Tom: Enroute to Shenzhen (August 12)

Enroute to Shenzhen (August 12) · Sep 7, 12:08 PM

I checked out and left my stuff with the reception; valuables in a safe and luggage against the wall opposite the desk under a net. On Pantou Lu I had wanton soup and boiled dumplings, then I returned to West Street to meet my guide at eight, but another couple from France is coming in half an hour, so I strolled up and back down the cobbled West Street to waste time. At eight-thirty they show — a young Parisan couple. We choose bikes; everyone gets a mountain bike and I get on that fits my height. We follow the woman’s son out of town through moderate morning traffic.

The sky is clear and only a little hazy; it’s going to get hot. We cycle out of town through nearby villages to a river. Along the way, locals are selling water, snacks, and handicraft; this route gets a lot of traffic from Yanghsuo tourists. At the river we split up onto two-seater bamboo rafts and pay 100 each to be ferried downstream by men with long bamboo poles while we sit under umbrellas in relaxed wooden deck chairs. We navigated several spillovers formed by long shallow dams that double as foot-crossings. I asked; it’s not hard to cross, even with the water flower, because the flow is so evenly distributed across the entire breadth of the river (or more if the dam is set diagonally). We drifted downstream between the strange small sudden hills that make Yangshou famous. A lot of other people — Chinese tourists mostly — are doing the same. A couple floating vendors sell water, snacks, and beer; I think we even passed one or two restaurants. The ride took about an hour, and I had put sunscreen on my legs by the end, where we unloaded out bicycles and declined to buy pictures of us taken from the shore as we approached.

After our rafting, we cycled a short way to Moon Hill where we stopped to climb up for the view. At the top — the very top, not the resting spot under the large arch — we hung out briefly to enjoy the panorama through all the mountains, but the sun was scorching us and the muggy, breezeless air did nothing to help. All the groups I’ve met today have been French; my tour companions explain that China is a big destination in France this year. A crowd of local woman at the arch and at the bottom of the hill kept pushing cold water.

We had lunch across the street at a large three story restaurant that caters to Chinese tour-bus groups. They cater primarily to those groups; we had to wait 40 minutes before they would start on our order. To my dismay, the French couple chose a chicken dish — the most expensive on the menu — for 58 yuan. They’ve jocked about not really bargaining; they’re only out for a couple weeks; they’re spending Euros; I don’t think they care so much about budget options. On top of all that, the dish wasn’t any better (and maybe a little worse) than the a basic pork-fried-with-cucumber would have been.

We took the longer way back to Yangshou through local trails and a couple small villages. The riding was rough and I’m happy I have a mountain bike. The French girl rides so slowly that the gyroscope effect is largely absent, so we stopped and started out way across the worst sections. It’s also really hot — early afternoon now — and I’ve been sweating heavily the whole way. The kilometer or two were along a heavily trafficked road back into Yanghsou — buses and trucks and horns and exhaust.

That was a hot and muggy and hot tour. I spent more than two hundred yuan in six hours. The scenery was nice but I prefer Guizhou Xijiang. I, in short, was grumpy. Despite all this, I know I’ll look back happily in a few weeks.

In Yangshou I spent about three hours online and then had fried noodles on the street while enjoying the Yangshou dusk. After dark I returned to the hostel and paid five yuan for a hot shower. I hung around for a bit, looked up directions to my Hong Kong hostel in Kowloon, then picked up my bags at about a quarter to ten. A woman passed by just before ten in the middle of a crowd of mostly foreigners lugging backpacks and rolling luggage. I joined in, and we all walk down the street to the bus station for ten o’clock departures.

My bus is a nice one — I’ve got a lower bunk near the rear, beside a window. Other passengers are staying up to chat (mostly in German, I think). My seat distances me from the noise; I fell asleep easily.

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http://tom.spacing-guild.net/2006/09/13/hong-kong-august-13

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