Typhoon. Always Rainy in Guilin.

An American in China: the Chinese sleeper bus is one mode of transportation everyone should experience. . . . at least once. 

Alex and I set out on a vacation to Guilin this past week. We received the first through the seventh of October off for National Day. We decided to stay in Guilin from the 30th of September through the 6th of October. How were we to make this journey? Sleeper bus. A sleeper bus is a common mode of transportation here. Basically, it is a coach bus with three rows of bunch beds instead of seats. So you have to lay down most of your journey. With very little Chinese in our heads and survival chinese, written by William, in my notebook we set off on our journey. 

William, like the father figure he is to us followed us on to the bus to make sure we were settled in for our journey. We started to load the bus when Chinese was yelled at us from all angles. Apparently no shoes are allowed to be worn on the sleeper bus at any time. So, you must take off your shoes as you enter and place them in a plastic bag then, of course, put them back on before you exit the bus. Alex and I grabbed our top bunks by imitating monkeys to climb up. Or, should I say, I imitated a monkey as Alex is tall enough to lift himself in. (Riding on the top bunch can only be liked to an amusement park ride-- especially on the bumpy country roads) We said our goodbyes and thank yous to William and thought him gone when all of a sudden he rushed on to the bus to tell us the ride would not be 6 to 7 hours, like we were originally told, but 12 hours with no bathroom on the bus. 

Thus began our adventure. 

I should say the bus stopped promptly every two to three hours to allow us to walk around go to the bathroom and eat. This is where I found out one of my students was on the bus with me. I also mastered the squatters. A squatter is the Chinese toilet. Basically, a hole in the ground you squat over. In all honesty it is okay and makes sense if you think about it. But cleanliness in roadside squatters is not a priority thus creating a ripe smell. However this does not damper the animal life of China. In fact, as I “sat” down in my third squatter of the trip I was greeted by a small frog jumping at the chance to share my bathroom space with me. 

The trip was not too bad. We met a Senior student, Pinki, from Wuyi-- who I am sure I will become close friends with, watched some American and Chinese films(including two Jackie Chan movies), and I listened to some Mason Jennings while staring out my window and thinking to my self: you are in China, you are in China, you are in China and got some much needed sleep after my first month of teaching. 

Day one involved us getting to know the city of Guilin. Our first stop was the Price City Scenic area. Which, to be honest, was kind of pointless without English translations but I learned about the examinations Chinese scholars would take from Alex’s College Chinese history course. We also climbed our first peak/hill/mini mountain: Solitary Beauty Peak. These peaks are what Guilin, Yangshuo, XingPing are famous for and is said to be the most beautiful area of China. The peak boasted great views of the city. At the first look out I hit Alex and told him we were in CHINA to which he responded, “Why are you hitting me,” and, “we have been in China for a month now.” “I know,” I told him, “but, I think it just it me.” After that tourist stop we walked along the Li River where we found Bob Cafe. A little coffee shop/restaurant we frequented during our stay. We were stopped on the street by a salesman who promised us a the beauty of the Longji(Longxi) rice terraces. After a butt load of questions Alex and I agreed to the 180 yuan(our hostel provided the same trip for 400yuan). 

We met Pinki for dinner and enjoyed some shopping afterward. On the way back to the Hostel Alex and I stopped to watch the fireworks for National Day. The U.S. has nothing on China in terms of firework usage. 

Day two started off bumpy with an old couple refusing to get off the bus the the rice terraces. Alex and I were forced to get off instead while we were reassured another bus would be by in five minutes. After ten minutes our hostel ran out and told us to come back into wait since it would be more like 20 minutes. In this time our hostel expected us to pack up so they could move our rooms while we were gone. So probably an hour later than we had planned we set off to the rice terraces. 

On the bus we met two women, english teachers, from America who were in their second year of teaching in China. They shared our dislike for the old couple(this old couple’s defiance to not get off the bus caused the four of us to start our tours late). After we left the bus Yao women bombarded us with bracelets and scarfs reciting looka, looka and so beautiful. The Yao are a minority group in China. The women have famed long hair that they only cut once in their life (if I remember correctly, at the age of 18) and they have to wear their hair in one of three styles that indicate their relationship status. One for single, one for married, and one for widowed. To my knowledge the men have to display no such thing. As long as you ignore the major tourist attraction Longji has become you can imagine a beautiful and different way of life in China. Although us westerners, the two women we met, Alex and I, joked about the lifestyle no longer existing except for the tourist. Comments about hair weaves and modern clothing torn off to slip into the traditional dress before the tourists arrived were common fodder. 

The night included an “Irish” pub with pizza and beer: much need after a long day of being a tourist. 

