Guangxi Minorities Museum

My first trip to China during Christmas 2001 was with a college exchange program. The host teachers, Mike and Winnie, were hospitable and gracious. Through the years we have stayed in contact, even returning to China in 2004 to see them again. 

As we planned to pit stop our way down to the coast, we had to include a stop to reconnect with them in Nanning. It did not feel as though we hadn’t seen them in seven years.

We spent today touring the Guangxi Minorities Museum. The Guangxi province is a melting post of minorities, which makes it one of the most interesting parts of China. The museum does a fabulous job highlighting the diversity and I found myself remarking that it was one of the best museums I have ever seen in China.

Two of Mike and Winnie’s students accompanied us, adding a lot of pizazz and fun to our venture.

Railway Romanticism Debunked

Portrayals of railway travel, beside the robberies from old westerns, tend to be charming and ideal. Scenery quickly glides by the windows while the chit chat of travelers creates a soft hum.

Then there are Chinese trains.

Getting to the platform alone is enough to make one cuss like a sailor. Then five minutes into the journey, you realize that you voluntarily signed yourself up to sit in the most hellacious form of purgatory. Straight backed hard seats. There are slimy chicken feet being dropped on your foot by the squirmy kid across the aisle. The grandparent holding their grandchild over the garbage to defecate when the actual bathroom is ten steps farther ahead. The window is grimy and clouds the passing scenery.

Six hours and five Bones episodes later, we left the train station frazzled and ready for a nap.

Our first evening in Nanning was low key, as we did take a nap at our couchsurfing home and chose to stay close to home for dinner. Dinner was fine, but the smoothie stand we found afterwards won our love and devotion immediately.

Down the River

The initial quotes were too high and our scam radar is heightened in this country. Hired tours tend to give ten percent of the time to the actual destination with the remaining ninety percent spent stopping at “designated” shops or restaurants. Corruption and bribery in its finest form. Our quest to experience the river between Guilin and Yangshuo seemed to be lost, when we voiced our plight to our couchsurfing host. She quickly piped in and said she could arrange a tour for us with her friend; we would just have to be at a certain hotel in the morning. The price was extremely right and we trusted her.

At 9:30 this morning, we were a bit nervous as our chariot had not arrived. Ten o’clock our nerves were settled when the shuttle bus arrived, complete with three other foreigners (a good sign). We wound our way through the countryside, picking up and dropping off random folks along the way. It was very reminiscent of our matatu ride in Africa.

Within a quaint riverside village, we set foot upon our bamboo raft for our trip down the Li River. With the putter of a lawnmower engine and the splashing of a mini propeller, we made our way in the famous landscape, memorialized by the Chinese on their 20 RMB note.

All was well until we turned a river bend and saw boats quickly diverting to the shoreline and life jackets being flung to passengers. Within the mass of bamboo rafts, we saw the red and blue strobe light—police. Our suspicion that we were privy to an underground operation was confirmed, plus we learned why there were many rafts void of people that meandered along the river.

Legally the boats are only supposed to hold four passengers and all must have a life vest. Hurriedly, two of our fellow travelers were pushed to another (vacant), orange vests were donned and a cunning game of chicken began with the police boat. As the police would creep up river, a handful of bamboo rafts would dart past, gunning for the next river bend. With a standoff similar to boxers dancing about a ring, eventually the police made the first move directly up the center and the boats scattered. Our trip resumed.

The route between Guilin and Yanghuo is truly one of the most beautiful places in the world. The Lonely Planet guide even remarks that travelers who tread the waterway will be gobsmacked by its beauty.

We disembarked in the small fishing village of Qingping, hopping into a deluxe golf cart and transferred to a bus bound for Yangshuo. Granted there was a wait between golf cart and bus, as with an undercover operation things are not so seamless.

Many Chinese rave about Yangshuo, whereas foreigners will rave about Yangshuo’s surroundings. Exiting the bus, Zach looked at me and exclaimed, “We are in a Chinese Gatlinburg.” It is the essence of touristy and has many western conveniences including Mexican food. Our stint within the city was thirty minutes and we were back on a bus bound for Guilin.

