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.