I’m not feeling very well today… think I’m starting to get a bit of a cold.. I sit in the back of a small bus which is struggling to make its way up a narrow mountain road. The backpacker beside me tells me he’s been traveling around China for two months now and he’s from Israel, and he’s just met up with his mom, and this is his mom, and she gives me fruit.. and I just don’t care… I’m watching the edge of the narrow road, and of more particular interest is the river running some 1000 feet below. I don’t know if it’s amaxophobia, illyngophobia , judeophobia or some combination of the three… but I’m starting to feel very anxious… can’t we get there already, I want off this bus!
A few minutes later, we reach the end of the road and unload. We are high up in the mountains near the village of Long Ji. It’s meant to be a beautiful terraced rice field, but visibility is restricted to a few hundred feet. My pack resting heavily on my back, I say goodbye to my backpacker friend and thank his mom for the fruit and quietly disappear into the fog.
“hello… hello…” says the fog a few minutes into my hike. The dim silhouette of a souvenir stall looms ominously in the mist.. the voice continues… “hello… hello”. I’m in no mood to shop. My hands shoved a bit deeper into my pockets, I continue trudging through the mud.
Thump.. Thump.. Thump.. .. Is that my heart? It stops… I hope not. Ignore it and continue walking… Thump.. Thump.. Thump.. it’s back again.. this time the rhythmic pounding is more discernable and less ominous. I’ve reached the base of the village of Longji, a village undergoing much renovation, as locals try to capitalize on the recent influx of tourism into the area.
Thump.. Thump.. Thump.. now I can see the source of the noise. Not sure what this guy is doing, but he amuses me… the homemade cigarette in his mouth lets out a little puff of smoke with every swing, I’m reminded of a steam engine. My mind flashes back to my childhood days at the arcades.. I miss Whack-a-Mole.
A glance at my phone, tells me it’s 4:00. The last bus leaves from the drop location at 6:00. I’m already a good 30min walk away.. I decide that I’ll just see what happens in the village, and if nothing else, find a dry spot to sleep.
I’m immediately very impressed by the village. It’s the first time I’ve seen all-wood constructions since leaving the US. It’s quiet up here, no vehicles to create noise, and very little electricity so much of the work is still done using hand tools.
After passing through the village, I continue to hike towards the top of the mountain, where the best views of the terraced fields are said to be. Near the top, I pass a small wooden shack with a balcony that hangs over the side of the mountain. It’s a precarious creation to say the least, but a great spot to snap a few pictures.
A few minutes later, we reach the end of the road and unload. We are high up in the mountains near the village of Long Ji. It’s meant to be a beautiful terraced rice field, but visibility is restricted to a few hundred feet. My pack resting heavily on my back, I say goodbye to my backpacker friend and thank his mom for the fruit and quietly disappear into the fog.
“hello… hello…” says the fog a few minutes into my hike. The dim silhouette of a souvenir stall looms ominously in the mist.. the voice continues… “hello… hello”. I’m in no mood to shop. My hands shoved a bit deeper into my pockets, I continue trudging through the mud.
Thump.. Thump.. Thump.. .. Is that my heart? It stops… I hope not. Ignore it and continue walking… Thump.. Thump.. Thump.. it’s back again.. this time the rhythmic pounding is more discernable and less ominous. I’ve reached the base of the village of Longji, a village undergoing much renovation, as locals try to capitalize on the recent influx of tourism into the area.
Thump.. Thump.. Thump.. now I can see the source of the noise. Not sure what this guy is doing, but he amuses me… the homemade cigarette in his mouth lets out a little puff of smoke with every swing, I’m reminded of a steam engine. My mind flashes back to my childhood days at the arcades.. I miss Whack-a-Mole.A glance at my phone, tells me it’s 4:00. The last bus leaves from the drop location at 6:00. I’m already a good 30min walk away.. I decide that I’ll just see what happens in the village, and if nothing else, find a dry spot to sleep.
I’m immediately very impressed by the village. It’s the first time I’ve seen all-wood constructions since leaving the US. It’s quiet up here, no vehicles to create noise, and very little electricity so much of the work is still done using hand tools.
After passing through the village, I continue to hike towards the top of the mountain, where the best views of the terraced fields are said to be. Near the top, I pass a small wooden shack with a balcony that hangs over the side of the mountain. It’s a precarious creation to say the least, but a great spot to snap a few pictures.
There is a girl in traditional dress that will take a picture with you for a certain amount of money. I have my own camera, but buy a picture from her as well. It was interesting to see inside her living area. She has a bed, some baby cloths, a computer, printer and laminator and that’s about it, all in a house would be considerably smaller than most of our bathrooms.
I reach the top of the mountain as the sun is beginning to set. While sitting on a ledge overlooking the mountainside, I take a few moments to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings. A bitterly cold breeze and the growing darkness bring me back to reality. I have no flashlight, the village has no lamps and I have no place to stay… hmmm time to head back down to the village.
On the way down I meet these two guys heading home after a day in the field (and pub if my nose tells me the truth) and one is kind enough to let me take a couple pictures with him. I love annoying the local people!
