GUANGXI 10: YANGSHUO AND THE YULONG RIVER

The weather turns cloudy and I have run out of walks and cycle rides for the present so I decide to visit Yangshuo town and stay over for a couple of nights as there is more in the way of night life there. I've been before but just for part of the day. It's a bustling tourist town where the action centres around Xie Jie (West Street) which is the bar and hotel strip. It's actually the oldest street in Yangshuo but has lost it's former old world charm as it's now full of bars, restaurants and hotels, some of which are located in seedy little back-alleys off West Street. So I go online to try and book a hotel or hostel for two nights but this turns out to be a struggle. Either they are fully booked on the dates I'm looking to go or the available ones are too expensive. I draw up a list of those with 24 hour reception desks and in the end I book the same one I went to on my last visit which I abandoned as the town was closed up for Chinese New Year. I have to move my dates a bit but as I have enough time this doesn't present a problem, so I book myself in for Thursday and Friday night. You can get a room on spec in Yangshuo but I think this involves hassle as you have to shop around.

Having at length managed this I wander around Xingping looking for somewhere to have lunch. I have a beer in a pizza shop and bar and decide to visit an old Chinese restaurant nearby, mainly because it's warm inside. Everywhere is thronged with Chinese tourists and the hostel bar is filled with people lounging around looking at mobile phones. (The amount of time human beings spend looking at electronic screens worries me.) The reception counter seems to spend all day checking families in and out in an endless stream.

I rather regret going to this restaurant:it's charming with old lanterns and comfortable, but the food is rather unappetising. By now I have a list of places to go to where the food is reliable and tasty. I have some stir fried beef and potato which is passable but lacking in flavour. Following this I find Greg, the Belgian photographer and part restaurant-owner with his Chinese wife, outside his restaurant. He sells German sausages on a stall outside and the Chinese seem to find it utterly fascinating.  

At any rate he has a good trade in this. We sit and talk over a few beers and then decide to visit the Indian restaurant nearby and talk with the Indian owner Mac, as he calls himself. He is quite extrovert and and loves beer and talking. He often says “Enjoy life”, it seems to be a catchphrase of his. I have a good time and decide to have a curry as it's 6.30 by the time Greg leaves to go back to his restaurant so Mac sits with me and we talk over some more beer. I have to stop him buying me one more before I go as I'm pretty drunk by now and its about 8.30. I've been out since about 1pm.  

Back at the hostel I spend some time online and uploading photographs, and as there is no-one in the hostel bar to talk to I have an early night, setting my alarm for 7.30 the next morning. I wake during the night feeling thirsty but I have no bottled water, so I boil some in the kettle and wait for it to cool: needless to say this takes so long that I've gone back to sleep before then, so in the morning my alarm wakes me, I shower and pack my rucksack as a day bag for Yangshuo, and take the bus arriving at around 11am. I'd like to have gone later but the traffic on the roads at present is atrocious, particularly around Xingping after 10 am. On arrival I check into the hostel which is tucked away in a little alley near the bus station, and the room is fine if a little depressing as it's a mix of green bed and pink walls in muted pastel colours. There is a wall outside the window so there's no view to speak of and the light is a little dim: but it suits my needs well.

I walk out to West Street and have lunch at a German bierkeller that does a good dish of sausage and mash, if a bit expensive.

There is also a quite fascinating food market that sells a variety of Chinese street food including stuffed snails, barbecued meat, fish and squid, stir-fries, chicken wings, duck and many other things. I also see the lady at the CITS office where I booked the river raft ride and she remembers me. At any rate I find that they provide cycle hire at reasonable rates so I keep this in mind for the next day. Today,as is my habit on arriving somewhere, I spend the day exploring the area and relaxing. Mac and Greg have offered to join me in Yangshuo on Friday evening and we have arranged to meet up, but whether things will work out that way I'm unsure. Yangshuo reminds me of Ayia Napa in Cyprus. There are dozens of bars around the West Street area but most of them are closed during the day. I walk around the streets and back alleys until I manage to find one that is open. It has a mannequin outside it in a Spider-Man costume, for some reason. I sit inside and do some writing, and there is a relaxed mood with light jazz playing in the background which is just the right kind of ambience for me.