Day three was a long day full of ups and downs. We met my students Blair and her friend Kellin (her spelling not mine) to travel to Yangshuo. We expected to rent some bikes and try to go hiking but, in my fear of missing out, Alex and I joined Blair and Kellin for a Li River “Bamboo” boat ride. The “Bamboo” is actually PVC pipe. I am glad we did it but it turned out to be a day of mostly traveling instead of exploring. 

We took the bus for an hour and a half to Yangshuo. Then we took a bus to Xing Ping for and hour then we took a rickshaw type go cart for thirty minutes to get to a boat. Our driver was the slowest on the river. He hit almost ever wave spraying Alex and I and ran into multiple boats. We were cold and wet but all I could do was laugh because what else could I do and if nothing else it is now a great story. The views, I do have to say, were amazing though. A lot of my students said Guilin is beautiful and the water is so clear but I, environmental me, could not help but think the water will not stay clear for long with all of these motorized “Bamboo” boats and tourists throwing their trash in the water. 

Our transportation back should have it’s own paragraph. . .  . or two, so here it is: 

China is overpopulated. When you visit a smaller town it only makes sense that catching a bus would become more difficult with a lot of waiting involved. When we got to Xing Ping a bus back to Yangshuo was loading. It was obvious we would not make it on to this bus but it seemed all of the people pushing to get on this bus would not make it on either. There were too many people and not enough boats. . . . or I mean, not enough seats. We watched a western couple make their own luck by opening a window in the back of the bus and climbing in. The girlfriend had a little more trouble than the boyfriend. A Chinese man was more than willing to help and proceeded to push her into the open window via her butt. This was all so hilarious until another bus rolled in and we realized we would have to do the same thing. 

The stampede began but this bus decided to make it a challenge and proceeded to turn itself around. The mob of us pressed against the door, thank God for Alex in this situation,only to side step a few more feet as the bus inched forward and refused to open its doors. Finally, it opened. It was as if the bus was submerged in the Li River and we were the water rushing though a broken window. Alex and I squeezed and elbowed our way on. I turned around to reach for Kellin’s hand and pulled her in. Blair eventually made it but had to stand while Alex, Kellin and I got seats. 

We separated from Blair and Kellin when we got back to Yangshuo--we had different ideas of how we wanted to spend the rest of our time. As Alex and I weaved through the crowded Yangshuo streets we, I, became thankful we did not stay in Yangshuo even if the backpacker/bars and promises of immense hiking called my name. We finally found a quiet coffee shop where I got my first mocha in a month. 

An hour later we joined the line, of a million Chinese people that wound around like a snake, to get back to Guilin. Dinner, fried rice, was in the Hostel this night as we did not get back until 11pm. 

Day four Alex and I decided to explore on our own, as it was probably best. We went to the Reed Flute Cave where the fake colored lighting and water pumped in to create “natural” pools could not detract from the beauty of the cave. I wanted to camp out there like the Goonies or the lost boys. It really made me feel like a kid when my Mom and Dad would take us to caves all over Indiana and South Dakota. 

The after was lazy with walking around the pagodas in the city. We found a steam bun man too. Naps were had back at the hostel and after we met Pinki, again, for dinner and shopped in an “Art Gallery.” I was suckered into buying two paintings. One will definitely be a Christmas present for Mom and Dad. The night was spent with two Americans in our Hostel, here teaching English, we talked and drank beer. It was really nice to share experiences in China with people who were our own age and people who knew what we were going through. We also talked about home and futures. The topics that are so interesting when first meeting someone. I was happy to hear that the things they knew about Minnesota were Brother Ali, Atmosphere, and Garrison Keillor. 

Day five was our last day in Guilin. We visited Elephant Trunk HIll and climbed some more. I love to climb. We indulged at Bob cafe; I had another mocha and Alex had a banana split. Dinner was at the Irish pub again(as Jiangmen does not have one) followed by packing for our 12 hour journey home. 

It was a great and much needed trip. Did I forget to mention it rained the whole time?

Yin. Yang.

In the third grade I had a Yin Yang pendant strung on a black cloth string around my neck. I wore that necklace everyday that year and never truly new what it meant. All I knew was black and white were opposites. 

I consider myself a person who believes; everything is interconnected while seemingly stands all alone. I look to themes within a culture to relate to or to enrich the knowledge I have gained from each place. Yin Yang has already come up  in common conversation while living in China. 

These two little half circles have turned into so much more than opposites. It is in China I have finally learned what the symbol truly means. The symbol displays opposites can only exist within the presence of the other. Opposites echo in life here. Man and woman,  poor and rich, elder and child, teacher and student, open-minded and close-minded. The list goes on. Differences are recognized but not dwelled upon. 

Many say the US breeds straight forward people--fast talking business men or “take no crap” bosses but what I have experienced, so far, in China is the chinese are much more straight forward. Actually, they are the most straight forward people I have ever met. They are also some of the kindest people I have ever met. 