The highlight of the return trip was weaving our way through the Shangri-La valley, stunning scenery consisting of farmland. I recently read a book about the Shangri-La Valley in Papua New Guinea, which was named after this area.

We spent our final evening in Guilin with David, guests in his amazing home.

There is a Story...

The plane ride was therapy. Face to face and stuck in tight quarters, Zach and I were able to finally vocalize our week—it was hell. To no fault of either yet by fault of both, it was the cruelest, harshest and ugliest of moves during our marriage. As Beijing quickly slipped from view into the haze of the horizon, the stress dissipated and we came to grips that it was not a week worth meddling upon, yet we had to process it. Frequently, I comment that in our marriage Zach is the constant beat of the drum, very linear and steady, while I am the crashing symbol—explosive, spontaneous and rather excessive at times. For the past week, to our detriment, we switched roles. Zach hit his typical “omigosh we are moving” spastic phase, but instead of balancing out after a day or two, it became a vicious abyss. Rather than encourage and ply him with to-do lists as normal, I ignored the symptoms and dove into task mode. We were snippy. We were snide. Things that should have gotten done, didn’t.

As we talked, we came to grips that this move had a few unknown factors, such as how to move within a foreign country, but we felt that the biggest pachyderm in the situation was repressed frustrations and anger. The last couple of months within Beijing seemed to be more about survival rather than living, particularly with our job. With the end in sight, we unconsciously began to let those suppressed thoughts and feelings bubble to the surface and taint our outlook and conversations with each other.

When the plane landed in Guilin, forgiveness had been given in abundance alongside the many reminders that we were in this together. Guilin was a great place to start over and remind us why we moved to China in the first place. We both nearly cried upon exiting the airport to be met with palm trees, blue skies, warm breezes and gorgeous mountains. We spent our first afternoon in Guilin exploring the downtown area, complete with an afternoon siesta on an island in the middle of the lake.

Today we met up with a student we had met seven years ago while in Liuzhou. We had kept in touch with David and were so excited to spend time with him—we were not disappointed. Our afternoon was spent strolling Elephant Hill, a famous landmark in Guilin. The story goes that as the elephants were migrating they were ambushed and killed, except for one. Though the one survived, it was held in place by the mighty sword of a powerful warrior. It is even rumored that it lived because it was the king of the elephants. Really, our afternoon was filled with David or his friend saying, “There is a story…” It was fantastic.

Our evening was spent alongside the river at a restaurant. The river is the central focus of this lackadaisical town; bamboo boats putter along either by motor or bamboo poles, restaurants dot its shoreline and swimmers dip above and under the surface (followed by the oddest, homemade buoys to alert boats) as they do their daily exercise. Though Zach had just lost his cell phone in the taxi, the balm of sitting by a river worked its magic, we relaxed, shrugged and said "farewell" to a piece of cheap hardware. 

As the sun melted into the horizon, highlighting the iconic monolith mountains, David’s friends joined our oasis. While exquisite southern Chinese cuisine pleased our taste buds (by far, southern China’s cuisine is leaps and bounds better than the north) we watched the life of the river. One of the funniest sights was an old man paddling his boat in a button down shirt and red underwear.

The hum of the river made me ache for Gerty. I voiced my love of the water and all things associated with it, much to David’s humor. As I joked that if the boat docked held a paddle I might be prompted to borrow it for a spin, the owner of the restaurant strolled down for his evening venture. Chinese was spoken and I quickly found myself a guest on his vessel. 

The trip was to trail a swimmer on his evening lap of the river. From the shore, Zach said it looked as though we had a dolphin on our portside. It was the absolute highlight of the day for me.

