Yangshuo Part 2: Bikes, Boots, and Tai-Chi (Oh, My!)

Right, the results of my entirely unscientific survey are in, and it's official – Yangshuo is a near-perfect backpacker destination.  After polling exactly one person (yup, me), the feedback came back loud and clear - with its relaxed mellow personality, Yangshuo is unmatched at taking away any urge to watch the clock or calendar, and just... be.  Sure, the five days I had there weren't much in the great scheme of things, but they loom large in my memories as an ideal respite from the rush of big city China... a place to lie back, take a sip of Tsingtao beer, and (wait for it) gloat a bit that you're not at work.

So, after my bike jaunt, my next day was focused around a good lie-in, and a leisurely wander 'round town.  I got in some reconnaisance of the local craft shops, and listened to the bargaining.  That's proven to be a good idea – it helps you get a sense of what was ridiculous, and what prices were at least in the realm of the believable.

Plus, over lunch, I had the fun of watching a new instalment of the "Most Ridiculous Way to Occupy Your Kids"... there was a shop across the street that sold funky books of matches.  Two of the owner's children were bored, so what did the parent do?  Not only gave them a few boxes matches so they could work out where fire came from, but even helped out with their impromptu street bonfire activities.  Funny but also more than a tad scary!

I hadn't wanted to be a complete sloth, and my athletic activity of the day had the best of aspirations, with a plan to hike the steep trail to the top of Bilian Hill, overlooking town.  Alas, my efforts were thwarted by signs like this:

… so I called it a day after a gruelling eight minutes.  It was rewarding enough though, as I got views of the river and always busy dock area.

The highlight of day 3 though was my cooking class, which was absolutely brilliant.  I took Lonely Planet's recommendation and registered at Cloud 9 Restaurant for their three hour session, ending up having the class to myself.

So, for about £10, I got to pick three recipes that I wanted to learn then head to the market to help buy all the stuff.  Hot, humid and chaotic, the market was amazing to look at; full of the visually delicious and disturbing.

Actually, strike that – forget disturbing and just add in plain nasty, as I got a far-off glimpse of the carcasses of fully-skinned dogs.  No pics though - I couldn't quite bring myself to do that.

Back at the kitchen though, all was delicious.  Chinese food is not all that complicated, but there's an art to doing it right – and my efforts always seem to top out at merely decent.  But with Chef Jenny watching, I was able to whip up steamed dumpling, a subtle recipe for kung pao chicken, and my favorite – stir fried green beans with diced pork and chili paste.  She even made it seem so easy that I'm now fired up to give these dishes a try once I'm back in London.  Odds of success are like those of a London sunny day or (dare I say it) England winning the World Cup anytime this century – possible, but oh so unlikely.

After all that food, it was a good thing that I decided to get some serious hiking in the next day.  The plan was to revisit the most scenic parts of the river journey, from Yang Di to Xing Ping.  The plus side is that while Yangshuo is incredibly busy, but like so many tourist spots, if you just make an effort, you can leave 80% of the tourists behind including the groups of tourists clustering timidly around their umbrella-waving guide.  Bonus!

The hike was a great example, as I caught a locals only bus to Yang Di, a small town on the Li River that we passed by boat a few days before.  Even the bus was interesting, as it quickly became absolutely chock-a-block with good-natured locals all headed to market.  Some balloons for a crying baby and young boy broke the ice nicely, especially after my first effort popped in dramatic fashion.  Stoopid balloon

Once in town, I had a quick stroll through the farmer's market but then it was time to hit the trail.  After some stiff bargaining with a local bamboo boat owner, I caught a ride across to the trailhead, and then headed off.

The hike was fun – more of a challenge in direction-finding as opposed to a butt-kicker of a trail, since the route was only loosely-marked.  Much of the time, it was an occasion to break out the pidgin Chinese and some sheepish grins as I asked locals for help.

