The Villages of Guizhou Province

Well, it took an overnight train and three buses, but I finally reached the village of Xijiang, and one day ahead of schedule. My train pulled into Guiyang, the capitol of Guizhou province, at 8:30 in the morning. Guizhou is notoriously one of the poorest counties in China and the capitol showed it with plenty of run-down buildings and dirty streets, so I didn't stick around too long. By 9:00, my bus was on its way to Kaili, an interesting town and the jumping off point for my village trek. I arrived around noon and headed from the bus station to find some sour soup, the town's specialty. There was a street side stand selling the bright orange concoction so I ordered some up and a nice girl next to me showed me how to eat it, taking the broth, noodles and various meats and transferring them into a little bowl with la jiao (hot peppers) and assorted other spices. Delicious. The sour flavor was a welcome diversion from typical Chinese fare.

I originally was going to stay in Kaili, but brought my pack along in case I changed my mind. I hiked through the town passing various small markets, went to the top of the grand pavilion by stealing entrance fare (1 Yuan) from a nice girl and made my way back to the town via some terraced gardens hanging over downtown. From the terraces I could look down at the bus station, a spattering of color amongst the otherwise dark and bland rooftops, and onto the industrial giants spewing dark smoke into the air beyond the inner city. I wondered how long this small speck of green would last amongst the growing city. It was a short couple hours but I decided to press on, though I actually grew to like the place. The streets bustled with activity and they were in the sweet spot where they weren't too surprised by the presence of a westerner (no long hard stares here), but they also weren't accustom to trying to squeeze every penny from the foreigner (in fact, in place of the usual fanfare of taxi drivers and hotel owners, I'm not sure anyone even noticed me get off the bus).

The bus to Leishan wandered through a number of small villages scattered along the river. They were beautiful in the receding sunlight with the layered number of wood structures climbing the hillside. Some had little pedestrian bridges across the river - the only access to the small villages. I was disappointed to see some with gates and entry fees for tourists.

After weaving through the valley and along the river for about an hour, we arrived at Leishan, but my book was right that this was more of a hub than a destination; it was just a drab small city. I asked about busses to Xijiang and there was one leaving right away, so I thought, "what the hell, I guess I'll push on". The bus wandered up and down mountains on another famous Chinese back road. It had quickly turned dark so I only had my imagination to tell me what the scenery looked like. About 2/3 of the way there we turned a corner to some spotlights pointed straight for us, and I quickly realized (as did the driver) that this wasn't another bus, but a huge construction shovel. The bus quickly ground to a halt. The road was in tough shape and I realized it was under construction, but only now did I really realize what this meant. We waited for about 10 minutes as the shovel smoothed the road for us in the spotlight and then we moved on. With the help of a Chinese tourist I met on the bus who spoke very little English, I made my way into the deserted town and found a decent room for the night.

I love arriving at interesting destinations in the night time. You wake the next morning and get to anticipate that first glimpse of your surroundings. Xijiang did not disappoint. I looked through my window and up into the hills rising high above the town. I took to the streets and marveled at the small wooden houses and terraced hills above. The town struck me as interesting for a number of reasons. First, it seemed, like Lige, poised for a tourist explosion - everything was under construction, the town included a big brand new bus station (seemed out of place for the scant 3-4 buses that currently left each day) and many new guest houses lined the main street, which was precluded by an English sign explaining the history of the village. The second, was that, unlike Lige, no one wanted anything to do with me. I walked around like a ghost, totally ignored by the local population. My attempts to talk to some of the locals proved fruitless unless I was trying to buy something. I got the sense that they weren't into the tourist idea - they didn't buy it. I imagine they don't want to be a living museum - perhaps they've seen what has happened to some of the other less remote villages in the area.

