03.21.10

China Travelogue-15: Tourist clusters

Posted in Travel at 7:29 by RjZ

Bicycles are easy to rent in Yanghsuo. Your budget hotel is surely hoping you’ll rent from them to make some extra cash, and they can surely offer you a guide to take you to the sights as well. Even fancier hotels, which really expect you to take a taxi or a coach to the local sights still has bikes (much better ones) available. It’s such a common way to see the scenery; the limestone cliff and rice fields, of the area that it’d be a shame to miss it.

We thought we’d get a tandem. We’d seem them rolling around town and thought this would be the chance to try one. There are bikes everywhere for rent, and they’re very inexpensive (as little as 10 RMB per day) but don’t expect a high performance machine for this kind of cash. Actually, depending on where you’re going, you can get a mountain bike or a “lady bike,” a tough old single speed with a sloping top tube, coaster brake, and a sit up and grin attitude. The tandems were the same style, but the selection was poorer and time was slipping away while we were trying to find one that had the pedals sync’ed up enough that we wouldn’t have to wobble along while learning how to ride together. Eventually, we gave up and got two beat up, but reliable bikes from our hotel. They sold us a map (5 RMB) and offered to guide us too, but, we figured we’d find our own way. Hope springs eternal and all.

Maps are not, however, the strong suit of the Chinese. This one, combined with lots of extra cycling, got us where we were going, even if we were rarely sure we were on the right route. We rode along the main tourist thoroughfare, once we’d found it, and when we’d had enough, we turned around and went back the same way.

Yangshou is like many touristy towns around the world. In Thailand I was surprised that the elephant tour, monkey show and snake display were all on the same street, but then, it makes sense and I’ve seen this clustering of things to see and do as far as India and as close as the queen of clustered tourist attractions: Orlando, Florida. Like any market, clustering means you compete more vigorously for customers, but you save on marketing since people may not know about the snake tamer until the happen to see it across the street from the elephant soccer match.

In Yangshou, we checked out the Big Banyan Tree (20 RMB), a park with a big banyan tree, a rock exhibit (Chinese love picking up large pretty rocks that look like they could be paintings, shining them a bit and then exhibiting them on very fancy stands. It’s great, actually.) There was also a chance to go punting on the the trash cluttered little river flowing through the park, pay some locals to make some tortured little monkeys perform for you, or by souvenirs. We skipped most of the attractions, but naturally bought a souvenir. There weren’t many western tourists here which might explain the surprisingly good price (20 RMB for a fake bone carving and a statuette of a Chinese traditional god.)

We then hiked up to Moon Cave (15 RMB), famous for it’s views of the area, which, even through the haze were impressive, and only mildly marred by the women who, in spite of the full water bottles we were already carrying, followed us pretty far up the hike pestering us for more the whole time.

We were puzzled by this behavior; the hike is vigorous and the women following us up were heavily laden with water bottles (and ice!) It was back breaking work, and clearly, just waiting strategically for thirsty tourist might be just as effective. We finally concluded that essentially this is a sort of begging; many who don’t need the water are so impressed by the efforts of the old women following them up the hill that they likely buy water to save them another trip. This doesn’t work, of course. The determined ladies continue following hoping for another handout in trade for water. They are certainly working for it. Mind you, we simply insisted, strongly, we weren’t going to buy any and that it would not be worth it to follow. (Yes, I know, I am heartless; but unless this is the first post you’ve read in the blog, you already know that. Think of it this way: I try not to support child labor or hard labor for seniors by not perpetuating the problem.)

Finally, on our bike back, I couldn’t help stop at spot with a top-rope and a big sign advertising climbing. The Yangshou area has many impressive climbing opportunities. These top ropes along the side of the road probably weren’t the best of them, but it was convenient. It was also expensive, 105 RMB for three climbs! It almost makes sense. There are almost no fixed costs at Moon Cave, save for cleaning and maintenance of the trails. Here, these guys actually have some belaying skills and are renting you their equipment which, you hope, is in good shape.

I didn’t quite want to pay this much to climb easy routes, but I was able to convince a passing Australian to join me. He’d never climbed before, but was considering a bigger tour the following day. After negotiating with him and our Chinese guides, I went on two climbs and he one. It was incredibly simple climbing on big bowl holds, like those at Heuco Tanks, Taxas. The rock that had a bit too much vegetation to make for optimum climbing but it was great fun, and worth my 70 RMB for the experience alone. Of course, if you made it to the top, you could grab a stuffed creature. Too bad, I couldn’t convince my traveling partner to keep the pink kitten-bear and carry it all the way back from China. No accounting for taste.

It was nice to get a compliment from the Chinese about my climbing. One of the many perks of living in Boulder (where my skills are eclipsed by the average 10 year old girl.)

14 views Permalink Comments

01.29.10

China Travelogue-14: Impression of Sanjie Liu

Posted in Travel at 9:13 by RjZ

It’s pretty likely that you’ve come to Guilin and Yangshuo because you’re a tourist. It’s one of those places that silly people who don’t like “tourism” avoid. But since you’ve come all this way, you might as well go all out and check out a performance of Impression of Sanjie Liu. Instead of a stage, this huge performance is played in open air, on the water of the Li river, with the natural islands and erosion carved karst cliffs in the background.

