Week of Training at the Shaolin Temple: Fisticuffs and the Arsenal Showdown

Important Notes:  

• This journal is a consolidation of 5 Facebook notes I posted up over 5 days in July 2011.    It's a mix of past and present tense which I haven't attempted to modify from the original versions.  The dates under the headings represent the date that they were written and posted, so it's all authentic 'n' shit.  
• You will find that the journal ends abruptly.  Don't worry - there's nothing with your computer screen scrolling.  It's just that I seem to have lost interest at that stage in battling the slow school internet link and gave up reporting on the remaining day.  T'was good.  T'was very GungFu. 
• While I am using a 'Blog' site to publish these travel stories they are by no means written in blog post-format (i.e. short and punchy).  The site was set up as a means to let our family and friends know about our time living in China, so for most part I go into a bit of detail where I can - and for anyone who's ever read one of my darts reports you'll know I find the pen mightier than the white-out.  If you find it too long to read, then I recommend the Golden Book series of kid's stories.
• I am prone in some posts to defer to the potty-mouth form of the written word.  If you are easily offended please refer my previous point on alternate reading options.

Day 1

July 3, 2011 at 1:16am

When I read the book "American Shaolin" soon after arriving in China (great book, btw) I didn't think for a moment that I'd be following in the footsteps of the author and throwing my weight around in the training halls of the Shaolin Temple Kungfu School - especially given that I'd packed away my Kungfu sticks in 2001 (and packed on a few kg around the waist).  But unexpected opportunities seem to be a regular thing here in China, and thanks to Maddy taking up a Korean martial art (Hapkido) and me joining soon after we have found ourselves with the opportunity to head on down to one of the so-called birthplaces of Kungfu and get some serious training time under our lower grade belts.  Not only was the location enticing, but the offer that we'd trade our current belts in for new ones that were two grades higher really help. GIDDY-UP.  

Those who are under-utilised enough at work to read my blog regularly would probably remember that we'd done a trip down to the Shaolin Temple shortly after we first arrived in China (http://guihots-in-beijing.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html), but little has been coming back to me about any school.  All that has come to mind was over-priced snacks and lots of tacky souvenir shops.  And lots of kungfu schools in the nearby town.

The buildings in the main tourist area of the temple.  They had been renovated since we were there the first time.  No shortage of $$ at the monastery.

The planning to get here has been a bit on the 'loose' side though.  Our American instructor seems to be more Aussie than US-bred, because his VERY ULTRA casual "She'll be right, Mate" attitude to giving trip details had me not really knowing what to expect.  My first thought was that we'd be throwing away the standard Hapkido curriculum for the most part, and spend our 7 days hanging from trees by rope looped under our chin while maintaining the lotus position, experiencing 4am wakeup calls, and coming back to Beijing dressed in orange robes and with shaved heads.  We'd be thrown into the deep end - 7 foreigners in a sea of 3000 Chinese students all training to be bodyguards, stunt men, and if they are lucky the next Hong Kong movie star.  But then word came down that the training plan was a mixed bag affair - Hapkido, but with access to some great training facilities, mixed with sessions with one of the local Kungfu masters and some weapons (which I do have a fondness for).  More likely then that we would be in our own little section of 'booked' training rooms, doing our thing while Shaolin went on around us.  It would be a leasurly 8am breakfast, and a civilised 9am kickoff with some light warm-ups.

The reality, as I found today on arrival, is a real mixed grill of both these extremes.  It's 11.00pm now, and outside my hotel window the sound of the traditional chain whip (see http://www.wle.com/products/w055sl.html) slapping the pavement is still being heard.  All the more impressive is that the chain whip is in the hands of a kid who looks no older than ten, but it's hard to tell for sure because he's doing it in the dark away from the outside lighting (the only thing that stopped me walking right into one earlier was noticing the noise and the 'dance' that accompanies it).  As we walked around after dinner the school classes were scattered all around the hotel forecourt - some groups doing staff drills, some doing swords and one group all doing three-sectional staff.  Another group had all the class sitting around one student putting on a demo of his Tiger kungfu form and being corrected by his instructor (I'm certainly no expert but his style looked pretty good to me).  There are plenty of snack shops around the school, yet these are way more reasonably priced than those in the tourist sections of the temple.  Need a new sword? Broke your chain whip or looking for a 2nd set of nunchucks?  Just duck into the little snack shop that also acts as the student's armoury and Bruce Lee's ya' uncle.  It's where I picked up Maddy's staff for a pittance, and had to resist the temptation to go all Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

The real students did it tough, having to clean themselves outside from a plastic bucket even in the middle of winter.

But as well as us there is also another group of foreigners in the school, and they are from Australia of all places.  Not sure if they will be training themselves, but I have heard that they are looking to experience a bit of school life as part of their trip to China.

It's easy to be inspired to a greater level of fitness enthusiasm here, and having a big training hall with a punching bag and a whole stand of traditional Shaolin weapons on the floor below me has already proved enticing.  As for how long it will last, I'll tell you in tomorrow night's update following my 6am wakeup call for pre-breakfast training in front of the temple (I did say it was between extremes, but OUCH!).