Fare Thee Well, Beijing

Dear Beijing,

In the morning transition from a slumbering dragon to a bustling metropolis, I stood in my kitchen nook gazing upon you for the last time. Behind me was a bare hutong, void of plates, sheets, food and Kaden art upon its walls; before me laid the familiar view of a lush courtyard, an under-construction high school, the neon lights of Modern Plaza and skyscrapers. The bleats of horns began to pierce the solitude as the drab grey of night gave way to lighter grey of daylight. Though we called you home for six months, it was our final farewell. 

Our time with you was a bit rocky and rather unpleasant at times. However, we do not regret walking your streets, eating your food, meeting your people or visiting your ‘historical’ relics. As with any move, we learned a lot within your confines.

We learned that large cities are not for us. You were oppressive, life sucking and felt like a prison at times.

We learned that when it comes to reports of your pollution and environmental policies, they don’t lie and are even a bit tame. Your smog is death in vapor form.

We learned to “embrace the fake.”

We were reminded that we are pretty resilient and flexible, but we did reach our limit a few times in the past six months.

We loved the cold noodle lady and the Taiwanese pancake stand.

We learned the value of random connections and encounters. I spent two months teaching swimming lessons, which were an amazing highlight and a saving grace at times.

We loved the friendships we were able to make with some of our co-workers.

It may sound harsh, but I am not sure we will tread upon your streets again. China is a very large country, filled beyond capacity with spectacular sights that we would much rather see and experience. Though we appreciate what you did for us and provided us with some amazing memories and friends, I think our relationship will be nothing more than a blip in the lifespan of adventures.

Final Hoorah

The company did not have a farewell get together for us. It didn’t surprise us, but rather confirmed why we were leaving. It didn’t damper our spirits, but made us create our own with the co-workers that we had come to love and respect. Thanks to Nicky, Warren, Christy and Joey, our final evening was filled with laughter, pizza and beer. It was the perfect last hoorah for us.

Final (Beijing) Surfer

Sarah escaped the British isle and had been moseying around China with her sister for the last two months, except for a ten day hiatus to Vietnam to “just get a break from the Chinese.” Her laid back demeanor, witty humor and weird love of moon cakes made her a spectacular final couch surfer for our last week in Beijing. Even after telling her that we may have sold her bedding a day before her departure, she responded with, “Ah, just give me some tissues to lay on.” A declaration that still makes me chuckle.

Parting Pedicure

I could not part ways with Beijing without a final pedicure with Christy, as it has become our monthly ritual. In true Chinese fashion, it is a wild tale of a closed pedicure shop, random customer service and gossip that a Spainard had stolen pork from the grocery store beside the nail salon.

One of the funniest moments was when Christy was debating colors (as the purple she had initially chosen was not flashy enough to her taste), the worker grabbed my hand and proceeded to paint my chewed-up nails every color Christy was contemplating. It was rather a spectacle. For the record, she chose the pink on my ring finger. It looked smashing on her toes.

Final Stretch

It is surreal to find ourselves beginning sentences with, "Since this is our final week in Beijing...", selling household goods that we have only possessed for a mere six months and saying farewell to our students. We have spent time plotting pit stops to our southern destination--plane to Guilin, train to Nanning, train to Zhanjiang. We have reversed roles within couchsurfing from hosts to surfers. We have packed peasant bags to be shipped. so not to be burdened with extra luggage on the journey.

As with any move, Zach and I have been reminded that it is so hard for us to finish well and with grace. Zach is stressed which makes him snippy. I am just ready to go which makes me snippy. The adventure waits, but we still have commitments that stand between us and the next thing. It is a learning time, and I am sure we will have many more opportunities to hone ourselves during final stretches...much to Zach's chagrin.

Noodle Lady

Tucked between lingerie and shoe shops on Woman Street is my favorite cold noodle stand. The woman in charge has been a highlight to many of my days when my stomach has been on the verge of self implosion. As I rub my stomach and exclaim in bad Chinese how hungry I am, she giggles then proceeds to teach new Chinese words or ask where my husband is and why I only need one order of noodles. Today I swung by for a late lunch and as I sat in the shade of her little domain I realized that though I am excited for the next China adventure, there are pieces of my Beijing hood that I will miss.