Coming back into the village, I hear “Hello!” again.. This time it’s a group of Asian students from Guilin excited to practice their English. They ask me questions in English and I respond in Chinese. After a while they ask me where I’m staying.. I tell them I have no idea.. The look of horror on their faces is quickly replaced with excitement when I agree to follow them back to their “hotel” and stay with them for the night. (I don’t know if they fully appreciate how happy I was to meet them… I had no idea where I was going to sleep for the night)
We arrive at the hotel.. it’s a three story wooden building very similar to all the other buildings in the village. The bottom floor has a large, open dining room.. a few jars of pickled snakes sit on shelves along the wall, a computer, dvd player,tv and karaoke machine form an impressive entertainment center, although none have been hooked up and look as if they will not be anytime soon. The second floor is the sleeping area. There are 6 rooms here, each room with 2 or three beds in it, but no other furniture. They do have a shower room, but the walls are made of sheet plastic and it’s too bloody cold anyway, I’ll just take a spray on shower, thanks.
Walking to my bed, I hear a conversation beneath me.. looking down, I am surprised (I think) to realize that I can see the conversation taking place as well. These floor boards are thin and sporadic… note to self… no sleep walking. The bed was quite comfortable; however, I noticed that all the blankets were wet.. (from the mist) and very, very cold. This should be the perfect icing for my pneumonia cake.
I reach the top of the mountain as the sun is beginning to set. While sitting on a ledge overlooking the mountainside, I take a few moments to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings. A bitterly cold breeze and the growing darkness bring me back to reality. I have no flashlight, the village has no lamps and I have no place to stay… hmmm time to head back down to the village.
On the way down I meet these two guys heading home after a day in the field (and pub if my nose tells me the truth) and one is kind enough to let me take a couple pictures with him. I love annoying the local people!
Coming back into the village, I hear “Hello!” again.. This time it’s a group of Asian students from Guilin excited to practice their English. They ask me questions in English and I respond in Chinese. After a while they ask me where I’m staying.. I tell them I have no idea.. The look of horror on their faces is quickly replaced with excitement when I agree to follow them back to their “hotel” and stay with them for the night. (I don’t know if they fully appreciate how happy I was to meet them… I had no idea where I was going to sleep for the night)
We arrive at the hotel.. it’s a three story wooden building very similar to all the other buildings in the village. The bottom floor has a large, open dining room.. a few jars of pickled snakes sit on shelves along the wall, a computer, dvd player,tv and karaoke machine form an impressive entertainment center, although none have been hooked up and look as if they will not be anytime soon. The second floor is the sleeping area. There are 6 rooms here, each room with 2 or three beds in it, but no other furniture. They do have a shower room, but the walls are made of sheet plastic and it’s too bloody cold anyway, I’ll just take a spray on shower, thanks.
Walking to my bed, I hear a conversation beneath me.. looking down, I am surprised (I think) to realize that I can see the conversation taking place as well. These floor boards are thin and sporadic… note to self… no sleep walking. The bed was quite comfortable; however, I noticed that all the blankets were wet.. (from the mist) and very, very cold. This should be the perfect icing for my pneumonia cake.
My friends came to get me for supper, so we adjourned to the “kitchen/dining room” to eat. We were joined by the hotels permanent guests: the owner and his wife, his mother, and his daughter and her husband. We sat in a circle surrounding a cooking pot suspended over an open fire.
The food is some of the best I’ve ever had, and I eat a lot of it. Grandma brings out some of her home-made rice wine and offers me a glass. I suppose gasoline is an acquired taste, grandma certainly seems to enjoy it, or maybe she just enjoys the look on my face as I try to mask the displeasure of consuming this high-octane brew.
After dinner we return to the first floor and sit around another open fire.. the Chinese girls sing and chat and make shoes, while we men play cards and enjoy a proper beer. My Chinese friends tell me to take the first shower and then they will shower.. I say ok and go to the shower “room”. I can’t do it… it’s freezing in here… I sneak out and into my room and crawl under my cold, wet blankets.
The sun and a knock on the door awake me at 10:00 the next morning. I try to say come in, but my voice won’t cooperate. I feel miserable.. My friends are leaving to continue the hike to another village a few hrs away and invite me to go with them. My girlfriend is visiting me in Hong Kong in a few days, so I politely refuse. I need to get back to Guilin… my train leaves tonight.
The food is some of the best I’ve ever had, and I eat a lot of it. Grandma brings out some of her home-made rice wine and offers me a glass. I suppose gasoline is an acquired taste, grandma certainly seems to enjoy it, or maybe she just enjoys the look on my face as I try to mask the displeasure of consuming this high-octane brew.
After dinner we return to the first floor and sit around another open fire.. the Chinese girls sing and chat and make shoes, while we men play cards and enjoy a proper beer. My Chinese friends tell me to take the first shower and then they will shower.. I say ok and go to the shower “room”. I can’t do it… it’s freezing in here… I sneak out and into my room and crawl under my cold, wet blankets.
The sun and a knock on the door awake me at 10:00 the next morning. I try to say come in, but my voice won’t cooperate. I feel miserable.. My friends are leaving to continue the hike to another village a few hrs away and invite me to go with them. My girlfriend is visiting me in Hong Kong in a few days, so I politely refuse. I need to get back to Guilin… my train leaves tonight.
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2 comments:
Hey Steve, I love your stories and adventures! Wish I were there to share a few with you! I hope you are OK and not sick after this! Thanks for keeping up your blog. I sure do miss you and can hardly wait for you to come home. Love you!!!! XOXOXOXO Mom
I was very impressed by this post.
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