3 Days In Yangshuo

Yangshuo - [Almost] Falling Off The Beaten Path
The Perfect Three-Day Escape


The Area

Landing at Guilin Airport means you’re nearly half-way to Yangshuo in a “two more buses is tough but adventurous and intriguing” kind-of way. The first crawls - air-conditioned - through the wild amount of road works taking place to expand the highway that connects the city to its primary transportation hub. The second - which doesn’t leave from the bus station at which you just arrived - takes just over an hour not for sake of distance, but because it must compete with tractors, scooters, motorcycles, bicycles and other moving contraptions for space on the road. Thankfully, the road weaves through the start of some of the world’s most beautiful scenery, as mystical karsts jut from the earth in every direction. This is a very different China. Distant, remote and reminiscent of everything you’ve seen in every Dynastic period film set in this - the Middle Kingdom. Enjoy the ride, let go and get ready to be inspired.


The Nuts and Bolts

The Lay of The Land

Yangshuo town is located 60 kilometers south of Guilin - the closest major city. The town itself is kitsch central, emitting every tourist stereotype in the book. Bags, DVDs and jewelry at exorbitant prices (read: this is NOT the place to shop in China). The aptly named “West Street” is lined with restaurants promising “western food,” though even the locals admit it is really “Yangshuo western.” Unfortunately, McDonald’s and KFC found their way into town last year and Chinese people line up for burgers, chicken and the like in droves.

The real draw, however, isn’t the town itself but the breathtaking scenery that extends for miles in every direction. Just a few minutes out of town by bike or scooter (the best way to see the countryside) and you feel like you’ve fallen completely off the map. It seems that nothing has really changed here. Farmers still go about there business and hardly notice the occasional “laowei” (foreigners) as they pass. Oxen are lead into the river as an escape from the pounding heat (over 100 degrees a good portion of the year) and while bamboo rafts have begun to pollute the waters near town, a few more miles out and it’s just you, your boat-master and absolute silence - a rarity in hectic China.

The point: Unless you’re coming to Yangshuo for over-priced cocktails, bad pizza and karaoke, just grab your bike or motorcycle in town and then get out!

The Crash Pad
West Street - Every restaurant and bar doubles as a hostel. Stay here if you want the partying and the noise (which goes until 2am every night, courtesy of live Chinese bands).
Yangshuo Mountain Retreat (+86-(0773)-8777-091, reservations@ yangshuomountainretreat.com, www.yangshuomountainretreat.com) Located 7 miles outside town alongside the river, the foreign-owned and locally staffed eco-lodge sits right along the river against a backdrop of enormous karsks. There is a daily shuttle into town and if you’ve rented a bike or motorcycle, it’s easy to get back and forth. This place is the absolute escape, though the food can be pricey and their are no other eating options within walking distance. They also have a small swimming area. $72 a night for river views, $50 a night to face the karsks.
Yangshuo Culture House (110 Beisan Xiang, Chengzi Road, Yangshuo, 541900, Guilin, China, +86-136-3514-0816, x_xiaogeng@hotmail.com, www.yangshuo-study-travel.com) Nearly 50 countries visited and this is by-far the most impressive place I have ever stayed. While the rooms are standard and price is on par with other places in Yangshuo, the culture house includes ALL your meals, which comprised some of the most delicious Chinese dishes I have ever eaten. You’re actually staying in the family home alongside anywhere from four to ten other guests. Breakfast of toast, toppings and fruit is served every morning 8am to noon, lunch is by request (fried rice) and dinner is a feast of every delectable Chinese dish imaginable. No matter what guests have been doing throughout the day, everyone is certain to back for the 6pm dinner because it is just THAT GOOD. Guests take a seat around the massive dining table, which leads to a short silence while everyone fills their bowl. This is followed by - if you like - hours of interesting conversation with people from around the World. Wei the owner will pick you up from the bus station, rent you a bike, get you tickets to the area’s impressive light show, let you watch them cook and teach you mahjong, calligraphy and survival Chinese if you’re interested. Just a mile outside of town, the neighborhood is quiet and quite “real.” All rooms are air-conditioned, some with private bath. Vegetarians welcome and catered too. I can’t rave about this place enough. It’s brilliant. $20 for a two-person double, roughly $10 for each additional person (including meals and classes).