I could tell you all about the Zhang Yimou’s efforts to create this amazing performance, but you can read about that all over the web. You may recognize Zhang Yimou from the Beijing Olympics opening and closing ceremonies. He tried out his ideas of thousands of performers adorned with lights performing in sequence from this play, which he continues to work on and change, so that on your second and third trip to China, you can check it out again and see how it’s changed.

Instead of rehashing the amazing performance, though, I’d like to tell you what you’re likely to face as a tourist on your way there.

When you buy tickets, most tourist agencies in Guilin or Yangshuo are going to describe three zones for you. The “A”, “B”, and “C”, zones represent the ‘blankets and newspaper seats in the front:’ “A”, the comfortable seats further back and higher up with a broad view of the whole show: “B”, and the luxurious seats in the “C” with lounges and roofs in case of rain. What you are not told, at least if you don’t speak Mandarin, is that each of these sections is divided further. You aren’t shown pictures of the seats or given a clear idea where they are, so you’re going to guess. I guessed “B”.

Since you’ve likely bought your tickets at a tourist agency, you’ll also be offered a 20 RMB ride to the show, only about a mile from town. Of course you could walk there, although walking back might be a bit scary on the poorly lit streets with all the traffic leaving at the same time. It’s only a mile, so clearly 20 RMB is a ripoff, but the problem you face is that you don’t likely know where, exactly to walk. Is it worth your time to do reconnaissance before the show and figure this out? I knew I was paying too much, but I decided to spend my time elsewhere and cough up the cash.

You gather early and drive to a few hotels to collect a few more tourists and then, following another panda flag “Go Pandas!” you’re lead to theater gates. It’s crowded. This place must be huge. There are thousands of people here. In attempt not to lose anyone, the guide makes line up in neat straight lines like we’re in grade school. It’s hard to be embarrassed; all the locals are being forced to do the same. Giggling like the school children we look like, we’re counted multiple times and then the guide barks some orders at the polite Laotians at the head of our line because they look like the speak Chinese. They don’t and have no idea what we’re supposed to do next, but we are eventually allowed inside.

Inside is another waiting area. Here an attractively lit giant pagoda styled gazebo has an array of numbered and lettered exits which a Chinese speaker would, no doubt, understand how to associate with the ticket he is holding. Occasionally groups start pushing in one direction or another, and together, our little group of Pandas (our guide is now outside; we’re on our own) tries to figure out which exit is ours and when we should push through it.

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter much. The crowds movement swells and becomes unmistakeable. We are funneled through one of the exits and head on a pleasant walk past a few souvenir stands and onto the natural amphitheater. When we are almost there, ushers finally look at our tickets and we discover that we’ve been heading nearly the right way all along.

“A” seats are just fine. They’re not newspaper on the ground; but rather reasonable, if not terribly comfortable looking, plastic chairs. Being ‘too’ close is hardly a huge tragedy either. You might miss a few things, but honestly, I thought it would be nice to be closer many times. I broke out my telephoto lens to get a closer view of the cute little farmer girls and the fisherman’s costumes. One complaint I heard from some fellow tourists when we regrouped was that the Chinese can be a pretty noisy lot. Fellow westerners noticed that locals weren’t terribly interesed in the details of the play and were busy eating the food they brought with them while arguing about who should have the cashew chicken. Very distracting.

“C” seats seem pretty silly. Apparently neither tourists nor locals were convinced to buy any on the night I saw the play. They were nearly completely empty. You’ll feel very special a few feet behind the “B” seats, and servers will bring you drinks, but you won’t have any better view and you’ll need an even longer telephoto to appreciate the costumes.

“B” seats seemed just right in terms of decorum of others in attendance and the distance from the performance. A couple of groups of tourists, including some Pandas, were ushered to our “B”-Deluxe classy whicker like plastic chairs and a free bottle of cold water. Our nearly empty section was a head above the rows in front of us and had a commanding view of the performance, if a bit far from the action. However, just in front of us, in only slightly less attractive plastic chairs, was the “B”-Standard section, a bit more than half of our price with no serious disadvantage and, indeed, the front of this section would be perfect.

I have no idea how you get a seat in this section. It was never offered to me, but perhaps just knowing about it might help you. All the local Chinese were sitting there and nearly every seat in that section was full. It’s the best option.

Information about the show explains that cameras are not allowed, and neither are bags or much of anything, but none of these rules is enforced, and I didn’t even realize the camera wasn’t allowed until reading about it later. The better seats come with a free bottle of water, and you can buy a poncho if it rains lightly (which it often does.) Come thinking it will be cheesy, that way, even though technically it is cheesy, you’ll be even more amazed at how much you’ll love it.

After the show we follow the happy, wide eyed, crowds passed the lake, along the river, the pagoda/gazebo and finally out the gates where our guide should be waiting for us. She’s not, so we’re off to find the 20 RMB shuttle we’ve paid for instead of just hiring a golf cart shuttle. You’ll want to stick with your little group of Pandas here, because together, you’ll probably be able to piece together the lefts and rights it took to get from the van to the entrance. Eventually. If you make it in a reasonable time, you’ll still be able to have a drink in downtown Yangshuo.