I tried not to let this affect my stay and headed up into the rice patties and layered gardens. I walked up through the maze of wooden houses and into the hills above. Eventually I got to the high ridge where I could see the mountains spread in each direction as far as the eye could see and also looked down onto the mirror image of another village on the other side. I found myself wishing I had time to head down there - perhaps I would be more warmly received - but knew that was not in the cards. After resting on the top, I headed down. There was no real path so I just walked along the edge until there was a path down to the next level. I zigzagged down the mountain, always trying to move away from the village and occasionally passing farmers harvesting lettuce or taking their horses into the hills to snack. I always gave a warm smile with mixed results. I arrived at the river and worked back to the town, passing women washing the family's clothes in the river and a small production site building posts and beams for new houses in the now mostly dry river bend.

That night I met two travelers from Hong Kong and another from right outside and joined them for a dinner including Pig Liver (quite good actually) and ginger spiked rice wine. We realized we were all headed in the same direction and decided to head off together the next morning.

We took the bus back to Leishan, this time witnessing the splendor of the countryside in the thick fog and rising light, then hired a minibus to take us to Rongjiang, a town further to the south. I sat in the front while we sped along the bumpy road passing trucks and busses with the continuous blowing of the horn. At one point one of the Hong Kong Triad asked the driver a question and I heard him say "Lao Guai" (foreigner) in his response and then the Thomas (the guy from Hong Kong) said something about "san ge qhong gou ren" (three Chinese people) and I wondered what was up. Shortly after we rounded a corner the driver hit the breaks as we faced the bottom of an upturned minibus surrounded by shattered glass and minorly wounded people. As we passed, I looked in horror as they tried to get our driver to stop and he just honked once and kept on. Later I asked Thomas what the conversation was about. He said he had asked why the driver was driving so slowly and cautiously (what! I was scared for my life!) and the driver said because there was a foreigner aboard. He explained to me that if a minibus flips and kills three Chinese people, no one gives a damn, but if a foreigner is involved it would make the front page of the news. Great, it's nice to be loved.

Rongjiang was just a big rundown town so we headed to a small village just to the north. It was very poor and more than a little depressing. We wandered into a small tower built recently in the traditional style to pull in tourists and then were convinced to go across the river in a small boat to eat some fish. Across the river was just a small collection of tiny wooden houses on stilts. They put out a table near the water and we dined on fish, veggies and tofu soup. The meal was good, but I swallowed hard as we watched a young lady crossing the pedestrian bridge gingerly toss a bag of garbage over the rail and into the stream below. I looked down at the fish and decided not to take another bite. After settling the bill we passed back over the bridge and through the town. There was trash everywhere among people spreading their rice out on the concrete and giving us curious glances as we passed through. Besides some electricity and a couple telephones, this place looked like it hadn't changed in 50 years.

That night, back in Rongjiang, I enjoyed my Christmas Eve with Thomas and Amy in a small and nearly empty karaoke bar where the staff wore Santa hats and gave us some free apples. Besides that, it was business as usual. Thomas and Amy sang some karaoke duets, but I abstained for the evening. The next morning I woke early and boarded a bus for Congjiang on the Guizhou/Guanxi border. Three bumpy, cramped, uncomfortable buses and three hours later I arrived at Longsheng. I ate dinner with a Chinese sales man and his friend, but little communication was successfully exchanged, not for a lack of trying. We did go through a big beer and a bottle of bi jiu, though. It was certainly a strange Christmas. Before bed, I called my family back home. They had just risen and were ready to start on stockings. It was great to hear all their voices, but certainly made me long for home.

The next day I headed to Long Sheng's famous rice patties, but they were, frankly, crap compared to Xijiang. I could see them being nice in the summer but now were all dry with none in use. The locals had abandoned the fields in exchange for building guesthouses and selling trinkets. Worst of all, as I made my way along the new stone paths among the hills I was constantly harassed by the Zhao minority women. They hold the Guinness record for the village with the longest hair. They point at my ticket with the picture of four young pretty woman combing their body length hair in a nearby stream and they say "long hair picture" and tried to coax money from me. I looked at their tired, worn and wrinkled faces and wondered where the girls in the picture had gone. Advertising isn't always 100% truth, you know.

Later that day, I moved on to Yangshuo by way of Guilin, a sort of backpackers paradise as I've heard. More on that later. The last five days have been trying and lonely, but undoubtedly adventurous. I'm glad I got a chance to see yet another side of China, one I'd heard about, but only now experienced. It was a difficult road, but I've emerged unscathed and better for it.