The Eats
Wander West Street for an eclectic selection of western and Chinese food.
Stay at Yangshuo Culture House and eat your meals there. It’s divine!


The Nightlife
Bars and clubs line West Street. Try Lisa’s for chilled Chinese rock and everywhere else if you’re into late 90’s, early 00’s American pop. Who isn’t?


The Perfect Three Days

With the blistering heat pounding down, the key to Yangshuo is to pace yourself. Allow for recovery time somewhere that is air-conditioned or work in a swim.

Day One

Arrive the evening before just in time for dinner at Yangshuo Culture House. Upon flying in to Guilin airport you can either take a direct taxi to Yangshuo for about $35 or ride the airport bus ($3) to Guilin and catch either the local bus ($1.50) or express bus ($2) to Yangshuo. The whole journey take about 2 hours.

Take a good shower and hit the sack early. Surface by 8am and eat a hearty breakfast
at the hostel. Book tickets for Impressions by Sanjie Liu (who directed the 2008 Beijing Olympics opening ceremonies). The awe-inspiring river light show starts every night at 8pm and Wei at Yangshuo Culture House sells near-front-row seats with round-trip transportation for $21. Also let Wei know you want to book a river cruise from Xingping for the next morning ($20).

Next, wander into town and rent bikes. Ask to keep them for two days. Bike Asia (2nd Floor, 42 Guihua Rd, Yangshuo, Guangxi, P.R. China, 541900, +86-(0773)-882-6521, vivian@bikeasia.com, www.bikeasia.com) rents high-quality mountain bikes for $7 a day with a $55 deposit (standard). Ask for Vivian. Otherwise, find one of the million bike renters who are stocked with the “Yangshuo Special” which goes for $1.50 a day.

Ask for the “big brown map” (they’ll know what that is) and set off from town for Dragon Bridge (a 2-hour cycle) via the “back roads” that run along the river and through the rice fields. Once you’re into your ride, follow the red arrows that are spray-painted on buildings and poles. They mark the path. Trust me, you’ll know them when you see them. If you’re nervous you can hire an English-speaking guide for $12-$25 a day.

Arrive at the bridge around 11am. Have a sit-down and take a dip. If you’ve got the courage, take a leap from the 30-foot bridge into the 20-foot-deep water. It’s exhilarating and the locals will watch on in wonderment. Opt for a fried rice for lunch ($2) then grab a bamboo raft down the river ($23 per 2-person boat).

While most bamboo raft rides start further downstream, boarding here means nearly two hours of just you, your raft-master, gorgeous scenery, still water and absolute quiet. They’ll load the bikes on the back. Expect to disembark around 3pm. From there, it’s a 45-minute bike ride back to the hostel. Take a shower and a nap pre-dinner, but be sure to surface at 6pm.

Arranged transportation will pick you up at 6:50pm for the show and you’re set for the evening. Be sure to bring mosquito repellant! Back around 10pm, crash and get ready for day two.

Day Two

Hit breakfast again at 8am and transfer to your morning cruise in Xingping. Let Wei know you’ll be back for lunch post-cruise. Make sure to bring a 20 yuan note with you, as the picture on the back is taken from the Xingping area. Be ready for a taxi to a bus to a mini-bus to a short walk to board your boat, as well as about a million other boats trolling the stream. While they no doubt take away from the splendor, this area of the river is still THAT BEAUTIFUL to make it worthwhile. Wander the local market before heading back to the hostel for lunch.

