Kunming

I left the sleep village and chilled out Yangshuo. Even the 'crazy' traffic wasn't that crazy once you took a closer look. You have all manner of transport - big, small, human or petroleum powered in the same space. But no aggression. Beeps were to say "I'm here". A dance of give and take, push and yield based on mutual awareness rather then self absorbed " I've got right of way and I'm going somewhere important". I felt safer cycling amongst this, then going down Collins Street on the way to work in the mornings.

Kunming is an up and coming Chinese city with lots of high end branded clothing stores and malls. Traffic is much more orderly, with designated bike/moto lanes. Many chinese seem to be opting for electric scooters, gliding soundlessly through the streets - kind of back to the future style - but not quite at the hover board stage.
I headed up a mountain for the day. Shopping malls hold cursory interest. At the top of the mountain "amazing views of Kunming" (Rough Guide, 2006) can be found.
It seemed to be the place to escape on the weekend, particularly a garden which held a much coveted area of lawn. Grass glorious grass! As with much of China, Kunming has many construction zones, things are being pulled down with view to putting something else up. As a result, lots of rubble is left about and the air has high levels of dust particles. I empathised with the need to escaped.

Dotted about the mountain route were temples from don't-ask-me-which dynasty. I came across a sequence of engraved wooden panels within one of them.

On closer inspection, I found these familiar faces.



















Monkey! Pigsy!



Knackered, I opted for the shuttle back to town.

Chao ling and around

I decided it was time to get some sleep and forego-ed a 6 hour bike ride with the others. Instead I spent a few hours strolling between villages and taking in the scenery.
Most homes had electricity and many had satellite dishes. At one point it seemed that all the T.V.'s were tuned to the same thing. Swooping dramatic music. The ladies of the village were putting their feet up for a spell and taking in a soap opera. At the same time, a couple of pale English girls trundled past me on a tandem bicycle, headphones firmly planted in their ears, loudly asserting "Emmerdale! No, I never really liked Emmerdale...."

Despite some creature comforts, working the paddy fields did look like back breaking work.

Village and river life

Lacking sense, I wholeheartedly agreed to a 4 hour walk down the Li River. A German, Englishman, Mexican, French Canadian and Australian headed out to see what they could see....see, see.
After a long day of tramping, we thought it would be a good idea to take in an evenings entertainment. Muddy boots and all, we headed to a riverside ampitheatre to watch Sanjie Liu's (of Beijing Olympics opening ceremony fame) show. Upto 600 performer, undertaken on bamboo rafts and platforms on the Li river. A pretty impressive act of choreography, it's main feature being lighting and use of space. Here's a photo taken on my shoddy camera from a great distance.
Food, much needed, was in order. I chose a dish the waitress didn't believe would be to my liking as a foreigner. I had to plead to be allowed to have it.
On returning to see how we were going, she asked scepticallyl if I enjoyed it and pulled a face when I said yest. Apparently she dislikes the dish (example 3).

Guilin and the Li River

By the time I reached my accommodation in Guilin it was around midnight. I quickly organised a trip down the river to my 3 night stay in a village amongst the karst mountains. There, I would take in the scenery and get my bearings after a frantic start to the trip. Eyes drooping, bed beckoning, but I needed to cash up first. ATM across the road they say. Standing at the edge of a pitiful excuse for a zebra crossing I surveyed a dimly lit 4 lane expanse with cars, bikes and lorries coming left right and center. "You want me to cross that! But I don't even have a high visibility vest!". My brain had finally flipped. (Moments later, the higher cortical function centre kicked in..... "Did you just say high visibility vest?".

The next morning I boarded a bamboo raft and spent a few hours making it down the river towards Yangshuo. It was quite misty, the karst mountains looking washed out, but impressive none the less. Note the raft's PVC "bamboo" piping.

We pulled up at some point to be unceremoniously handed over to villagers hawking mandarins and ornamental ducks. Spying the possibility of food under one gazebo whilst marveling at the PC, printer and digital SLR set up under another (how do they power that down here??) I followed my nose to a much needed feed.

What followed was tuck tuck, bus and some kind of bicycle ute transfer before I finally reached the village of Chao Ling.

My favorite view.

And a village it was. Mud brick homes, livestock, chickens, ducks. The neighbours were having some kind of celebration. People coming and going, occassional bursts of music.. a composition involving a clarinet like wind instrument, cymbals and drums.

