<A> A Trip Through China's Countryside

The Begining

My New Years Eve in China consisited of me acting on stage in front of a thousand people dressed as Father Christmas. This is not a story of New Years Eve however; it's a story of the New Year, and my out of the ordinary trip through China's country side to Vietnam.

I staggered to the bus station to buy my ticket bound for Vietnam. It’s a long ride from Kunming to the Vietnam boarder but I decided if I took the sleeper bus the time would pass much faster.
Sleeper buses are obviously made for Chinese people and there aren’t a lot of things in China that are catered for Western people. Before I even fully got into the bus the stench of ‘Hong Kong feet’ invaded my sense of smell. I instantly began to feel light headed but I was too tired to care.. When I first glanced at what would soon be my bed I had assumed it was meant for storing luggage. I showed my ticket to a woman who then grabbed my bag, gave me a bag for my shoes, and led me to my cubby. The bed was a little over five feet long and about two feet lower than the ceiling of the bus. Since I was situated directly next to a window, which had a large crack in it, I knew that it would be a cold night. The blanket was surprisingly warm, not so clean, but warm. I had a perfect view of all oncoming traffic and if you understood what roads are like in Southern Yunnan China you would understand why this did not make me feel any better. No matter how bad the situation, as soon as my head hit the steel bars separating me from some stinky feet, I was asleep.
Some time during the night I woke up. The driver was smoking and had his full concentration on the road. The corners were sharp and the wilderness outside looked like something from a sci-fi movie. All of a sudden the worst possible thing happened, there was a huge BOOM, followed by a long hisssssss. The tire went flat instantaneously and the bus came to a sudden stop. The scene before me was frightening. The headlights of the bus lit up only a small area. All I could see were rocks. I looked at my watch and realized it would be a while before the sun would rise. The bases of huge rock formations were as big Redwood tree trunks.?The reddish dirt road was littered with smaller rocks. In the middle of the countryside the only luminosity was that of the sky. Thousands of stars sprinkled across the sky like sugar on burnt toast, allowing me just enough light to see the ground.
I seemed to be the only one up so I decided to join the driver in consulting the damage. It was a cool night, the cold in China is nothing like that of western countries. It’s bitter, sharp, and no matter how many articles of clothing you are wearing, it still pierces your skin. The driver looked totally vexed as he knelt beside the wheel. I went to him and he started to mutter things that were way beyond me. In the end I understood. We weren’t going anywhere! He and a few others were walking to the next village to get help. I’m not one to sit around so I decided to join them.

The Stone Forest

As the sun appeared over the dew drenched vegetation and unveiled the surroundings I began to think we were on a foreign planet. Surrounded by gigantic mutilated rocks I followed the driver reluctantly. How could he know the way? The jagged configuration of the rocks left room for speculation about what this place really was. Holes in the rocks large enough to climb through left me feeling that someone was spying on me. We stopped at a beautiful lake for a rest. The Chinese ate and chatted nervously; they probably sensed the same thing I was feeling. I took this chance to relieve myself. I wondered through caves and over hills. I climbed atop a large rock and had an outstanding view of the surrounding landscape. In the distance I caught sight of a small road. I supposed we were headed there.
I was horrified when I returned and found that everyone had gone. All that was left was enormous red and black spiders. I ran for my life assuming this was also what chased them away. I headed towards the road. The rocks formed some sort of path. Thousands of years ago water had rushed through these channels. Over time soot build up had covered all the rocks. The sea drained out and after years of weathering, the rocks slowly began to emerge once again. I climbed up, over, through and down, finally I found myself at the road
Now what!?
Since I had all my things and no particular reason to go back to a broken down bus, I decided to continue on my journey.
Hitchhiking in Asia is nothing like hitchhiking in Canada. Instead of sticking out your thumb facing towards the heavens, (where did that come from?) you put your hand out, palm face down, look drivers right in the eyes, and swat air. I didn’t wait long before an old truck slowed down. I ran to the passenger’s side and screamed when I opened the door. Just opposite of me was a typical Chinese farmer. An enormous grin on his face exposed his only two teeth, completely black. Tanned, dirty, and cross-eyed he was a sight to be seen. He tipped his straw hat and told me to get in. I tried to explain my situation but it was no use. I decided to sit back and enjoy the ride.

Xingmang

I was woken up by a loud sputter of the trucks exhaust. The truck came to a halt at the side of the road.
“MONGO!”
I don’t know why he shouted it or what he meant. He tipped his hat and gave me one last toothless smile. I thanked him, grabbed my bag, and got out of the truck. He started his beast up and left me in a cloud of smoke. When the black haze cleared I realized that he had not dropped me off at a city. In front of me was some sort of village. I crossed a hazardous bridge over a toxic river. At the end of a bridge a lady was stirring a bowl of various intestines. She looked up at me with a blank expression and then pointed to the brewing entrails. I forced a smile and fought the urge to hurl. I’d never seen anything like it before. All the houses were two-stories high and made completely out of mud. As I walked the narrow ally’s I began to think that I must be in some minority village. Old women with hazel brown and wise eyes passed me carrying large bundles of potatoes. All of them were dressed the same. The outfit consisted of a small black hat with a red band across the brim. Long silver earrings dangled from their ears. They hunched over in their worn white shirts with neon green sleeves. Some had red satchels that hung to their sides. They passed me without glancing twice. Children with curious faces skipped past shouting. I don’t know what they were saying but all I knew was that they weren’t speaking Chinese. The houses with doors wide-open revealed women slicing vegetables or men smoking pipes. There was no electricity and I soon noticed none of the houses had windows either. Pigs, hens, horses and goats all lived beside houses behind closed doors. Large padlocks locked any doors that were closed. I decided to climb a mountain to get a better look. The side of the mountain was dotted with small graves. From the top I could see the character of the village. I was later to find out that these people were all from Mongolia. Refugees who left home in search of better land for farming had landed on the opposite side of China in Yunnan province. They went a long way. In the distance I could see a small city, I assumed that would be the best place to find transportation. I went back to the road and jumped on a motto taxi.
“City!” I shouted, hoping he would understand. He did and we were off.