Get ready for a relaxing afternoon! You’ve earned it. Hop on your bicycles and head to the Yangshuo Mountain Retreat (Address above, 30 minutes by cycle) for an afternoon swim/sunbathing/soda and french fries experience. Just make sure to leave in time for dinner! Drop off your bikes on the way back and pick up a DVD. Don’t forget to take your bike deposit! Take a motorcycle taxi back to the hostel ($1.50). Grab the handlebars behind you, let your hair down and enjoy the short ride. It’s a truly Chinese experience. If you’re back in time, watch them prepare dinner in the kitchen then dive in to the delectable creations. Get to know your fellow guests! No doubt they’re interesting people. Cap the day off with a movie and hit the sack before midnight.

Day Three

Get up and out early yet again! You’ve got to beat the afternoon heat. Pack your bags and checkout, leaving your stuff at the hostel for the day. Stuff down breakfast then wander back into town and rent a scooter ($13 for the day, $55 deposit plus ID card as collateral). Don’t forget your helmet and your map!

Now, head in whichever direction strikes your fancy. The further afield you get, the more remote and untouched it will look and feel. Turn off into small paved and not-paved roads. Let yourself go. Take a break around 2pm for lunch and an escape from the heat wherever you end up. Some sites to consider on the journey: Moon Hill, The Water and Mud Caves, market days in Fuli and Baishi. Just get lost then find your way back for dinner at 6pm!

Post-dining grab a taxi to the express bus to the airport bus for one of the late-night flights to other China destinations. Pat yourself on the back for three days well done.


The Tips & Tricks

If you have more days, do more exploring! Another day on the scooter in a totally different direction will no doubt lead to an entirely different adventure.
Bike Asia also organizes day-long cycling trip all over the region. Wander in or send an email for more information.
Rock climbing is also big in the area. Stop into any tourism bureau to arrange. Also ask Wei at Yangshuo Culture House. He can book or recommend anything and everything.
Another fascinating day trip goes the the Longji Terraces - farmland that has literally been carved into the side of a mountain. It’s three and a half hours each way, with lunch and sightseeing in the middle. A fairly gorgeous bus ride as well.
No promises on the hygiene inside the Mud Cave. Enter and cover yourself in mud at your own risk.
Don’t shop for bags, jewelry or DVDS en masse here! The mark-ups are enormous and locals aren’t all that interested in bargaining.
Remember that Yangshuo is also a top destination for Chinese tourists, so don’t be surprised if the only other foreigners you seem to run into are staying at your guesthouse.

Don’t Miss This Place. It’s A Must-See, Must-Do, Must-Must!

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Kyle Taylor

The Big Jump

You’ve got to take risks. Put yourself out there. Try new things. Be afraid of being afraid. It frees the mind, body and soul. I took this idea as an open invitation to leap from the thirty-foot Dragon Bridge into the cool and refreshing Yi Long River. TWICE. It’s moments like these that make you feel like you can do anything.

Faces In Places

There’s something about the people in Southern China. It begins distant and uninterested, but a quick “Ni Hao” and toothy grin from you and faces just light up. A cheesy smile and broken Chinese here and you’re in. Here’s a selection of the faces and figures that have inspired this part of the adventure.









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Kyle Taylor

Planes, Trains & Automobiles

Objective: Get from Hong Kong in the most efficient way possible (Read: cost and time effective. Read even deeper: NO OVERNIGHT BUS).

Solution: Take a taxi to a train to a taxi to a plane to a bus to a bus to a motorcycle. Yeah!


It all started at 6am when the alarm went off. We showered and dressed (though Stacey had drugged herself to stave off motion sickness, so I nearly had to shower and dress the two of us). Return key, hail cab, hail Stacey into cab. Arrive at train station and eat something wildly overpriced and wildly not delicious for breakfast. Wait.

Board train and take forward-facing seats. Listen to Stacey utter her first words of the day “Wow. I feel a bit more awake now.” Good. It’s now 8:30am. Arrive at Chinese border and begin the onslaught of delays. Message: “Sorry for the delay, but we will start moving again in just a moment.” If a moment last for one minute, then we started moving 120 “moments” later. Stacey has been asleep the entire time thanks to the “wonder travel drugs.”