Cheers and happy holidays.

Updated Map

I am now in Xijiang with an updated map of my progress and a brief view of Xijiang itself. More to follow.

Recovering in Kunming

The last couple days have gone by smoothly and easily. Kunming is a laid back place filled with ethnic minorities and many westerners congregating at the hostels and bars. Apparently, according to my Chinese friend from the Tiger Leaping Gorge, Yunnan has a reputation for having lazy people, but it's not just the locals - no one at the hostel seems to get up before 10 am. Kunming dubs itself the city of eternal spring, but as soon as I got here it turned grey and cold, with a constant threat of rain. Oh, and all the flowers are dead. The city has its attractions, though, including a number of wonderful hutongs and great little markets (like the "bird and flower market" which had more "Nike" apparel than tulips or parakeets), and the locals are very friendly and accustomed to us strange foreigners. Like other cities though, the city is under a great transformation. Buildings are popping up everywhere and many of the parks and old streets are under construction. I frustratingly spent 1.5 hours lost looking for a whole street which has vanished under a construction site for a huge skyscraper and the "Bird and Flower Market" is mostly boarded up to be replaced with a new faux "old street" similar to Lijiang's.

Kunming Park

Nothing big to report here, but thought I'd share some tidbits before running off to the train:
- I have now repossessed my passport with a shiny new 30 day Vietnam Visa - Pho here I come.
- Visited a cool park where seagulls from Siberia have come since 1985 when some guy started the fad of feeding them, which has yet to die.
- Treated myself to some homemade Italian pasta with REAL CHEESE! and a cappuccino at an authentic Italian restaurant. It was definitely strange trying to order rigatoni in Chinese.
- Went to the disco with a cool Dutchman and a sketchy old Canadian who abandoned us to go get a "foot massage." This was followed by me jumping the gate at the hostel in the middle of the night because no one was awake for some strange reason. Kunming travel tip: The Brothers Jiang "Across the Bridge" Noodle (a local specialty) Restaurant on Ren Min Zhong Lu is open 24 hours and serves beer.
- Went to Walmart. This may not seem like an event to many of you, but you probably haven't been to Walmart in China, now have you? I actually began to get home sick while listening to terrible Christmas music for 25 minutes while stuck in the checkout line with the other 200 customers.

Merry Christmas from Walmart

The major event though was the trip to the biggest tourist trap ever, the Stone Forest. This is a series of "Karst" formations which are basically limestone pillars that have been worn by wind and rain for millions of years. Paths wove up and down the pillars (some as much as 30 m high), through crevices and down to small ponds. At times, I actually felt very unsafe while teetering over tiny steps while looking 20 m straight down on the jagged rocks below, or as I squeezed sideways up steps between two of the pillars. I also wandered away from the tourists and found myself way out where there were fields, farmers and little huts among the columns. It was quite peaceful out there, but I again got concerned I would never find my way back. The forest was quite spectacular and unfortunately the pictures do it no justice.

Stone Forest

Elephant on a Platform

That's the quick update. Other than that, I wandered the city, ate some more great food and chilled at the hostel. I'm moving on next to a more rigorous adventure of the Lugu Lake variety to the villages of southeast Guizhou. If I'm lucky, I'll end up on the other side of the mountains in Guilin. Cross your fingers.

Lugu For One

Sorry again for the long post, but the last few days have been possibly the most remarkable of the trip so far.

After seven hours of winding up and down mountains, through valleys and across long bridges, we had finally reached Lugu Lake. We stopped momentarily at a viewing platform to take some pictures and the first view of the lake instantly made the trip worthwhile. The bright sun made the lake glow with a clear bright blue as the shoreline wound around the surrounding mountains. I took my guide book's advice and endeavored to get away from the main town and to one of the smaller villages, but the " 1.5 hour walk" intimidated me (and looked much farther from the viewing platform) and so I quickly found a small bus going there for $1.