Day 2 (Winner Winner Chicken Dinner)

July 4, 2011 at 2:14am

After a rude 5.40am wakeup call to some poorly chosen iPhone alarm sound there was little time for anything other than a quick coffee, before we all headed off on a 20min stroll to the front gate of the fair dinkum Shaolin temple for some pre-breakfast tai chi and stretching.  On the way back down to breakfast the first thing that I really noticed was the fresh air, and how good it was to clear the lungs of Beijing's shitty pea soup air quality.  The second thing I noticed was that the mist hanging over the mountains surrounding the temple appeared to be authentic rain-type mist, rather than the cheaper acid rain or smog cloud we get back in the ‘Jing. The third thing I noticed was the large number of students from the school carrying all sorts of tables and chairs down the road (but not with their teeth though – they’re only beginner Shaolin kung fu warriors).  What was going on? A little later my question was answered.  It seems that by sheer coincidence (and luck) the local TuGou Kung Fu school where we were training at was running a major internal competition this same week, which, given there is 20,000 students, makes this no easy feat.  It's being run over 10 days and features all of the school disciplines – boxing, traditional sparring, weapons, sets, and even (as we were to find out) some kind of North Korean Mass Games competition involving groups of students running around with flags cheering and smiling like their graduation depended on it. 

On our program though we enjoyed a relaxing 1hr light warmup in front of the temple, which was very quiet at this time and a far cry from the commercial ‘ambience’ you get once it opens shop for the day for the tourists (which given it’s a Sunday means extra busy).  We had the usual interested local onlookers taking pics, and as the other adult was missing (sleeping in) I was the lone grown-up in the class.  By the time we started back for breakfast the tournament was just kicking off, with two fighting platforms and a number if fields set up for staff forms and what looked to be 5,000 students from the school.

Some of the scenery around the temple.

After a typical Chinese breakfast we got into our own program for the day, and by the end of the morning training session (2hrs) I was starting to feel it in the legs.  Luckily though the afternoon was spent working on the staff which is one of my favourite pieces of equipment, having done a bit of it in our shortlived foray into Wushu in our first year here (and also in Bac Fu Do ALL those years ago).  After dinner myself and the other student from the adults class (A Canadian student Bryan) were planning to do a few more hours of self-practice on the staff , until he came running back to report that the school tournament was kicking off again for the night session.  So instead of heading to the training room we wandered down to the playing fields and got to experience something that not many westerners would normally get.  We wandered down next to the performance areas and the makeshift boxing ring where we were both ogled at by the Chinese students , but also offered one of the limited bench seats to sit and enjoy the action.  But to say we understood the action in the boxing ring would be a stretch, because the students we thought were winning kept on losing and vice versa.  It was a great ringside experience, especially once we found out we shouldn’t be taking photos (or video for that matter).  And if the action wasn’t enough to make me leave with a smile I also came away a winner, coming out on top in the 1rmb per fight bookie's scheme agreed too between Bryan and I.  I’ve mentally spent that 3rmb in winnings already.  Let’s hope my legs hold out half as well as those of the young guys we saw going for broke tonight in the ring, as they are starting to feel it tonight.  In the meantime, I’m off to change my alarm clock ringtone back to something more suited to a 5.40am wakeup call for martial exercise (I’ll take “Eye of the Tiger” for 500 points thanks).  And also to have a spoonful of concrete.

Maddy doing warm-up for the morning stretching.

Day 3

July 5, 2011 at 1:52am

Eat. Sleep. Train. Aaaand repeat.  That’s pretty much what it’s been like today, as we again bounced out of bed at the spritely time of 5.40 for the morning chillin’ exercises. This time though it was the quieter Pagoda Forest as the backdrop to our AM Tai Chi session.  I certainly enjoyed not having the early morning local gawkers hanging around taking photos of us.

The morning was a crowded affair in our training gym one floor below our hotel rooms, because the persistent and heavy rain that came after breakfast brought a lot more people inside looking for a place to exercise.  This resulted in us having to fight for some floor space which didn’t go down too well with our instructor, and started a more broader discussion about whether the whole Shaolin Kungfu experience is being run as well as it should be for such a Chinese national icon (and money spinner, judging by the number of other foreigners we have met who are training here).  The hotel rooms are basic but comfortable, and the internet access and aircon is not what I would consider your average Shaolin Kungfu trainee accommodation.  But the main dining hall in the school is one of the filthiest I’ve seen in China, where they don’t bother wiping the tables properly and sweeping the floor only happens at the start of the shift (so if your late to lunch expect to be stepping over bottles and food strewn on the floor).  But still, the food’s not the reason why we came and at a stretch two-minute noodles for the remaining four days won’t be the first time.  The other two of the three – the sleep and the train – have been more than OK.

We ran into this guy on the way up to the Pagoda Forest.  He was practicing his 'Iron Bar', which simply involved trying to knock the tree out of the ground with his forearm.  Solid.

One thing that is annoying is the difficulty in getting photos of the school and any of the local students doing their thing (sorry Jonny).  While we managed to snap a few at last night’s tournament before we were told it was not allowed, this afternoon we came across a few of the students on gate duty that were happy to pose for pics.  Afterwards though a guy in an army uniform came and grabbed him for a talk.  The next thing I have both of them wanting to see the photo on my camera and delete it.  It seems they are afraid that we might sell the footage to the competing schools.  DAMN – they figured out my grand plan for striking it rich in China.  Yesterday on the other hand we had local teachers at the school filming and photographing us while we trained.  So guess what’s getting the kybosh put on it tomorrow? Quid pro quo.