Arrive in China and begin the usual China chaos. No lines, people shouting, total chaos. I LOVE IT and re-enter “China mode.” Pass customs and pit-stop at the toilet. Stacey’s mind is saying “yes” but Stacey’s tummy is saying “no.” Airport buses are all cancelled for “a special reason.” Oh how I missed Chinese “special reasons.” Cue the onslaught of taxi drivers promising a “good price,” none of which are good. Settle on man wearing plaid pants, a checked shirt and alligator skin shoes. He’s also on his cell phone and walking a consistent 10 feet in front of us, looking back every so often to make sure we’re still with him.

We’re now outside in front of a tienda that sells EVERYTHING, like most shops in China. I’m LOVING EVERY MINUTE. “Sit here and have a rest while the car arrives.” Oh how I missed Chinese rests. A small car/van/thing arrives. We load ourselves in and head out, handing over the stack of “receipts” that were given to us at some point by someone to “pay” for the taxi. NO IDEA. Still loving it.


Get to the airport two hours early and spend the first out the cowboy-hat clad salesman luring us into the “Guanzhou Airport Wine Festival.” WHAT? Security is a breeze and I decide to purchase some instant noodles for old time sake. They are divine. Boarding is a train wreck as expected. “We are now boarding rows 21 to 30. EVERYONE ON THE FLIGHT RUSHES THE GATE. I can’t help but chuckle. I am so happy right now.

The flight leaves thirty minutes late but manages to arrive 10 minutes early. HOW DO THEY DO THAT? Baggage claim is a breeze. The guy driving the luggage truck zooms past the belt - T-shirt rolled up to his armpits and cigarette hanging from his bottom lip - and pulls the pin, sending the bags hurtling into the wall. They fly everywhere. I am laughing hysterically. Stacey misses the whole ordeal. She’s still in the bathroom.


We get the airport bus JUST IN TIME and take our $3 seats. Stacey sits near the front to avoid upchucking. The ride is HILARIOUS and I feel like we’ve been transported into a game of frogger. Around the bicycles, over the cones in the road and through the road barriers, horn ablaze. Stacey is SHOCKED.

In Guilin city we have to transfer from this bus station to another bus station for our journey to Yangshuo. Mind you, Yangshuo is actually PAST the airport in the opposite direction but to keep a long chain of commerce alive you MUST go from the airport to Guilin, transfer in-city to a different bus station then backtrack plus some to Yangshuo. Brilliant. We meet Vivian en route, who works in Yangshuo. She offers to share a taxi to the other bus station and talks us through the entire change. I just observe. It has been awhile.

Our second bus is the express and we resume our game of frogger, this time adding in people walking (where, I have no idea) and a Yangshuo original tractor car thing whose outboard motor propels it forward at no more than five miles an hour. I’m secretly wishing I was on board.


We arrive in Yangshuo and immediately everyone wants to sell us bamboo rafting trips, nights at a hostel, dinner, jewelry and artwork. I text our hostel owner and he arrives ten minutes later to “pick us up.” We follow him outside and find his wife standing next to two electric scooters. Where on earth will our backpacks go? I’ve clearly been away too long, completely forgetting the Chinese ability to carry anything and everything on any form of transportation. Big pack goes on the floor, little pack goes on my back, I straddle the owner. Stacey is simul-straddling his wife. We’re off.

Five minutes later we de-bike and are whisked inside for dinner. It’s now exactly 6pm. Twelve hours, a thousand miles and every form of transportation later, we have arrive and I am on cloud nine.