And the villages were pretty cool too - featuring everything from a not-quite fierce guard puppy to proud motivational banners:

But even the ambiguous path was part of the fun, as my route took me back and forth over the river by local boats, and eventually to Xing Ping.  Coming into town, I was able to look back and see the stunning backdrop that is famously on the 20 RMB note.  Wow.  Just wow.

Catching the bus back to Yangshuo, I was pretty beat.  The hostel's chef whipped up another dose of that spicy beef and stir-fried green beans that I couldn't get enough of, and I called it a day.

My feet basically called in sick the next day, so it was all about cycling – this time out to the village of Fuli.  Now, Fuli has its charms, with a working town feel and a remarkable lack of tourists, but actually getting there was... exciting.  Somewhat of an old hand now at cycling in China (I thought!), I soon found myself pedalling frantically through a dark tunnel, as big ol' trucks thundered a few feet away past.  Sans lights or reflectors, I was pretty much invisible to them, so pure fear gave me a boost to get the hell out alive.  Whew.

Heading back, I figured I'd try some backroads that seemed to go in the right direction.  And they did... briefly.  But before I knew it, I was way out of town, and getting more and more confused.  The mostly upbeat side of me that the Brits love to tease was enjoying the ride, as hamlet to hamlet, I was something of a novelty and all sorts of kids came out to try their English with an enthusiastic “hello!”  (Well, or sometimes more of a “herro” since Chinese have trouble with our L's).

A farmer helped me out though, even starting to walk with me to show me the way when languages didn't work.  I loved it; just another example of the unbelievably hospitable folks out in the country.

I gave it the ol' college try, but after a short while more, I just calledit quits, and headed the long way home.  Facing the dreaded Tunnels of Peril and Possible Asphyxiation, I was hyper-motivated enough already to push my tired legs to go top speed, but wasn't too proud to accept the help of a bit of gravity on the donwhill, plus cowering or ,um, "strategically timing" my ride until only the odd wheezing motorscooter was coming along...

Triumphant, tired, and of course thirsty for a beer... it was time to head back to the hostel for the rare combination of a rooftop Tai Chi class, and then learning a quirky Mongolian dice game using sheep bones from some other travellers.  Brilliant.

Yangshuo: Bike at Your Own Risk

Okay – I'm going to start with the obvious...

Yangshuo is pretty. Ridiculously pretty. Jaw-dropping, photo memory-card consuming pretty. In fact, it's so stunning that even though it plays host to millions of tourists a year, it still maintains a special charm. And, just like backpackers everywhere, my stay quickly evolved from 2 days, to 3, to 5. Heck, if the visa and travel plans would allow it, I'd probably still be there.

I headed to Yangshuo the standard way, on a tourist boat down the Li River from Guilin. It's expensive, sure. Overly crowded too. But, still... it's a pretty amazing way to get a fantastic view of what makes Yangshuo worth braving crowds, touts, and strangely persistent, wizened old women peddling marijuana.

Once our boat was underway, I met up with Hauke and Elisa, two cool Germans who had been studying Chinese and working in China for 6 months. They immediately made me feel better for my minimal (at best!) Mandarin with their stories of just how difficult the language was to speak well. There's five ways to pronounce each character, and each can meet with vastly different meangings. And, it seems that the Chinese aren't as used to working with foreigners attempting their language... instead of trying to guess what you might be meaning, the slightest mistake and you're met with blank stares.

The river journey just kept getting better and better. The views went from “wow, that's pretty” to jaw-droppingly gorgeous, and even the weather cooperated – with giving us welcome sunny breaks through the grey haze.

Once we got into town, I caught a taxi to Tripper's Hostel, my home for my ever-lengthening stay. For all my British friends, yup, I know I can be pretty optimistic and positive an American – but seriously, this hostel was fantastic.

Think of your dream hostel. Plop it down a perfect 15 minute walk along the river from the tourist madness in a tranquil village of its own. Add in great staff, a terrace with fantastic cheap food and cold beers. Then, throw in a few key extras such as tai-chi classes on the roof and welcome Belgian beers (nice change after all that Tsingtao) and you've got a fantastic place to while away a day or five. Dozens of travellers on Hostelworld.com had it down for a near-perfect 99% approval rating – and they weren't kidding.