Students wandering around between classes and meals.

The day has ended on a happier note though, as we introduced a few games into the afternoon’s session for the kids as they were starting to lose a bit of focus.  It certainly did a great secondary job of tiring them out, but I guess that’s what you expect when you invite a hyped up kid a kid to punch and kick a bag for as hard as they can and as long as they can (and the winner surprised us with his efforts (5min and 39 seconds).

Tonight after dinner it was off to the gym for stretching of some very tight muscles, which was very convenient as the tournament continued to kick on until 11.00pm right outside my window.  Lucky for me I guess, but not so for the permanent students of the school who wake up every day at 5am and get to bed at 10pm.  But thanks to the fact that their days include only martial arts training (8hrs of it) with no academic teaching (eg maths, history, geography, world events), they’ll never know any better.

Myself and my instructor Master Dan Pinkowski with some of the local students.

Day 4

July 6, 2011 at 1:42am

As all of the kids were losing enthusiasm for the 6am tai chi (in fact they were losing enthusiasm for 6am ANYTHING) we decided to mix it up for them today and do a hike instead.  So we headed up on a hike/marked walk to Boddhidarma’s Cave, which we soon found was 4km one way (and then the same back).  We didn’t get all the way there (given we only had an hour before breaky), but did reach some serious stairs at which the girls bailed as did our instructor while Bryan and I took the 3 younger lads to find out what was at the top.  And surprise, surprise – it was a Temple.  But I’ll admit it was a very nice one, and not an area that we’d had the chance to explore on our organised tour.  From the temple we did get a good view up the mountain though, and on the top is a huge Thai-designed Buddha which we are thinking of exploring on Friday (we need to see how the kids might fare).

Unfortunately the training room space became an issue again today, as we were forced to train for 40min outside this morning (luckily the rain stopped overnight for us).  In the afternoon it got a bit more heated when one of the local coaches tried to encroach on the section we were already using.  This got our instructor up in arms, and a subsequent exchange between Bryan and one of the coaches let to some not-so-nice cursive words being exchanged in Chinese.  And if that’s didn’t ruin today’s mojo enough, someone from the afternoon training session seemed to take liking to my staff and felt they enjoyed it more than I did.  Seems the Buddhist concept of Karma was lost on them.

Master Dan about to apply one of his not-so-comfortable arm locks.

But that’s not to say the day wasn’t enjoyable in the training sense. Far from it, as we got into playing with the Chinese fans and all the ways you can utilize it in a self-defense situation.  Just like the other weapons we are learning our Hapkido forms in, one of the Kungfu students was happy to show us bits of the WuShu equivalent for the fan.  This particular fellow – a university student from US, is an American born Chinese and works over at the school during the summer break.  And as we found out he not only kicks ar$e – he kicks ar$e for the Lord.  The t-shirt he was wearing on our first day here showed a great mix of faith in The Father and faith in the fist with the great slogan “Black Belts for Bible”.  Or maybe he wasn’t religious at all,  and just happened to be advertising a martial arts swap-meet - set of nunchucks for a crucifix, anyone?.

The fun stuff for the kids didn't stop at the hike, as we also had a great session photographing their flying side kicks.  It was certainly funny watching myself and Bryan trying to launch our bodies in a horizontal motion towards a hanging bag in a way that resembled anything G-rated (think Horror movie genre). I'd be more than happy to share my embarrassment, but the pics are stuck on my normal camera until I'm back in Beijing (damn shame that :-)

The day ended for the kids with a scavenger hunt around the temple and school grounds.  The scavenger hunt did have an early wrap-up though as one child came back in tears and another one nearly didn't come back at all (she got a bit lost).  Luckily though all was fixed with 2 Milky Ways and a stern talking to the other team who used some not-so Buddhist techniques to assist in their game plan (like pushing over one of the opposing team's members).  Again, KARMA, people.  It's got a mean bite.

The school tournament in full swing.

Day 5

July 7, 2011 at 2:40am

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A short report today, thanks to a rainy day which brought alot of people inside and stretched the training facilities yet again.  But there was still some good times.  This morning the kids slept in as did the Instructor owing to a headache, leaving Bryan and I to get in some adventures around the area.  On our way out and about we came across a senior monk from the temple, standing in front of a video camera being operated by a junior monk.  Seems that they were doing a short presentation on pressure points, so the monk (whose English was quite good) came over and showed us a thing or two on our shoulders.  Then Bryan got the opportunity to be an extra in the show, which he thought was great at the time but is still feeling the results of the monk's finger work in his arm.  We think that news of some of our complaints (facility access, air con) have spread outside the school and into the Temple, and that this guy (having recognised us) has given Bryan a delayed "Dim Mak Death Touch". 

Needless to say Bryan is living like there's no tomorrow, but nearly met his demise sooner as he took a slide on some slippery stairs tonight and landed on the corner of the stairs right into his back.  I almost heard the crack of his spine as I was standing 5 metres in front of him, as we were off trying to find a set of the school uniform in my size (which is proving hard).  I on the other hand have managed to develop a cold, so we are both hoping we are up for our last day of training tomorrow before we do our tour on Friday.

Tomorrow the kids are off to spend the day being taught Kung fu by the master of the school, while the three adults are planning on doing a day of Wing Chun and hoping to span the breadth of the Chinese fan (which makes an innocuous yet very handy self defense weapon we've found).