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Kyle Taylor

Asia, Revisited

Our plane lands and rolls slowly into the gate. The doors open and instantly the heavy, moist Asian air sweeps into the cabin. After nearly a year in Shanghai, this is a familiar feeling. Coming directly from Britain, however (the land of lines, order and rules) makes me think this “arrival” may be a bit more difficult. Fortunately our gateway is Hong Kong, where east meets west in a brilliant show of Prada, street-crossing signs that are obeyed, hawkers and neon. There is really no other place like it.


My travel buddy is a weary flier and so adequately knocked herself out pre-departure. She slept nearly 10 of the 12 hours and is still running on empty. My eyes are scanning every inch of the city on the hour-long bus ride into Kowloon. Hers are shut. I don’t wake her. Jet lag is no laughing matter.


Check-in is a breeze and our microscopic room as charming as I remember it from the last time I was in Hong Kong - spotless, slightly larger than me and equipped with the world’s most impressive shower. We quick-change, shower and hit the city. There is no better way to “meet” Hong Kong then via the lights and laser show that happens on Victoria Harbour every night at 8pm. It’s equal parts amazing and China-kitsch, complete with hordes of Asia tourists “oohing” and “ahhing” at every turn of events.


A 25 cents, 5-minute ferry ride across the Harbour (one of my favorite experiences of all time) drops us in the center of the hectic business district which seems to be moving in slow motion on a Saturday night. We follow the signs to the mid-level escalators, which carry passengers nearly a mile from the base of Hong Kong Island up the steep hills in 20 minutes. People exit at different points as if they were on a “people highway.”


“Are you hungry,” I ask Stacey. “I don’t know,” she replies. “Yeah, me neither.” Our internal clocks have been set to “mediocre” as we can’t decide if we’re hungry, tired, happy, sad, confused, etc. We decide it’s best to eat and our hunt for food ends in western-style salads. My Asian instincts aren’t quite honed just yet.


A long stroll through the western nightlife district (called oh so originally SOHO) leads us back to the ferry, across the harbour, down Tsim Sha Tsui and into Mirador Mansion, which houses our Cosmic Guesthouse. “Are you tired,” I ask Stacey. “I don’t know,” she replies. “Yeah, me neither. But it’s great to be unsure of that in Hong Kong instead of London,” I say excitedly. “So true,” she cheers. “So. True.”

Rain Rain Go Away...

It has not rained in weeks in Shanghai and it hardly every rains in Yangshuo. Alas, we were delayed by a massive thunderstorm in Shanghai and it appears the rain followed us down South in what the papers are calling “the worst rain Southern China has ever seen.” Undaunted by said horror stories, we board our mini bus from Guilin to Yangshuo, bound and determined to have a nice holiday, rain or no rain.


Arrival and navigating this charming backpacker haven couldn’t have been easier. We located our hostel of choice (Thank you Let’s Go) dropped our bags, had a delicious western sandwich on West Street (this plays loves the foreigners) and planned our next few days. We would start – in the rain – with a cruise from Xingping to Yiyang on the Li River. This stretch is supposed to be the most beautiful and therefore, it will be so. It’s still pouring and I have this bright idea that ponchos will be better than umbrellas. “But I think,” Lianne starts. “No no, we’ll be more mobile this way,” I say. Mobile and soaking wet, that is. Just as we leave the restaurant the rain really starts in. Our guide to the bus has no umbrella or poncho and is all but running a 100-yard dash to the bus. I’m struggling to keep up and Lianne is falling behind in her flip-flops. This is slowly becoming the longest, most miserable walk of my life thanks to this brilliant poncho plan. Mine now has a gaping whole in the cap and the left side of my head is soaked. Lianne’s front buttons have popped open and her entire front side is sopping wet. Water is running into our eyes and to top it all off, we’re sweating buckets because ponchos – shockingly - don’t breathe at all.