The sensible thing would have bee to pull up a hammock and say Ahhh! I've arrived! Instead I'd agreed to meet a fellow bamboo rafter in town for dinner. I extended the invite to my roomates and found myself, after a bit of umming and aaaahing, riding the 4km into Yangshuo town down unlit rural Chinese roads, sans helmet and high visibility vest.
We sat down to a much anticipated meal and beer (585ml 'stubbies'). I jumped at the chance to try an authentic szechuan dish but was sorely disappointed. My fellow szechuan loving friends - what chillies there were, were inedible, and the heat they tried create by drowning all the ingredients in pepper. A visit to Szechuan house will definitely be a high priority as soon as I get back. One of the other diners was advised that he should order a pork dish, as he was too skinny and it would fatten him up (example 2).

The trip home on the bike was peaceful and otherworldly. Riding through mist, sucking in the smells, frogs croaking. Magic. We rolled down the laneway past our neighbours who were still at it, but significantly more beer infused. The repetitive tune started and stopped abruptly and was now randomly punctuated with "howwwwwwwwwwwww". I could only guess at the significance.

Guangzhou

It so transpires that the night before I landed in Guangzhuo I didn't get a wink of sleep. I tried to get some at the airport - failed. So there I was in a big, noisy, smelly brown city with half a day to spare before a flight to Guilin. And it started raining. Luckily in China, your needs are anticipated by the enterprising and I had an umbrella before the 10th raindrop hit. Shelter, tick. Food. Oh Shit. Negotiating my first non meat meal - sleep deprived.

First sign of food after 1.5 hours of tramping - outside displays of photographed dishes - I was in. "Come what may" I said. Kapow! Shazam! A VEGETARIAN restaurant! The waitress warned me sternly and I grinned from ear to ear.




The gods smiling on me and a body full of wholesome food, I set off to explore my first glimpse of China.

There's a lot of shopping to be done in Guangzhou. Whether you're a teenager checking out shops run by other teenagers with 'doof doof' music blaring, in the market for some dried seahorses and lizards for magic potions or jade pieces - Guangzhou is the place to be. I bought myself a watch so that I wouldn't miss planes and experience for the first time the Chinese habit of advising what's best for you. Despite the shop assistant thinking I need more mauve in my wardrobe, I walked away with a watch in black.



In my wandering I stumbled across a temple. A quiet place, sloping eaves, red lanterns, incense burning and a peaceful courtyard. It was at this point it hit me. Holy Fuck! I'm in China. Those tin tin comics have a lot to answer for.

Singapore

What is this place? Cheesy shopping malls, contrived entertainment precincts, theme parks, chewing gum is illegal, drug traffickers are murdered. A weird east/west hybrid.




How often were these things occuring??? Lips?!

A Polar bear was born into the tropics. No mean feat, I imagine. He didn't seem too pleased with his lot. My visit didn't seem to provide any solace either. Yes. I do know this. I speak polar bear.




Subcultures a bit thin on the ground. But that's just me, the inner city dweller looking for them. Tattoos amongst youth seem to be discouraged. I spotted a poster asking them to forego ink to instead leave their mark by running a marathon. Clever marketing, eh? Try selling that one to the Fitzroyalty. That's never gonna happen in skinny jeans half way down your ass.

I chanced upon a transvestite amongst the 'jeans west' casual wear population. Most impressive was the stockings, wool suit set, Jackie O glasses and wig she was sporting. In that humidity! Extraordinary.

There are significant Indian and Muslim populations with neighbourhoods to explore and eat in. I stayed in the Islamic hood - wafts of apple tobacco, the call to prayer from the minarets and great food. For awhile, I happily forgot I was in Singapore.

The Journey

On the 8th of May I will get on a plane and return to Melbourne about 7 weeks later. In between I can be found somewhere on a world map, hopefully on the route outlined above! There'll be a few weeks in China ( a friend implored a number of times yesterday that I not get arrested in this country -- thanks for looking on the bright side --friend), about a week in Mongolia, a week in Siberia, 3-4 days each in Moscow, St Petersburg and Tallin (Estonia), a day in Helsinki and a day in dirty, costly, we-have- a-large-pointy-tower-and-the-Mona-Lisa, Paris. I shall be flying solo for most of it, except for the interesting/nutty/fun/exasperating people I may meet on the way, or the last 10 days, where I will meet with(interesting/nutty/fun/exasperating) friends from a time past which will be LOVELY!

Somewhat confused? It will all become clear in good time. Oh! Between Beijing and Moscow I will be travelling the Trans-Mongolian train journey.

As a side -I watched a horrible, horrible, bad, horrible movie last night. Little Children with Kate Winslet - bad, bad, bad. Loooooooooooooong and laboured. Who does this guy think he is?!? Lars Von Trier??!

I usually don't like the concept of regret but in this instance I have made an exception.