The rain did mean we had to cancel the after dinner activity for the kids that they seem to be enjoying (decathlon tonight, Shaolin-style).  We did though come across a hidden training location just off the path in the ruins of an old building while doing the activity scouting.  Two 'punching' bags filled with heavy dirt hanging from a metal frame (good for thickening that knuckle skin) and mats propped up against concrete walls.   With such a post-apocalyptic survivor's camp feel about it there could be more Mad Max spirit channelled tomorrow than Shaolin Warrior.

Another good day, and with only one more whole one to go before we finish up everyone is keen for a big push to the finish.

The kids at the gate to the Temple Road.

Easter in Yangshuo: Mudpacks, bicycles and the Aussie burger that wasn't

Important Notes:  

• This trip took place in April of 2010 (Easter weekend) so this is a story very much "from the archives".  Where facts have been forgotten it is very likely they have been substituted with pure imagination.  The order of the sightseeing in some parts is also not as per the actual itinerary, but no opportunities to detail the full experience (as memory allowed) were harmed in the writing of this story.
• For anyone eagerly awaiting the 2nd part of the Xinjiang trip, this is not it.   The reason is that I am easily distracted and ...........OH! LOOK AT THE BUTTERFLY.
• While I am using a 'Blog' site to publish these travel stories they are by no means written in blog post-format (i.e. short and punchy).  The site was set up as a means to let our family and friends know about our time living in China, so for most part I go into a bit of detail where I can - and for anyone who's ever read one of my darts reports you'll know I find the pen mightier than the white-out.  If you find it too long to read, then I recommend the Golden Book series of kid's stories.
• I am prone in some posts to defer to the potty-mouth form of the written word.  If you are easily offended please refer my previous point on alternate reading options.

Having got a 4 day break from work over the 2010 Easter weekend we decided to make use of the time and head on way down south to enjoy some warmer weather and the sights around Yangshuo, an hour outside of Guilin in Guangxi Province.  Known as a westerner backpacker hangout long before the open door policy, we had heard that it sported a higher level of English among the tourist establishments than the usual R and R spots in China.  On this account we made the decision to do the trip without the safety net of an organised tour and guide - now this could get interesting.

Being on the border with Vietnam, Guangxi is also tropical ('ish) all year round, so while we were expecting an ever-green landscape we also packed the raincoats just in case.  A number of our friends had been before and come back raving about it but since then the drought had hit the area hard.  Nevertheless, even with the possibility that boats would be docked due to low river levels we had heard that the rafting business was still in full swing.  The area around Guilin has the reputation of being one of the most scenic places in all of China, with its many karst peaks resembling those along the shores of Halong Bay in Vietnam or dotted around the coast of Thailand. As we later found out, this area was considered to have the best rock climbing in all of China.  And if all else fails there was always the bike.  Indeed, after only a few hours we all agreed that in Yangshuo there is ALWAYS the bike.

Didn't take too long to have a bike incident.  Lucky it was just a slipped chain.

Shortly after we had booked the hotel and the flights a good friend of ours (Kaja) was keen to join us, so on the not-so Good Friday morning (thanks to a darts mini-hangover) we flew down to Guilin and after a quick minivan transfer organised through our hotel (The Snow Lion Inn) found ourselves in the beautiful area around Yangshuo.  Unfortunately our check of the weather leading up the the trip told us that the local  weather was forecast to be wet, wet, wet the entire 4 days we were there.  It was already very misty and shrouded in fog and brought back memories of HK, but we prayed that the weather bureau had it wrong and we'd see some blue sky during our days there (and thus see some evidence of this 'Supreme Being' that the good shepherds all talk about) .  And it worked, at least partially.  Rather than raining all day, every day it only rained in the morning for the first two days and stopped in the afternoons allowing us to plan some touring by private driver on the morning of the first full day and some bike time in the afternoon.

The place we had booked was a basic yet comfortable place only 5 minutes drive from the edge of the town on the river.  Friends had stayed there previously and recommended it, and while it did not have the 5 star service that some of the other places in town had it did have an Aussie Shiraz on the wine menu (cheap in price but surprisingly not in taste) and banana pancakes on the breakfast menu that have still not been beat.  OK, so there was a single phone on the entire 2nd floor located in the hall and our bath leaked clean water all over the place when the shower ran, but it's not like we planned to live there the entire weekend.  There was exploring to be had.

The area around Yangshou.  The karsts were an impressive feature of the landscape.

The Chinese Beet-Up
After setting in and unpacking the Guihots and accompanying Baloh made use of the bikes for hire at the hotel and rode the 15 minutes into town to have a look around.  We were all pretty hungry after the flight and 1hr transfer from Guilin, and having been recommended the hotel owner's sister bar in town for eating and a convenient taxi pickup place when needed we headed downtown to sit and do some people watching.

Being a westerner hangout I was not surprised to find an 'Aussie Burger' on the sister cafe menu, with promises of beetroot that would be a first in my time in China.  I was curious, and after passing over the other menu optionms was eventually convinced to roll the dice for a serve of 'The Aussie' to see how it stacked up.  Sadly though what came out was a burger condiment laughing stock, because while the burger looked a solid attempt on its own the VERY minuscule slice of beetroot on top made a lilliputian's belly button look like the Death Star from 50 metres.  WTF?  All I could do, and all I did do, was point at this sad excuse for a 'beetroot serving' and laugh at it for 5min before the waitress came and asked what all the shenanigans was about.  After a simple look at the size of the beetroot relative to something like, let's say, THE REST OF THE GODDAMN BURGER, she quickly connected the dots (which were bigger than the beetroot slice) and rushed off to raid the rest of the tin.

