Guilin and Yangshuo: Day 4 (the first tour)

It's one of the ultimate tourist trips in all of China, and one of the most spectacular: the 3½-hour boat ride along the Lí River 漓江 from Guìlín 桂林 to Yángshuò 阳朔. Fortunately, the rain which had come down as we were traveling by bus with our group to the boat dock let up by the time we got on board, and would leave us alone for the journey upstream. Unfortunately, the overcast conditions played havoc with my camera and my limited photography skills, meaning that the pictures you see below don't do justice to the magnificent scenery of karst peaks lining both sides of the river:

The tour we joined was a mix of Chinese and non-Chinese tourists, and included lunch on board the ferry and a bus ride back to Guilin, the latter which we didn't need as were to stay the next four nights in the Yangshuo area. I've always wanted to visit this part of China, and the scenery didn't disappoint (even if my camera sometimes did):

My daughter, being all of eight years old, eventually got tired of the unending beauty and spent much of the time inside drawing pictures in a sketch book she'd brought along. My wife was more appreciative of the scenery but didn't care much for the atmospheric conditions, leaving your humble correspondent to man the upper viewing deck, which he did for the entire duration of the boat trip (except for when lunch was served - even intrepid travelers such as myself have to eat sometimes). 

The karst just kept on koming:

Pamela steps out for some fresh air and to take in the Chineseness of it all:

Just as we sat down to eat lunch, the ferry passed by the stretch of the Li River that appears on the reverse side of the Chinese 20 RMB note. Surprisingly, none of the Chinese tourists on board broke away from their meals to venture out onto the deck for the photo op, leaving only a handful of foreigners like myself to let our food get cold while we tried (and no doubt failed) to recreate the image on the bill:

Lunchtime over, it was back out on deck:

As we neared Yangshuo, signs of civilization increased along the riverbanks. The Li River itself, of course, is well plumbed by sightseeing vessels of various sizes and types:

Finally, the ferry pulled into Yangshuo:

I've ridden my fair share of ferryboats, but the Li River cruise definitely is the winner in terms of scenic wonders. It came as something of a shock to come face to face with the tourist hordes populating the main street in Yangshuo, as we struggled to pull our bags to the next rendezvous point while running the gauntlet of middle-aged and elderly women attempting to sell us every knickknack ever made in Chinese factories or trying to convince us to eat at their fine dining establishments. 

Next rendezvous point, you say? Yes, for my dear wife, instead of having us drop off our things at our next accommodation and re-acclimatize ourselves to dry land, booked us on another tour for later that afternoon.

To be continued...

Guilin and Yangshuo: Day 3

I'm not one for organized tours, especially in this part of the world, but sometimes a tour is the best, if not the only, way to go somewhere and see something. Take the Dragon's Backbone Rice Terraces (lóngjĭ tītián) 龙脊梯田, located 90 kilometers (56 miles) north of Guìlín 桂林. They're a spectacular sight well worth making the effort to get out there to see, but doing so as a day trip relying on public transportation isn't easy, involving a 90-minute bus ride to a road junction, then taking a minibus up to the rice terraces, all the while having to take careful note of timetables while dealing with language issues. Had I been traveling solo, I probably would've gone the independent route, but in company with my wife and daughter, it was much easier to take advantage of the tour offered by the Riverside Hostel - transport to and from the rice terraces, lunch, an English-speaking guide, two hours of free time for exploration and, best of all, no shopping stops. And so it was that in conjunction with a couple from Bĕijīng 北京 (thus ensuring that our guide's commentary would be in both English and Mandarin) and a pair of Italian-speaking women from Switzerland, our group eventually made its way to a community of Yao, one of the 54 officially recognized ethnic minority groups in the People's Republic of China 中华人民共和国:

China may be a multi-ethnic state, but the Han 汉族 make up 93% of the population, and are clearly running the show. And speaking of shows, the first thing we did after pulling into the village was to go into a theater and watch a performance of Yao women singing folk songs. Han Chinese tour groups love to see their ethnic minority compatriots wearing their colorful native costumes while singing and dancing and their colorful native songs and dances, but as this BBC article points out, it presents a distorted image of these minority groups while serving government propaganda purposes. Entertaining tourists is one thing, but having a say in how your communities are governed while trying to preserve your culture in the face of a Han Chinese onslaught of migrants and visitors is another - just ask the Tibetans and Uighurs. One can only imagine what the Yao think. On the one hand, they have to play up to ethnic stereotypes on a daily basis (even Pamela sincerely believes that the surrounding rice fields are dotted with young Yao women wearing their black-and-red outfits singing traditional songs while they do manual labor). On the other hand, there is clearly an economic incentive to doing just that, as the number of new homes under construction or old ones being renovated in the local community showed (the other way for the Yao to make money is to constantly harass tourists to buy handicrafts, trinkets, photo books and whatever else they think visitors would want as souvenirs):

Meanwhile,  the finale of the show involved the women showing off their extremely long hair, which is normally wrapped around their heads in turbans:

The stele proclaims the village has the longest hair in the world:

Lunch was actually pretty good, with one of the highlights being zhútŏng fàn (rice cooked inside bamboo sticks) 竹筒饭, but it was with some sense of relief on my part when we finally got back in the minivan and headed uphill toward the rice terraces:

