Knowing how big this world is on foot, not that it’s any smaller by motorized transportation, I’m always worried about getting lost—especially in different countries. To this effect, I always try to learn the language(s) of where I’m going, so that I’m at least able to ask for directions. To this effect, I tried to make sure I knew enough Italian when going though Italy, though hearing my accent they would always switch into English on me. And in Paris, my French, while admittedly rusty, was sufficiently fluent to get us to where we wanted to go.
So in China, I’ve been quite pleased with my Mandarin skills, because I have found that while studying abroad, my travels have improved my Mandarin just as much as my Cantonese despite the fact that in Hong Kong, Cantonese is the primary language of 95% of the population.
So going around in Beijing I recall thinking that I practiced my Mandarin a lot—and I did; however, it was very localized. It was mostly all for haggling, because I knew that there’s what I like to call an “English fee” for foreigners. When it came to the important stuff though, I found that my friend who speaks much more Mandarin with much better aptitude than me did all the talking. And it worked well—we got what we needed, and again it worked in Guilin.
Nanjing was a different case in that I was traveling in a group where I spoke the most Mandarin. I figured that it would be an experience, especially since I kept telling myself and others that I would have really had trouble going around Beijing (and again in Guilin) with my level of Mandarin.
At the train ticket counter in Shenzhen I had to buy one person a ticket to Guilin, and the guy at the ticket counter found my Mandarin so bad that he asked me if I speak English in English instead seeing that I was struggling. I didn’t even try in Cantonese because I know my Cantonese is worse and from previous experience, most of the ticket people don’t operate in Cantonese.
As foreign languages go, my speaking proficiency from highest to lowest goes: Spanish, French, Mandarin, Cantonese, Italian, Japanese, and Latin. On a side note, someone asked me if I conducted a conversation in Cantonese, which I laughed at, sarcastically saying that one semester of Cantonese for Foreign Learners did me so well that I could now speak it better than Mandarin.
Needless to say, my Mandarin is still way better than my Cantonese. And because I have treated Mandarin and Cantonese as such similar languages over the years, I’ve been going through sorting out the finer points of Cantonese that I totally misunderstood before taking classes.
For example, when talking about actions, soeng2 (想) in Cantonese would correspond more to yào (要) in Mandarin whereas jiu5 (要) in Cantonese would correspond to xūyào (需要) in Mandarin, with the sets meaning to want and to need, respectively. Xiǎng (想) in Mandarin means to think.
Back at the train counter in Shenzhen, I was buying the groups tickets this time to got to Shanghai South Station (上海南火车站/上海南火車站), later taking a high-speed train to Nanjing. Unlike the other time, I was able to get through the whole process in Mandarin alone. I also understood enough to grasp that we could only buy train tickets back in Shanghai.
And at Shanghai South Station, buying tickets for my two friends went even faster and even smoother. I managed to get them two hard sleepers for the way back.
The rest of the trip went along the same lines. I managed to be understood and to understand. Since Beijing and since Chinese school when in was in elementary school, I’ve come a long way.
Showing posts with label Guilin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guilin. Show all posts
Monday, December 14, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Germans All Have Blond Hair and Blue Eyes
I guess I just can’t shake it off. Most incidents are minor and not worth mentioning, except perhaps in larger contexts, because a constituency is made of its smallest parts, right? At this point, I don’t plan to exempt myself from this observation, because I know I do it too—I just wish it would all stop.
I guess the basis of this whole thing starts from a simple rule of thumb in English class in high school—never make absolute statements in essay writing. I’ve learned a long time ago now that applies to speaking now, because almost all absolutes are wrong, if even by the smallest degree. I’ve just learned that if all people believe the same absolute, it’s fake truth wills out against the real truth—which I guess is to be expected, since as records are reflections of events and not the events themselves, what’s “true” is largely up to interpretation, whatever the truth may be.
I’m guessing that this post is just going to amount to episodes of logical fallacies and the sense I’ve made of them.
