*Note: this was originally e-mailed, not blogged (wordpress.com doesn’t work from/in Vietnam) on 15 November 2007.
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Okay, since wordpress has gone to the birds in Vietnam then I’ll start sending sweet nothings via email.
Here’s the cliff-notes version of our last week in China spent in Guilin and Yangshuo, southern cities: in Guilin the highlight (for me at least) was roller-skating one night with kids half our age. We’re talking roller skating on a wooden floor roughly the size of a basement, with old-fashioned skates–remember the big fat rubber stoppers on the tips meant to act as brakes? Yes, I did fall on my ass once–some kid decided to go flashdance on me and we collided. But adorable Steve (you would have agreed had you seen him adorably wobbling on these skates) managed to stay upright the entire time–although he did use a railing once as a crash landing pad (two innocent Chinese girls ran for safety). Little girls wanted me to hold hands and skate with them in a chain. Good, sweet times.
We took a Li River day cruise to get from Guilin to Yangshuo. Trust me, not as glamorous as it sounds. It was on a barge…the seats on the bottom deck were like ripped-out car seats…we came in after everyone had settled in and, being the only whities, as we entered I swear I thought I understood Mandarin for a split-second as the girl on the microphone announced that we were going to be the entertainment for the next 6 hours. Kind of like the scene in movies where the white boy walks into the club and suddenly the record that’s playing scratches and stops, and everyone stops what they’re doing in mid-air and stares? Yes. About 2 hours into the trip, when nearly everyone was on the top deck looking at the scenery (towering limestone karsts and other such loveliness), Steve whispers, no, hisses,
“They’re taking our picture.”
Sure enough, one couple was pretending to take a picture of the karsts but was clearly directing it at us, then they’d giggle as they looked our way. (Totally fine by me, as it’s a trick I know & use meself.) Then another guy approached us, “Excuse me. My wife is very nice woman. Can you take picture with her?” Sure! Then another. And another. There were people shyly looking on, like, I want to ask them to take a picture with me, but what if they have a limit? At one point Steve said something like, “everyone step right up!” and the floodgates opened. Our fleeting moment of celebritydom.
Then in Yangshuo–or as we called it, America East. It was backpacker heaven down there with more western than Chinese…everything. Food, speaking, shops…to give you an idea of the…vibe: one guesthouse had a sign in front of it reading No opium or heroin, but we have clean beds and hot water. Great. So needless to say, we were thrilled with our haven of a guesthouse which was a good 25 minute walk from the craziness of the town. Or a 5-minute bike ride with 10-speeds we rented from the farmer next door, who had a huge portrait of Mao hanging in his living room the way we’d hang up school pictures of our kids back home.
The high point in Yangshuo was a bike ride to end all bike rides–with winding, hilly country roads (take me home….to a place….I belong…West Virg–sorry!! can’t help myself) shared with water buffalo, a flock of ducks–duck shepherd in tow, pigs. People carrying the huge baskets with a huge pole across their weary shoulders, looking so damn authentic. A family huddled around an open doorway eating noodles and gaping at us at the same time (Steve paid them 1 yuan so I could take their picture). Of course we got lost and didn’t reach our intended destination, but we honestly couldn’t have cared less. Every once in a while, flying down a hill on the bike, I’d remember, “I’m in China!” It was a blessing, just being there.
Fast-forwarding again, through an exhausting China-VN border crossing via train involving 1) a shifty-eyed Chinese official appearing in the doorway of our cabin saying in a creepy and, oddly enough, German accent, “Zoo you have anyzing to zeclare?” –his voice getting higher and higher with each word; 2) being awoken at 3 am by another official–get off, now!–without time to put my contact lenses on so that the whole memory of it all really is a blur; 3) one hour (this is still 3 in the morning, mind you) to clear customs including a “health inspection” of a thermometer stuck in one ear. All very thorough and logical.
Next is Vietnam! But let me just say how much we loved, no adored, China! We cannot wait to go back. Next time to Tibet, and Tiger Leaping Gorge, and Guizakao (which I’m not spelling right). There were so many moments of wonderful encounters with wonderful people…I never felt unsafe, not for a second (grossed out and pissed off yes, threatened no). Anyone thinking about going, go! And take us with you.
