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On the basis that I felt I was steadily improving I risked booking a trip down the River Li, the key attraction of Guilin, for the next day, Tuesday. It was an early start with a pick-up from the hotel, where I met Short(?) from Holland and Ben from California. I ended up spending pretty much most of the day with them despite the Tour Company managing to conjure up every foreigner in Guilin for tour party of some 40-50 people. Where were all these guys hiding? In two days I had, perhaps, seen only 2 western faces! So this felt particularly 'manufactured'. I also sat with a couple from Calgary in Canada, who I kept bumping into over the next few days.
I have to admit, the background sound of western voices provided a comforting change to the aural bombardment of Manderin, it sounded slower, calmer, and of course recognizable, thought there were few English voices.The boat left from a pier 30 mins down stream, Lee had previously told me that I was very lucky as there had been very little rain prior to the big snow fall to hit China, so it was only in the last couple of weeks that the water levels had risen high enough to make the trip from near Guilin, otherwise it would have been several hours down stream. The boats, maybe three or four, all seem to leave in convoy, a few hundred metres apart, they stand three storey's in height yet appear to float quite comfortably in only a few feet of water, it was had to imagine what the dry period looked like as we barely floated above the rocks on this wide shallow and snaking river.
Standing on the open top deck is where most of us spent out 41/2 hours, watching the lives of poor Chinese farmers, fishermen and towns folk eak out a living set against scenery that was hard to accept really existed. The limestone peaks that surround the river had a haze cast across them all day, even when the sun finally appeared later in the journey they maintained an ethereal quality, a painted set from an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, 'Lost on the Li'. The edge of the river was, to my surprise, remarkably well manicured, often with cut and shaped limestone walls supporting the grassy banks beyond. Lone villages occasionally traversed the slow moving river standing on elongated bamboo rafts, simply strapped together with twine and wearing traditional clothing and broad rimmed straw hats. It was almost too good to be true, this was the picture of so many Chinese pen and brush black ink prints mounted on silk I have seen, tall outcrops of oddly shaped limestone pinnacles plunging into a misty river scene while fishermen toil in the foreground. It's all true! These days the odd slightly more sophisticated bamboo raft whirs by, Chinese 'speed boats' sporting an outboard and a shallow extended prop' shaft to facilitate the shallow water.We stood on deck and clicked away, but it really was more than the sum of its parts, it just could not be captured by camera, so we watched, let it soak in, and shot the breeze.
We eventually arrived at Yangshauo, a small town and termination point for the cruise. I think at one point, perhaps 10-15 years ago it would have been a really lovely place, but the tourist bombshell has been dropped, and it can never be rebuilt the same again. Initially, on the dock, it's just the usual hawkers selling there wares, even a Cormorant Fisherman displaying his birds, interestingly they still fish with two trained birds off a bamboo raft, sending the tame Cormorants into the water to bring back fish, a tightly fitting ring around their necks prevent them from swallowing their prize, though the odd one is permitted thus creating a perfect symbiotic relationship? I understand it's been common practice here for hundreds of years.
However, extending from the dock is 'West Street' a pedestrian route directly into the centre know for it multi-cultural mix of shops, bars & cafes. All a little too much Blackpool for me (apologies Blackpool) but it was just odd for this setting. Again here, as elsewhere, the local tradesmen are persistent but always remained pleasant and good humoured despite the regular rejection. The guide only allowed the remaining four travellers, everyone else was stopping a night or so here, an hour, I think he was a little put out he couldn't sell any additional 'tours' for the afternoon.
The coach entering Guilin, veered off course, to our surprise, was an unannounced scheduled stop, a Pearl factory. I really think they were anticipated a large gathering from the 50 seat coach that pulled up, rather than 4 tired, and scruffy backpackers. We were directed into a large smart air-conditioned marble clad room with, in the centre, a long red carpeted catwalk. What proceeded was a series of glamorous Chinese models wearing long evening gowns, and of course Pearl jewellery, parading themselves with as much style and verve that Jodie Kidd or Kate Moss ever did. Quite a treat!Though, the payback was the showroom where we were asked if we would prefer to look at the expensive or that economy Pearls. But before doing so we were asked to see if we could choose the fake set from four sets laid out in front of us on a velvet cushion. To my embarrassment I was the only one who failed to tell the difference, though it did present me with the best opportunity to claim buying one would surely be a waste of money!
Later that evening I met up with Ben at a bar in Guilin, and together with Yvonne (a Frenchman) and Todd, an American from Chicago we ate the best meal I had eaten on my trip. All local fare; chosen by and to our good fortune, a Chinese speaking Frenchman. It was a truly extensive dinner, including local fish cooked in a large dish on a stove on the table. Together with beers included we paid only 2GBP each, at last Chinese prices!