52 views Permalink Comments

01.27.10

China Travelogue-13: Guilin river cruise

Posted in Travel at 10:14 by RjZ

122 USD: plane from Wuhan to Guilin
9 RMB: bottled water in the airport
8 RMB: ice cream (the airport is boring, food relieves the boredom)
5 RMB: giant bowl of ramen noodles. The locals love these, it’s about time we try some.
120 RMB: hostel in Guilin
720 RMB: Li river cruise, and Yangshou river show

The tourist bus which will take us to the river boats picks us up directly from the hostel. Not too surprising as the hostel is directly across from the Sheraton hotel, but convenient none the less. I wonder if this makes the hostel classier or brings down the prices at the Sheraton. Either way, no one from the fine hotel appears to be joining us and we’re off to pick up other tourists at other hotels in Guilin. As we collect them, we begin interviewing each other on where we’re from and how long we’ll be in China for. I know this is tired and entirely cliché, but I rather like this process. I am fascinated to learn about the demographics of our fellow tourists and what brings them to this destination. Is it a vacation or a wedding? Are they personally paying for this trip or is a business footing the bill. Is this budget travel, adventure travel, luxury travel? In five minutes I’d met all of those possibilities.

The Li river cruise is the absolute height of package tour, big sight, tourism. But the scenery here is so obviously outstanding and special, that there is no reason to expect otherwise and it simply can’t be missed. You’re about the glide on a river boat passed the scenery pictured on the back of a an 20 Yuan note, for Mao’s sake! The next few days of the trip was both incredibly touristy, but also a chance to enjoy a relaxing intimacy with China and the land, and all on a quick paced tour. But first, the cruise.

Before we leave the bus we are treated to brief comments about Guilin by our guide, Xiao Ping. She explains how Guilin means ‘osmanthus forest.’ The osmanthus trees, with tiny sweet yellow flowers, were actually in bloom as we visited. Later, during the cruise, we were offered osmanthus tea and osmanthus wine (for an extra cost.) Xiao Ping also tells us that it will be easy to remember her name as it sounds like “shopping” (she’s right!) She introduces us to our bus driver, who’s name isn’t nearly so memorable, and, best of all, we learn that we too will finally have our own standard to follow! We are issued panda stickers which to identify us in case we get lost and our stickers perfectly match our our panda flag which we are meant to follow at all times! It’s exciting to finally have a flag to follow like the legions of Chinese tourists, even if we weren’t issued matching hats.

We arrive to at the mostly identical river-cruise boats, lined up next to each other and moored together at the dock. We follow our Panda flag hopping from one boat to the next until we arrive at a three deck river boat. We’re led first to the bottom deck and explained when lunch will be served and then introduced to Elvis, our new guide. The Chinese often pick English names and Elvis explains that he chose his because he really likes the famous American singer. It’s easy to imagine Chinese Elvis, and his slicked black hair, as an impersonator crooning into a microphone, swiveling his hips, and pointing triumphantly at the sky. He’s young, but it’s still late career, Las Vegas, Elvis.

The boats leave, one after another, and the river is suddenly filled with a string of cruise ships stretching for miles in front and behind us. Our boat is peopled by western tourists (it’s an English tour), but that also means that are only about 20 or 30 of us total and while we likely had to pay a bit more (actually, a Chinese speaking American traveling with us had already checked that out and it wasn’t very much more at all) it is nearly empty, while other boats in the queue are quite full.

It’s a hazy day and hardly made for great photos, but the scenery is everything it’s been promised to be and Elvis explains the names and stories of each of the formations as we pass slowly by them. Here are 9 riders “do you see them?” there is the monk and lady “see her, there, on the top of that cliff?” and so on. We usually don’t see them, or maybe we do, but it doesn’t seem to leave much impression on the tourists, even if we do look and point excitedly each time Elvis points out another feature.

A merchant on a long, bamboo raft is suddenly chasing our boat and then, waving a giant fan in one hand and managing the tiller and several jade-like statues, rides up along side like a pirate and ties to our boat as if he is about to board us, all the while we continue steaming down the river. Indeed, he is successful selling a couple of green statues to some of the tourists on the boat. Along the river shores we pass by a few villages and rice fields. We pass some farmers tending to water buffalo and a some older men with their fishing cormorants resting before for their night’s work. The big moment finally arrives when we round a bend and Elvis points excitedly to beautiful cliff formations holding up a 20 Yuan bill to compare. This is the very point depicted on the back of the currency. It’s difficult to make out exactly the same configurations of cliffs, but it’s easy to see how this beautiful spot would earn the honor of being on the back of the money even if I can’t see just where the artist stood.

Finally, the cliffs on either side of the river spread out and the announcements of scenery become less frequent. We are left to enjoy the cruise on the sunny deck, or below in the lounge as we gently continue down the river for another hour to Yangshuo. Xiao Ping (Shopping) has been negotiating with tourists trying to discover what they have already agreed to buy and offering them other opportunities for sight seeing. I disappoint her a bit by adding nothing further to our schedule and only asking how we will get the tickets to the show that we’ve already paid for, even though we haven’t booked a hotel. “No problem, we find you.”

When we arrive in Yangshuo each of the tourists is handed off to yet another tour guide based on their choices for the rest of day. There are the city tours, the deluxe hotels, and bike tours. This is our third tour guide of the day. Division of tourist labor is clear and each person has only a limited time to build a relationship and earn a few tourist dollars. It’s yet another economic puzzle. Is this more or less efficient then one guide who builds trust with a disparate group of tourists?

