The bus ride was a bone-rattling but astounding journey through the countryside, which is dotted with karst rock formations. These irregular towers of stone punctuated the sky like rudimentary knives; dreamlike and enchanting. Yangshuo is gloriously located, nestled in between the karst formations and perched delicately on the edge of the Li River.
Our hostel was a bit sketchy, but cheap. The beauty of Yanghsuo is certainly not a well-kept secret. This was a travellers' mecca, and I think it was the most 'touristy' place we had visited so far. Yet, in these surroundings it was impossible to care. You would find yourself drifting off into your own little world where only you and the scenery existed. Kirstie and I strolled through the vibrant streets, sampled the distinctive taste of curried snails, and browsed the boutiques.
The next morning when I woke up, something in my body did not feel quite right. Alarmingly, I spluttered out some quite watery poos before leaving the house (sorry to be so graphic - but you haven't heard anything yet). We planned to hire bikes so we could explore the rice paddies and the surrounding countryside. However, before we set out on our cycling jaunt we visited the local supermarket to stock up on supplies. As I moved towards the checkout, clutching bottles of water and Pocky biscuits, a tiny fart threatened to escape. I clenched my cheeks for a second to stop it materialising fully. For a moment, a cense of doubt entered my head. If I let this one go, is something bad going to happen? Then I just thought- Fuck it, and let it rip.
My heart stopped as the innocent little trump filled my boxer shorts. I could only utter a simple 'Uh-oh!' to Kirstie as I handed her the food. In an instant she knew what had happened (intuitive as she is) and a mixed look of delight and shame appeared on her pretty little face. Fortunately our hostel was nearby and I bolted off, running from the knees down and clenching like my life depended on it. Our hostel was built into the side of a cliff, and consequently the steps which I had to climb to my room were very steep indeed. Clenching was no longer an option as I was required to stride up each step, allowing the contents of my pants far too much freedom to explore.
I finally reached our room and plunged into the ensuite. My boxers promptly found themselves cast into the bin for all eternity, and I finished the job. Never have I been so happy to have a European toilet in a Chinese hostel, and not a sink in the floor. I came out of the toilet, sweaty, relieved, amused and bizarrely proud of what I had just done. I found Kirstie waiting for me, so I swallowed a few diarrhoea tablets and then I was ready to get on my bike.
We cycled through the busy streets of Yangshuo and then out of town towards the Yulong River, which is a smaller tributary of the Li River. The Yulong has no motorised boat traffic and thus is clean enough for swimming. Just outside the town we diverted off the main road onto a gravel track which runs along the length of the river. We spent the afternoon following this path, stopping occasionally to appreciate the countryside and to take an inordinate amount of photographs. As we cycled against the flow of the stream, primitive bamboo rafts drifted the other way past us. These were being punted downstream by local chauffeurs, as tourists lazed idly on the rafts. The whole scene was very much like a tropical version of an Oxford summer.
As our expedition progressed along the winding path, the booming business-side of the bamboo rafts reared it's less than idyllic head. All of a sudden, local women on bikes began to follow us, persistently shouting 'Bamboo! Bamboo!'. With no desire to undertake a boat ride at that point, we exclaimed 'Bu Yao!" and quickened our pace. In order to avoid harassment we decided to go 'off-road' and began to follow smaller paths through rice fields and tiny rural villages. As we got further into rural China the trail worsened; becoming rockier and much, much steeper. We stopped at the top of the largest hill to finish our snacks, then descended back to the original trail before heading home via the main road again.
The next day Stu and Vinny planned to join us in Yangshuo, so we booked a bigger room in another hostel (called Monkey Jane's) for the following night and then went out for dinner. When we got back to our current 'home-from-home', I went to use the internet whilst Keeg stayed in the room. I got back to the room at around 10.30 pm to find Keeg in a minor state of panic. She informed me that a cockroach about the size of her fist had crawled down our curtains and hidden under our bed. I complained to the hostel manager instantly and we were promptly/nervously shepherded into another room, which we were assured was a better, cleaner, and more expensive option. As I switched on the light, a gigantic cockroach scaled the wall across from me and another scuttled along the mattress and under the pillow of our 'more expensive bed'. One thing became clear: the entire hostel was infested with these little buggers! Neither me nor Kirstie wanted to wake up sharing the bed with a family of cockroaches fighting us for mattress space; so we gathered our worldly possessions and left. We managed to secure a room at Monkey Jane's for that night too and went to sleep after ransacking our new room for cockroaches too.
Stu and Vinny arrived early the next morning. We hired bikes again but explored a different area of the local countryside. We headed south from Yangshuo towards a popular scenic spot called Moon Hill. This was a much larger karst formation with a huge moon shaped hole in the centre of it. At different angles the hole resembles different phases of the moon's cycle; ranging from crescent to full. We adored it from the road and then carried on to explore further small villages, before travelling back to the Yulong River. This time we opted to go 'off-road' again but on the other side of the river. We weaved around paddies and held our balance on dusty, tightrope paths. Then we got lost. The paths disappeared, and the banks of the river seemed to be inching ever closer to our proposed route. We had to get off and walk our bikes, lifting them over our heads at times to avoid the foliage. Eventually we reached the banks of the river with nowhere else to go. Fortunately, some friendly bamboo-raft chaps were on hand to help us. They drifted across and offered to take us back in the right direction. After a spot of haggling we negotiated a good price and since we were in quite a pickle, Kirstie and I clambered aboard with our bikes in tow. Stu also seemed bang up for it. However, Vinny was not impressed with the price and refused to go. The budget conscious Scotsman strikes again! Consequently, Stu and Vinny made it back across the rubble and through the undergrowth to where we had started. Meanwhile, me and Keeg lay back and glided gently along with the flow of the river until we got back to exactly the same place. Erm...not sure who got the better deal there.?! Admittedly, I did get a puncture during our boat ride and had to cycle back up the hill to our hostel at a decidedly sloooow pace. But it was worth it. Definitely worth it!
That night, we celebrated our adventures so far and got rather inebriated in a bunch of local bars. We also sampled the local delicacy of Beer Fish. The combination of food and beer in one single entity had the potential to literally be the best thing ever. However, it did not quite live up to its billing. Not bad, but not good either. When we got back to our room we found 2 more cockroaches. The double-roach extravaganza seemed to be becoming a bit of a trend in Yangshuo's hostels! Stu managed to kill one with his flip-flop this time round. Cockroaches are rumoured to be able to survive nuclear fallout but apparently not the apathetic slap of a skinny lad from Leeds' flip-flop. Now that is a design flaw if I ever saw one.
After another prompt room change, we got some sleep.
On our next day, not only did the heavens open but they continued to piss all over us for the rest of the day. We found refuge in the stereotypically named Backpackers' Cafe, ate some Western food, read a little and prepared for our journey that evening to Shenzhen and ultimately Hong Kong. That journey would turn out to be the most uncomfortable journey of my entire life. The Chinese 'Sleeper-Bus' truly is the king of leg-aching, fever-inducing travel nightmares.