The Germans
I once said to my group of friends here, something something something “is like saying that everyone in Germany has blond hair and blue eyes—it’s just not true.” Now, I’ve seen the statistics and I’ve seen it for myself (meaning I’ve been to Germany), but the fact that even though a vast majority of Germans have blond hair and blue eyes, the fact of the matter is that not all of them do, even if you only include ethnic Germans in Germany. I’ve met plenty of people from Germany who don’t have blue eyes and plenty more who don’t have blond hair.
My logic was lost on them though, as it often seems that 95% equals 100%, but any one who’s studied any form of science (natural or social) would tell you that it’s not the same, however damn close it is.
My statement got the reply, “Well have you ever been to Germany? Because I’m always surprised by the sheer number of blond-haired, blue-eyed people there”—to which I said yes, and that it’s still not all, to which I was rebutted, “Yeah but it’s a lot”—and I to that I said that yes, there are a lot, but it is still not all, and that’s the bottom line. And though I was ultimately right in logic, my statement got rejected because the falsity of notion and not the logic was what was agreed to.
In the Middle of China
Fine. On the train to Guilin, this guy started a conversation in Mandarin with me and the three other people in my group. I was the one with the highest proficiency (with two being nil), so I did most of the talking. They all said where they were from (Scotland, Australia, and Norway), and I said I was from the United States, using it as an excuse for my lack of proficiency. I am well aware that I’m noticeably of Chinese decent (though many perceive my attitude of that fact as meaning that I’m ashamed of my past or that I’ve got false notions about my appearance—both of which are false), so the guy pressed further at me. I asked the others what I should tell him.
One friend said that I should say that my family’s from China. I told her that’s not true (because to me that would imply that my parents met in China and moved to the United States, which isn’t true, with one parent never having been outside of North America and the other speaking better English than Chinese). By that logic though, I should have asked my Australian friend whether she would say that her family is from Britain, since her father’s from there and that overall she could trace her entire ancestry back to the Isles, because I’m pretty sure she would have said no.
American Dad
It seems funny to me that no matter how much things are illogical, the most superficial aspects of something just make up for the rest, even if it makes something more illogical.
Just a couple days ago, I got asked where my father is from since I always say that I’m trying to learn Cantonese, partly so that I can use it back home with my mother, who’s originally from Hong Kong, having left the Crown Colony at the age of eleven. I said Michigan, which is the complete truth.
Though I ultimately understand, I’ve always wondered why I get such a variety of reactions when I say my dad’s from Detroit. The fact of the matter is that that’s the truth. It’s where he was born and where he spent the first half of his childhood (the other half being in Chicago). He’s got those annoying double negatives to prove his difference in dialect.
So my friend asked me just a few days ago where my dad was from. I said Michigan, which elicited surprise. I was kind of taken aback. I wasn’t offended, but I was surprised, because I spend a lot of time with this friend and I’m sure I’d told her before. She had it in her head for some reason that my dad’s from Hong Kong like my mom is. I said that if that were the case, my Chinese would likely be much better—native even, if not at least near.
The Locals
The time I went to dinner with my floor here, I got local students asking how I could possibly American. After all, I look Chinese. To that I tried to say that why can’t you be both, or why can’t you be one in certain aspects and the other in other aspects? Unfortunately, I couldn’t convey that, nor could I convey my surprise that those students have never heard of populations that are not homogenous. (Hong Kong is 95% Han Chinese whereas the United States is less than 70% non-Hispanic white with California coming in at less than 50% non-Hispanic white.)
The Disconnect of the Upper Echelons
What’s the funniest is who knows what. Earlier this week, I walked into the Finance office to apply for my caution money back (a $350 HKD deposit) now that the semester is coming to an end. I asked for the proper forms not knowing what I needed, and though I’m 華人, I got the form for exchange students. The secretary for the office had heard my foreignness in my accent and judged my origin based on that rather than my skin color, so to speak. This feat would not have seemed so impressive had the pro-vice-chancellor on Monday not said what she said.