The bus wound along the lake shore, up a small hill and then down into a small cove. I was disappointed to find that Lige, which supposedly had avoided the tourism of the main town, was quickly being transformed. The entire village was under construction and the rising new guest houses were quickly obscuring the native buildings. I strode by the new shiny guest house with the dual language sign which had been recommended and out to Lige Island, a small strip of land which completes the cove. After stopping in a few places I had negotiated the furthest room out on the island, on the top floor with a window looking over the lake - all that for a cool 25 Yuan (~$3). This was a full 10 Yuan more than I paid in Lijiang, but considering the circumstances I couldn't complain.

View from my balcony

Found a room, check. Next line of business - get a plan. Turned out my guest house had a woman staying there that spoke English - one of the few I'd meet on this journey. Her name was Millian (like million with an 'a' as she told me), and she was from Hong Kong and was staying with a family in a village far up in the mountains. She brought me down to a local bar / coffee shop to help me ask about my plan of attack for the lake. Turned out a young hotel owner from the other side of the lake was there named Si Ge. He told me (through Millian's interpretation) that I could hike halfway around the lake into Sichaun province and to his guesthouse in grasslands and then he would take me to the bus in the morning to start my journey to Kunming. Sounded perfect. Got a plan, check.

Step three - eat something. I returned to the hostel, showered up and ordered some beef with peppers and some fried potatoes which were highly recommended (turned out to be like hash browns but with some kick. They were great.) I ate at the lake side as the sun disappeared and the cold started to set in. A group of four young Chinese tourists got a small table with a BBQ in the middle and invited me over for veggies, fish and "special beef" (whatever that means I don't want to know) and of course a couple beers. We talked in Chinese and a little English which one of the girls spoke quite well. After dinner, we head out to a local Mosuo dancing bar.

The Mosuo people, it should be shared are famous for their "walking marriages". Listen up girls - in Mosuo culture the woman hold the highest post. They live with their parents, brothers and any children they might have. There really are no marriages and the woman get to choose their mates, so lots of them have quite a few.

The dancing bar was more of a courtyard. Inside, men and women in the colorful traditional clothing wound hand and hand around a fire. The dancers were surrounded by the mob of tourists, some trying to learn the dance, but mostly just taking pictures. After the dancing, they lined up and began to sing - often launching into a call and response between the men and women. After this subsided and a wave of Chinese discussions back and forth, some of the tourists began to sing. Turns out it's also tradition for the hosts and guests to sing to each other. After a speech from one of the lead woman, it became clear to me (through an explanation from the girl who spoke a little English) that they had now chosen me (I'm guessing because I was the only foreigner there) to sing. I tried to warn them, but the mob won. By request I began singing jingle bells, but heaped on top of the embarrassment due to my terrible tone deaf voice, I couldn't even remember the words... moving on, the bright side was that I then got to chose the next person to sing, and naturally chose the most beautiful Mosue girl, with the traditional colorful clothes and headdress, the dark olive skin and the sharp features which distinguish them from the Han. She obliged, coming through with a beautiful ballad.

The next morning I woke before dawn to watch the sunrise from my bedroom window, but it had gotten so cold over night that not even the three blankets and electric heat pad could keep me warm. I scooted out of bed, peaked out the window and retreated back to the warmth. It didn't seem worth it. But then, about 10 minutes later, I got a knock at the door accompanied by the heavily accented words "boat" and "hurry up". I wasn't quite sure what this meant but jumped out of bed anyway, put on every layer of clothing I had and headed down to the water. My four friends from the previous night and a couple other tourists piled into the small wooden boat - reminiscent of half a wooden torpedo. Our two guides started rowing out, I wasn't sure where, and occasionally launched into spontaneous song. We rowed out through the mist and the bitter cold and past a busy fisherman into the middle of the lake. My toes and hands were freezing, so I asked to row to liven things up. Our guides were happy to oblige. Before long we had pulled up to a small strip of land jutting out into the water and climbed a small hill to watch the sun break above the hills. At this point, amazingly, I was happy to have gotten out of my warm bed.