Where's the beetroot?

In the meantime we waited and watched the locals do their thing.  But as it happened there ended up being a bit of people watching in reverse, with one crafty local coming over to me while I was waiting for my "Aussie Burger with beetroot" to be legitimized and handing me a small paper cutout that he had made of my head profile.  One of those craft pieces that you fold out to see many of the same cutout shapes all joined.  Seems he had been watching me from afar, all the while being quick on his scissors and cutting skills in the hope of selling his art and making a buck.  Unfortunately I wasn't buying on that day, but he did decide to give it to me anyway.

The side profile cutout that opportunity built.

The night brought the opportunity to wander the town, where we ran into two other couples from the Embassy in Beijing as well as overhearing a number of other Aussie accents around the place.  Very apt then that the night was topped off with pizza on the top balcony of a corner hotel with a bottle of red (notwithstanding the fact we had to return the first bottle, because it tasted like it had been cellared in the yumcha steamer).

Chain Ringin' In The Rain
The 2nd day we woke up to some mild drizzle and so decided to book a car through the hotel to take us out to see some of the sites.  Our first stop was to Moon Rock just outside of town, which as we soon discovered through the intrepid adventures of two cabeneered tourists offers some of the best rock climbing in China.  Sporting a guide book that described the Moon Rock ascent options on one page and listed warnings and dangers on the other they were more than happy to talk as they scouted out their path.  So while they started up the side of the rock before park guides wandered past we took in the vistas with some pics before heading off to take in the staple cruise down the Li River on two-seater bamboo rafts.  This is an experience worthy of the effort, because the section of river used is no long, flat section.  Along the travelled stretch there are a series of small dam walls that your rafting guide needs to shove you over and slide you down so it makes for a wet trip, not taking into account the additional drenching coming from the rain. And if the drops, thrills and near spills get your heart rate adrenaline going too much then you only need your raft guide to pull alongside one of the many floating bars down the river for a travelling Tsing Tao - you'll then have an instant dose of liquid courage to see you through to the end.

From the top of Moon Rock

Reece and Kaja about to head over one of the walls along the river. 

Coming up to one of the mid-river pubs and pop-up restaurants.

That evening we managed to get tickets to a local show that used the area's karsts as a backdrop to a spectacular light show.  Conceived by the artistic director Zhang Yimou who composed the opening and closing ceremonies for the 2008 Beijing Olympics it was an ANU Performance Art graduate's wet dream in some parts.  The lights and lasers went crazy, the singing was loud and Chinese proud, but overall it was a good night out on what ended up being a cool and still damp night.  And it wasn't without an olfactory link back to nature either, with the smell of the local Mary Jane wafting through the air thanks to some nearby ganga smoker.  Seems like someone was taking the traditional medicine approach to relaxing the legs after a long day of Yangshuo sight-seeing.

The Li River at healthy water levels, enjoyed by Maddy and Amy.

Lost on the Li
Sunday was CHOCOLATE TIME, so after fueling up on Easter eggs we went into town, grabbed some bikes and started to check out the trails along the river.  But no REAL cycling adventure is complete without getting lost, and lost we got.  I vaguely remember us having a map, then realising the map didn't have the detail we required, and before we knew it we'd decided to do a loop rather than backtrack to town and found ourselves in a small village at the front door of one family's home who were offering to invite us in and cook up a feast.  Food, yes, but not now.  Because we also found ourselves at a dead end off we went again and 5 minutes later found ourselves riding along a very narrow (50cm) elevated dirt mound that acted as the separator between fields of rice.  It was looking like an accident waiting to happen, and surely the slipping and sliding began in the wet weather as Amy first slid sideways down the mound and needed to be fetched out of the rice paddy.  Then it was Kaja's turn not 50m further up the proverbial goat track that we all agreed was unsuitable for riding when you have a kid on the back.  But she did a superb job, and found the deepest muddy pool on the ride to have a swim and a lie down in.  Photos were taken, laughs were had, and the collective eyes of the Guihot family were averted as Kaja did a quick change of shirts in a paddock in Yangshuo.

Kaja pointing out where we ended up, after a bike offski.

It was during this eye diversion that we spotted coming our way along the path a well dressed young Chinese lady carrying a parasol.  By all looks a lady of the city, she was wandering along in one-inch deep mud as one would wander through an upmarket Beijing shopping mall in Summer.  Seems that she had decided to do a long walk solo, and was as eager for directions back to town as we were.  Luckily for us a mental toss of the coin (i.e. a call of 'Eeny meeny miny MOE') saw us all head off in the same direction which also ended up being the right direction.  A few turns and a few 'undulations' later (mountain biker's talk for long, grinding hills) we were back in Yangshuo and having to explain to the lady at the bike renting outlet that the bikes were in a state that did indeed constitute 'fair wear and tear'.  Lucking we had a 11yo blond child with us (Maddy) which can often be a sweetener in such affairs so with a smile and a handshake we dropped our rented velocipede steeds with her for a sacrifical burning and headed into the KFC next door covered head-to-toe in mud. Stares were exchanged, glances were cast, and I may or may not have been mistaken at least once for Bear Grylls so much was I covered in muddy filth.  But care we did not.  All we cared for was something hot covered in herbs, spices and alot of salt.  Mission accomplished.