As I said earlier, the Pro-Vice-Chancellor Amy Tsui came in to speak at the last lecture of Hong Kong and the World. I’ve got my opinions of school administrators, most of which along the theme of being disconnected and haughty (though not overtly arrogant). She of all people is someone you would expect to get this straight, having done her Ph.D. (in linguistics) in the United Kingdom.
Seeing our class of forty in attendance, she noticed the two white people in the lecture hall and referred to them as the “two foreigners in the class,” (though there were about ten of us), without thinking that maybe some of us happen to be of Chinese decent. Of all people, I would have expected her to understand well that culture, like language, is passed down through socialization and isn’t dictated in our genes. (Unlike the many people back home, including some of the people closest to me, who overtly believe that I am more comfortable around people who look like me rather than the people in my hometown—composition: 85% white).
I guess it just goes to show that those at the uppermost echelons of society are often the most ignorant whereas those of us who have our feet firmly planted on the ground—the ones who interact with everyday people—really know what’s going on.
Add It All Up
The bottom line is that I hold none of the above statements against the people who uttered them. This is because I’m well aware that as much as I try to monitor myself and bring myself back down to logic, I still fall victim to the same forces.
So the base line is that I really dislike when people hate that they are expected, especially in public situations, to be politically correct all the time. All that means is that you ultimately don’t care about anyone else (in feelings, emotions, situations, etc.), even if you think you are just joking. It gets worse when such is followed by a request not to judge, and I’m sorry, but the fact of the matter is that I already will have.
Just try and try hard, that’s all I can and do hope for.
I guess the basis of this whole thing starts from a simple rule of thumb in English class in high school—never make absolute statements in essay writing. I’ve learned a long time ago now that applies to speaking now, because almost all absolutes are wrong, if even by the smallest degree. I’ve just learned that if all people believe the same absolute, it’s fake truth wills out against the real truth—which I guess is to be expected, since as records are reflections of events and not the events themselves, what’s “true” is largely up to interpretation, whatever the truth may be.
I’m guessing that this post is just going to amount to episodes of logical fallacies and the sense I’ve made of them.
The Germans
I once said to my group of friends here, something something something “is like saying that everyone in Germany has blond hair and blue eyes—it’s just not true.” Now, I’ve seen the statistics and I’ve seen it for myself (meaning I’ve been to Germany), but the fact that even though a vast majority of Germans have blond hair and blue eyes, the fact of the matter is that not all of them do, even if you only include ethnic Germans in Germany. I’ve met plenty of people from Germany who don’t have blue eyes and plenty more who don’t have blond hair.
My logic was lost on them though, as it often seems that 95% equals 100%, but any one who’s studied any form of science (natural or social) would tell you that it’s not the same, however damn close it is.
My statement got the reply, “Well have you ever been to Germany? Because I’m always surprised by the sheer number of blond-haired, blue-eyed people there”—to which I said yes, and that it’s still not all, to which I was rebutted, “Yeah but it’s a lot”—and I to that I said that yes, there are a lot, but it is still not all, and that’s the bottom line. And though I was ultimately right in logic, my statement got rejected because the falsity of notion and not the logic was what was agreed to.
In the Middle of China
Fine. On the train to Guilin, this guy started a conversation in Mandarin with me and the three other people in my group. I was the one with the highest proficiency (with two being nil), so I did most of the talking. They all said where they were from (Scotland, Australia, and Norway), and I said I was from the United States, using it as an excuse for my lack of proficiency. I am well aware that I’m noticeably of Chinese decent (though many perceive my attitude of that fact as meaning that I’m ashamed of my past or that I’ve got false notions about my appearance—both of which are false), so the guy pressed further at me. I asked the others what I should tell him.
One friend said that I should say that my family’s from China. I told her that’s not true (because to me that would imply that my parents met in China and moved to the United States, which isn’t true, with one parent never having been outside of North America and the other speaking better English than Chinese). By that logic though, I should have asked my Australian friend whether she would say that her family is from Britain, since her father’s from there and that overall she could trace her entire ancestry back to the Isles, because I’m pretty sure she would have said no.
American Dad
It seems funny to me that no matter how much things are illogical, the most superficial aspects of something just make up for the rest, even if it makes something more illogical.