Case of Change-itis

Moving is never easy; it is even harder within a foreign country. Granted we don't have much, but we want to ship a good portion so that we can have a light load for our meanderings that we plan to do for a week in between jobs. Granted I haven't morphed into task mode (and probably won't for a couple more days), but my husband caught his typical case of change-itis today. His stress level escalated, a despondent demeanor appeared and snippy retorts were quickly followed with, "I'm sorry, it's the change."

I took him to the pool and told him to stop thinking about it.

It worked; he relaxed by reading and even taking a nap.

On the bus ride home, he looked at me and said, "Thanks for making me go to the pool."

I breathed a sign of relief.

"Did you know that in our eight years of marriage, this will be the seventh time we have moved."

Oh bother.

Tanzhe Temple | Jietai Temple | Babaoshan Cemetery

Tucked into the western mountains of Beijing are the Tanzhe and Jietai Temple, two temples initially constructed during the Jin Dynasty over 1700 years ago. In the comfort of our taxi-for-a-day, we wound our way into the depths of lush green forests and solitude, shirking the bleating horns and bustle of Beijing for the day. In a rare occurrence, Zach, Christy and I had a day off together and we chose to explore, especially since our time in Beijing is short.

Our first stop was the Tanzhe Temple, a popular tourist attraction to the locals, but far enough out of town to deter foreign interests.The temple was busy since it is Hungry Ghost month, yet not crowd crushing like most temples within the city limits. The grounds were vast, speckled with unique and intriguing elements such as the Floating Cup garden feature.

Back in the day, the emperor would gather around this carved slab of marble with his friends. A cup of wine would be placed in the stream to bob around the maze, eventually leaning or tipping over in front of a participants. That participant either had to drink the wine or compose a poem immediately. According to the sign, the emperor composed a haiku or two in his day.

Another point of interest were the trees, as they are significantly revered on temple grounds. It is not unusual to see multiple steel poles haphazardly strewn about a tree in an effort to keep it erect. One tree on the grounds, called the Emperor Tree, was said to sprout a new shoot every time a new emperor was chosen. Eventually the new shoot would meld into the larger tree, becoming indistinguishable but reinforcing the established tree. I almost expected a pseudo Gandalf to appear and tell me how the line had fallen into ruin and there hadn't been a new shoot in over ninety years.

One of our favorite finds was a very, very droopy pine. Our curiosity as to why it was kept was laid to rest upon reading the sign. It was a moon tree, nearly impossible to grow on Earth because its beauty is meant to be planted on the moon. Gravity is a heavy burden on its fragile boughs.

With another temple to explore, we met our driver around noon and made our way out of the parking lot only to be briefly inconvenienced by a fender bender. The driver of the black sedan was oblivious, punctuated by how hard he hit our car. A crowd gathered, heated words were exchanged and eventually money was paid to our driver for damages. Fifteen minutes after the collision, we were on our way...again.

Jietai Temple was a sanctum of silence, bereft of even local tourists. We thoroughly enjoyed this temple for its simplicity, as it appeared to be more in tune with its natural surroundings. Plus, this temple hosts a 'hotel' for those seeking a weekend or so of solitude.

This temple had its share of idiosyncrasies, such as the extremely plump deity in a lush meadow. Spread throughout the grounds were many towers holding Chinese prayer streamers, similar to the Tibetan prayer flags. Though many are pre-purchased with written prayers, there were a few in the masses that held extra scrawlings of hope, concerns and desires.

As late afternoon drew near, we headed back towards Beijing. Our final stop was the Babaoshan Revolutionary Cemetery, a huge plot of land where party members are buried. Unfortunately, we got there as they were closing, but we snuck in before they closed the gate.

Eventually a guard came to corral and escort us out, giving the typical nonchalant warnings typical of security in this part of the world. His suggestions of 'get out' were randomly replaced with 'mei guo ren' and a personal tour of the foreigners buried at this cemetery commenced.