Píng'ān 平安 is the name of a settlement that serves as one of the gateways to the rice terraces. Populated by members of the Zhuang minority group (along with some Yao), the 600-year-old village now caters almost exclusively to the tourist trade, with every traditional wooden building seemingly occupied by a guesthouse, cafe, restaurant, souvenir shop or some combination thereof (and, yes, palanquins were available for those who didn't want to walk up the 500 meters/1640 feet of stone steps to the terraces):

The terraced paddy fields are a stunning sight and are an amazing feat of agricultural engineering. Some of them are up to 1000 meters (3280 feet) above sea level, and have been carved out of the steep-sided hills for centuries, looking like lines on a contour map:

The lookout we climbed to is known as "Seven Stars" 七星:

One popular activity was to rent native dress for photo ops:

This Yao souvenir vendor was giving a demonstration of how she styled her long hair to a group of Western visitors:

We also picked up some items, doing our part to support the local economy. Soon after the picture of me holding the photo book was taken, my daughter bumped into one of her classmates from back in Shànghăi 上海, proving that China, with its 9.6 million square kilometers (3.7 million square miles) and 1.35 billion people, really is just a small country:

The best way to enjoy the Dragon's Backbone Rice Terraces would be to spend a night in one of the villages such as Ping'an. Not only would you be able to take in the view sans the day-trippers (such as ourselves), but I'm sure the starry nights would be fantastic (if the skies cooperated), plus there appear to be ample hiking opportunities. But even if you can only spare a one-day out-and-back trip, the rice fields are well worth seeing.

Back in Guilin, we found ourselves in a less-touristy night market than the area where we'd had dinner the previous two nights, and sat down to a meal that included another regional specialty, beer fish 啤酒鱼:

For our last evening in town, we took a pleasant stroll around Róng Lake 榕湖, highlighted by the illuminated South Gate 南门, the sole surviving remnant of a city wall that was built during the Sòng dynasty  宋朝 (960-1279):

Next up: cruising the river

Guilin and Yangshuo: Day 2

The guidebooks all say not to linger too long in Guìlín 桂林, and for good reason. It isn't that the city lacks for attractions and scenery - there are numerous karst peaks located in the area that deserve to be explored. The problem is that accessing them would take a big bite out of your wallet due to exorbitant entrance fees. My wife, who hates spending money almost as much as she despises the outdoors, consulted with the staff at the Guilin Riverside Hostel, where we had just spent the first of three nights. Their recommendation was to visit Reed Flute Cave 芦笛岩, namely because it was a cave and thus offered protection against the rain - there had been thunder and lightning the previous night, the morning awoke to a heavy downpour that saw the narrow street in front of our hotel briefly become a small lagoon (and which delayed our departure following breakfast) and it would rain off and on throughout the course of the day. What clinched the deal for Pamela was that it would only cost ¥1 (16¢) to take a public bus out to the cave from the city center. After passing through some of Guilin's less-prosperous districts, we alighted from the bus and before locating a restaurant to have some lunch, got our first glimpse of the spectacular karst scenery for which this part of China is noted:

Unlike the bus, admission into Reed Flute Cave wasn't particularly cheap at ¥90 ($14.50) for an adult, plus you were required to join a guided tour. Inside, in true Chinese fashion, many of the rock formations were given imaginative names that I thankfully cannot recall, but the colored lighting did highlight the natural beauty of the formations:

Also,  in true Chinese (tourist) fashion, there were opportunities to part ways with some more of your hard-earned rénmínbì. We successfully resisted the urge to purchase photos of ourselves taken with what appeared to be some kind of crystal, but my daughter wanted to pet some turtles, so she offered to pay the ¥5 (80¢) each required to do so (and we accepted). I still don't understand why it was necessary to keep the poor reptiles inside dark caves other than it had something to do with their being symbols of longevity. It was even claimed that one of the creatures was nearly a thousand years old!:

Still, Reed Flute Cave was an interesting place to visit, and not a bad introduction to the Chinese countryside that we had come all this way to see, as the view outside the exit and pass the souvenir hawkers confirmed:

A short climb uphill led to a pavilion with some decent views, though things would start getting far more spectacular in the coming days the further we got from Guilin:

Back in downtown Guilin, we took a rest at the Riverside Hostel before heading out in search of something to eat for dinner:

With its Foosball table and dartboard, the hotel kept Amber occupied while we waited for a break in the weather. During this time, we booked tours for the next two days, to the Dragon's Backbone Rice Terraces 龙脊梯田 and for the Li River 漓江 boat trip from Guilin to Yángshuò 阳朔, respectively. These reservations were easily made through the front desk of the hotel, one of the many good things going for it (breakfast was another one). If you should ever pass through Guilin (and visiting this part of China is highly recommended), the Guilin Riverside Hostel would be a good place to stay. 

Meanwhile, the rain had abated and we set out in search of food. Here, Amber poses in front of the Sun and Moon Twin Pagodas 日月双塔, not as spectacular in the daylight compared to when they are lit up in the evening (see the previous blog post), but still a reminder of which part of the world you're in:

Come dinnertime, we found ourselves again on pedestrianized Zhèngyáng Lù 正阳路, where we munched on pizza at an outdoor restaurant while sampling the local Líquán Beer 漓泉啤酒, a light-tasting brew that nevertheless grew on me the more I drank it in the days to follow:

And the great thing about Chinese food streets (like those in Taiwan) is that if you're still hungry after dinner, you can always stop for goodies like grilled oysters:

Next up: tripping in the paddy fields