We are shown a hotel or two, but then still ask to see one that is recommended in the Lonely Planet guide book. Indeed, it’s quite a bit more to our taste and for less money to boot. And “Susan,” our new guide seems to have no hard feelings and hopes we’ll consider a city tour with her later. She’ll collect us tomorrow for the show, now that she knows where we’ll be staying. She hands us our card (“call me if you have any problems.”—of course, we have no phone, but thanks) and we’re free of our panda flag with plenty of time to enjoy the charming village of Yangshuo before the play later on tonight.

2.50 RMB: breakfast in the hostel
3 RMB: more bottled water
37 RMB: fancy dinner
100 RMB: Yangshuo hotel
5 RMB: local map

83 views Permalink Comments

01.19.10

China Travelogue-12: Long ride to Guilin

Posted in Travel at 6:03 by RjZ

Thanks to Mr. Hu, we’ve already got a night-bus ticket out of Huangshan city. When we arrived and discovered that the trains to Guilin were booked up days in advance, Mr. Hu had suggested a bus to the large city of Wuhan where there would surely be connections. The upshot is that there is a limited time to get off the mountain and back to town to catch the bus. We made surprisingly good time but the bus transfer could still be 20 minutes, or an hour, or something else in Chinese that I couldn’t make out.

My partner had a brilliant idea I wish I could take credit for. Two young Chinese tourists were wandering around deciphering the bus problem. But would they be willing to share a taxi with us? A bold introduction and yes! With their help we negotiated a fair price back to town and right back to Mr. Hu’s restaurant. During the ride we asked each other questions about our travels. They were on their way to more sacred mountains and generally seeing their beautiful country, just like college students tour Europe or follow Jack Kerouac’s trail.

With time to spare, we enjoyed another meal from Mrs. Hu and entered our own positive review of Mr. Hu into his note book of recommendations. While writing it, one thought did occur to me though. We’re assuming all of his suggestions are good ones, including our pending trip to Wuhan, but it’s not likely we’ll come back and tell him what happened.

This is what happened. He brought us to the bus station, really the lobby/restaurant of another hotel further up the street, and told us someone would come get us when the bus arrived. After another half hour, a bus had stopped outside, blocking much of the traffic on the narrow village streets, and a person rushed in and gathered us.

We rabbited across the street and shuffled our belongings into those we’d take on the bus and those that would go under it. Entering the bus, the driver demanded we remove our shoes and gave us plastic bags to put them in. The bus was lined with three rows, each three high, of sleeping bunks. The narrow beds were mostly already occupied with reclined Chinese in white sheets and blankets in various states of wakefulness. The bunks were slightly inclined at the head, making enough room for a pocket large enough for the feet of the passenger behind you.

We selected bunks and tried to settle in as the bus drove off. Mine wasn’t the best choice, broken and bouncing so that I ended up moving to another further back in the bus. This time it reclined fully and I no longer spent much of my time pushing my feet against the round end of the pocket trying not slide down further. My bunk in the back had it’s own problems, being right over the engine, it was noisy and hot. All the same, the vigorous hike made me tired enough to sleep.

We arrived, confused and bleary, at 2 am in Wuhan. Wuhan is a huge city, actually made up of three cities that have grown into each other. The bus driver wanted to know where we meant to stop. We kept trying to translate train station, but it wasn’t getting through. The problem is probably that there is more than one. Eventually he dropped us off with a taxi driver who had the same problem with us. Another driver eventually decided to take us to a train station, trying to warn us about no trains. The station was, indeed, closed.

It’s now around 3 am. We found a ticket office and the kind clerk had to go and wake up an even more bleary eyed clerk who could understand us enough to explain that all the sleeper cars to Guilin are sold out for days.

In the middle of the night, noodle carts owners are cutting vegetables and starting their pots boiling. One even offers us a steaming breakfast, maybe he’ll get an early customer! There is almost no one around and the few that are, don’t exactly look like the best China has to offer. We stop at a Super 8 (yes, Super 8!) hotel for information and, as luck with have it, they have a public computer there. We log on and check for flights to Guilin. It’s after 4 am by the time we’ve found something. Lacking sleep, we foolishly decide that it seems a shame to stay in a hotel for a few hours before the flight that afternoon. We’ll just go to the airport and wait there. It will be clean, and they’ll have toilets to wash up. Let me just admit that there is no logic at all to this conclusion. How is sitting in the airport going to be better than a few hours of sleep? I’m a budget traveler, true, but this seems like a good time to spend $40.

The airport is not actually open until 6 am, which I am sure the cab driver was trying to tell us when he shrugged and gave up. We wait outside as a few tourist groups slowly arrive and step out of busses in matching red baseball caps or yellow bucket hats. I wonder briefly if there is going to be a rumble, but the two tourist armies seem to be at truce. We eventually get inside for an aimless 10 hour wait in an airport, but, even though the plane is delayed, we do arrive, exhausted in Guilin. In our weakened state, even the tourist agencies in the airport are able to sell us something and before we know it, we’ve got a ticket on the boat cruise from Guilin to Yangshuo, a ticket to the huge performance and the friendly agent has even helped us book the night in the youth hostel we’re planning on staying in, along with a bus to get us there.

What a day. It’s time for some noodles and a sleep. We’ve got to get up early tomorrow for the cruise. It wasn’t really Mr. Hu’s fault that getting out of Wuhan wasn’t nearly as easy as he thought, and no one who reads his notebooks will ever know.

