Yangshuo - A Karst Of Thousands.
Trip Start
Mar 03, 2005
1
6
235
Trip End
Ongoing
Yangshuo,
China
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Cute is a word that should be used to describe kittens, not towns. Actually the 'Hello Kitty' umbrella that I accidentally purchased the other day in Nanning and wandered round town with for an hour before I realised it had 'Hello Kitty' on it, was also cute, but horribly unmasculine - anyway I digress... If the word cute could be used to describe a town, then Yangshuo is that town.
This majestic part of the world is very tourist friendly. Even the tourist touts who normally try and flog you the worst hotel in town, are generous in their advice. West Street is THE place to be in town, with cafes that sell world-class lattes and guesthouse hotels that are a steal for $15. Chinese lanterns are abundant hanging from restaurant balconies. My scheduling is officially upset as I intend to stay here longer than I guessed.
As I arrived in Yangshuo I was met at the top of West Street by Miki, who is a 4 foot 4 local lady, who doubles as a tour guide and general help around town. I'm usually skeptical of this kind of thing, but for some reason I figured she was too short to be dishonest, so when she said she'd help me find a hotel I said yes. Indeed, she did assist in taking me to a great place, and actually refused any cash for the service. That convinced me to take a bicycle tour of the Chinese countryside with her the next day.
After hiring a very decent Giant Mountain Bike (the brand Giant, not some enormous Jack and the Beanstalk style contraption) with multiple gears, shocks, and brakes that actually worked, I headed out of town in pursuit of Miki. She was skeddadling off into the distance on a machine that was brand new sometime in the early 70s.
Miki lead me through small pathways in the backblocks of Yangshuo county that I would never have found them on my own. They might have been filled with potholes, orange muddy clay, and regularly kicked up sodden Water Buffalo poo onto my legs, but these rural streets were not something that I'd be finding on some Government run tour. It was truly a unique way of seeing some real bits of China.
One of our stops was at (another) underground cave network. Miki sent me in with a guide, and a torch, and a two litre ice cream container on my head that was apparently a helmet. This was remarkably disappointing considering I thought there was at least 3 litres of useful mush floating around in my noggin. It wasn't until I got into the cave network that I realised that it wasn't like the previous fluoro-lit tourist bonanzas I'd previously been in. This one had very little lighting, with the majority of brightness being supplied by the globe and car battery construction that the guide and I held over our shoulders. Things were relatively swell until about 100 metres in, when the cave shrunk in size, and shrunk some more. Soon enough the guide is assuring me that crawling down throught a 75 centimetre high hole, 100 metres into the earth, dozens of metres below the sea level, with a two hundred metre high limestone mountain over my head, was actually a sensible thing to do. Given my height, the proportions simply weren't adding up - I couldn't limbo that low. I decided that heading in that particular direction wasn't a great plan, and asked the guide to take me back in the opposite direction to another part of the cave.
He shrugged his shoulders, told me "you decided" and off we went towards the underground river at the other end of the cave network. Soon enough we were once again pressed up against the cave walls, squeezing through tight spots that were lower than half my height. Soon enough I wasn't sweating profusely with nervous tension. Soon enough I'd chickened out again, and told the guide that it was time to go. I wouldn't call it claustrophobia, as its not really natural for a lanky Australian to be crouching in a space fit for a dwarf, with a few thousand tonnes of limestone balancing over your head. But it was freakin' me out.
Back in the real world, and Miki lead the way again out to her family's house for lunch. The family lives in a small village sitting under Half Moon Hill, about 12 kilometres from Yangshao town. In all, 16 people from the family live in three small houses, with Miki, her husband, and daughter and baby son in a mudbrick three room house. I got to meet Miki's husband, father, mother, and her baby son who's name was 'Dung'. I didn't have the heart to explain to her that she'd named her son after animal droppings. I could only hope that she hadn't named her daughter 'Dag'.
I remember being taught at school about the 'One Child Policy' in China. When the population cracked the 1 billion mark, they needed to kerb the population explosion. It did result in a large number of female babies mysteriously 'disappearing' at the time, because there was greater value for the family when the one baby born was a son. Things have changed now - if you are from a rural community, and happen to have a daughter as your first born, you can then re-enter the kiddie lottery by having a second child. Many hope for a first born daughter, followed by a second born son. Miki and her husband hit the jackpot.
I've got to admit I was a little apprehensive with lunch - there was meat involved. I had seen the cute puppies (ok then puppies, kittens and towns can be cute) running round the village. Miki told me it was "Pork". I did say I was vegetarian as not to offend by not eating the meat, but I did hoe into the vegies, egg and rice, and it was all pretty tasty. My stomache will confirm sometime tomorrow morning if all was above board.
