Yangshuo...
In Yangshuo, I wanted to go to the barber to have my beard shaved. I was tired of the wilderness on my face, and had been looking for someone to eradicate it for quite some time. I had taken up the habit of going to barbers to get a shave in India and Nepal. It's efficient, well-done, and if you pay a bit more, you can even get a face and head massage. Spoiled as I was, I refused to do my own shaving. Unfortunately, contrary to South-Asia, where you don't need to do more than three steps before you stumble upon a barber, in China it's pretty hard to find. The fact that Chinese have very limited facial hair growth, and their south-eastern neighbors plenty, is no doubt at least part of the explanation. I was getting desperate when, for the fourth time in a week, I was walking around randomly looking for someone who could rid me of my bristles. When I saw a fancy-looking hairdressing salon, I walked in and asked if, by any chance, they also did beards. The answer was yes, but the price four times what I though was reasonable; but I was so tired of walking around, that I agreed. They started by attacking my facial jungle with an electric razor, which I found a reasonably intelligent approach. Next, however, I stopped him as he was about to put a razorblade to my face.
-"Wait a minute - aren't you going to use any shaving foam?"
-"Sorry?"
-"Shaving foam!"
I mimicked applying shaving foam to my face with a brush, but he didn't seem to understand. Impatiently, I took my phrasebook and found the translation of "shaving cream". He nodded and went over to his colleague, with whom he had an animated exchange. He came back with a cup filled with what looked like, smelled like, and probably was, plain hand soap. He clumsily smeared it onto my right cheek with his hand and started, extremely cautiously, to shave me. He cut one area and then the other, clearly avoiding the most difficult parts. In the meantime, as I saw in the mirror, pretty much everybody - both his colleagues and the other clients - was stealing more than occasional glances at us. I didn't really know if it was more embarrassing for me or for my improvising barber. But, although he was a bit nervous and very slow, after half an hour he had shaved my entire beard, including the hard parts, without cutting me. After finishing he said "okay?", and didn't seem to understand why I looked at him expectingly. It soon became clear, with the help of my trusty phrasebook, that I was going to have to do without aftershave as well. I decided regretfully that the time had come to buy myself a razor again.
The next day, I rode to Moon Hill, a special peak with a big half-moon shaped hole in it. I had gotten the tip of ignoring the "no trespassing" sign (the actual sign said something like "passenger no allow") and going to the very top of the hill. Indeed, the view from up there was breathtaking. Although it was a bit misty, I could see peaks rise up all around. It was a pretty surreal view - an endless exhibit of gigantic sculptures, all made by the same artists: wind and water. Up there, where I thought no-one else would come, I met two British girls, who happened to take the train to Hong Kong that evening, just like me.
After an uneventful night in the train, we arrived in Shenzen, at the border with the Hong Kong region. At the customs, they were a bit puzzled by my one-person group visa, which was just a ordinary piece of paper, but eventually they let me pass. There were three things I wanted to do in Hong Kong: to apply for a new Chinese visa, to do some sight-seeing, and to enjoy the nightlife. The first day wasn't a very pleasant one. I had to arrange my visa right away, which took me a couple of hours. After that, I still needed to find a place to stay. HK is notorious for its pricey and shabby accommodation for backpackers. The common place to go is the infamous Chungking Mansions, a huge apartment block with several small hostels on each floor, and possibly the slowest and busiest elevator in the world. It's full of immigrants from South-Asia and Africa, and when I arrived, something made it feel strangely familiar - the smell of curry and the pushy Indian touts may have something to do with that. I first tried my luck with a hostel on the fifth floor. It was full, but the owner told me to try one on the seventh floor. Full again. Try the third floor. Too expensive. Maybe on the fourteenth floor? Sorry, maybe tomorrow. Tired of going up and down the building, I started randomly checking hotels with a nice sounding name. Hotel Tokyo? Too expensive. Pay Less guesthouse? Great name, that's probably why there was no room left. After about an hour of running around - I had learned quickly to forget about the elevator and just use the stairs -, I ended up on the sixteenth floor. I found a bed in a dormroom for an acceptable price. My roommates were a bit unusual, though: two old men, a hippie woman who was also way past her prime, and one young Chinese tourist. From a pretty confusing conversation with one of the men I gathered that they lived there, just like many others. One night I woke up because the two old men were having a loud argument right next to my bed. The reason? One of them had opened the window while the air cooler was still on.
The center of Hong Kong consists of two parts: the Kowloon peninsula and Victoria island. A must-do for tourists is to take the old tram to Victoria peak. Around dusk, me and my British friends took the ferry to the island. By the time we reached the peak, the sun was setting. We walked and watched as the sky turned dark and all the lights went on. It was my first time in a city with skyscrapers (not counting Dubai, which I regard as fake), and I was awe-struck by the view. The next day we just walked around a bit on the island, went to a temple and to a park. That night we went on an organized pub crawl, and had a lot of fun. The next afternoon, it was time for me to leave again. I really enjoyed Hong Kong, though. There is a particular buzz to the city, hard to explain. The pace is very high, everyone seems to be in a hurry all the time; but somehow that makes you feel like this is the place to be, this is where it's all happening. It's a bit like I imagine New York to be, and it seems that I'm not the only one who makes that comparison. But Hong Kong is expensive, and full of temptations, so I had decided not to stay too long. Besides, I was still determined to make it home before Christmas, so I had to get moving towards Beijing.