We finally get to our bus to find that there are no seats. “No problem,” the ticket lady says to me in Chinese. “Right here. Right here. Right here,” pointing to the wood casing over the engine. Perfect. We pay our 50 cents each for the 1-hour ride and plop down. There is an older Icelandic couple (I’m not certain they were from Iceland but they just had this whole Iceland thing about them) sitting next to us and we exchange that “look” you exchange with other foreigners when you both find yourselves in situations you would never have even considered in your home country. This looks says, “yeah, woo, sitting on an engine. Lets hope it doesn’t blow up.” [awkward] laugh and [awkward] smile.


It’s a bumpy ride full of a lot of horn honking and pot holes. Thankfully, the A/C is on and we’re drying out. Soon enough we’re exiting into a sea of tour guides who are doing their best to shuffle all the foreigners together in one corner. From there it’s onto the back of a took took which takes us only as far as bridge. Then it’s a 15-minute walk through a tiny little village, down a collection of rocks that I would loosely refer to as stairs and onto a boat that is lined with house-like windows and floating just inches above the surface of the water. And it’s still pouring rain. Oh god.


Fortunately, the clouds gave the entire cruise a sort-of “ah-ah-ah-ah-ah” mysterious feeling to the point where I think sunshine may have ruined it (at least, that’s what Lianne and I are telling ourselves). Massive peaks plunging out of the water, ox fording their way across, farmers working their rice fields with pushcarts and hand-made tools. It was like stepping back in time 100 years.


The cruise ended the way it began – up some rocks, walk for a while, took took to the bus station, bus to Yangshuo, walk in the rain to hostel. That was followed by a delicious Chinese food dinner, some night market shopping and an ice cream. What. A. Day.

--

Kyle Taylor

This One Time, At The Airport…

Or should I say, seemingly every time at the airport something goes wrong. While I was more hopeful for my trip to Guilin and Yanghshuo with Lianne, alas, it would not be so. It all began at lunch. The storm, that is. The thunderstorm that chucked 5 inches of water down in about three hours. It was complemented by thunder and lighting unlike any thunder and lighting I have ever seen, and that includes the wild thunderstorms in DC and torrential rains of monsoon in India. I mean, it was raining!

We called to check out 7:20pm departure and the agency said we were “on time, good to go.” So we grabbed a cab, hopeful of a swift departure. We were two hours early (I have a constant, innate fear of something going terribly wrong with my flight. I do believe I have a trip around the World with United to thank for that fear).

Just in time for the first incident to occur. There are absolutely NO liquids allowed on domestic flights in China. NONE AT ALL. Lianne and I had spent all day resorting luggage and slimming our necessities so we could avoid checking luggage. Alas, not so. We puttered over to the luggage zone and checked our tiny backpacks. Mine weighed all of 8 pounds. Who checks 8 pounds of luggage?

Security line goes fine (you can keep your shoes on and leave your laptop in your bag here but you can’t bring an ounce of contact solution. Go figure) and now we’re searching for our gate. “Gate 9. Gate 9,” I’m saying as we walk past Gate 7 then Gate 8 before arriving at Gate 10. Hmm…Our eyes are reading everything in site for a clue as to where Gate 9 may have gone. “Mobile Phone Electizing.” No, that’s not it. “”If to over on, under and above.” No, that’s not it either. Finally Lianne notices a piece of A4 paper taped to a pole that reads only “9” with a hand-drawn arrow pointing down an auxiliary staircase. Super. Apparently Gate 9 leads to a path that allows you to walk to Guilin.

We leave the perfect temperature and calm atmosphere of the main terminal and descend into the depths of Chinese travel madness. This auxiliary terminal and hot and sweaty. Every seat is taken. Announcements are running constantly over the PA, repeating the same message again and again and again. There is no place to buy water but there is a luxury jeweler. A man stands up and we wedge ourselves onto one chair. A little girl in a pink skirt is doing donuts around our row of seats screaming and poking at people. She stops in front of us each time, looks at us as if we are aliens, sticks out her tongue, bites it, does some lamas breathing and scurries away. Donut. Tongue. Bite. Lamas. Donut. Tongue. Bite. Lamas. I am emtranced. The parents are nowhere to be found.