Back at the hotel after the long trek we were happy to just kick back and enjoy a hot shower and dinner in the restaurant. We were well and truly spent, but with another day to go before we headed back we decided to make the best of it and planned for a loner ride down alongside the river to a small village around 20km away.

Annnnnnnd the bloody rain came back over night.  By the following morning the route we took, a dirt road, was inches deep in clay'ish mud for 30-40 metres at a time in some parts.  At times we again lost our way, and relied in Kaja's Chinese to ask directions from village locals who were kind enough to direct us on our way.  Huge kudos to Kaja here, whose Chinese is way better than what she gives herself credit for especially when she was dealing with the southern Chinese twang to Mandarin.

Amy and Kaja feeling the humidity. 

Maddy doing it Crane-style

After we finally arrived and enjoyed a hot lunch and beverage Amy and Maddy decided to opt for the river boat back to Yangshuo, so it was up to Kaja and I to ride as fast as we could to try and beat the girls back to the hotel.  And I think we may have done it.  We may have brought back the other half of Yangshuo's farming top soil clinging to our bodies in the form of mud but we were has happy as the proverbial pig in shit. A great way to spend the day, and a great way to end the trip as we jumped in showers, packed bags, settled accounts, explained the poor state of the hotel's hire bikes to the receptionist before absconding in a taxi to the airport before we were asked to pay for a complete overhaul of the bike wheel bearings.

A full-body mud pack, with added Chinese soil 'nutrients'.

Some of the picturesque scenery around Yangshuo.

All up it was a great weekend, and one of the best we had in China made even more fun thanks to being able to share it with one of our friends we made in Beijing.

Xinjiang (Part 1): Where Han Chinese meets Islam on Texas Tea (but all is not well in the well)

Important Notes:  

• This trip took place in May of 2010, so this is a story very much "from the archives".  Where facts have been forgotten it is very likely they have been substituted with pure imagination.  The order of the sightseeing in some parts is also not as per the actual itinerary, but no opportunities to detail the full experience (as memory allowed) were harmed in the writing of this story.
• While I am using a 'Blog' site to publish these travel stories they are by no means written in blog post-format (i.e. short and punchy).  The site was set up as a means to let our family and friends know about our time living in China, so for most part I go into a bit of detail where I can - and for anyone who's ever read one of my darts reports you'll know I find the pen mightier than the white-out.  If you find it too long to read, then I recommend the Golden Book series of kid's stories.
• I am prone in some posts to defer to the potty-mouth form of the written word.  If you are easily offended please refer my previous point on alternate reading options.

Two donkeys.  One more excited than the other.  Kashgar Sunday market.

Imagine, if you will, a rectangle concrete pit, 1.5m wide by 3m long by 1.5m deep.  In the bottom of this pit is around half a meter deep of human (and likely animal) excrement, rubbish, and possibly an animal carcass or two thrown in for good measure.  A pleasant smell by no means.  Width-ways across the top of this pit are eight planks 15cm wide and spaced 30cm apart - old, weathered planks which creak and flex when you finally build up the courage to shuffle yourself along them into the middle (as you are required to do).  Welcome to the concept of a public toilet, Southern Xinjiang-style. In our previous travels around China we'd seen a few dodgy latrines (including our Tengger Desert experience I wrote about in a previous post) but this one was EXTRA special.  It's one of those times where you really want to know your 'neighbors' (meaning the guys squatting on the boards either side of yours) because you end up baring more than your soul to them.  The need to maintain balance and pray for the planks not to break at the same time are number one and two priority respectively - even for a man of little religious faith like me.  Human dignity flashes before you, as does the pit toilet scene from Slumdog Millionaire.  And while we came across this lavatorial "throw-together" in far south-west Xinjiang about 30km from the Tajikistan border, we would have a whole new set of toilet encounters as we explored the Northern parts of China's western-most province - an area that offered up a vast array of cultural experiences and memorable moments for good and not-so-good reasons.

South by South-West
Our plan was a few months in the making.  We had organised a private tour with Amy's parents to Xinjiang, China's western-most province (or in this case an Autonomous Region), through one of Beijing's local expat tour companies which would give us the ability (or so we thought) to have a say in the itinerary along the way.  Our schedule was to take us the most south-western and north-western parts of Xinjiang, which is something that most local companies don't offer in their group tours in a single trip because of the distances between them (unless the group tour was a week or longer).  Yunnan had actually been our first choice for our big trip with Amy's folks, but with most of the province in the grip of a big drought at that time we decided to change plans and head west instead.

I personally found Xinjiang is like no other place in China.  Even though many other provinces are struggling to deal with the consequences of the Central Government's drive towards economic progress, over in the west the tensions were more visible and were more often than not ready to boil over at any time.  In Xinjiang, more than in any other province of China, the gap between the culture of the ruling Han nationality and the larger of the local ethnic 'minority' population (the Muslim Uyghurs) seemed to us a huge, insurmountable challenge.  As we would find out, it's more than just a case of sweet and sour pork eaters on one side, and non-pork eaters on the other (although that in itself creates issues that do impact people's career choices, as we would discover).  And with little desire to compromise on either side of the divide the solutions are not coming any time soon.  It does make for one very interesting melting pot.  From an economic perspective all this action is happening on some of China's biggest oil and petrochemical reserves, which accounts for a large proportion of the local economy.