Enjoying the sunrise

After returning to the guest house and restoring feeling to my feet and hands, I packed my bag, strapped it to my back and headed out. I started on a shortcut through a pasture and up a hill to the road. I continued over the hills and around the bends of the bright blue lake, passing through the small villages and occasionally chatting with the locals. The villages, all like Lige, were heavily under construction and the people were all friendly, possibly optimistic at the rising industry and not yet jaded by throngs of tourists. The locals were all eager to help me find my way.

Halfway through, I felt the weight of my pack and was glad to have previously lightened the load. Consulting the back of my ticket with its sketchy "map", I headed off road to follow the lake. After walking through another pasture and up a big hill I finally found something that looked like a real path. Relieved, I followed it until I ran into a local man out in the middle of nowhere. He confirmed I was headed in the right direction, so I thanked him and headed on. Later, after resting at the sacrificial alter with a great view of the lake, I ran into a group of four young Chinese tourists at a crossroads and they advised me on which way to go. At this point I was getting very tired as my legs ached going up and down the hills following the lakeside. The path eventually disappeared and consulting my compass I just kept rising up and up taking frequent breaks from extreme exhaustion. I eventually reached a summit and found myself looking down a steep slope and high cliffs towards the town. The sun was sinking in the sky and I started to worry about the pending cold. I headed down the steep slopes of loose gravel and for the first time on my trip was truly scared. I was alone, lost, exhausted and worst of all no one knew I was up here. All it would take was a bad fall or twist and I might have to spend the night on the frigid mountain. Luckily, this did not come to pass and I made my way slowly and safely to the bottom, through a large field and exited onto the road through a small pig farm.

After another mile hike along the Grasslands, I made it to Si Ge's village and almost collapsed at his feet when I saw him in front of his hotel. He took my pack, took me inside and gave me some chips and tea. He spoke no English, but we managed to struggle through a decent conversation about where I'd been and I shared my pictures. He gave me some books with famous photos of the lake and they filled me in on the massive development project to promote tourism in the lake. You could see the difference already in pictures taken only a couple years ago. I was glad to catch this place while it is still relatively isolated, but fear if I came back in two or three years I wouldn't recognize it. So it goes.

Later that night Si Ge invited me for hotpot and corn liquor with his other guests - the small group of Chinese whom had advised me earlier in the day. They spoke entirely in Chinese, but I was pleased to find that if I concentrated I could usually get the gist of the conversation. The hotpot had a whole fish from the lake in it and I was given the head as the guest of honor.

Si Ge, the owner of the hotel, and I enjoy spicy hot pot on the Sichaun side of Lugu Lake.

After a beer at the bar I retired to bed and woke before dawn to catch the bus to Xichang. The trip from Xichang was a minor disaster involving an unplanned night in Xichang, an interesting city in its own right, and a packed sleeper bus to Kunming. The bus wound through bumpy roads the entire way. I was in the very back, shoulder to shoulder with five other guys and at times the bumps were so hard I was airborne. Needless to say, sleep was hard to come by, and we'll add that to the list of things I'd rather not discuss at this moment.

The last four days I haven't seen another foreigner and rarely was lucky enough to find anyone whom spoke English. The whole thing was very tough, but one of the most rewarding and memorable parts of the trip. These days are filled with memorable stories, only half of which I've relayed to you here. It was great to really be forced to use the language. I made some new friends and am pleased to finally be at the point where I can listen to locals and usually get the point of what they're talking about. All of a sudden it's much easier to remember new words and I don't have to look them up 15 times in my phrase book to remember them, so I'm feeling optimistic.

On the sleeper, I chatted briefly with the guy next to me. After covering the basics, he finally asked if I was scared traveling alone. I was a bit surprised by the question (even more so that I understood it) and replied, "I'm a little bit scared, but the Chinese people are so great it hasn't been a problem."

Lijiang is Gorges

Black Dragon Pool

The flight to Lijiang was extraordinary, gelatinous dried beef snack aside. Flying over Sichaun into Yunnan, I looked out the window only to see an even, soft white plane of clouds stretching out underneath the plane as far as the eye could see. This birds eye view helped explain why I hadn't seen the sun in over a month in China. After a while, an occasional mountain top would cut up through the clouds - a small jagged peak in an otherwise perfect blanket of white. Eventually, a couple lone mountains multiplied into an extended mountain range, creating a blockade to stop the clouds from extending further South.