I didn't recognize any of the people named on the headstones or their pictures (I really like this feature about Chinese headstones), but we were intrigued as to how they came to be buried among the elite of the communists.

Our private tour ended, with us quite giddy that we actually got to see a good chunk of the cemetery.

We finished our day of grand adventure with a Mexican dinner at the Avocado Tree, content.

Portland Couchsurfers

Their stay was quick, but the meager time we got to spend with Kolt and Holly was amazing. There is something unique about sharing a common bond, especially when it is Portland. Plus, it was fun to compare teaching English in China vs. Korea.

Pool Sights

Swimming lessons have become an integral part of my week, and I am so grateful. Today, the weather was extremely hot, so Zach joined me. While I taught, he chatted with Chris (the dad) and took some photos.

BFSU English Camp

I spent the past five days working an English camp for middle schoolers. Granted it was not my ideal job, but overall it was a great experience and I was able to utilize dormant camp games and activities.The photo scavenger hunt was by far the highlight for the students; their interpretation of my list was even funnier to me. As with Chinese culture, the final day the student showered me with weird trinkets and sentimental Chinglish notes and for posterity, I have highlighted the best below.

Thank you for teaching us these days. I'm lucky to become your student. I will always miss you. -Rase

Teacher you are like matches. You burn yourself to light other. We're very lucky to meet you. We'll never forget you! -Jerry

I feel very happy these days. I'll never forget these amazing time. Only a few days I have liked you deeply. You were very lovely but sometimes you were serious. I'll never forget you. -Philip

Welcome to China! I hope your Chinese will be better! -Kathy

Dear Amanda, You're the most creative teacher I have ever seen. Our classes are vital. -Louise

When He Roots, He Roots for the Timbers!

With a peck to the window and a shrill chirp, our attention was drawn to the bedroom window this morning. To our shock, this beauty was skittering along our windowsill.

Its antics were humorous as it kept pecking on our window and vocalizing its dismay that we would not let it in our bedroom. Obviously it is not native, so we perplexed as to its origin.

It eventually departed but not before Zach remarked, "It looks like it is a Timbers fan."

Avocado Tree

If there is one food we miss greatly, it is Mexican. Tonight our six month sabbatical from the cuisine came to an end as we tried out a new restaurant in Wudaoku. The Avocado Tree did not disappoint in taste, affirmed by the fact Zach bought another burrito after finishing his first, not because he was hungry but because he could. Christy swooned over the mint tea and I savored every chip and salsa bite. The downside was that our senses were in overload as it was a jolt of culture shock--it was an exact replica of Chipotle/Qdoba/Baja Fresh. People were even speaking English inside.

With fair prices and yummy food, I am sure we will be visiting the Avocado Tree again soon.

(Chinese) Potter Mania

Though the Smurfs movie is getting more publicity than it deserves and has overshadowed the release of the real epic film, our radar was honed for today. Tickets were bought and at 11:40pm we settled in for a couple antagonizing yet cathartic hours. For the record, there were ten other Potter fanatics in the theatre with us.

In the wee hours of the morning as we walked the barren street in hunt for a taxi, we processed our thoughts and feelings in regards to the end of an era. The movie did not disappoint. However, our musings were diverted when we noticed a man and woman hovering over a burning pile on a street corner. Christy piped up and said, "Oh it's hungry ghost month; the month when paper objects such as iPhones, cars and money are burnt for the ancestors." A few meters later we saw two men with Ghostbuster-like contraptions wandering through the street, fervently watching the computer monitor they carried with them. Christy and Scott confirmed that it is common for ghost hunters to be frequently seen during this month.

Oh China, you never disappoint and I really can't think of a better ending to our Potter mania.

Bars

In attempt to ward off moldy sheets and towels, I have been having to hang them outside our window. The bar cages are fantastic assets as it provides a space for storage, drying clothes and, for some, even a potted garden. I took this picture today because I realized that I don't look down enough and it was a rather intriguing view.