of Chinese yucksters who saw our Western faces as marks. One shouted at us that we were in Yangshuo, the “tourist paradise.” As I mentioned above, we had thought we needed to disembark in Guilin and take another bus before arriving in tourist paradise, so this was welcome news. After we had verified with other passengers that we were, in fact, at our desired port of call, we exited our vessel at 5:30 AM, still groggy from the pills (one of which Claire had just ingested), and clueless as to our position in the city. The yucksters clearly were hoping that we were without a hotel reservation, which would allow them to book us in a room of their choice for a sum of their choice. Unfortunately that didn’t work out too well for them, and we were let into our already-booked hotel with only the small penalty of being ripped off by a taxi.

Yangshuo was pretty much the ideal backpacking experience; it combined breathtaking scenery with a friendly traveler’s community. Let’s take it day by day:

Evening of August 19th: Saw the spectacle “Impressions: Liu Sanjie,” a Chinese musical with a cast of 600(!) performed on a river, and directed by Zhang Yimou, the dude who directed the partially-CG Opening Ceremony for the Olympics. I can’t really explain how grandiose and bizarre this performance was, my pictures or the available YouTube links don’t really do it justice. It featured countless singing little girls in jangly suits, torches, hundreds of sampan, and a naked woman running up and down on what looked like a banana.

August 20th: We were lucky enough to bump into our friends Ben and Kristen, making this the 3rd time we had bumped into them, the first 2 in Guangzhou (having the same guidebook helps). Lovers of travel in China and conical hats, click here for their blog. Leaning heavily on their command of Chinese, we rented bikes and cycled out to Moon Hill, a peak from which we could get a 360-degree view of Yangshuo’s karst topography. The peaks are simply everywhere, jutting up at absurd angles and making every turn around a bend a chance for a snapshot, which Claire unfailingly took.

August 21st: After the exhaustion of the bike ride and approximately 770-step hike up Moon Hill (steps admirably counted by new friends Ali and Mario, whose Spanish-language traveler’s blog is great and can be read here), we decided to take it easier and enjoy a raft ride down the Li River. Upon arriving, we were greeted by the ever-present aiyi (spelling unknown), unflappable touts who try and sell you whatever service or chintzy item is relevant to your status and position. And when I say “try” to sell, I mean “pester until you give in and buy, even to the extent of chasing you halfway up a mountain.” Fortunately, we had booked in advance, so we were treated to a relaxing ride with views like this with minimal hassle.

August 22nd: We had vaguely planned to cycle down the Yulong River, but we ran into our friends Ali and Mario in the morning, who let us in on a swimming spot they had fallen upon the day before. After a few false starts and a lovely lunch in a family’s home along the trail, along with Ben, Kristen and our newest new friends Mark and Alice from the Netherlands (we made lots of friends in Yangshuo), we ended our cycling here. This small spot on the Li River was simply idyllic; surrounded by peaks, with bamboo rafts floating by, warm water suitable for cooling off in the 90-degree heat, a rickety water wheel, and 12-year-olds vending beer. In all, there were about 15 of us there, all travelers who had found the spot after getting lost, or heard about it from others who did. If this was in the US, it would have been roped off, admission would have been charged, and it would have been packed with tourists. When the sun began to set, we cycled back together, a team of 6 Americans, 1 Chinese, 2 Mexicans, 2 Dutch, and 4 Italians. With the exception of Claire almost cycling off in an unknown direction after getting waylaid by 2 glamour-seeking Chinese girls, this was a day that backpacking is all about, and simply beyond price.

I’ve written too much now. I have a lot more in my head, but it will have to wait a few days, since we’ll be likely out of internet range for a bit at Tiger Leaping Gorge. Looking forward to filling you in, oh those who were brave enough to read this entire post. As a reward, here's Magic Claire.