The end of the clouds

On the other side of the mountains, we touched down in Lijiang and found a refreshingly warming sun and bright blue skies. I grabbed my pack from the luggage pile, pulled out my sunglasses for the first time and striped down to my t-shirt. At that moment, it would have been next to impossible to wipe the smile from my face.

After 45 minutes of driving past huge mountain ranges, followed by extended weaving through cobblestone alleys, we showed up at Mama Naxi's Guest house. When the cabbie dropped us off, I originally thought we might just be at someone's house, but no, it's a guest house. Belinda and I had hardly thrown our bags down on our new beds, after Mama told us "you stay here, double room", before Mama dragged us downstairs, stuck us at a table with other intrepid travelers and said "you eat dinner" (the nice thing about Mama's is that they do all your thinking for you). Before long we had heaps of food in front of us. An hour later, my stomach ached from the excessive pork, chicken, lotus root, eggplant, and rice I had stuffed down my gullet, and I had made many new friends from out of the other guests at my table.

After a significant digestive break (I might note that Mama, just interrupted me to give me a banana) Belinda and I hit the streets to check out the town. The old town consists of a maze of little shops, bars and restaurants along cobblestone pedestrian streets and small canals. It instantly made an impression with the bright shops, red lanterns, and bustling streets, all under a star filled sky. On the main bar drag, young women dressed in traditional Naxi attire line the street and engage in choral exchanges with others in their bar, or occasionally battle it out with other bars. We passed one such bar and were dragged in by a gaggle of drunk Chinese coworkers on a business holiday.

Streets of Lijiang

Singing girls

We were an instant hit, as the men took turns forcing me to chug a beer with them (humorously called "Happy Hours" beer) as Belinda watched on laughing and taking pictures. After a difficult 45 minutes, I finally convinced them that Belinda was not, in fact, my girlfriend and they started introducing me to all the single ladies with whom I attempted to chat with in broken Chinese and English. After a few too many beers all this rowdiness led to a sing off with another bar (which we obviously clearly won). By some miracle (owing mostly to running into one of Mama's girls) we found our way back through the maze and safely to the guest house and were greeted with some homemade bi jiu from Baba (the male equivalent of Mama) which burnt all the hairs from my throat and wreaked havoc on any dangerous microbes trying to inhabit my stomach.

Belinda and I get friendly with the Naxi staff

This was all well and good, but the real story here is the Tiger Leaping Gorge. Two hours north of Lijiang, the gorge is a two - three day trek through a mountain range cut by the Yangtzi River. It was really difficult hiking, not to mention treacherous at times, but was all made worth it as we sat at the guest house on one of the mountain tops, drinking beer and watching the sun set against the mountain ranges. I also did my business at the most famous crapper in all of China (please note exaggeration, though it might well be true) on a quick lunch stop. Other than saying that it was totally unbelievable, I'll let my pictures do the rest of the talking.

AJ is Gorges

Myself, Belinda, Rob, Kevin and our new Chinese friend at the top of the hard bit.

Clouds coming off the mountains as the sun hits at dawn

The endless tourist shops and tourists have me aching to get out of Lijiang and the gorge has me yearning for more natural wonders, so tomorrow morning I'm off to trek around Lugo Lake. Talk to you soon.

Changer's Du

I arrived I Chengdu intent on spending a couple days here eating some spicy Sichuan cuisine and seeing some cute pandas and a big Buddha. To make a long story short, a few days quickly turned into a week. Chengdu is just a relaxing place. They're many day trips to take outside of the city and life in the city is pretty laid back. I met a number of travelers who have been "waiting for their Visas" for quite some time, and a number of foreign residents that just came to visit and never left. All things considered, I'm lucky to have escaped in a week.