Just a couple days ago, I got asked where my father is from since I always say that I’m trying to learn Cantonese, partly so that I can use it back home with my mother, who’s originally from Hong Kong, having left the Crown Colony at the age of eleven. I said Michigan, which is the complete truth.
Though I ultimately understand, I’ve always wondered why I get such a variety of reactions when I say my dad’s from Detroit. The fact of the matter is that that’s the truth. It’s where he was born and where he spent the first half of his childhood (the other half being in Chicago). He’s got those annoying double negatives to prove his difference in dialect.
So my friend asked me just a few days ago where my dad was from. I said Michigan, which elicited surprise. I was kind of taken aback. I wasn’t offended, but I was surprised, because I spend a lot of time with this friend and I’m sure I’d told her before. She had it in her head for some reason that my dad’s from Hong Kong like my mom is. I said that if that were the case, my Chinese would likely be much better—native even, if not at least near.
The Locals
The time I went to dinner with my floor here, I got local students asking how I could possibly American. After all, I look Chinese. To that I tried to say that why can’t you be both, or why can’t you be one in certain aspects and the other in other aspects? Unfortunately, I couldn’t convey that, nor could I convey my surprise that those students have never heard of populations that are not homogenous. (Hong Kong is 95% Han Chinese whereas the United States is less than 70% non-Hispanic white with California coming in at less than 50% non-Hispanic white.)
The Disconnect of the Upper Echelons
What’s the funniest is who knows what. Earlier this week, I walked into the Finance office to apply for my caution money back (a $350 HKD deposit) now that the semester is coming to an end. I asked for the proper forms not knowing what I needed, and though I’m 華人, I got the form for exchange students. The secretary for the office had heard my foreignness in my accent and judged my origin based on that rather than my skin color, so to speak. This feat would not have seemed so impressive had the pro-vice-chancellor on Monday not said what she said.
As I said earlier, the Pro-Vice-Chancellor Amy Tsui came in to speak at the last lecture of Hong Kong and the World. I’ve got my opinions of school administrators, most of which along the theme of being disconnected and haughty (though not overtly arrogant). She of all people is someone you would expect to get this straight, having done her Ph.D. (in linguistics) in the United Kingdom.
Seeing our class of forty in attendance, she noticed the two white people in the lecture hall and referred to them as the “two foreigners in the class,” (though there were about ten of us), without thinking that maybe some of us happen to be of Chinese decent. Of all people, I would have expected her to understand well that culture, like language, is passed down through socialization and isn’t dictated in our genes. (Unlike the many people back home, including some of the people closest to me, who overtly believe that I am more comfortable around people who look like me rather than the people in my hometown—composition: 85% white).
I guess it just goes to show that those at the uppermost echelons of society are often the most ignorant whereas those of us who have our feet firmly planted on the ground—the ones who interact with everyday people—really know what’s going on.
Add It All Up
The bottom line is that I hold none of the above statements against the people who uttered them. This is because I’m well aware that as much as I try to monitor myself and bring myself back down to logic, I still fall victim to the same forces.
So the base line is that I really dislike when people hate that they are expected, especially in public situations, to be politically correct all the time. All that means is that you ultimately don’t care about anyone else (in feelings, emotions, situations, etc.), even if you think you are just joking. It gets worse when such is followed by a request not to judge, and I’m sorry, but the fact of the matter is that I already will have.
Just try and try hard, that’s all I can and do hope for.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
National Treasure, Part 3
Yangshuo (阳朔)
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Guilin: Everything but Seven Star
The second day started off really early. Our group was now half what it was yesterday (six versus three), but only two of us managed to get up when we decided. We had a Li River cruise to get to with a shuttle bus picking us up at 8:10 a.m., so in order to get out onto the street and get breakfast before then, we decided to be out the door by 6:30, meaning we had to be awake by 6:00.
It was cold in the morning with the air as fresh as ever. We walked a few blocks down the main street and turned into that sidestreet where we went before to get Guilin noodles once more--and once again, they were quite good. By the time we finished, it was still early, with about an hour and a half to go before needing to get back to the hotel.
