A Fork in the Road

This day was now our designated bike-riding day. We awoke in the morning much more refreshed and ready to go than the day before. This proved to be a good thing, as this day turned out to be the most exhausting (but worthwhile) day yet.

Because it was Sunday, we started the day by listening to a conference talk, specifically the talk by Opa (President Uchtdorf). A very good talk, very timely and with a lot of compassion. Very well done! With our bags packed and water bottles ready to go, we went to the train station, bought some steamed bread as breakfast and got on a bus to Yangshuo. The way it works is you get on a bus and after the bus departs you pay for it. As the bus was leaving Guilin it stopped many times and one lady poked her head out of the bus and yelled “Yangshuo! Yangshuo!” to pick up more paying passengers. She was successful and the bus finally made its way a little bit more full, to Yangshuo. This same lady then tried to sell us another Li River cruise. We told her that we had already done that and she was incredulous. Really, you did this same cruise? The one with the 20 RMB bill scenery? You sure it was that same one? Eventually, she had to accept that we had already seen what she had to offer.

After a bumpy bus ride, with very little legroom, we arrived in beautiful Yangshuo. I informed myself about the times for the last bus and we went on to find a place for bike rentals. We found one and got ourselves two bikes, for 30 RMB each instead the initially demanded 40 each. (30 turned out to be still too much, I should have fought for 20.) We took the obligatory start-of-the-journey pictures, made sure I knew which way to go, and set out. I had carefully selected a bike path to follow in advance and had printed out a map as well as a written description of the path. I felt even more confident than the day before. But as the first title for this day suggests, things would not be this easy.

The first little while was indeed not difficult. We were riding on a fairly busy street, heading from Yangshuo strait to Baisha, just about 10 km north, in the direction of Guilin. In spite of the busy street this stretch was pretty nice and the countryside looked beautiful, hinting at more beautiful sites to come once we had left the more populous places. This part of the journey was relatively uneventful and we had a good ride. After a short while we got to Baisha, which was a larger town than what I had expected, but definitely not a tourist spot. There was much local traffic driving about and we were looking for the road leading to the dragon village and the dragon bridge. We found the intersection (asked a local man just to be sure) and were on our way. A lady on a scooter who asked us if we were on the way to the dragon village and wanted to go on a bamboo raft trip down the river confirmed our selection of route. The way she asked was Bamboo? Bamboo? Beautiful! We politely declined, saying that we knew it was beautiful, but we had already done it and were just biking today.

After a few minutes we saw the familiar parking lot, where we had been just two days earlier. We had indeed arrived in the quaint little Dragon village. Pushing our bikes through the village, we saw locals play a card game, which made use of stick-like cards with numbers on it. We would continue to see this game played around the area and in Guilin. It was about lunchtime when we got to the village and we sat down in the Yulong River café (Yulong is the Chinese name for the Dragon village). There we ordered a ham and cheese sandwich and some fried rice noodles, merging Chinese and American Cuisine. The food took a while to be served, but we didn’t mind as the weather was perfect and the seating area, right next to the river and the bridge, could not have been better. Around the table next to us were sitting a group of three travelers, not Chinese but of unsure heritage. One of them (a middle aged gentleman) spoke with a (probably) American accent, but the other two, a young man and woman, spoke with an accent that was definitely not American. My guess is that their native language was not English. They looked like the typical “World Traveler” type. The younger man had very long curly blond hair and a beard and they just had a crunchy, earthy appearance. What made this group even more like the stereotype was their conversation topic. As soon as we sat down, I overheard the older man say that he has long ago left traditional Christian beliefs and follows religions much older than three or four thousand years. They then talked about magic and aliens. The discussion got heated as they talked about the meaning of Stonehenge and how it most definitely is of alien origin. The older man was convinced that earth had been visited by extraterrestrials and that they had to have left an impression on mankind. He said that if a culture with vastly more advanced technology landed on earth, the primitive humans must have believed that those were Gods, and thus religion was born. The younger travelers didn’t quite agree on some details, and thus went the discussion. It was really quite amusing. Agreeing on the point that there must be something out there that connects Neanderthals to the Homo Sapiens, the missing link, the group left, continuing their bike ride.