Yin, the english name of a teacher I have met at Wuyi, has become a kind of mother figure to me. She is the most hilarious chinese woman I have met and the most blunt. We call each other friends but we seem more like family. At least, one day a week Yin and I go out around the town. Mainly we window shop and she introduces me to different foods but she has also showed me her hometown, right outside of Jiangmen’s city. 

She has told me some of her story of how she came to be where she is today. The late Tom Wilcox must be mentioned here because he was integral for Yin’s career as a Chinese English teacher. Without his influence, he helped her study abroad in New York, I am not sure I would have loved Jiangmen as much as I do. I feel as though she is my Tom Wilcox in China. Through this relationship I have seen the Yin Yang of the poor and rich.

Yin and her family are by no means rich but they do very well for themselves in China. However, this is not what Yin was always used to. I have mentioned that she showed me her hometown and the house where she grew up. When I climbed into her old home I was hit by how far she has come in life. The house had a, basically, dirt floor. When you enter you have the shower/bathroom on your left and the kitchen on your right. For this section there was no roof because this is also where the stairs were that led to the roof where, she told me, they would set out the rice. One more step over a threshold and you are in the living room. There were three bedrooms one to the left and two to the right. The third, yin said, was rented out when her family lived there. That was her life and now it has greatly improved because of the people she has met and drive she has within herself. Yin Yang. 

On our outing this past Sunday Yin and I went to the market and bought an abundance of fruit. It happened to be in an area where Yin used to live so naturally the woman selling us tangerines was someone she knew. Of course Yin could not remember her but the woman did and Jiangmen is a city of 4 million people! On greeting Yin the woman told her she has gained weight. Yin responded, “So have you.” “Yes,” said the woman, “you do not look very old though. . . . except for your gray hair.” This would be rude in America but in China it is a normal, perfectly acceptable line of questioning when saying hello to someone. 

People ask me, “Are you married?” “Do you have kids?” “Do you have a boyfriend?” What an American would wait to ask someone when they first meet them the Chinese would ask right after- how are you? However my friends here and almost everyone I meet wants to help me in any way they can. I know I know--”it is only because I am a westerner”-- but when I ask students what they like about Jiangmen, most, say that the people are so nice. 

A few weeks ago Alex Tim and I set out to find the elusive Red Garlic. A western restaurant where  we were told we could find the best pizza in Jiangmen. It was sprinkling-- as it has been on and off for a while now. So we walked outside the north gate from campus to catch a taxi. CRASH. The sound of metal and plastic colliding with pavement invaded my ears and I could barely comprehend what happened before I followed Tim over to the commotion. A woman had braked on her moped, caught some water underneath her tire and ended up sideways on the ground-- in the middle of, probably, the busiest street in Jiangmen. Tim went to her aid along with two other Chinese students. He had to rip her raincoat to free her from the bike. The Chinese wear poncho type raincoats that cover them and their entire moped in the rain. All I could do was stand around them and kept an eye out to make sure other drivers paid attention and went around us. 

Eventually the students moved her to the curb, her leg was hurt but no bleeding. Tim asked the security at the gate if they could call the police or someone to take her to the hospital but; the guard did not understand or did not want to call. We realized we did as much as we could do. So we left the woman with the two students and found a taxi. We passed the incident again, because the taxi had to circle back around, and viewed the student on the woman’s bike while the woman rode behind. He was a stranger and he did all of this for her. Yin Yang. 

Tidbits. 

The people of China are said to all look the same. To quote Chris Tucker in the movie Rush Hour, “All y'all’ look alike.” Yet, I have found some to remind me of family or friends back home. 

Yes. The form of potty training is a cut in the pants of your child’s clothing, then taking them to the side of the street and letting them “do their business” while you cradle them  between your legs (butt facing the pavement- a makeshift toilet). I did not notice this until I read John Murray's eloquent blog paragraph on the subject. Thanks John. 

One Saturday, while helping a Chinese teacher in her English classroom, I wrote gray on the board-- we were talking about colors. She promptly told me I spelt it wrong. So I switched to the British English spelling of grey and moved on. I have now realized the Chinese learn British English not American English. This was also the case when I described my “pet peeve” to my students: when people throw trash on the ground. They did not understand until I changed the word trash to rubbish. (I thought you would enjoy this one Katie Johnson.) Exit signs are also marked with “Way Out,” I now refer to the bathroom as the W.C., and I have also seen signs that say “Mind Your Head.”

I see footprints in the cement sidewalks and streets every where. Maybe this is because I look down a lot-- the ground (even paved) is very uneven here. But, I swear it is as if the Chinese want to do things their own way. They will not wait for the cement to dry.