48 views Permalink Comments

01.06.10

China Travelogue-11: Descending Huangshan

Posted in Travel at 14:44 by RjZ

After stuffing ourselves, fueling up and trying to get our money’s worth at the hotel breakfast buffet, it’s time to shoulder the backpacks and hike down the west side of Huangshan. The maps are no more reliable today than they were yesterday, so the biggest concern is making sure we find the correct way down.

60 RMB: breakfast buffet
5 RMB: bottled water
44 RMB: groceries (snacks for the hike)
20 RMB: more snacks

In pretty short order we hike past yesterday’s sunrise spot and into unexplored territory and new views. We’re not alone. Tourists are stuffing the trails and bumping around snapping pictures and following their megaphone-toting flag-bearers. The wide trails are not enough for all the people and it’s slow going as people navigate the uneven stairs in dress shoes.

At each junction we consult the signs and maps and try to snap a few more pictures of the views, but we’ve got a long hike ahead so we don’t dilly-dally too much. As we begin the real descent the views open up more. Ahead are trails snaking straight down into the canyon and straight back up the peaks. The first peak we pass, Lotus peak, is closed. That’s one dilemma down, at least: we don’t feel obligated to climb it.

Here at the junction of the trails, crowds gather to catch their breath and snap more pictures. One of the most popular subjects are western tourists. Frequently a boy or a girl will surreptitiously sit next to one of us and someone else will fire off a shot.
Sometimes, they’ll even ask us if it’s OK and then they put their arms around us and flash a peace sign and a huge grin at the camera. We ask them why they want to take pictures of two middle aged Americans and get various answers including “because we’re just so happy….” Mostly it’s young people, but at one point an overly charming group of seniors who we’ve just greeted calls us back and asks stand for a picture with them. The same giddy and embarrassed laughter ensues, same grins; the only difference is no one flashes a peace sign this time. It happens so frequently that it gets annoying sometimes and it’s easy to feel like a monkey in a zoo, but it’s pretty nice how excited the Chinese are to see western tourists in their country.

In spite of the long queues on the steep sections, we’re making pretty good time by the time we reach the Yung Ke, or Welcome Pine. We eventually identify which is the famous pine among the hundreds and hundreds of tourists as the one that an entrepreneur is charging to take pictures in front of. But where is the trail to continue down?

We explore every possible exit from the square, gift shop, bathroom, and restaurant at Welcome Pine and push through dense throngs of tourists, but the trail is no where to be found. Parents of children blocking our view of the map sign finally notice and ask them to move and reveal the sign. It points to Welcome Pine, just a few steps down, where we’ve just been.

Enough of being lost! With bulky backpacks we decide to push right into the crowd of photo snapping tourists and lo and behold, here is the trail. No one minds us stepping right in front of their photos and jostling them to get to trail and even more surprising is how excellent the view of Welcome Pine actually is once we’ve pressed passed.

There is no reason for them to be crowding around above; the view and photo is just as easy to make from here, perhaps they’ll never now. The hiking is quicker now that we’ve made it passed the bulk of the crowd. We continue our steep descent into steep granite canyons and gorgeous views. Ahead of us, I can see Celestial Peak and a trail of ladder-like stairs going impossibly up the side of the mountain. A trail of Chinese ants with cameras around their necks seems to be making their way up the mountain. Near the foot of the peak, and less than half way down to the busses, we meet a breathless group of Japanese men who point to the peak and exclaim how wonderful the views are from the top. We must go, they insist. Only 20 minutes to the top. “Even with backpacks?” we inquire, but they just go on about how amazing it is.

Stupid tourists. Of course we’re convinced, and suddenly we’re sweating up the just shy of vertical carved stairs and nooks in the side of the mountain. Colorado-strong, we make it up to the narrows, a one person at a time ledge, exposed on both sides, with a low, swinging, chain fence as likely for safety but also an obstacle to trip over, in the promised 20 minutes. At the end of the short, don’t-look-down stretch a woman tries to stop us—to take a picture with us!

Fortunately the pressing crowd has the sense to convince her this is a bad idea as we press off the ledge to finish our ascent. The incredible views and the buzzing of a man engraving names of our fellow achievers onto medals that everyone is wearing are enough to convince us to cough up 20 RMB for a our own personalized memento.

As steep as it is going up, it’s no wonder there aren’t many people continuing their hike and going down the back side. Less dramatic, the trail now passes through slots so tight I remove my backpack and drag it behind me trying to get it through. There are foot holds chipped into walls of the mountain and pockets carved out at just the right spot for hands, but the constant straight down plunging is wearing on our thighs. There’s no way to know, now, if we’re making good time and will be able to get to our night bus to Wuhan in time or not, so,on we fall down Huangshan mountain, one step at a time.

Until we rejoin the main trail, there are no crowds, just an occasional group of scared tourists wondering how they got on this trail. Looking back, it’s not so bad, but managing all the exposed stairs with tired legs and a backpack was a frightening ordeal, even for an experienced Colorado hiker. The main trail is wider and we merge with the flow of tourists and realize that we’re actually going to make it down the mountain with time to spare. All we have to do is find the bus!

70 views Permalink Comments

12.29.09

China Travelogue-10: Sunrise, take 2

Posted in Travel at 17:35 by RjZ

For the rest of the day, we just wandered around the mountain trying to see how our map had anything to do with the maps all around the park. Trails lead everywhere, up steep mountains and down to ravines and lookouts, but it’s not at all obvious where you are at a given moment and we spend most of our time either thinking we’re lost, or actually being lost. There was one goal in mind: to avoid repeating the previous morning’s sunrise hike to a spot that was supposed to be less than five minutes away.
Being lost in a pretty place makes things easier to tolerate. The afternoon was filled with views and vistas from all around the park. The middle of the day doesn’t make for the best photos, but we made do, and we had definitely scoped out tomorrow’s sunrise vantage point. We bumped into tourists from dozens of countries, and even saw some local short tailed monkeys. Park rangers were very keen to ensure everyone kept their distance.