We watch the status screen as the word “Delayed” appears next to our flight. We’re now departing at 7:50pm, thirty minutes late. “Not too bad,” I concede. Lianne nods in agreement. We get to chatting in between lamas breaths and before we know it it’s 8:15pm. We’re still sitting in the waiting area. The announcer comes on. “For flight to Guilin, please wait a moment.” Will do. She makes this same announcement every minute on the dot for the next 15 minutes.

8:30pm rolls around and the woman mixes it up by announcing boarding. Then, all at once, as if there were fewer seats on the plane than there were people with assigned seats, every single Chinese traveler stands up and charges the gate. Pandemonium ensues. Pushing. Shoving. Wedging. Lianne and I linger back a while until the crowd dissipates. We then pass through and board the bus. I’m wondering to myself, “did we by plane tickets or bus tickets?” I can see planes all around us and I’m hoping this is just a shuttle to our aircraft. Hey, it’s China, you never know.


Our bus pulls up next to a plane sitting all alone out on the tarmac. Doors open and people run for the stairs, still not convinced that there are actually enough seats for every person. But wait, what’s this? There’s a hold-up! A woman at the stairs is rechecking every single ticket and passport, as if we could have somehow snuck out onto the tarmac, just dying to steal someone’s seat and offset the entire balance of this flight. Lianne and I linger again. The buses pull away and I begin to notice that we are literally alone out in the middle of the tarmac with nobody watching us or guiding us. We could easily turn and run in any direction. In fact, that littler girl in pink is doing just that. Donuts around the plane. Another flight takes off 50 feet to our right. I can’t help but wonder, “no contact solution but I can wander freely around the open tarmac?


Finally everyone else boards and we approach the ticket woman. She looks like she has been attacked by a pack of dogs. “Xie xie,” I say. Thank you. Shocked, she smiles in bewilderment. We take our seats and the waiting game begins. It’s now 9pm. The captain comes on. “Please wait for a moment.” Will do captain. Will do. The storm is firing back up and it appears that we have missed our window. Five minutes later they pop in a movie and I can smell food being cooked. The Captain returns to the airwaves: “Please wait a moment and enjoy some noshery.” Will do captain. Will do. The flight attendants proceed to serve dinner to us sitting on a plane in the middle of the tarmac. We’re approaching 10pm. We left the house at 5, which means we’ve been “traveling” for 5 hours and have made it a whopping 15 miles from the apartment to this airplane.


Post dinner Lianne and I nod off. Our plane finally takes off at 11pm after tow hours of sitting on board. We arrive in Guilin about 1am and our thankfully, so do our bags. Lianne’s is pristine. Mine looks like it was dragged through the mud for a few hours. We share a taxi with a French guy who was also on our much-delayed flight. We chit-chat while our driver spends the entire 40-minute drive talking – no screaming – on his cell phone, only to arrive at our hostel to discover that they have lost our reservation. Of course, there is no way of knowing what exactly that means, as there is no computer behind the desk to store reservation numbers. Just a giant paper ledger with a lot of boxes and lines on it. “You have reservation number,” She asks. “Let me get it,” I tell her. “I need reservation number,” she asks again. “I’m getting it. Just a second,” I say, a bit more insistent this time. “I have to have your reservation number,” she says again and again and again. “LISTEN LADY, HE’S GETTING IT. CALM DOWN,” Lianne says from behind me. She giggles. We look at each other, totally confused.

I pull it up on my computer and they look at me as if I have doctored some online confirmation email. “Do you not have any rooms,” I ask. “Is that the problem?”
“Oh no,” she says. “We have plenty of rooms. Only two people staying.” I’m thinking to myself, then why are you creating an international crisis if the hostel is empty? Out of nowhere she says, “Oh yes, here it is,” while pointing to an empty box on her giant pad. No clue.

All we knew is that it meant keys, which meant sleep. Which was exactly what we needed.

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Kyle Taylor