Miki has spent the last few years teaching herself English, so she can be a tour guide, and thus make extra money for her family, who are rice farmers. Much of the extra money goes to her children's education, which costs around 1000 Yuan a year. One of the most rewarding things I've even done was spend half an hour with her after lunch, teaching her a few new words.
Back on the road for a while, followed by a stop where I climbed to the top of Half Moon Hill to look down into the valley below, where Miki's village lies. Then it was time to return to town, and wash some of the Buffalo shit from my calves. On the return journey, Miki suddenly looked worried, and slowed down and motioned me to keep going. A few minutes later she caught up again, having a bit of a chuckle. Apparently we'd passed some Government officials who were on ther lookout for 'unofficial' tour guide types. Miki told me "Government Bus. If we see them you tell them you no have tour guide ok. Or I have to give them money". It appears that if you're an official tour service, then you have to pay taxes. But the unofficial ones keep it hush hush and thus keep all of the cash. Unwittingly, I'd committed my first crime under a communist regime, by assisting Miki in tax evasion. Danger, is my business.
It's chilly here in Yangshuo. I've had to pull out the beanie to wear around the town at night, as its dropped to below ten, with a nippy drizzle in the air.
I decided to hit the road again by grabbing another Mountain Bike and attempting to follow my nose to Fuli town, a village about a dozen clicks from Yangshuo. Thankfully I ran into Miki again. I asked her for directions, hoping that it was just a matter of getting on one road, and getting off that road when I reached Fuli. She chuckled that it was actually more difficult than that, and said she'd help me out. The road did indeed have more forks in it than the Wilshire cutlery factory. Miki took great pleasure in asking me which road I would have taken whenever there were options - and I was shooting at about 40% accuracy on them by the time we got to Fuli town, meaning that I would have got completely lost without her guidance.
The countryside here is superb. Jade rivers with limestone hill backgrounds are everywhere. If it was a cave, the opium and MSG effected Chinese sign would say "Emerald Green Mother Earth With Bad Acne", as the karst hills dot the landscape as far as the eye can see.
I spent a few hours over a dessert chatting to some local students who were keen to try out their English skills on me. They did tell me some mythical Chinese fable about the weather changing tomorrow for Spring. I kind of nodded and stuff in a skeptical yet non-demeaning manner...
The morning arrived to bright sunshine. I haven't seen the sun for two weeks now, so its rather a special event. It does appear that indeed spring has sprung, and the fable wasn't the yak-poo that I thought it was. Not one to be defeated, I made a third attempt to cycle around the countryside, this time vowing to follow my own nose. That lasted about 10 minutes, when I had to tag along with a couple of English travellers, who seemed to know where they were going, as I simply didn't. They pointed me to the correct road to Gao Tian town, about 10kms from Yangshuo, on country pathways that with yesterday's drizzle and today's sunshine, were the consistency, color and stickiness of crunchy peanut butter.
I arrived in Gao Tian to the sound of World War III. It seems that, the locals are very excited about the arrival of Spring. There were dragons and lion costumes being paraded round the town square, with fire crackers being let off. About twenty crackers would be stuck together, and then once the end was lit, the crowd would hurl these at the heads of the dragons and lions. Given that there were dozens of people all throwing crackers, with each lit firework containing twenty or so crackers, and each dragon and lion costume containing a real-life human being, I quickly established that these buggers are completely stark raving mad. The poor sods in the costumes were being bombarded with explosives. I was on the perimeter of the crowd, and occasionally I was being showered with sparks and bits of exploding ordinance. If you were in a costume you were in the thick of it, with people throwing lit gun powder at your head.
If each individual cracker that went off indicated once piece of fruit or vegetable from this year's harvest, then Gao Tian town is in for a bumper crop. And some significant hearing difficulties in the future.
Perhaps it was the sunburn that I managed to subject my forehead to, giving me a rosier glow than yesterday, but my final day in Yangshuo appears to have somewhat turned me into a celebrity. I was stopped a number of times by Chinese tourists, to have my photo taken with them. There was the regulation one arm over my shoulder with the other giving the 'V' for victory sign, giggling Chinese girls and backslapping Chinese men. After my al-fresco dinner was disturbed for the third time, I turned around to the waitress who was cracking up. I asked her if I looked like a chinese movie star or something - she chuckled and said "you very handsome man!". I like Yangshuo. They have some very intelligent tourists here.
Not quite as good as 'sexy man', but 'handsome' man will suffice.