The evening ended in a basement bar that would not have looked out of place in Soho, drinking beer and playing the local dice gambling game, of course loser takes a drink!
Wednesday started early again, this time I was picked up by the lovely Sara, a girl from one of the many Minority groups that inhabit the surrounding areas. She had been plucked out at an early age as part of a sponsorship programme and had been formally educated courtesy of a couple of American benefactors. In return for her good luck she had worked hard, qualified from University and joined the tourist board now as a guide taking people to visit and to interpret the lives of her ancestors. Naturally she was informative to be with but also a joy as she possessed genuine enthusiasm and passion for the traditional way of life of the Minority Groups.The mountains we visited are two hours drive from Guilin and the coach was crampt and uncomfortable. The predominately Chinese contingent, bar me and two French Canadians, Norman and Louise, endured risk to life and limb on the road to Longsheng. It was best not to look at the on-coming traffic it was really scary, especially when we would occasionally swerve; you just knew that was close!
The first village we arrived at, located at the base of the mountains we were corralled together after a short meander through the streets to witness the 'natives' perform. Little did I know at the time that I was to take part in the planned wedding ceremony! Sara selected both me and a Chinese member of the party and we were taken aside and dressed appropriately for the occasion. It was necessary for us to purchase the betroval 'bangle' for 20 yuan, with which we were to wed our chosen brides (yes, we were allowed to choose) though I'm not sure if I was her first choice as a barely managed to get a smile from her during the event! The last little bombshell that Sara failed to mention was that the Groom had to sing a song to his intended, inner panic broke out, much like it does with me during University exam time, and my mind went blank! During the preliminaries all I could think about was 'what song!' I looked around the room and as there were no native English speakers around I thought I could perhaps wing it with pretty much anything. When the time came with a hushed sound of expectation from the 'Westerner' I launched all that came to mind……Twinkle Twinkle Little Star! I have to say, much to my surprise for an out of tune rendition the song went down very well, though I noticed the two Irish girls standing in the corner from another party were cracking up! In all the years I didn't imagine getting married I never thought my words of undying love would be expressed in such a simple nursery rhyme.
The road steepened from this point, so it was necessary to change to a local coach, our old bus really wasn't man enough for the climb. The final 20 minute surge to Lonsheng village of was by foot, which should have been a wonderful experience, except that the route was lined with a series of small timber kiosks with local tradesmen giving us the hard sell. Interesting for 20 or 30 metres, but tiring after that. Fortunately the kiosks fades away as we approached the hamlet of timber framed houses perched on narrow posts either side of a steep rising valley. The appearance was much like the Swiss Alps, with wide cantilevered roofs almost over-sailing each other as the pathway weaved its way through the narrow alleys and up steep stone steps. Although the structures are timber, the roofs are clad in a natural clay tile baked in ovens and providing a rich and diverse range of textured terracotta surfaces.
Halfway through the village we paused for a lunch on local foods basking in the winter sun now well above the cool grey clouds that overlooked the valley below. Norman, Louise and I chatted as comfortably as old friends, perhaps the distinct cultural differences of our fellow travellers combined with the shared experience of this trip had brought us closer together and we spent a pleasant hour acclimatising.
The final ascent above the village see the full extent of the work of the Zhuang Minority over the several hundred years it had taken to form the landscape around us necessitated a walk along a narrow stone path and up steep stone steps cut into the hillside. I was aware that apart from stone crossings over the stream or between houses, there was no a single 'green' space available for leisure. Every spare space was terraced and planted. Children played on the steps or between houses, there was nothing wasted. However, the romantic vision of the picturesque was not perfect. Civilisation through mass tourism was permanently changing the architecture and the lifestyle of the people who inhabited Ping'an. Small local hotels had recently sprung up, converted houses accommodating an increasing and diverse range of tourists all with demands for all things western, from Pepsi to the Internet. Even here in this isolated and primitive looking place we could not escape. After a relaxed and unburdened lunch the final ascent brought out the local hawkers, persistent in their selling of postcards and embroidery, though always with a toothy smile and a warm 'hello' (one English word that every Chinese person I encountered seemed to know) It was the constant good humour that made it bearable, with many old costumed women laughing as you refused their advances, which included walking hand in hand with me for a while.
As we rose above the enclosing valley the full extent of the 'Dragons Teeth' could be seen, as far as the eye could see east and west and across the deep valley from where we has started the journey. The hills shaped as I remember my early efforts as an architecture student, layer on top of layer of card or cork with each subsequent layer slightly smaller than the last until the 'peak' was reached. This was it, but on some amazing scale, the sort of thing that Slartibartfast (of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy fame, would be proud). I had to actually climb into the fields to really believe they were real, so leaving the path I skirted around one of the terraces. Each one was approximately 1.5m wide, rising about 600-800mm to produce the step. An ingenious system of bamboo pipes directed the water around which then, as you would expect, filtered down each level. I was early, this was still late winter, and the glorious yellow of Spring was still to arrive, and following that the lush green of late summer. But still I could marvel at the work of many many generations of the Zhuang people. This was something were our civilisation had worked in harmony with its environment, the synthesised beauty of man and nature. I say man, but there were not many to be seen. I understand that in this society it is the women who are responsible for all the work and are key in establishing the social networking. The men stay at home and mind the kids, food for thought.