I guess Guilin Riverside Hotel is pretty centrally located in the city. One of the main symbols of the city, Elephant Trunk Hill (象鼻山) was just a few main streets to the east, so we headed out there. used in many a Chinese movie, this rock formation is unique in that its face has a large hole in it, so that one side looks like an elephant and the other side looks like its trunk.
My friend couldn't see it, but in my opinon, it's like observing constellations--just take it as it is and know that it's not bad to have just a bit of imagination. If you recall, water levels are low at the moment in Guilin, so Elephant Trunk Hill wasn't quite like the pictures. And in a ploy to make more money, viewing spots along the city streets have been blocked by copious amounts of foliage, so the entrance fee of ¥30 CNY per person to the viewing areas within the park becomes imperative.
This entrance fee is by land I guess, because as we were walking to the gate, we got offered by one of the many, many people looking for money a boat ride to see Elephant Trunk Hill from the river. And at ¥30 for the two of us, so ¥15 each, it was a good deal.
The boat that we were taken on had a flat bamboo bottom and was powered by a loud motor. Set up for passengers were simple chairs on the deck. He dropped us off and waited for us on an island in the middle of the river as we took pictures--and that's all we could do without entering the park--take pictures.
Heading back to the hotel, we saw our friend who had just woken up. He was heading over to the Guilin noodles place for breakfast as well and looked like he was going to make it well in time for the shuttle bus to the Li River Cruise.
On the shuttle bus, we met a couple from San Francisco. They were in the process of travelling all around the central and east Asia. Already they had gone to Azerbaijan and some other places that I can't remember. They came in through China along the historic Silk Road and explored several communities around Urumqi in Xianjiang. Already they had been exploring China for a month or two and had a month or two left until arriving in India where they had family.
We happened to book the English tour, which meant that the hour-long bus ride to where the boat was docked, somewhere down the river, was narrated by an English-speaking tour guide. Ours was named Eda in English, though everyone called her Shopping, since her Chinese name was something like Sha-ping in Pinyin.
She gave us some history behind Guilin and explained to us some of the ethnic minorities. One of which, for an extra price, we were going to see.
Our boat sat around one hundred people, with the upper deck for viewing and VIPs with a third level opened mid-way through the cruise for additional viewing. The seats were organized linearly on either side of rectangular tables on either side of the boat. There were eight seats per table.
The boat ride lasted about four hours as we went from near Guilin to Yangshuo, a tourist town. The water leve was noticeably low, for as a majority of the journey the bed of the river was visible from above. In addition, the river was crowded with boats full of tourists much like ours, and for the majority of the cruise we were riding the tail of the boat in front of us.
Though the weather was sunny, it seemed that there was a haze in the air that distorted the iconic mountains. Looking back through my photos, it's prettier now that when I was actually there. Along the cruise, we saw various named sights such as Nine Horses and Five Finger Hill, as well as the scene on the ¥20 CNY bill whose name I can't remember.
Just like on land, people (on boats) were trying to sell us stuff. The would dock alongside the moving larger boats and advertise their goods. People could open their windows on the main deck to buy stuff. People like me on the upper deck could reach down to grab some goods. I bought a fruit from a guy on a small bamboo boat. It cost me ¥5 and when I bought it he took out his big cleaver and cut off much of the thick skin surrounding what I was to discover was a highly seedy, albeit ripe and sweet, citrus fruit.
Check out the pictures of the Li River cruise for more on that. Most of the pictures speak for themselves.Oh and there were lots of animals to be seen from the boat.
Arriving in Yangshuo, we were bombarded with hawkers. For the next part of the tour, we were to meet half an hour later on the other side of the town at the Kentucky Fried Chicken. Sha-ping had to make sure we met in front of the correct one, because half a block further was a look-alike KFC. During that half-hour, we strolled around the town. It was noticeably done up and had a variety of ATMs as well as a McDonald's with a private pond. I ended up buying a piece of rice put into a vial and decorated into jewelry. What was so special about this grain of rice was that the guy was able to write my whole name on it.
