A Traveler in China - Part Three
By Harriet Vaulkhard
On arriving in Guilin , the Mao inflicted industrialized city appalled us so much we jumped on the first minibus out of there to Yangshuo, and there on that crammed minibus, with our bums bouncing on metal seats we started laughing with relief. The countryside was so gloriously different to the horrid town of Guilin It's endless rice paddocks with fat water buffalo grazing at the edges and the famous limestone hills with slopes going straight up and down, like huge grass covered statues, filled us with energy, and once we had stopped at the bus depot we were rearing to go. We jumped off into the arms of two friendly Chinese women brandishing a sign that read “Fawlty Towers Hotel.” Unable to resist we followed them. Not living up to its name, it was an excellent place indeed.
The town of Yangshuo is charming, for although it has many Chinese qualities about it, it has few of the problems. A backpacker's haven, it is exceptionally clean, with many quaint restaurants and cafes where one can enjoy an English breakfast on their patios while listening to Nina Simone. There are many market stalls selling beautiful jewelry, clothes and souvenirs. One can also participate in many activities from rock climbing to having lunch in a local village.
Other activities include a day trip to see the stunning Longsheng rice terraces, rafting, trekking, boat trips on the river, a day exploring the caves and fishing with the cormorants at night. As for us, we really enjoyed cycling into the countryside alone and chatting to the local farmers as we sat enjoying the sun in their fields. Our fondest memory was watching the water buffalo peacefully munching on river grass as we swam next to them in the Li Jiang River, thick bamboo leaning in on one side and the sun setting behind the incredible hills on the other. It wasn't surprising that four days turned into a week.
We were then torn between either going north west to the beautiful province of Yunnan , or south to the sunny island of Hainan . Yunnan is renowned for its striking landscapes and I was keen to visit the famous matriarchal minority group near Dali and climb Tiger Leaping Gorge before it is flooded. However, we had neither the time nor the finances to see all we would have liked to have seen. We agreed to a return trip during April one year, the best time to appreciate Yunnan in all its glory, before going on to Tibet .
Not sure how to go about getting to Sanya, Hainan we thought it wise to ask a man at the travel agent outside the train station at Guilin . Big mistake! Jack was an even bigger liar than the average yes means no and no means yes Chinese person. The picture he painted of a comfortable sleeper bus where we could sleep the fifteen hour journey, arriving fresh at seven the following morning on a beautiful deserted beach was far from the truth.
The beds were tiny and hard. There was a huge television screen right in front of our faces showing greasy Chinese pop idols singing cheesy techno songs which blared for the duration of the entire journey. The peasants were even more animalistic than on the train, shouting at each other in conversation, or screaming into their mobiles, and the coach stank of sour milk (their body odour). The atmosphere grew unbearable.
To top it off we arrived at 5pm , ten hours later than we were told, in the concrete jungle of Sanya, The trouble continued when I asked a taxi driver to take us to a Youth Hostel that the Lonely Planet advised. Shaking his head he pushed the book away, so I pointed to a nearby hotel. No? Then how about this one or this one? After a very expensive taxi ride (and at the point of exploding) we finally agreed to stay in the biggest dive I have ever seen, ironically the most expensive hotel so far. We both collapsed in despair on our harder than wood beds, vowing to fly back to Beijing in order to catch our flights home, however much it cost.
The next morning Niall woke me. He pointed at the open window in amazement for there, in bright blue, was the sign of the youth hostel. In ecstasy we packed our bags and rushed over to find in a very comfortable cheap hostel with friendly staff. All was well! We were given all the information we needed for sights and activities, from kite surfing and scuba diving to visiting the nearby temples and parks in order to have a fabulous week.
Most importantly, we were given the number of the bus that drops you right outside all the five star hotels on the seven kilometre stretch of Yalong Bay , where our skin colour allowed us to use all the hotel facilities, including swimming pools and big fluffy towels, and we spent our last few days in sheer bliss. As a fair complexion is as valued in China as a tan is in Europe , the last two kilometers of sun-kissed beach were completely deserted. We spent hours there with only the occasional fisherman strolling along the unbelievably clean white sands, the big waves of the China Sea crashing against the shore before being reborn.
As with everything, there is Yin and Yang, and our trip was no different. Spirituality and covetousness, Communism and Capitalism; East and West, Imperial Beijing and Industrial Zhengzhou; ghastly train and coach journeys arriving at exquisite, heavenly destinations… and, of course, emerging from the huge red doors of the Forbidden City straight into Tiananmen Square where the unsightly face of Mao looks over China, an incredible country of huge contrasts where you are forced to come face to face with yourself.
Will I return to China? I certainly hope so.
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