On our way to a new sunset viewpoint we noticed the crowds thinning to a point where we were actually alone. It was an odd feeling as Huangshan is packed everywhere, but as we pressed on we were able to discover why: the trail was closed. I guess everyone else had tour guides to explain the dead end. No matter, there was a lovely bridge with low angle sunlight still hitting it on the way, and it felt good to be alone. As we hiked back, we passed a party or two heading out towards the dead-end. We wanted to tell them of the folly, but the language barrier meant they had to discover it on their own.

---

The next morning we donned the red hotel coats once again and struck out for our pre-selected spot. The area we had found was narrow, like a small pier jutting out slightly into the canyon. We were the second pair of people there, and then, suddenly, the pair with the perfect spot, left, leaving us with prime spots to view the forthcoming sunrise.

The little pier started to fill up long before the sun arrived. People pressed against and we hoped the railings would hold. One man set up his tripod, a great plan as people made a bit of room for him. A pair of older women kept trying to push passed us. Finally, we relented so they could take a shot. When we demanded our four-in-the-morning-earned spots back, they promptly squeezed passed us and we would trade back and forth now and again throughout the sunrise making them very happy.
The women nearest to me kept peeking at the LCD on the back of my camera and tried to ask me how I was taking a picture like that, but explaining to her how to turn off the flash of her point and shoot was beyond Mandarin language skills.

There was still no “sea of clouds” which delights visitors and makes for the stunning photos that lured so many tourists to this spot. Still, this morning was clearer than yesterday. At 6:09 am, the sun officially rose somewhere, but had many minutes before it would come out from behind some spiky rock formations blocking our view.

At the sun’s first gleam, I set the camera to autowind and fired off dozens of shots. In retrospect, the sun looks pretty much the same in China as it does in Colorado, so I am not sure what motivated me to get up so early. After breakfast we’d be packing and hiking down, so there’s a big day ahead.

76 views Permalink Comments

12.20.09

China Travelogue-9: The sun’s paparazzi

Posted in Travel at 22:56 by RjZ

I remember from my first foreign trip how often I was told that American’s are loud. Fellow travelers would even point out the rambunctious tour groups in shorts, white socks, and tennis shoes: “see? Americans.” One night in Tours, France, I was trying to sleep in my charming room with a window opening to a quiet lane of the old town. Bellowing shouts and laughter stirred me to the window to see the “Americans.” There, a large group in shorts and dark socks was carousing, oblivious to anyone around them…in German. Eventually, I realized It’s not that Americans and Germans are particularly loud, it’s that people in larger groups are loud. We don’t notice the quiet American couple watching their countrymen in horror from a distance, so they don’t count towards our quiet score. And, as Americans frequently travel abroad in large tour groups, we only notice the loud ones.

In China, traveling in large groups is even more common. My Chinese colleagues were astonished that I wasn’t planning on taking a tour. Probably not because it might be more challenging for non-Mandarin speakers, but because they couldn’t really imagine doing so themselves.

I know the Chinese like to visit their country in large groups because you can’t miss them. They don bright matching baseball caps and are proceeded by a standard bearing tour-guide urging her troops on with a megaphone. And they’re loud. The Chinese are hardly a demure people to start with. But like everyone else in the world, put them in a group and they become a swarming mass aware only of each other.

So at four in the morning, long before my alarm was set to wake me to see the sunrise on Huangshan, I was roused out of bed by tour groups passing my hotel room, bellowing, laughing and being ordered along by megaphone toting guide. I guess it’s time to get up.

The plan is to catch the sunrise at one of the nearby viewing spots. I don’t think we’ll need much time, but it’s not like sleeping will be possible anyway, so up we go, wearing bright red, hotel-issued, down coats. We start out in the direction we think the view point is and come across one of the many map signs around the mountain. Unfortunately the maps don’t jive with the version printed from the internet. It’s dark and hard to read. There are signs are at junctions in the path, there are signs where there is no need for one, and they’re as often missing entirely. In spite of custom most anywhere else in the world, the maps here are oriented so the top of the map is however you’re facing, instead of north. Sounds practical, if there were, maybe, an indication of this anywhere on the map? Or if it were consistent…? but it isn’t, and the sky is starting to brighten. After backtracking a couple of times and trying to ask other lost tourists, we follow the crowd…maybe they know where to go.

What was supposed to be a five minute walk, turns out to be a 45 minute running-hike, up and down stairs, to a lookout I-don’t-know-where in the park. The sky is still brightening, but the sun isn’t nearly up so there’s still time to find a spot. When we make it somewhere, the whole area is thronged with more people than a rock concert. Probably all the good spots are taken, as if we can tell what a good spot is, so we smoosh ourselves under a pine tree, into a group that might be able to see something and look out over the slightly overcast canyon below.