Thursday (6th March) morning at breakfast, several hours before my flight back to Hong Kong I decided with the wad of Chinese Yuan in my pocket that I could afford to 'do' the remaining Guilin sights by taxi. So 30 minutes ride and about couple of pounds less I arrived to see the limestone caverns. Beautiful formations of stalagmites and stalactites in huge underground spaces. Not that I was a good student of physical geography but my schoolboy memory of distinguishing the two was that 'tites always come down', funny enough I never forgot! We were meant to accompany the tour group as we meandered along a sinuous pathway only partially lit by the caves 'dramatic' lighting, but as the guide spoke entirely Chinese for the duration I thought I would benefit by a slow amble free from direction. I'm sure we have, probably, something similar in the UK to the caves, but it has been a long time since I visited Wooky Hollow, or the limestone caves of Malam Tarn in Yorks, do they still use bright colours there? Here, it was really 'psychedelic' man, I really wished my simple camera had a black and white setting, as the forms were amazing, but the rainbow colours was a little 70's for my taste.
As I left the caves I decided to duck the hawkers and taxi drivers, just because there were touting so hard, but it perhaps wasn't the most sensible idea as I walked for an hour without any idea where I was and where I was heading. But wandering the suburban streets away from the perpetual tour parties was refreshing, no westerners here, in fact no Chinese tourists here either! But this was Chinese life. Real people eking out a meagre life. Rows and rows of open shop units, with only a simple metal roller shutter to separate the outside world, some units seemed to be used a living spaces, perhaps next to a mechanic. Whether modern or old they maintained the same typology throughout. A tried and tested system, in the city and in the country villages. I still hadn't got used to the continual staring though, and here it was even more prevalent than in the city centre. Young or old, to them I was a novelty, certainly none of the Japanese modesty and politeness I experienced in the country of Japan. Abruptly I heard a familiar honk of a motorcycle horn, one which signifies a 'taxi' hawking for business, "why not" I though and hopped aboard. I had found one of the few English speaking two wheel Chinese taxi drivers in Guilin, and we chatted all the way back into town. Now this was perhaps not the best idea, given the standard of driving, and I twitched a little and closed my eyes a few times as we had several close misses. But he was unperturbed, and as we arrived at the 'Seven Star Park' the next attraction on my list I handed over my one pound equivalent, and he noted he would return to pick me up later, even when I said I had no idea how long I would be in the park! As I walked away, I thought over the exclusions in my insurance policy, free-fall parachuting, white water rafting, no mention I think of Chinese two wheel taxis, but was he licenced?
The Seven Star Park is a peaceful attractive landscaped area very close to the centre of town which includes a zoo, a sort of Regent's Park in Guilin. Though it also has a number of limestone formations that had 'weathered' to take on the form of objects and animals, notably the camel with two humps, or is that a Dromedary??? The latter looked a little too convincing too be entirely natural!
I wandered into a sad looking zoo, which I had a few reservations about given what I had read several years ago, the reputation of Chinese Zoos had not been good then, perhaps now, much had changed politically and economically, so to the Zoos? Sadly no. There may be many reasons, One maybe that the people here don't respect animals the way we do in England, they pretty much will eat anything that walks crawls or slithers, and in comparison we do tend to be a little too anthropomorphic about them. But the conditions in which they all lived was very poor. In particular, a brown bear, the type with sticky out ears and a deep drown coat of fur, was caged in a 4mx4m room. The walls on three sides were concrete with simply the caged side for daylight and air. The was nothing in the room to 'entertain' the poor creature, he simply, and rhythmically paced from side to side, his body movements never varying from each completed cycle. I could stand just a few feet away wave, talk or shout and his gait never changed, and his eyes never looked up from ground, seemingly focused no further than the end of his cute brown nose. This was a dreadful sight. One which left me feeling very down for the first time since my travels began, I left the Zoo, and the park with a little less bounce in my step than when I had entered full of adrenalin from the earlier two wheel adventure.
Rather than use up any more of my nine lives I walked back to the hotel, now in familiar territory I picked up some street food for the plane and as a gift to my Hong Kong hosts on route, it looked very interesting, but I'm not sure if I ever saw anyone try the 'cake' I bought. Only a few hours later and I was 'home' again, or so it felt like to be back in the Ex-pat' community of Discovery Bay and with my good friends, and in time for dinner!
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