As the second part of the tour came around, I realized how glad I was to have stayed for the extra day. The first stop was a rural village way outside the city. They had just about finished harvesting their rice and as such their rice patties had grounded stubs of what remained in the fields instead of flooded terraces.
We were shown onto a historic bridge that was built by a scholar in memory of someone in a story I can't quite remember. From there we could see Lion's Head Mountain, which from the right angle took very little imagination to see. Also on the bridge, we were away from boat traffic, meaning the water was calm enough to get the reflections of the mountains in the water.
Heading back to the bus, the tour guide Sha-ping bought us tangarines that were quite sweet. While I was eating mine, I found myself having to get out of the way as a farmer with two bulls came through. My two friends didn't feel anything special about it they say, because one's been in Iranian villages and one's been in many a Taishan village. I, however, saw something in it than they did because it was just so different and so much more charming than anything I'd ever been to, seen, or done.
Continuing on, we went to see one of the ethnic minorities. It was obviously there for the tourists, as many members of these ethnic minorities live urban lives. Many are not discernable from Han members of society. I can't find the official name for these people, but Sha-ping kept referring to them as the Drum people.
This leg of the trip entailed a bamboo boat ride (four for our group to be exact). They had the same single layer of bamboo keeping us afloat, and with the river being so shallow, the people maneuvering the boats weren't so much rowing as pushing the boat with a long piece of bamboo making contact with the riverbed. After asking, we were allowed to try our hand at it, and, as expected, it required a lot of upper body strength to propel and a lot of practice to steer accurately.
As part of the entertainment, a woman from the Drum people sang serenading songs on the boats. According to Sha-ping, they have a courtship tradition in which young men and young women sing to each other, at which point the young woman gives the young man this ball-shaped ornament (for lack of a more precise word) to be worn around the neck. Our entertainer had five to give away as souvenirs, and to get one, one of my friends serenaded her with the old Iranian national anthem, which was anything but romantic.
Down on the other side of the lake, we alighted. Farmers had their water oxen out for us to intereact with. (I heard some people on the Li River cruise call them 水牛.) After a little walk to get there (and some pictures of the scenery), we were given bits of lettuce to feed them. After making sure than no cow was going to charge me (the animals were all quite docile) and seeing that other people were doing it as well without issue, I tried approaching one of the calves to feed a piece of lettuce to. After the third calf turned my piece of lettuce away, the farmer informed me in Chinese (I don't remember his exact words) that I can't feed it to the calves because they only drink milk. It made sense.
So I fed it to a bull, and my friend attempted to get a picture of me doing it, though neither the bull nor I was in the picture in any reasonable form. I settled on petting a calf, for which I got a few decent pictures. In short, they weren't as soft as I would have imagined.
Heading back, we were given a demonstration of the fisher using pelicans to catch fish. In case you don't know, the fisherman puts a tie around the pelican's neck (it doesn't appear to hurt it) and it goes diving for fish. It catches them in its mouth but finds itself unable to swallow it. As a reward, the farmer gives the pelican smaller fish that it can fit through its reduced esophagus.
I later had a small discussion with some people about the ethics behind exploiting an animal for such pursuits. Though I didn't think it was completely moral per say (and I'd like to go vegetarian when I get back to UCSD), I compared it similarly to using dogs for hunting, also saying that people do much worse things to animals that exploit them much further, putting them in much more danger.
After we got back to shore, we were taken back to Guilin. From there, we walked to the train station, along the way enjoying a lot of street food.
I guess it's regrettable that we missed seeing Seven Star Park, which is one of the main things that Guilin is known for. But what we saw instead I think made the whole trip worth it. And the sisters the day before told us that if you go to Reed Flute Cave, Seven Star Park is just bigger and worse. I'd say that Guilin was my favorite trip so far in this study abroad experience.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
It was cold in the morning with the air as fresh as ever. We walked a few blocks down the main street and turned into that sidestreet where we went before to get Guilin noodles once more--and once again, they were quite good. By the time we finished, it was still early, with about an hour and a half to go before needing to get back to the hotel.