Tonghai

I was dropped off at a large market. Enclosed by temple walls, this bazaar was enormous. People were selling everything from underwear to cow legs to kitchen knives, (Apparently this city is known for its knives.) Folks were gambling and haggling, bartering and bickering, the entire area was alive. At the far end of the market I saw buses parked. I pushed my way through huge hunks of hanging meat and raced over radiantly red drying peppers. Dodging ducks and bulky bicycles I approached a man standing by the buses breathlessly. Before I even asked a question he turned around and pointed up the hill. My eyes followed his fingers up the road, past the people, to the base of a mountain. I’ve learned not to question busy people so I thanked him and went on my way. The road up the hill was lined with ancient buildings. A hint of real, historic China, lingered on this street. The architecture of these buildings consisted of beautifully carved doors with hanging red lanterns. The walls had paintings of ancient hills and forests. Even the tiles of the roofs looked like they survived every dynasty China had ever undergone. At the base of a mountain I was forced to buy a 15 RMB ticket. The women explained that this mountain was green all year long. This was totally irrelevant to what I wanted.
“Where is the bus station?” I asked in English
“Yes, it very very beautiful”, she replied reassuringly.
I thought I had nothing to lose so I ventured up the steep steps. A lot of the signs were in English and they told me that some of the temples on the mountain dated back all the way to the Tang dynasty. (Which is before the Song dynasty (about 1500 years ago.)) The temples survived emperors, wars, even weathering. Tens of thousands of people come here yearly to worship different gods. Each temple had an assortment of different statutes. All brightly decorated and in different poses. One of the gods was a woman who had more then 40 arms. I bet she could accomplish a lot in a day.
The gardens were skillfully ornamented. Various trees and flowers were assembled amongst ponds and shrines. Old men played Mah-Jong while women lit incense and rang bells. Along with all of this, small animals danced in the tress and birds sang. Natural spring water dripped from the rocks.?The scene was incredibly relaxing and I even considered taking some time to relax but as the sun would go down soon I realized I was pressed for time. I climbed all the way to the top of the mountain and down the other side. There I found a bus waiting that would bring me one step closer to my destination

Jianshui

Arriving in Jianshui at night is a little like being a bystander at a pink parade. Although this parade doesn’t go past you, you go past it. The main road is lined with diminutive shops all with the same pink lights on. The sides of buildings are pasted with hefty billboards. Each has a different neon color scheme but all have the same word. KTV.
Karaoke Television is huge in Asia and who wants to and sing alone? No one seemed to bother me, or invite me, so I found the cheapest hotel I could and took some time to rest.
I woke up late and rushed to the bus station. I underestimated my sense of direction and started heading the opposite direction. During the day Jianshui is picturesque. A large part of the city is cut off from traffic. Contemporary Chinese art is visible everywhere you look. From the enormous arches to the cobble stone streets. The buildings look antique but even with all this eye candy I couldn’t help but gag at the smell. This small city is known for its ‘stinky tofu’. The smell is repulsive. No matter were I went I couldn’t get away from it. Since there was nowhere to run I finally went over to the grill and asked to taste one. Well, smells can be deceiving. I’ve never tasted something that tasted so scrumptious yet smelt so atrocious. I decided to buy ten and sit down and people watch. At midday there was a lot going on. The older generation of China is very social. Everywhere I looked senior citizens took part it playing cards or mahjong, singing or dancing, or playing an instrument. Others just sat around smoking, spitting and gossiping. I noticed a lot of people heading to one of the large temples so I joined in the pilgrimage. This must be the town center. At least 200 people sat around in small circles. There were shoe shiners, masseurs, even fortunetellers. I went over to man with scruffy frizzed hair. His eye-patch matched his paper made pirate hat flawlessly. He was a fortuneteller and by his one crazed eye I could tell he would have something interesting to say. I paid him 10RMB and listened to him attently. Although I could not understand a word he said his gestures explain the story well.
He wrapped his hands around his body and started to shake. This was a sign that I am from a cool country. He then stuck both fingers in his ears and made a farting sound with his tongue. (He obviously smelt the stinky tofu I had just eaten.)
Then the man stood up and took two long large strides left and three long strides right. He looked up to the sky and shouted,
“bugalugalugagu!” In English this means your travels will be good.
I thanked him for his good words, took one last glance at the scene of togetherness, and ran back the way I came. I was just in time to catch my bus to the next stop. The boarder town of China and Vietnam

Hekou

This was my second time on the boarder. Five months earlier I crossed into this friendly town scared and helpless. I returned strong with knowledge. I could now ask for noodles instead of making absurd actions. I enjoyed my bowl of soup on the lazy Red River. In the distance I could see Vietnam. I moved on to the boarder. There, people were lined up waiting to go across the boarder. The triangular rice hats on the merchants brought memories flooding back. I went and got my passport stamped. Vietnam and another adventure lie ahead.