Kashgar ('Kashi')
Our first stop on the Xinjiang Tour (aside from a transfer at Urumqi) was one of China's western-most cities and one that kind of epitomised the clash between the traditional ways of the locals and the drive for progress of the Chinese Govt.  Kashgar was my first real experience in a place primarily of Muslim residents and it was an amazing visual and cultural overload.  After the flight over it was getting on late so we checked into our hotel and had a good night's sleep in preparation for what was a busy few days of sightseeing.  Our first port of call on the Sunday morning were the renowned live animal markets.  The developing nature of the region was really shown in the drive out of town as we passed a whole line of people with only one or two pieces of livestock to sell heading the same way.  Once we got there and dodged the ubiquitous car-park seller of cheap trinkets we got to see the locals in action doing wheeling and dealing on all manner of animals.  This wasn't without the 'try before you buy' option either, with a test track available for the buyers to try out their prospective purchase of a donkey/horse/camel before parting with their cash or equivalent in mutton.  With the animals being slaughtered just next to where they were cooking it up there is no doubt that the kitchen of Gus' Cafe in Canberra looks hygienic in comparison, but if you could get over the sight of the blood pooling at your feet the lamb mince buns were a cracker (a bit like piroshki, for those familiar with Russia's answer to samosas).

The road to the markets.  Not the traffic hazards I'm used to.

Market staff holders making fresh lamb pastries.

After this we were off to check out some of the great architecture pieces of the area including the Tomb of the Fragrant Princess (Apak Hoja Mazzar) and parts of the city, including a stop over at the Kashgar Sunday markets which is the biggest market in the Central Asia region. Being on the silk road route Kashgar had for hundreds of years been the meeting place of traders from the east and those from the west and there was no shortage of this changing as our tour guide told us of the huge market that China was building with the various '...stans' over the western border.

Tomb of the Fragrant Princess (Apak Hoja Mazzar)

The bread from the region.  Note the patterns pressed into the base using the tool below.

A shop in the city centre selling the bread-pressing tool.  Notice all the different designs. 

The next day was to be a big one, with a planned 5hr minivan drive south-southwest from Kashgar along the Karakoram Highway.  This now famous section of road joins Kashgar in China with Pakistan and travels over the Karakoram Range at the western end of the Himalayas (both ranges separated by rivers).  The Karakoram Range has the highest concentration of mountains over 8,000m anywhere on the planet, so it was not surprising that even the drive up half way was long, at times slow, and required increasing consumption of water and sugar candy as we made our way up to 3,600 meters to a little reserve and tourist spot next to Lake Karakul in the shadow of Mt Muztagh Ata.  At this stage we were only approximately 30km from Tajikistan and 80km from Afghanistan, yet any concerns for our safety were not the result of the neighbours to the south.  For it was here that we met the 'PIT TOILET OF DOOM'.  I won't go into the details, except to refer you to the intro paragraph to this post and all the unwelcome visions that it brings.

 The road ahead on our trip up the Karakoram Highway.

Already completely awestruck by the location and the idea that some of the most unstable yet amazing places were only a few hours drive away it was only later that I discovered Amy's work colleague James had, in his youth (and in more stable times), done the full length of the highway from Kashgar to Abbottabad in Pakistan .  He regaled the stories of the locals along the way, which just reinforced my initials thoughts that this was one of my favourite places in China that we would visit in our 3 years there (and still ranks as Numero Uno).  And was I jealous much of the journey he had been able to take?  Hell yes.  And after seeing a story on ABC about this only a few weeks back (it's now Sept 2013) I only hope that one day there is enough stability in the region for me to be able to do the full stretch.  Glad it was not that particular trip though, as I started to feel the effects of the high altitude halfway back to Kashgar and copped a massive headache for my troubles.

Lake Karakuri (at 3,600m) with Muztagh Ata in the background (at 7,546m high)

Our last day in Kashgar was spending a bit of time wandering through the old city and checking out the Id Kah Mosque.  As we were wandering we came across a little musical instrument shop that sold a whole range of instruments with bone shards inlaid into the wood.  When it came to negotiating the price I was told by the shop attendant that I had to wait for the shop owner to return as he'd just ducked up the road for his middle of the day prayers.  He must have found them calming because he was happy to negotiate to a price I was happy with (which is unlikely to reflect how much less it is actually worth :-).  We finished the day and our time in Kashgar with a dinner at a local family's place where the pork was obviously scarce but the lamb kebabs were plentiful and we really got into the local bread and yogurt.  The bread, seemingly made without yeast, looks similar to what a very deep dish pizza base would look like except that the base was thin and dotted with holes using a special tool that is the right arm of any local baker.  This section of the town was at this time starting to be demolished by the Chinese Govt in the name of progress.  There were huge protests being run by the locals who wanted to stay in their traditional houses, but with the Chinese Govt sighting fire risk issues as a reason for the demolition (something that we felt was valid upon our tour) it was not looking good for the stayers.  A year later when we were back in Beijing we heard that progress had won out at the end of the day, and the old city was gone and the land ready to be refilled with new apartments.

