I awoke with a bit of a fuzzy head but otherwise well rested and thankful to b able to catch up on some sleep after the long train journey. After breakfast (full English – bit of toast, 10 beans and 1 egg) we all met in the hostel lobby to venture into town to collect bikes for a days worth of cycling.
The air was still, heavy and slightly spitting with rain but the mist it created allowed for some fantastic scenery, shrouding the peaks of the limestone hills.
We set off, first through the town which was absolutely manic! I had happily witnessed the apparent random driving from the relative safety of inside a bus prior to this but now we were al vulnerable, exposed to the onslaught of Chinese traffic. Each side of the road acted as a rough guide for the direction the traffic should attempt to follow. Everyone owns some form of horn in their vehicle and use it like it’s attached to the accelerator. They honk if they’re coming up behind you, honk when they pass, and honk when they come towards you, honk when they pass, and honk if they are nowhere near you. It’s not just the motorised traffic either, Victor, our guide, was constantly ringing his bell frantically whilst navigating through the seemingly bewildered pedestrians who would step off at random in front of you. It was great fun ducking in and out of traffic whilst keeping your head spinning 360 degrees looking for bikes, mopeds, trucks, coaches and animals.
We eventually veered off into a side street, a great line of westerners which caused great amusement amongst the residents, some of which took photographs of us. Cycling along we headed to the rice plantations and instantly the traffic calmed with only a handful of fellow cyclists to navigate through.
We stopped for one of many photo opportunities looking through the immense valley landscape. Every inch of flat land has been used for producing a wide range of food stuffs – citrus and tangerine trees in neat rows, flooded rice paddy fields, numerous leaf greens, banana stands, strawberries, melons and sweetcorn. After the initial town traffic onslaught this area was preferable, calm beautiful and very humid.
We all traversed concrete roads and dirt tracks and laughed and joked around for most of the ride stopping occasionally for more photos, especially some great group shots.
Our destination was a place called Moon Hill a popular ‘stop off’ point en route where one of the limestone peaks is shaped into an arch and stands high above the landscape.
It’s an amazing sight and for 15 Yuan we could climb around 800 steps through a bamboo forest to stand beneath the arch. Each of us unfortunately acquired a tiny local woman clutching a fan and cool box with beer, water and postcards in. They had leapt out of nowhere when we were arriving on our bikes, we had heard this distant screaming and shouting as Victor proclaimed, ‘They’re coming!’ Around 20 ladies streamed across the busy road into our convoy of bikes causing chaos amongst the ranks – after previously pedalling for an age and feeling a bit tired we were taken surprise by this event!
So, leaving our bikes at the café we took to trek up the hillside mw, with my very own woman. She was very nice, spoke great English and taught me to say 1,2,3,4 and 5 in Chinese and attempted to fan me on the journey – I felt awkward as we were advised to best ignore these ladies but I found her company enjoyable even though she was fanning the forest beyond me more than my actual face. She had the guilt trip on me perfectly and showed me a photo of her two sons, one 13 and the other 15. She pointed to the general direction where she lived, on a small farm – she had no other job other than gaining what she could from hot, sweating, out of breath tourists climbing to Moon Hill. I knew at some point I would have to give her some money. She stuck with me the whole journey, right to the peak.
At the summit the tree line disappeared allowing for some great views of the surrounding landscape, much the same as before but from a higher elevation, as if I was inside a hot air balloon.
There were stalactite rock formations hanging from the archway of Moon Hill itself and walking beneath this I could view an even more expansive vista before me. I felt quite worn out and dizzy from the climb and gulped water in an attempt to level my head a little.
At the foot of the hill, back in the café area I treated myself to a delicious mango prawn dinner and chewed the fat with the rest of the group around our table whilst waiting for my forehead to dry a little. We all retrieved our bikes and cycled back via a different to Yangshuo, we arrived back at the hostel for the welcome embrace of a shower and clean clothes. Some of the group headed out for a Chinese cooking lesson but I decided to stay behind and write a few postcards. Tomorrow I will be participating in a calligraphy lesson where I hop to lean how to write my name in Chinese characters.
I’m laying in bed as I write this, it’s about 9:40pm local time and I’m watching some crazy television with the sound down, my ipod is treating me to the new Errors album.
Chinese television is insane, I have agreed it’s mostly advertisements for similar products to back home but brighter, more colourful, faster and generally manic. I just saw Jackie Chan endorsing some product which I couldn’t be sure about (Edit: It was hair shine cream). If you see Bruce Lees image on a shop front in China then they’re probably selling fried chicken, KFC style…he’s be doing kung fu flips in his grave if he knew.
I’ve just returned from having a few beers with Ben, Megan, Rob, Wayne and his wife Michelle. Earlier they had a cooking lesson which, judging by their photos went extremely well, they’ll all be pro’s back home. To choose their cooking ingredients they visited the local farmers market. They told me they saw dogs in cages for sale and other ‘processed’ dog carcasses hanging up. Some dogs were crammed inside small cages – up to 7 at a time; they said you could hear them before you saw them.
On another note, I’m really enjoying drinking so much water; I may adopt this habit when I return. Earlier I was able to use Wayne BBC News page. There was a photo of Cameron and Clegg standing at the doorway to Number 10 waving – that sums it up. However, Clegg didn’t look too happy, certainly not as happy as Cameron. I think I may be returning to a different Britain