We enjoyed a delicious meal next to the dragon bridge and one of the girls working at the café took a picture of Jenn and me, but only after asking us in rather good English. Jenn tested the limits of her English when asking her if she was here on vacation and if she lived and worked here, both questions to which the girl responded with yes. After this nice break we continued across the bridge, but not before conversing with some villagers and rejecting many more offers for bamboo rides (Bamboo! Beautiful!) and flowery head crowns.

We took the left turn after the dragon bridge, just like the biking instructions had told us. This seemed like a good and easy choice, until we got to another fork in the road, the first of many more to come. This fork in the road was not mentioned in the map or the writing, but judging by the looks of the two paths, lead in two very different directions. Only we did not know which direction we should take. I must say that this sounds a lot like a life lesson. Not all forks in life’s road are described somewhere and they might lead into very different directions. The only thing you can do is ask for advice and then make a decision and live with the consequences, which is exactly what we did. As soon as we heard a motorcycle approaching, I stopped the man and asked him where these two paths lead to. He did not know about the one path and the other path lead to (some place I could not make out because of the accent of the man). But because he did not know the other path and because the path he was taking looked safer, we took it. After all, our goal was to see the Chinese rural countryside and could we go wrong with either choice in this case? We cycled for a while and got into some very impressive countryside. The view was just incredible, so much so that we did not even notice the pretty blue sky, as our eyes were always fixed on the things around us, including the majestic mountains.

As we continued our journey we started coming through some smaller villages, which were mainly just small collections of fields, chickens and red or brown brick houses. Many, many house were deserted, but a lot of them were not. From the outside, the deserted houses and those that housed villagers were hardly discernible. Only after seeing chickens, dogs or people sitting inside the houses could you know for sure. The living conditions were extremely humble and the inhabitants mostly old people, although some younger adults and some children were seen too. The floors in those houses were either dirt or asphalt. But for us, this was a very interesting sight, and quite beautiful. It was as if time had stopped in this part of ever growing China.

We had enjoyed the scenery for quite some time, when we came to another fork in the road, also not on the map. At this point I did not know where we where on the map or anywhere. The first group of people arrived and I asked them where the paths lead. Again, one path they did not know, the other lead to Yangshuo (which was were we eventually wanted to go). Nobody also seemed to know any of the villages I had written on my map. Just to be sure I asked another young man who walked by and he said the same thing. With those two opinions, we felt safe in choosing the road back to Yangshuo.

We took many more pictures on the road. After riding for a while longer (and passing even more forks in the road, asking for directions every time), we eventually got to a point where the road ended and we were standing at the edge of a river. There was a man there whom I asked where the bridge across the river was. No bridge! Bamboo! Bamboo down the river! Beautiful! Cheap! I did not want a bamboo ride and I knew that there was a bridge so I asked him again. No, there is no bridge he said. The bridge does not exist anymore, only bamboo rafts. We did not believe him and turned around. We saw two roads earlier that turned in the direction of the river and one of them had to lead us across the river. After we had turned back we indeed did run into a British (or Australian?) couple who confirmed our suspicion that there was a way across the river that did not involve “Bamboo!” 

We decided on a dirt path that pointed us in the direction of the river. In the distance we saw a man and a woman with a group of cows heading our way. I asked them about a river crossing and they were happy to inform us that there was not a bridge but a path across the river. The man was especially excited and made noises like a little kid riding a bicycle for the first time. Happy about the fact that for once nobody tried to get us on a bamboo raft, we continued on this small dirt road. And the man was right. There was no bridge, but a dam like path across the river; a beautiful spot. Some boys played in the water, unburdened by any kind of swimwear. While taking pictures on the water-path, a girl approached us and gave me something grilled on a stick to eat. Her family was grilling next to the river and insisted that we enjoy some of the delicacies. I did not know what it was that she gave me and from her answer I just got that I was some part of a duck. A closer examination of the offered nourishment revealed a elongated protrusion that did in fact look like the beak of a duck. We settled that this must be grilled duck head. I tried to eat it, but there was no meat on it as far as I could tell. What I did eat tasted indeed like duck. We continued our journey and I returned the duck head to mother nature, we did not know what else to do with it.

