Yangshuo Day 2 and Return to HK

(Click on the image above to see even MORE pictures from our busy day)


Woke up around dawn to meet our riverboat guide for an "illegal" cruise down the Li River (illegal because he's not government-licensed, hence cheaper, hence he has to take us before all the legal boats do their tours). Xie Jie street was quiet and it wasn't too hot out-- just foggy and gray. We got down to the river and onto a huge boat. The guide set up folding chairs for us at one end and we just plowed through the hazy river landscape, like entering a surreal painting. The visual effect of the rounded mountains is difficult to describe. Water buffalo on the banks. Little fishing boats and women washing clothes on the rocks. The typical tourist illusion: "we have travelled through time." We ended up at Fuli village, and ate some 8am breakfast of banana pancakes, barbecued duck ribs, rice, and mango juice. Walked through the early morning and fairly empty village streets. I bargained with a hawker for a small diptych painting of a woman on one side and a black goldfish on the other (final price: 20 yuan, under 3 US dollars). It probably isn't very old, I just liked it. Because of the "open" nature of traditional Chinese village living spaces, I almost felt bad strolling the cobble-stoned lanes, as if I were trespassing in someone's living room. On either side of us, through open doors and windows and corridors, people were sleeping, eating, cooking, working, watching TV, bathing babies, etc. The private is pushed out to the public, and to be a foreigner here felt quite circumspect. Also I felt like even more of a foreigner when we began to hear yelping getting louder and louder in our progress through the streets-- and came upon a medium-sized dog laying in the road, barking and barking and wiggling around because his front legs had been tied with plastic twine around his back, and his ankles similarly trussed. I don't know why he was tied up and left in the road, or what was going to happen to him, but I knew I couldn't do anything about it. I still felt awful.

We found our way to the main road that led back to Yangshuo, and began asking around for the bus that would take us there. Instead, we were persuaded to take a motorbike/cart type contraption that was much cheaper. Rachel worked her Putonghua magic and got a ridiculous price of 10 yuan for all four of us, and we climbed in the back of what was basically a big box with four wheels and a canvas roof attached to the back of a motorcycle, and bumped our way back to Yangshuo. Probably not much safer than a bicycle, but it felt better protected, and our female driver fiercely steered through the traffic mess of tractors, buses, bikes and cows. Back in "town", we got some lunch, shopped for more pirate DVDs (I caved to the new Tsai Ming-Liang film "Goodbye Dragon Inn" for 25 quai, and something that I correctly surmised was Wim Wenders' "Tokyo-ga" for 8 yuan), and then Sarah and I went to the Yangshuo park. It was so quiet and green (and hot), with old men sitting around playing checkers or cards and these abandoned kids' rides that seemed to feature bootleg versions of Disney animals (in the bigger photocollage you can see a sort of "Goofy"). We walked to the top of this hill and I almost had a coronary from being out of shape and the general soreness of my knees and arms from yesterday's wipe-out. The view, though smoggy, was incredible. We walked back down, drank water, and went back to the hotel to check out and wait for the van to the cooking class.

When our cooking instructor arrived, we were first toured through the wet/dry market of Yangshuo (featuring live chickens and ducks stuffed into spherical baskets and tied to motorcycles, as well as eels, snakes, toads, fish, and the dried rat hanging so fetchingly halfway down the photocollage). Then we drove to an unbelievable restored farm-house about 15 minutes away, where a deluxe set-up of 10 personal gas stoves and woks awaited. Rachel, Carrie, Sarah and I and about 6 other British tourists were guided step-by-step in creating 6 amazing Guanxi province specialties that I doubt very strongly I could recreate on my own: barbecue duck ribs (like the ones we had gnawed that morning), steamed chicken and mushroom with wolfberries, egg-wrapped dumplings, stir-fried green vegetables with ginger and soy sauce, etc.

After hours of cooking and then eating our fill, we were driven back to the White Lion to pick up our bags and Sarah and I waited at the bus station, dreading the eight hour return to Shenzhen. We helped each other keep our vows not to drink any water, lest we need to use the urine-spattered bathroom in the middle of the night on a bus speeding 80 mph over unpaved roads. By the time we got onto the bus, I took a few Dramamine in the hopes of weathering the bumping a little better, but no dice. It still felt like being tied to a washing machine that's on the back of a stage-coach going over cobblestones for eight hours, with outdated music videos and some very loud Chinese cop movie (with no subtitles) blaring near our heads the whole way back. We were welcomed into Shenzhen at 6am with the fanfare of loud "happy hardcore" techno music, which only increased our desire to get off the bus as soon as possible. After fording the Shenzhen/Lo Wu station and crossing the border back into Hong Kong, I realized again that Hong Kong may be "part" of China, but it's still a different place entirely. The moment you step onto the HK side, the air feels different. The trees are greener. Nobody spits on the ground. Everybody speaks Cantonese. What a difference a border makes.
Back in my dorm at CUHK, I collapsed and napped most of the afternoon, and finally we rallied for dinner in Tsim Sha Tsui and drinks with Lenny and crew. Unfortunately, either the packaged sushi or curry rice didn't agree with me, and the next morning (Saturday) found me awaking at 6am to vacate my stomach about 5 times in 3 hours. Sarah wasn't feeling too great either. We just stayed inside most of the rainy day, and I worked up the tolerance to drink chicken broth by nightfall and watch the bizarre and historic Olympic ping-pong match between China and Hong Kong in the dormitory common room. I asked a few CUHK students how they felt when Hong Kong lost (fast, and badly), and they all responded that though they were disappointed, they couldn't really feel bad because "both teams are Chinese." One country. Two systems. What do I know.