*******************************
Okay, since wordpress has gone to the birds in Vietnam then I’ll start sending sweet nothings via email.
Here’s the cliff-notes version of our last week in China spent in Guilin and Yangshuo, southern cities: in Guilin the highlight (for me at least) was roller-skating one night with kids half our age. We’re talking roller skating on a wooden floor roughly the size of a basement, with old-fashioned skates–remember the big fat rubber stoppers on the tips meant to act as brakes? Yes, I did fall on my ass once–some kid decided to go flashdance on me and we collided. But adorable Steve (you would have agreed had you seen him adorably wobbling on these skates) managed to stay upright the entire time–although he did use a railing once as a crash landing pad (two innocent Chinese girls ran for safety). Little girls wanted me to hold hands and skate with them in a chain. Good, sweet times.
We took a Li River day cruise to get from Guilin to Yangshuo. Trust me, not as glamorous as it sounds. It was on a barge…the seats on the bottom deck were like ripped-out car seats…we came in after everyone had settled in and, being the only whities, as we entered I swear I thought I understood Mandarin for a split-second as the girl on the microphone announced that we were going to be the entertainment for the next 6 hours. Kind of like the scene in movies where the white boy walks into the club and suddenly the record that’s playing scratches and stops, and everyone stops what they’re doing in mid-air and stares? Yes. About 2 hours into the trip, when nearly everyone was on the top deck looking at the scenery (towering limestone karsts and other such loveliness), Steve whispers, no, hisses,
“They’re taking our picture.”
Sure enough, one couple was pretending to take a picture of the karsts but was clearly directing it at us, then they’d giggle as they looked our way. (Totally fine by me, as it’s a trick I know & use meself.) Then another guy approached us, “Excuse me. My wife is very nice woman. Can you take picture with her?” Sure! Then another. And another. There were people shyly looking on, like, I want to ask them to take a picture with me, but what if they have a limit? At one point Steve said something like, “everyone step right up!” and the floodgates opened. Our fleeting moment of celebritydom.
Then in Yangshuo–or as we called it, America East. It was backpacker heaven down there with more western than Chinese…everything. Food, speaking, shops…to give you an idea of the…vibe: one guesthouse had a sign in front of it reading No opium or heroin, but we have clean beds and hot water. Great. So needless to say, we were thrilled with our haven of a guesthouse which was a good 25 minute walk from the craziness of the town. Or a 5-minute bike ride with 10-speeds we rented from the farmer next door, who had a huge portrait of Mao hanging in his living room the way we’d hang up school pictures of our kids back home.
The high point in Yangshuo was a bike ride to end all bike rides–with winding, hilly country roads (take me home….to a place….I belong…West Virg–sorry!! can’t help myself) shared with water buffalo, a flock of ducks–duck shepherd in tow, pigs. People carrying the huge baskets with a huge pole across their weary shoulders, looking so damn authentic. A family huddled around an open doorway eating noodles and gaping at us at the same time (Steve paid them 1 yuan so I could take their picture). Of course we got lost and didn’t reach our intended destination, but we honestly couldn’t have cared less. Every once in a while, flying down a hill on the bike, I’d remember, “I’m in China!” It was a blessing, just being there.
Fast-forwarding again, through an exhausting China-VN border crossing via train involving 1) a shifty-eyed Chinese official appearing in the doorway of our cabin saying in a creepy and, oddly enough, German accent, “Zoo you have anyzing to zeclare?” –his voice getting higher and higher with each word; 2) being awoken at 3 am by another official–get off, now!–without time to put my contact lenses on so that the whole memory of it all really is a blur; 3) one hour (this is still 3 in the morning, mind you) to clear customs including a “health inspection” of a thermometer stuck in one ear. All very thorough and logical.
Next is Vietnam! But let me just say how much we loved, no adored, China! We cannot wait to go back. Next time to Tibet, and Tiger Leaping Gorge, and Guizakao (which I’m not spelling right). There were so many moments of wonderful encounters with wonderful people…I never felt unsafe, not for a second (grossed out and pissed off yes, threatened no). Anyone thinking about going, go! And take us with you.
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