I guess Guilin Riverside Hotel is pretty centrally located in the city. One of the main symbols of the city, Elephant Trunk Hill (象鼻山) was just a few main streets to the east, so we headed out there. used in many a Chinese movie, this rock formation is unique in that its face has a large hole in it, so that one side looks like an elephant and the other side looks like its trunk.
My friend couldn't see it, but in my opinon, it's like observing constellations--just take it as it is and know that it's not bad to have just a bit of imagination. If you recall, water levels are low at the moment in Guilin, so Elephant Trunk Hill wasn't quite like the pictures. And in a ploy to make more money, viewing spots along the city streets have been blocked by copious amounts of foliage, so the entrance fee of ¥30 CNY per person to the viewing areas within the park becomes imperative.
This entrance fee is by land I guess, because as we were walking to the gate, we got offered by one of the many, many people looking for money a boat ride to see Elephant Trunk Hill from the river. And at ¥30 for the two of us, so ¥15 each, it was a good deal.
The boat that we were taken on had a flat bamboo bottom and was powered by a loud motor. Set up for passengers were simple chairs on the deck. He dropped us off and waited for us on an island in the middle of the river as we took pictures--and that's all we could do without entering the park--take pictures.
Heading back to the hotel, we saw our friend who had just woken up. He was heading over to the Guilin noodles place for breakfast as well and looked like he was going to make it well in time for the shuttle bus to the Li River Cruise.
On the shuttle bus, we met a couple from San Francisco. They were in the process of travelling all around the central and east Asia. Already they had gone to Azerbaijan and some other places that I can't remember. They came in through China along the historic Silk Road and explored several communities around Urumqi in Xianjiang. Already they had been exploring China for a month or two and had a month or two left until arriving in India where they had family.
We happened to book the English tour, which meant that the hour-long bus ride to where the boat was docked, somewhere down the river, was narrated by an English-speaking tour guide. Ours was named Eda in English, though everyone called her Shopping, since her Chinese name was something like Sha-ping in Pinyin.
She gave us some history behind Guilin and explained to us some of the ethnic minorities. One of which, for an extra price, we were going to see.
Our boat sat around one hundred people, with the upper deck for viewing and VIPs with a third level opened mid-way through the cruise for additional viewing. The seats were organized linearly on either side of rectangular tables on either side of the boat. There were eight seats per table.
The boat ride lasted about four hours as we went from near Guilin to Yangshuo, a tourist town. The water leve was noticeably low, for as a majority of the journey the bed of the river was visible from above. In addition, the river was crowded with boats full of tourists much like ours, and for the majority of the cruise we were riding the tail of the boat in front of us.
Though the weather was sunny, it seemed that there was a haze in the air that distorted the iconic mountains. Looking back through my photos, it's prettier now that when I was actually there. Along the cruise, we saw various named sights such as Nine Horses and Five Finger Hill, as well as the scene on the ¥20 CNY bill whose name I can't remember.
Just like on land, people (on boats) were trying to sell us stuff. The would dock alongside the moving larger boats and advertise their goods. People could open their windows on the main deck to buy stuff. People like me on the upper deck could reach down to grab some goods. I bought a fruit from a guy on a small bamboo boat. It cost me ¥5 and when I bought it he took out his big cleaver and cut off much of the thick skin surrounding what I was to discover was a highly seedy, albeit ripe and sweet, citrus fruit.
Check out the pictures of the Li River cruise for more on that. Most of the pictures speak for themselves.Oh and there were lots of animals to be seen from the boat.
Arriving in Yangshuo, we were bombarded with hawkers. For the next part of the tour, we were to meet half an hour later on the other side of the town at the Kentucky Fried Chicken. Sha-ping had to make sure we met in front of the correct one, because half a block further was a look-alike KFC. During that half-hour, we strolled around the town. It was noticeably done up and had a variety of ATMs as well as a McDonald's with a private pond. I ended up buying a piece of rice put into a vial and decorated into jewelry. What was so special about this grain of rice was that the guy was able to write my whole name on it.