We’re packed together like canned sardines which makes the heavy down jackets we’re all wearing superfluous. Video cameras and digital SLRs jostle with point and shoot cameras flashing at the misty overcast skies. Alas, no sign if the famous “sea of clouds” we’ve come for and, while it’s still pretty, it’s not easy appreciate in the bumping mass of people. No one seems to have any sense of space. Cameras are raised right in front of others snapping pictures, and others wave hands, hats, and umbrellas in front of cameras.

6:09 am. The sun officially peaks above the horizon and a cheer rises from the crowd. They actually cheer and clap and push harder to get a better view of today’s celebrity, the sun. Except there’s nothing new to see behind the clouds. Some even giggle self-conscientiously after they realize there is really nothing new happening, but the fun is slightly infectious and no one complains. The video cameras are rolling, but having trouble focusing on the featureless cloud bank and the sky continues to brighten but with no sign of the sun. Finally, the crowd thins out and we can move around enough explore the area and enjoy misty views of the canyon. The remaining people continue to stand right in front of each other posing for snapshot after blocked snapshot and no one seems to notice or care.

After the crowd has dwindled to a few hardcore photographers, the shy sun peeps out from behind the clouds and lights up the hilltops with golden, low angle light. It’s not a perfect sunrise, but it isn’t bad either, improved a bit after each of the tour troops gathered behind their respective flags and marched off to breakfast. At last, no one is around to jump up in the middle of a photograph.

100 views Permalink Comments

12.16.09

China Travelogue-8: Cable Cars vs. Laborers

Posted in Society, Travel at 12:29 by RjZ

Perhaps it was a bit foolish. While tourists, both Western and Chinese, loaded into the Yungu cable way to take the tram up to Huangshan (literally, yellow mountain) we began our hike up White Goose Ridge to the plateau at the top of the scenic area, nearly 700 m (2300 feet) of steep stairs above us. This east ridge is the easier way up to the UNESCO recognized area which is a jumble of incredibly steep peaks and over 50 km of improved trails going straight up and down them. The trails are mostly stone stairs, sometimes broad and even, other times narrow and much closer to a ladder than a staircase.

Even with backpacks on, it’s not terribly difficult climbing, at least in the beginning, but that’s not to say it isn’t a sweaty, steep, and exhausting hike. We pass by loads of smiling tourists skipping down, but almost none going up. Yet, we’re not alone trudging up these stairs. Men carrying large loads of laundry in white sacks suspended on either ends of a bamboo bar across their shoulders are practically running down the stairs towards us. They are careful when the pass more men hoisting heavy steel gas bottles, probably filled with propane and as tall as the men themselves, onto their shoulders and up the mountain.

The bottles are balanced on their shoulders with the help of a bamboo stick and some rope which they use to balance the bottle on when they stop to take a rest. A few are wearing a vest with printing from the hotel they apparently work for over thin t-shirts or bare chests, and many have green army issued sneakers on their feet. Some have worn dress shoes. They aren’t all young, but most are friendly and find enough breath to respond to our “Ni hao” greetings.

At the top are several Chinese four-star hotels. They are not cheap by anyone’s standards and they’re not good value either, offering considerably less quality than two and three-star hotels I’ve stayed in elsewhere in China. There is no other option and everything is expensive on the mountain. Many, who have seen the porters carrying these loads, seem to understand. Since everything must be carried in, it’s understandable, they explain.

Except everyone has conveniently forgotten the cable car whisked them up here without breaking a sweat. There are several cable cars around the mountain and they don’t carry tourists at night. Couldn’t the hotels contract with them to carry loads of necessities up the mountain? Couldn’t they build their own cable car? The obvious conclusion is that it’s cheaper to use human labor than the cable car.

Except that doesn’t seem possible to me. There are probably hundreds of porters going up and down the mountain everyday. Perhaps more. Many of them surely live in Tangkou and other villages at the base of the mountain. I had already popped into a little grocery store at the base for some water for the hike. It didn’t appear to be a tourist trap of a grocery store and prices were similar, or perhaps a bit cheaper, than I had just seen in Shanghai or elsewhere in China. Of course, I don’t really know the real costs of living in a village in China, but I can bet it’s more than a couple of dollars a day. If the men are so cheap, how do they survive and raise their families in the villages below? This isn’t a particularly rural part of China and heating costs alone would break the bank of many a poor family living on too low of a wage, but houses and apartments, while small are hardly mud floored shacks. There just doesn’t seem to be a way to pay these men enough to even feed themselves and still be cheaper than simply loading the cable car a few times every day.

I’ve also heard that the Chinese government subsidizes many jobs in an effort to ensure that its citizens are gainfully employed and not sitting idle, plotting their leaders’ authorities downfall. It’s a plausible explanation, but it’s not clear how sustainable it is. For now, judging by their rush descending, it’s likely the men are paid on a per load basis and the wear and tear on their bodies is clear. The cost of the eventually necessary medical care is not so obvious; China has not yet solved its medical care problems.

Almost as interesting as the sights, China is constantly offering these sort of economic puzzles. Are these men subsidized by the government? Is it really cheaper, even in the short run, to pay hundreds of laborers when the idle cable cars are already there? What’s going on here? I never did come up with a satisfying answer. If you’ve got a better idea, discuss it here!

124 views Permalink 1 Comment

12.15.09

China Travelogue-7: Marketing by Mr. Hu

Posted in Travel at 16:11 by RjZ

Mr. Hu found us when we arrived at the train station around a 40 minute taxi ride from Tangkou. Mr. Hu is famous after his appearance in Lonely Planet’s guide to China. He’s earned it. Kindly and trustworthy, at least according to page after page of testimony he’s received in dozens of languages from travelers around the world. He handed us the book to read through during our ride to his hotel.