And... a killer view:

Very impressed, I wandered back into town and was of course immediately swarmed by all of the businesses looking for the tourist dollar. But, just like the town itself, they managed to get by without being pushy, and kept the charm of the town alive.

It's a minor compulsion, but whenever I get to a new place, I feel a strong pull to go out and just walk around to get a rough sense of where everything is. Yangshuo was no different, and I soon found myself at Kelly's Place, with authentic Chinese dumplings and equally good Western double thick chocolate milkshake. After a few weeks in China and free from all that tasty British cheese, I had a massive dairy craving.

A rare find of my favorite Aussie beer, VB, and some blogging, and then I met up with the Germans again for much cheaper, but still tasty local beer, each for the princely sum of $.75.

I couldn't be asked (or trusted) to find my way back in the dark, so hopped on the back of a motorcycle taxi for an exciting ride back to the hostel. One more G&T, and exchanging China travel survival tips (“don't look too closely at the meat section in the market – 'less you want to see skinned dogs”) with some other travellers, and then it was time for bed.

Getting up early the next morning, I was pretty excited since it was my chance to rent a bicycle and get out in the countryside. Yangshuo town is pretty, surrounded by steep limestone hills, but it's still pretty busy. Renting a bike would allow me to go exploring – seeing rice paddies, villages, and whatever else came my way.

There's only one minor downside to cycling in China; it essentially means you are gambling that luck is on your side. I wasn't too worried after a few years riding in busy London, but as my white knuckled ride would show, I was being more than a bit naïve.

A bike shop had hooked me up with some good advice for a trail along with a map the day before. So, after an indifferent breakfast of dumplings and tea that was saved only by the riverfront views, I headed out.

How'd it go? Let's just say that the Chinese view traffic rules, lanes, and speed limits as loose guidelines at best, or something to be ignored at worst. Buses, cars, bikes and pedestrians share the same space, and to make things even more interesting, they'll often head the wrong way down your lane. Wrong way? Ha! There is NO 'way' in Chinese traffic – just a general flow that can be ignored at will. And lanes? That's another good one. Picture a four lane road, with two in either direction. Now, imagine an ever-changing scrum of anywhere between 5 and 8 lanes seeming to coexist at the same time. Oh, and for bonus points – drivers are often smoking, calling, and yes, even texting with one eye on the road.

The good news is that once I was out of the town, the ride was fantastic, as the tourist vibe was replaced by the sleepy countryside rhythm of paddy farms and villages. I overtook a couple of kids on bikes early on, and we turned the next mile into a series of races where winning wasn't exactly clear or even important.

(Yes, yes... you have to look closely, but the kid is flashing the peace sign, NOT the finger.)

Ah, who am I kidding – of course it was important! I went 1 for 3 – two of the kids were FAST. Damn whippersnappers.

Right – the rest of the ride was great, winding up and through rice paddies all the way out to Dragon Bridge, a 600 year old stone span.

A local Coke seller and his son were outgoing and fun – even with three words in common between us.

The way back was a bit more adventuresome, mainly in that the path went from one lane road to a one foot wide dirt path along rice paddies. And, for bonus difficulty, each paddy threw in a few 12 inch wide ditches, so if you weren't paying attention, your front wheel would sink down sharply, where you had the risk of your unmentionables meeting your metal handlebar with a potential bonus of long-term involuntary birth control.

But, I survived, voice unchanged, and after dodging some curious local cattle...

… I had a quick dip in the river, while all the Chinese tourists had a water-version of World War 3.

Back to town, and back to the hostel for me... I was beat. Only a 20km ride, but it's been a leisurely two months since my cycling days in London. I self-medicated with a nap, some great spicy beef stir fry, and a beer. Repeated step 3 as often as necessary until drowsy.