Yangshuo back-alley hostels and bars.

Anyway, Yangshuo strikes me as a night town so it will be interesting to see what it's like in the evening. I get back to the hostel at about 4pm so I shower and change then walk out for the evening. I find a small restaurant in a back alley near West Street and try the local speciality which is beer fish, (carp cooked in beer) It's quite good value at RMB 35 but has rather too many bones in it for my liking. I decide to try making it again at home in Baoding.

 West Street is utterly solid with visitors and alive with music and light. It reminds me of the Muslim quarter of Xian and the atmosphere is very lively.

The first place I visit is a bar called Monkey Jane's at the top of a hostel tucked away in a back alley: it seems to be the best known bar in town, and as I recall many of the backpackers I talked to in Xingping mentioned it.

The hostel and the bar are rather run-down but it has a real rustic charm about it: I spend some time talking to the barman who is an American expat teacher working in Shanghai and his Chinese design student friend. Apparently nightlife in Yangshuo bars does not really kick off until after 9pm and often goes on until 7 in the morning. After 8 I visit a little bar with a lantern-lit balcony outside over a stream. It's quite atmospheric and has a music act on which, although Chinese pop music doesn't really appeal to me, is quite good.

 For me, this low-ceilinged bar has a kind of Indiana Jones feeling about it although it's actually quite modern. I imagine it's the combination of smoke and lanterns that creates this. Two Chinese guys sitting next to me buy me a bottle of Budweiser and take photos with me; it happens a lot in China to foreign visitors.

  

 The next bar I visit is a reggae bar called Kaya, where I have a Belgian beer. The Chinese girl at the bar has dreadlocks and speaks English very well: she is very lively and quite a character. Two Yemeni guys I saw in Monkey Jane's come in and we get talking: they ask for Sambuca which the bar doesn't seem to have, so I recommend absinthe and to my surprise they buy me a glass! I take my time with it but one of then knocks it back in one go (often a mistake) and spends several seconds spluttering “Wow!!!” before recovering.

Feeling a little peckish as the fish wasn't very filling, I visit McDonalds and have a burger which fills me up very nicely. It's around 10.30 by now and I've had enough to drink so I make my way back to the hostel after visiting the public toilet: here there is a Chinese market trader outside demanding 1RMB to use it. I'm convinced this is some sort of illegal racket but of course I go along with it to avoid fuss.

 The next morning I get up at around 9.20 and set off to hire a cycle. As it happens the hostel provides bike hire and it's cheap: the bike is good quality too! So I hire a mountain bike for RMB30 and set off along the Yulong River.

  

I honestly cannot understand why it is so heavily promoted in tourist literature. The Yulong is actually a peaceful and quiet area, and the water is like a mirror because it isn't disturbed by large boats, and there are no large tourist crowds. Yet all the same it lacks the dramatic landscape of the Lijiang at Xingping and I actually find it rather disappointing; the river seems stagnant in places and ill maintained. Admittedly however, the weather is gloomy and further takes away from the spectacle I expected. I suppose if you are looking for quiet charm then in good weather you would find it here.

You can hire a river raft and they are actually made of real bamboo! Also the boatman uses a long pole so there is no sound of engines making for a peaceful scene. I briefly contemplate hiring a raft myself but I decide against it as I know it's likely to be expensive, it might not be very safe and the weather is not really right for this kind of thing today.

Bamboo rafts on the Yulong River

The trail becomes very uneven at times and I occasionally have to get off the bike and walk, but in the end I reach the Yulong Bridge, where I set out to go, and ride back along the road through the villages, getting back to Yangshuo at about 1pm.

Following this I fetch up in a pizza restaurant in Yangshuo where I have a spicy pizza and potato salad which is quite good and I do enjoy it (although the salad has ketchup on it which is quite unnecessary.) The Chinese actually make some Western food well.  

Yangshuo back alleys off West Street.