Once past the river we got to a slightly larger town, which turned out to be one of the towns on my map (we only learned that after the fact, people we talked to in the town did not seem to be clear about its name). This town turned out to be more invested in the tourism business and everyone we talked to (and even more people we did not talk to) offered us bamboo rides on the river. Experiencing this soliciting, I concluded that everyone here must work in the tourism business. Not only do those that actually operate the bamboo rafts advertise for the same, but so do all the villagers. When a child is growing up they are not asked what they want to be when they are grown, but instead taught basic English words such like “Bamboo!” “Beautiful!” and “Cheap!” Some of these villagers are very persuasive and when they are motorized, they become even more diligent. One older gentleman followed us for quite some time, asking us to come on bamboo rides. After the village we came to yet another fork in the road and I asked him for directions to the Gongnong Bridge (close to Yangshuo). He was not willing to admit that there was a non-bamboo raft way to the bridge, but when he showed us the map (trying to show the convenience of the river way) I managed to get a glance of the actual land-based road to the bridge, and we left a protesting and “Bamboo!” yelling man behind us. 

By this time, both of us had gotten very tired and we were about ready to leave the land of bamboo and bike rides behind us. Sore and thirsty, we did our best to finish our trip, which had been amazing. We found the bridge and from there it was only a short ride back into good old Yangshuo. Even though our epic bike ride had come to a close, we were far from finished with the day; we still had to get more out of it. We had heard of a show called "Impressions Liu Sanjie", which was advertised as a nature and theater remix. A draw for me was that it had been directed by world famous Chinese director Zhang Yimou (of "Hero", "House of Flying Daggers" fame and the Beijing opening ceremonies). We went and bought tickets, which unfortunately lengthened our already extensive bike ride. Partially because we were unable to see the sign pointing to our turn. After biking out further and noticing that the area was becoming rural again we decided to ask where the building was and thus turned around. The tickets we got were a rather good price.

***

Our load rumbling tummies were beckoning us to get some food and so we did. After returning the bikes and sitting down on the heavenly soft couches of a hotel, we sat down in an establishment romantically named "Cloud 9 Cafe", which I had read about previously. It had a great view on West Street, the busy and famous tourist street of Yangshuo and offered some descent (and American tasting) Chinese food. A nice change away from all the REAL Chinese food here! (Although we love real Chinese food!)

Not willing to submit our posteriors to another bike ride back to where the show was to be held, we tried to find a bus stop, although that proved to be a difficult task. There was no official stop and nobody knew exactly where it was. I made the mistake to ask a motorcycle straddling man where the bus stop was. In Yangshuo, everyone who is just sitting around on a motorcycle is actually somebody who will take you somewhere for some hard cash. Thus, the man of course was convinced that a bus was a terrible way of getting around and the he himself was the real "bus stop". After not accepting that gracious offer, we decided to walk.

By the time we got to the venue, it was dark. Crowds of people gathered to see the event, almost all of them were with organized tourist groups. We moved into the venue, which was actually directly at the bank of the Li River. After we went through the gates we noticed how big the area was. There were lots of old-style buildings built mostly out of wood and probably used for other shows. It was a huge area! Finally we got to the actual "theater". I say "theater" because the only man-built part of it was the seating area. We had seats fairly far back, with was a good thing, since the view was supposed to be seen from a more broad perspective. It was really dark at this point, so we could hardly see anything. All we knew is that we were looking out directly onto the Li River.

Then the show started and the lights were turned on. It was absolutely breathtaking! We looked onto a beautiful part of the river with the most picturesque mountains in the background you could imagine. It was the perfect Guilin scenery. Even though they were real mountains, it almost felt like a fake theater backdrop, it seemed too good to be true. The mountains were also illuminated by white light and later by different colored lights. Words cannot describe what we saw. I tried to take a picture, but in vain. It is sad to admit, but we could only capture this moment with our eyes and memory.

The show was great. Let me just say that the director was also the one who directed the opening ceremony for the Beijing Olympics. The scale of it all was enormous. There were at least 600 actors involved in the production and it seemed like they were all on "stage" at the same time. The show was an amazing mixture of lighting effects, folk music with lots of drums, singing and dance. The cast reportedly is mainly local fishermen and villagers, from outlying villages. It was an amazing show and the nature imbedded grandiosity will not be forgotten by us.

After the show all we had left to do was to return home and sleep. This day was the most physically taxing, but also the most adventurous and perhaps fun! Driving home, we got a view of West Street at night and the crowds of people were unbelievable. We got a picture of that! We made it home safely (though the bus ride was unusually bumpy) and slipped away into a well earned sleep.