Hong Kong by night from Victoria Peak
From Hong Kong, I undertook the long train journey to Shanghai. I was going north again, and I had gotten various reports of cold and foggy weather in Shanghai and Beijing. I was a bit reluctant to leave the warm climate and small towns of the southwest for the big cities in the east. I told myself the most pleasant part of my stay in China was probably over. Still I was not giving up on the idea of going back to Europe through Mongolia and Russia. I was very lucky, though; when I arrived in Shanghai it was sunny, and it would stay so for the biggest part of the following two weeks.
My expectations of Shanghai were high - too high. I think for some reason I was hoping to find traces of the harbor city full of rickshaws and Chinese banners I knew from the Tintin album "The Blue Lotus". Instead, as was to be expected, I round a big, modern, rather sterile city. With its skyscrapers - some of very doubtful taste - and multinational business (Mc Donalds and Starbucks, Esprit and Zara, you name it), Shanghai tries to be some kind of Hong Kong, but it has none of the buzz of that city. To be fair, I spent only a few days there; but I never really grasped the soul of the place. I did enjoy walking by the riverside, looking at the famous skyline of the modern district on the other side. The former French concession, with its European feel, is a pretty nice place to stroll around as well; no wonder it's full of expats.
There was one place, not too far from Shanghai - that is, one night train away - which quite a few people had told me not to miss. Huang Shan, or the Yellow Mountain, was one of the inspirations for the film 'Avatar'. I was fortunate enough to share a room with a jovial Dutch guy who wanted to go there as well. Huang Shan is not just one single mountain, but rather a whole area with various peaks. The plan was to walk up one peak, spend the night there, walk around the next day and go back to the city that evening. On the way up, it was very foggy. I was fearing a similar experience to Emei Shan, where I hadn't seen anything for two days. This time, though, at least I wasn't alone. In fact, we had delayed our departure because the weather hadn't been so good, and we hoped it would better the next day, as the weather forecast predicted. Sure enough, the sky started clearing around sunset, and by the time we went to bed, the stars announced a good following day. We got treated to a breathtaking sunrise the next morning, and we could finally admire Huang Shan in its full splendor. The Yellow Mountain has been an inspiration for many Chinese painters and poets. Once again, erosion has created a surreal scenery. Abrupt, irregular peaks with sheer flanks have been carved out of the light brown rock. The cracks and lines formed by the relief are mostly vertical - in fact, the peaks look like gigantic versions of the termite mounds I have seen in pictures from Australia. The finishing touch, which gives Huang Shan its almost magical look, is provided by the pine trees (the species is effectively called "Pinus hwangshanensis"). With their broad, flat-topped crowns of long, level branches, they are perched on unlikely places, even where the rocks are perfectly vertical. In the afternoon, clouds rolled in, reducing the visibility to almost nothing. But when we climbed to the highest peak, we gradually got out of the fog. We were above an endless sea of white clouds, brown peaks with green trees rising up left and right like mysterious islands. This magnificent view completely made up for the missed opportunity at Emei Shan.
Huang Shan (top), one of the inspirations for James Cameron's 'Avatar' (bottom)
Above the sea of clouds
From Huang Shan, I went straight to Beijing. There were no available bunks in sleeper class, so I had to spend the twenty hour journey in the hard seat class. I expected it would be a bit of an ordeal, but that I would have some funny stories to tell. Quite the contrary, it was fairly comfortable, but boring. I wasn't on a very busy line, so my carriage was never completely full. I tried to start a conversation with some people but they didn't seem in the least interested in me.
Although before I went there I found it hard to imagine why, people had always been very positive about Beijing. I ended up staying there for more than a week, and had the best time. The sun was shining, the hostel was great, the people were amazing. Beijing is a city where you can find everything, from traditional Chinese architecture to modern clubs. The subway gets you everywhere for almost nothing. My hostel couldn't be better located, right next to Tienanmen square. Apart from all the going out and having fun, I forced myself to do some tourism as well. Tienanmen square: cool place, center of the highest populated nation on earth. Forbidden City: everything but forbidden (read: very crowded), and frankly a little bit boring. Summer Palace: gigantic lake, impressive complex. Great Wall: great. We went to a "forbidden" part of the wall, and we were the only ones there. The running joke at the hostel was to take a naked picture on this otherwise so touristy spot. Apart from the sight-seeing and having fun, I also had a lot of other stuff to do: arranging visas and trains, buying warm clothes, etc.
"What a great wall!" - R. NixonI was doing stuff, I was seeing stuff, I was having fun - it was great ending of stay my stay in China, and I was very glad I had continued despite the difficult moments. I felt ready to start the very last chapter of my trip: the long way home, through Mongolia, Russia and Europe
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