Yangshuo & the Li River Valley

We left Shanghai on the overnight train to Guilin in Guangxi province, entryway to Yangshuo and the Li River valley. We traveled in “hard sleeper” class – 6 to a berth, piled three bunks high, 20-or-so berths to a car, with no doors or curtains, so its like one big 100+ person slumber party. Colin and I had the bottom bunks – advantageous for securely storing our bags between us and providing a small window-side table for playing cards, etc., but with the drawback that our beds also served as communal seating for the upper bunk occupants during the day – not a problem, really, since we are both short. ;-)
The only real issue with hard sleeper class was the lack of sound barriers throughout the car – all conversation, snoring, and over-amped iPods created a constant low din of noise around-the-clock that made earplugs an absolute must to make the “sleeper” part of the journey a reality. Not a lick of English was spoken by any of the staff on board, so despite the occasional food carts going through the train, we were relieved that we'd brought our own food, as we hadn't the slightest idea what they were offering! (unlike street food stalls, none of the food was on display). Once in Guilin (after several hours of constantly asking “Guilin?”, “Guilin?” as we approached each station), we scurried our bags across several lanes of unyielding traffic to find our hostel off the main drag, checked in and chilled out for a few hours before heading off to find dinner. We planned to see the city the next day and find out how to get a ride aboard a boat down the Li River to Yangshuo.

Guilin proved to be a challenge. Taking our cue from the numerous signs around our hostel warning of pickpockets and bag snatchers, we slung our daybags over our heads and across our chests, fastened the latches, and kept one hand on the clasp at all times.... except when eating ice cream. Oops. I wish we could say we were Shanghai'ed in Shanghai – at least that would have some poetry to it – but instead it was in Guilin that Colin had his camera lifted right out of his bag without so much as a bump or a tug. Another traveler at our hostel had her phone lifted the same way the same day, and just like that, Guilin lost its appeal.
We'd been trying hard to find its charms, with limited success – some nice pagodas at a park, a raft ferry across the canal - but decided at that point that our hostel was the best thing about the city, and so we stayed put honing our pool-playing skills until the next morning, when our ride to the riverboat (arranged by our hostel) arrived to take us on our next adventure – and once again, just like that, our fortunes turned – the river journey to Yangshuo was downright, unbelievably, spectacularly AMAZING!

If ever a picture was worth a thousand words.....






Our “bamboo raft” (the bamboo deck on most has been replaced by plastic tubes over the years) left us in the town of XinPing, where we hopped on a local bus to Yangshuo, about 45 minutes away. Once in Yangshuo, we negotiated a price for transport to our guest house in a small village about 4 km outside of town, only to find our “taxi” was a tri-wheeled motorcycle with an open bed on the back just large enough for Colin and I and our bags.
I was about to bail out, when I saw the look of glee on Colin's face, and since “real” cars don't have seat belts in China anyway, figured we weren't any worse off – in fact, the view of the passing countryside was better this way!
About 15 minutes later, we arrived at the collection of farm houses that make up the Outside Inn, were greeted by a young Chinese woman who spoke perfect Australian-accented English (??), and were led to our room overlooking the mud-brick complex and surrounded by choruses of crowing roosters. Later that afternoon, we met the Swiss/English managers and their children, who became Colin's constant companions and playmates for the next week.
A twenty-minute walk at sunset through the neighboring rice paddies brought me to the edge of a tributary river to the Li, and endless views of karst mountains leading off into the distance. In my dreams, this is what I came to China for. I couldn't stop grinning from ear-to-ear.


The next week was a wonderful slow immersion in the charms of the Guanxi countryside:
a day biking along dirt tracks to a neighboring village and its thousand-year-old “Dragon Bridge;”
a visit to the local fan “factory” - family compounds of artists who hand down the skills of fan-making and painting from generation to generation; a couple of wonderful Chinese cooking classes; several walks through the karst hills into Yangshuo; and a couple of side trips to catch market day in the surrounding towns.
On our last evening we treated ourselves to a performance of Liu San Jie (“Illuminations” in English) – a mind-blowing 600-person dance, music and light spectacle on the Li River, viewed from the riverside, and created by Zhang Yimou, the director of the Beijing Olympics Opening Ceremony. Shown only after dark, karst peaks up to a ½ mile away were illuminated to stunning effect for parts of the show, dancers appeared to walk on water, and cormorant fishermen bobbed in and out of view in the shadows – it was really quite indescribable, and given the scope and darkness, very hard to photograph, though Colin managed to capture one or two lovely images.

It was hard to tear ourselves away, but given the below-freezing temperatures most of our time there, and the lack of central heating in this part of the world (our only heat was a wood stove in the common room, and an electric blanket in our room – both of which are nearly unheard of luxuries here), we decided it was time to head for warmer climes. The Chinese railway wanted our passport for three days in order to issue us one of the few sleeper cots left on the train to Vietnam, so we abandoned that plan in favor of AirAsia's super cheap flights, and bought a ticket to the only place they fly from Guilin – Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. From there, we figured we'd catch a flight back up to Hanoi, but only after adding a side trip after learning that Bali is only $50 from KL on AirAsia! - so off we went... from 30 degrees to 90 degrees in a single day. Bali, here we come!