Worshippers milling around the front steps of the Id Kah Mosque in Kashgar, after coming out of prayer.

The Kashgar Sunday markets.  All those middle eastern designs, but mostly made in China methinks. 

Kashgar Old City.  Definitely not firetruck friendly, but still sad to see it gone.

This demolition of the old city was but one of the flash points between the ethnic Uyghurs and the Han Chinese in Kashgar, but it certainly wasn't the only issue seething beneath the surface.  In addition to the continued fight for independence among certain groups we discovered through our tour guide that there were basic barriers to progress for the locals that looked unlikely to ever be resolved.  Our tour guide in Kashgar (Abdul) was from his own description 'a relaxed Muslim'.  We discovered over subsequent mornings that this meant he preferred the free buffet breakfast our hotel offered him (a usual deal for tour guides in China) in lieu of morning prayer.  In discussions with him about the excellent level of English he displayed it it came to light that he had actually learnt his English when attending university in the provincial capital Urumqi, where he was 'roomied up' with an American student for 4 years.  Abdul had graduated with a double degree, but when he applied for and got offered jobs it was with big Chinese companies in the East.  It seems though that while the Chinese are keen to get the minorities better integrated it does not yet extend to changing any of the usual Chinese traditions or catering for the ones of the minorities.  Pork is still the main dish at Chinese company work lunches, alcohol is the oil that lubricates the machine of business deals, and any thought of giving their fellow countrymen time off during the day to do prayers was not on the table.

So Kashgar was done, and it was time to head back north.   Plenty still awaited us, including one surprise that I'd have been happier leaving there.

Next post: 
Xinjiang Part II - Kazakh interludes, long car rides and the week-long diarrhea smackdown from hell (the last two which do not travel well together).

The Free Market Sucker-Punch

It was a game that I had played many times since moving to Beijing, and one that I knew would be played out again today.  The aim of the game for me seems simple – track down a particular recipe ingredient that, while not part of the usual Chinese fare, isn't exactly a rarity in most supermarkets in the west.  My opponent was none other than the Beijing food market – a crafty foe who has taken down many past contenders simply by wearing them down and forcing them to throw the towel in through sheer exhaustion.  In the war of attrition that is western grocery shopping in modern Beijing, the need to visit 4 or 5 different supermarkets to get a list of 10 ingredients is a well-known pain in the arse (whereas you can probably buy a 10kg of MSG from your tailor).  Adding to this is the unstable nature of the local western supermarket supply lines – just because you saw a shop selling something last week, doesn’t mean they are going to be selling it next week.  In a model reminiscent of “whatever falls off the back of the truck”, it’s less menu planning and more pot luck.

The foodstuff Quidditch snitch I was chasing this time around were a couple of smoked trout.  In Oz we don’t need to go too far to find these – Australian’s uptake of these ‘gourmet foods’ that go well with wine ensure that sellers are a dime a dozen at the local Canberra plaza.  BUT transfer this to Beijing, where smoked trout is but one of many supposed foreign foods vying for shelf space in shops wanting to cater to all expats, and it was always going to be a hard slog to source.  So with the list of all local foreign shops in my mind and a route marked out with the precision of a mountain biking rogaine race plan I headed off to my first (and hopefully last) stop – a local market with a few foreign food stands and seafood mongers. After coming up empty handed at the deli I bit the bullet and approached one fish store to ask if they had trout, only to have the store owner grab his net and pull out a 3kg live version from a filthy fish tank behind him.  It was about as fresh as I was going to get (notwithstanding the opaque colour of the water), but the only smoke that this fella was getting was from the cigarette still hanging out of the store owner’s mouth.

So t'was back on the bike, and off to the supermarket below our old apartment block where I found smoked salmon, smoked spiced mackerel fillets, smoked cheese, smoked tofu and lots of Chinese smokes but not smoked rainbow. Ahh, fuck it!  The smoked herring fillets that Amy had bought yesterday as an ingredient backstop were looking inviting, especially as the afternoon wore on and the temperature headed back down to the minuses.

BUT NO GODDAMIT!  Beijing’s painfully dispersed, inefficient and hark-back-to-the-pre-open-door-policy-shopping-experience (where ex-pats could only get foreign goods at the Government-run ‘Friendship Store’, which was incidentally closed to Chinese nationals) was NOT going to get the better of me.  And as luck (or determination) would have it - HURRAH!  My next stop on my shopping tour of Chaoyang District hit pay-dirt, as (and I say this in my best David Attenborough voice) "I spotted the rare smoked trout in its natural habitat - a cold display cabinet".  I was bathing in retail success – the glory of having beaten the odds and finding all groceries I needed rather than waving the white flag and settling for Holy Mackerel (or take-away) instead.  2hrs for two smoked trout.

But like many times before when I’ve played this game I took my eye off my opponent lying on the canvas, thinking that the knockout was in the bag.  And again, one last dash of determination from my opponent and I was face-to-face with her sucker punch of exorbitant prices that left a sour taste in my mouth as bitter as any blood from a real last minute connecting uppercut (AU$45 for two trout – WTF?).  It’s that snide remark from a losing opposition that spoils your celebration.  It’s the painful leg sweep (which although illegal and caused his opponent to be disqualified) that put The Karate Kid out of finals contention in the All-Valley Karate Championships, even though he went on to win.   It’s one annoying part of Beijing I won’t miss.