As the second part of the tour came around, I realized how glad I was to have stayed for the extra day. The first stop was a rural village way outside the city. They had just about finished harvesting their rice and as such their rice patties had grounded stubs of what remained in the fields instead of flooded terraces.
We were shown onto a historic bridge that was built by a scholar in memory of someone in a story I can't quite remember. From there we could see Lion's Head Mountain, which from the right angle took very little imagination to see. Also on the bridge, we were away from boat traffic, meaning the water was calm enough to get the reflections of the mountains in the water.
Heading back to the bus, the tour guide Sha-ping bought us tangarines that were quite sweet. While I was eating mine, I found myself having to get out of the way as a farmer with two bulls came through. My two friends didn't feel anything special about it they say, because one's been in Iranian villages and one's been in many a Taishan village. I, however, saw something in it than they did because it was just so different and so much more charming than anything I'd ever been to, seen, or done.
Continuing on, we went to see one of the ethnic minorities. It was obviously there for the tourists, as many members of these ethnic minorities live urban lives. Many are not discernable from Han members of society. I can't find the official name for these people, but Sha-ping kept referring to them as the Drum people.
This leg of the trip entailed a bamboo boat ride (four for our group to be exact). They had the same single layer of bamboo keeping us afloat, and with the river being so shallow, the people maneuvering the boats weren't so much rowing as pushing the boat with a long piece of bamboo making contact with the riverbed. After asking, we were allowed to try our hand at it, and, as expected, it required a lot of upper body strength to propel and a lot of practice to steer accurately.
As part of the entertainment, a woman from the Drum people sang serenading songs on the boats. According to Sha-ping, they have a courtship tradition in which young men and young women sing to each other, at which point the young woman gives the young man this ball-shaped ornament (for lack of a more precise word) to be worn around the neck. Our entertainer had five to give away as souvenirs, and to get one, one of my friends serenaded her with the old Iranian national anthem, which was anything but romantic.
Down on the other side of the lake, we alighted. Farmers had their water oxen out for us to intereact with. (I heard some people on the Li River cruise call them 水牛.) After a little walk to get there (and some pictures of the scenery), we were given bits of lettuce to feed them. After making sure than no cow was going to charge me (the animals were all quite docile) and seeing that other people were doing it as well without issue, I tried approaching one of the calves to feed a piece of lettuce to. After the third calf turned my piece of lettuce away, the farmer informed me in Chinese (I don't remember his exact words) that I can't feed it to the calves because they only drink milk. It made sense.
So I fed it to a bull, and my friend attempted to get a picture of me doing it, though neither the bull nor I was in the picture in any reasonable form. I settled on petting a calf, for which I got a few decent pictures. In short, they weren't as soft as I would have imagined.
Heading back, we were given a demonstration of the fisher using pelicans to catch fish. In case you don't know, the fisherman puts a tie around the pelican's neck (it doesn't appear to hurt it) and it goes diving for fish. It catches them in its mouth but finds itself unable to swallow it. As a reward, the farmer gives the pelican smaller fish that it can fit through its reduced esophagus.
I later had a small discussion with some people about the ethics behind exploiting an animal for such pursuits. Though I didn't think it was completely moral per say (and I'd like to go vegetarian when I get back to UCSD), I compared it similarly to using dogs for hunting, also saying that people do much worse things to animals that exploit them much further, putting them in much more danger.
After we got back to shore, we were taken back to Guilin. From there, we walked to the train station, along the way enjoying a lot of street food.
I guess it's regrettable that we missed seeing Seven Star Park, which is one of the main things that Guilin is known for. But what we saw instead I think made the whole trip worth it. And the sisters the day before told us that if you go to Reed Flute Cave, Seven Star Park is just bigger and worse. I'd say that Guilin was my favorite trip so far in this study abroad experience.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
National Treasure, Part 2
Guilin Noodles (桂林米粉)
Elephant Trunk Hill (象鼻山)
Li River (漓江) Cruise
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
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