Travelers wrote about him as an island of honesty, an all purpose travel guide who appears out of nowhere to rescue weary travelers. That’s not exactly how it was for us, but, close enough. We were tired after the train ride, and we weren’t mobbed by people offering us transport alternatives. They were busy thronging around all the Chinese tourists, but we had a few choices. Eventually, his offer of transport and arrangements seemed the best so we followed him to his taxi and hotel.

We had planned on taking the train from Huang Shan area to Guilin after we hiked the mountain, but we promptly discovered that there weren’t any compartments left on the train! Suddenly, we’ve got no idea how to get from here to our next stop, even with a couple of days of advanced planning. Mr. Hu came to the rescue (we’ll see how that works out later…) by pointing out that we can take a sleeper bus from Tangkou to Wuhan, a giant city west of where we were, and from there, we’ll surely be able to make a connection to Guilin. Mr. Hu wound up finding the bus and arranging tickets for us. He helped us to book a hotel up on Huang Shan, yellow mountain, where we were headed and we had an early lunch prepared by his wife.

40 RMB: Taxi drive from the train station to Tangkou
12 RMB: Breakfast from Mrs. Hu
235 RMB: Bus ticket to Wuham
330 RMB: Four star hotel up on the mountain. They only have four star hotels up there.
2 RMB: Bottled water for the ensuing hike

Mr. Hu is one of two economics questions in this and the next China Travelogue post. Many travelers he meets are on a budget. They don’t always stay in his hotel and it’s clearly quite a bit more effort to work with these Chinese illiterates. Worse, according to Mr. Hu, himself, maybe 1% or fewer of the people coming to this popular tourist attraction are Westerners. He circles the train station hunting Westerners (they’re easy to spot) and generously gives them a good deal on the ride to his hotel and restaurant. He walks them to the bus stop or makes hotel arrangements for them on his own time (although, you can bet he does get a commission on those hotels at least.) All of this without any obligation at all. What’s his deal?

Mr. Hu has found a market niche. It may not be the most profitable niche, but in a town with a lot of competition for tourist yuan, it’s not such a bad plan. We didn’t end up staying in his hotel, but we did have lunch there and on our way back down from the mountain two days later, we stopped there again. We even took the time to write in his book. In a country where catering to Westerners is far from the norm, Mr. Hu has a well defended market niche with barriers to market for his competitors (language skills) and free advertising (effective testimonials from his customers and Lonely Planet). Quite the business man, this Mr. Hu.

109 views Permalink 1 Comment

12.11.09

China Travelogue-6: Night Train

Posted in Travel at 3:49 by RjZ

Venerable traveler Paul Theroux is little more impressed with trains than I am. They’re definitely an effective way to get around, but the affection that many people reserve for them is seems out of line with their utility. The little compartment with two bunk beds on either side, a tiny table in the middle and a hot water thermos for tea or noodles underneath the table, is simple and comfortable. The upholstery is worn, but not run down and the sheets provided for sleeping are clean and comfortable. It’s a comfortable ride, but at no time does one feel transported to a Jeeves and Wooster story. Except maybe when the pair of Germans entering the compartment with too large of a suitcase called three more of their tour group for help wedging the case into the space above beds. Comedy ensued.

They didn’t speak much that evening, preferring to join their tour group in their own compartment, only returning to snore after I had dozed off. The train rocked me to sleep fairly early while Chinese drank, smoked, and played cards in the compartment next door until rather late.

The Germans were more talkative the next morning, still groggy, in their t-shirts and pajamas. I had recognized their accent…sort of. I could tell it wasn’t High German and it sounded Bavarian, except definitely not. The two were part of a tour group from former East Germany and spoke to each other (but never to me, only High German to me) in a Sächsisch accent which is, indeed, next to Bavaria, but not an accent any German would mistake for a Bavarian dialect, his grin seemed to tell me.

The tall, thin, more curious, of the Laurel and Hardy like pair, did all the talking. He explained that they had quite a lot of time, having recently retired. Neither looked very old and Laurel was actually quite fit. It was quite amazing for them to be able to travel so far after growing up in Soviet influenced East Germany, he continued. They were impressed by all the similarities, like slogans everywhere and a very visible police force. I’d noticed the slogans, but didn’t see the police as more present than anywhere else. He wanted to describe the look of the people and the place and how much it was like East Germany before the wall had fallen. I had been to East Berlin in 1989 and have a friend who escaped from Dresden 1986, so I have a few ideas what he was trying to explain, but it was still lost on me.

We talked about how the news is obviously biased, but that they learn to avoid the analysis, and how people generally ignore their government in every way they can. His group seem to share a certain kinship with the Chinese for having to do this, and he seemed to appreciate their bravery in doing so. He was impressed by all he had seen but still seemed to think they had so far to go. He asked if we’d been to any rural farms, telling us that the way of life there is positively medieval and a stark contrast with life in the cities. I asked him if he thought it was really like communism here and how that made any sense to have such a difference between rich and poor. The question was obviously silly and he just waved off the idea, mumbling about authority.

Eventually the pair adjourned to their group for tea and a review of the tour plans, and we packed our things and tried to decide whether the train would be stopping in the little town of our destination of 60 km away.

89 views Permalink Comments