  

 I hadn't altogether expected it but my photographer friend Greg does indeed call me at the hostel later and we arrange to meet in Monkey Jane's bar that evening, so following a refreshing shower and change I head back into West Street. I'm not terribly hungry so I settle for a German hot-dog at the bierkeller I visited yesterday. In Monkey Jane's there are a couple from Sheffield that I get talking to: they're travelling around the Far East: Japan, Shanghai and Hong Kong, as well as Yangshuo and Guilin. So we share fond memories of Sheffield. Greg arrives and we chat at the bar over a few beers: the Yemenis I drank absinthe with also arrive, they have a big meal which I think is provided free by the hostel to guests. There is enough to feed about 6 people at least so they ask us to join them but both of us are not hungry. All the same there is a convivial atmosphere and everyone seems to talk to everyone else. It's pleasant and I enjoy myself. One of the Yemenis admits being the worse for wear after his adventures the previous night and it makes for an entertaining story which seems to have gone around the hostel! (I draw the conclusion he must have been drinking shots all night long.)

Bartender Fay at Monkey Jane's.

Greg fancies a change of scene: we know Mac is in town but we don't know where so we head off to Kaya, the reggae bar, and on the way Mac jumps out of a nearby bar into the street and pulls us in where he is sitting with a young Chinese couple: in his charismatic fashion he orders dozens of cans of Budweiser, but as it's very fizzy it doesn't sit well with the beers I've already had.  

I make things worse by pulling a stunt like that of my Yemeni companion the night before and drinking one of these cans in one draught. This renders me somewhat paralysed and bloated for a few minutes owing the the copious amount of gas it contains and I feel rather nauseous and foolish. As the bar is full of loud music, Mac's Chinese companions, although very friendly cannot speak a word of English and I can hardly hear myself think, we are just spending our time pouring Budweisers for each other and saying “Cheers.” So I decide to move on to Kaya by myself: the Chinese girl seems disappointed at this and doesn't seem to want me to go. I feel a little guilty but prefer to be in a place where I can enjoy myself in conversation. So I chat to the dreadlocked Chinese bar lady and an American expat for a while over a dark beer but owing to my Budweiser antics I'm unable to finish it. I seem to have reached the end of the evening. About an hour has passed in Kaya so I walk back to the other bar where my companions of earlier are still together, just to say goodnight: however they wish to carry on trawling the bars and I'm at the end of the road, rather disappointingly. As my protests fall on deaf ears and they seem to want to drag me around I slip quietly away and have a burger in the Golden Arches before returning to the hostel. Part of me feels guilty as I may be treating people badly and I appreciate them coming as I enjoy their company. However at some point I have to mind my health.

 The next morning the weather is gloomy and wet. I check out at 8.30 and the bus ride back to Xingping is quiet without the heavy congestion of the past few days. When I get back the streets of Xingping are almost deserted except for a few Chinese locals and tourists in brightly coloured raincoats.  I walk back to the hostel along the back streets of the old town.

Then something odd happens. Up ahead someone is letting off firecrackers along the narrow street: these are incredibly noisy and and create so much smoke that the streets become filled with a dense fog. They go along the street like bright ghosts in the fog letting off these fireworks as they go and I have to put my fingers in my ears to stop the noise: the explosions create minor shock-waves which can be felt as I pass by. I assume of course that this is some kind of Chinese New Year-associated ritual. The next thing that happens is I can hear drums and some sort of reedy music made with what I think are woodwind instruments. This comes from a procession which appears out of the fog all dressed in these bright yellow and red raincoats in the drizzle. Bizarrely some of them are walking backwards, their arms linked with another person on either side who is walking forwards to support them. The expressions on their faces are solemn and I feel a deep sense of strangeness that disturbs me. At the centre of this ghostly procession there appears a large casket being borne on long poles by a number of people, followed by those playing the music. The casket is covered in colourful draperies and I finally realise I'm watching a funeral procession. Clearly this is no time to take photographs so I watch this eerie sight pass into the surrounding mist. Chinese funerals are fascinating to watch, even though I have to mask my curiosity.  

 The gloomy weather may preclude doing much unless you have the right clothing, but it does provide some dramatic views of the mountains cloaked in low clouds. I unpack and have some breakfast, then set up my PC and upload some photographs of my journey within a journey. By this stage it's nearly lunchtime. I have a somewhat unappetising burger and do a little writing. This short change of scenery has been good for me but I'm glad to be back in Xingping as I prefer it here.