Joe of the Tombs

Chengdu is all about the pandas - it's Panda Town. They are pandas on the buses, taxis, and street lights. It's every tourist's primary objective and a real source of Chengdu pride. They have over 40 great pandas at a state-of-the-art research and breeding (and tourism) facility. Sometimes I think that's why it's so laid back here, 'cause everyone wants to do emulate the national treasures and just laze about and eat (occasionally going to the bathroom). A common theme at the hostel is when you ask what people did that day and they say "I was a panda today", meaning they didn't do anything of note.

National treasures, and don't you forget it

I'm not going to bore you with too many details (for once), so here's the quick highlight list of my time in Chengdu:

1. Chengdu Hotpot - Spicy and tasty, but my heart still remains with Chongqing hotpot. Somethings you just can't compete with. It was also a little disturbing when they stuck a gutted fish which was still alive into the boiling broth, and for all the fanfare it wasn't even that tasty.

2. The imaginatively named "Big Buddha" of Leshan - Carved into a mountain side at over 70 meters tall, this was certainly an impressive sight.

3. The Dujiangyan irrigation system - bad-ass irrigation system built in 256 BC to regulate the flow of the Min river and help feed the fertile Sichaun basin. Also includes a legend of the engineer Li Bin fighting a dragon to tame the river and inspiring millions of nerds for thousands of years to come.

4. Oh, how could I forget, the pandas - they were insanely cute and totally worth getting up at 6am to see. DC's got nothing on Chengdu. I'll let the pictures do the rest of the talking. (Though we weren't allowed to take pictures of the babies, which were, naturally, so adorable they had to supply vomit bags.)

5. Dorky science museum which, despite a complete lack of English, was still awesome because math and science are the universal languages.

6. Climbing Qingchengshan - another day, another beautiful mountain.

7. Dave's Oasis - Run by "Chinese Dave" and "White Dave," this place serves up fine food, dangerous bi jiu and cokes, cheap beer, and spot-on travel advice. Also a good place to meet crazy expat Irishmen and shoot a game of pool.

8. The Tibetan quarter with beautiful clothes, people, great food, and nasty "Yak Butter Tea" (I drank half the pot to be polite, then nearly vomited).

Leshan Bridge

When in Rome: Picking the Big Buddha's earwax - now that's what I call a vacation.

So that was Chengdu. I'll let the pictures do the talking for the rest of it, and take some time to expound on some other general observations on China.

When I first arrived in China, I felt like I had arrived on another world. I couldn't communicate with anyone and everything was totally different - not just the food and the people, but also just the way everything is done. Buying an orange from a market is different, going to the bathroom's an experience, and trying to order at a restaurant is nearly impossible. At the beginning, it took many days to realize that the Chinese people really aren't that different. Sure, they dress different, they talk funny, and they have absolutely no concept of personal space, but fundamentally they have the same emotions and desires as (presumably) the rest of this vast world. There are bad people, that want to take advantage of naive foreigners like myself, but there are also wonderful people that go out of their way to help you, then pay for your bus fare. There are poor people, dealt a bum deal in life, and there are college educated young people working their asses off to help their entire family elevate into the emerging middle class. I've also heard there are rich ones, though I have only seen them shoot by in their brand new Audis and Mercedes. It took a full week to fully realize that China's just another country filled with people fundamentally identical to me - the rules are different and the board is strange, but we're essentially all playing the same game.

Hao Kan

Once this sunk in, China became an easier place to understand and to operate in. All of a sudden, buying a bus ticket didn't seem like a challenge levied by the gods, and walking into a tiny packed restaurant to order some noodles became fun and not intimidating. I guess this means I've hit my stride a bit and am slowly adjusting and adapting to this whole travel bit. Though the day to day can still be difficult, everything seems achievable, which is a nice feeling. This has definitely helped me enjoy my time in China more, and I continue to look forward to the time to come.

That's it for now. Off to Lijiang and the Tiger Leaping Gorge.

Arthur C. Clark, eat your heart out:
Some trick photography and a crazy science exhibit make AJ go crazy.

Sketchy Voyage

By popular request, here is a stolen map of China with shoddily drawn lines indicating where I've been so far. I figure I've covered 3,000 KM (1,800 Miles).