Our first hard seat train in China was harder and straighter than a church pew. Toddlers in their crotchless trousers waddled up and down the center aisle of the train appearing to have enough training to restrain themselves. For sale in the passing vending carts was perhaps the worst beer I’ve had in the world, the American Pabst Blue Ribbon beer (voted best in 1895). We were tempted once before in Oregon by the ridiculously low price but we knew well enough not to try it this time. I guess the Americans are still trying to unload their 1895 stockpile on people that don’t know any better. Among the Pabst were a few egg flavoured cakes and biscuits – I can only assume this because there is always a basket of eggs featured on the package and some even showcase a cracked egg with raw yolk oozing out. Yummy! The hottest item, complete with three envelopes of flavouring and a fork, were the instant noodles that have been perfected in China. All trains are equipped with a hot water station, making instant noodles the most popular tea accompaniment.

Yummy Egg cakes

Yangshuo seems to be a big destination for tourists and for the first time on our trip, the local tourists outnumbered foreign ones. Somehow the Chinese tourists managed to look just as out of place as the foreigners despite being in their own country. Nestled in amongst hundreds of green haystack mountains, Yangshuo offers beautiful views and an endless amount of activities. The Chinese have a much different idea of a holiday than what we are used to. For example, floating down a river in scenic Yangshuo on a bamboo raft, we were photographed five times and ordered out of our raft to look at poor quality photos on a computer that was also floating on a raft in the middle of the river. We later passed by silk clad monkeys tied to a pole and a poor horse dressed up idiotically for those memorable photo opportunities. After floating by countless refreshment rafts, we got stuck in a bottleneck of about a dozen large rafts, each of which carried about ten tourists, a paddler and traditionally dressed girls singing into a megaphone. Each girl sang a different song to her group indifferent to the fact that they were no more than a metre away from each other.

The short hike up Yueliang Shan (Moon Hill), named for the crescent shape hole in a limestone rock, is worth it for the spectacular view alone. Also interesting to watch are the practices of the women selling cold drinks at extortionate rates out of their portable coolers. It seems that they operate together and each non Chinese person that climbs the hill is accompanied by one of these women who ask at every break in the conversation if you would like to purchase a drink. Despite having six litres of water between us for a mere twenty minute climb, they would not believe our claims that we did not require any additional drinks. We finally managed to shake two of our ladies when we were a quarter of the way up the hill by emphatically telling them that we will never buy anything from them, but one still pressed on. Ultimately Brett and I lost her by sprinting ahead, but our friend Nuria stayed back and eventually had to buy a coke just to be rid of her. Once we got to the top, we noticed that other tourists were not so lucky – some even had two following at close range.

Mud bath in Buddha Cave

With Anna as our guide, we cycled among the hundreds of limestone cliffs that rise up out of a sea of rice paddies. We had to cycle quickly past old ladies that would chase after us with postcards or fresh flower headpieces. They were beautiful, and would be lovely for a wedding but I couldn’t imagine what they thought Brett would do with one. The highlight of the day was the Buddha Cave which had so many incredible formations that varied considerably from chamber to chamber. We were helmeted and forced to surrender our shoes in exchange for ripped plastic sandals with little grip. We were debating the reasoning for this in the rocky and sometimes slippery cave until we had clambered down several meters to an underground river that led to our favorite chamber, the healing mud pool. We stripped down to our bathing suits and waded through the slimy mud avoiding sharp hidden rocks below and having more fun than a couple of water buffalos wallowing on the roadside. Just as we were heading back into town, the rain started and didn’t let up for the next two days. It was Brett’s birthday that night and he was spoiled with two pizzas and a cake from a local bakery. I wasn’t sure what I was going to be getting as the bakery staff tried to explain to me that they didn’t have chocolate, but only one flavor which was a mixture of milk and fruit. I pictured some sort of pudding but it turned out perfectly – the milk was cream, the cake was sponge and the dog that I asked for lounged across the top in spectacular whip cream formation.

Milk & fruit birthday cake

Stocking up on instant noodles, lychees and egg flavoured twinkies, we hopped onto another train, this time in a hard sleeper to Xi’an. We chose the top bunks in a stack of three which provided ample room as long we remained horizontal. For the twenty eight hour trip we spent most of our time either sleeping or reading in our bunks and drinking tea as we gazed out the window from the jump seats opposite the bunks. We had to share the seats with a scowl-faced bunk mate who remained fixed at the window. If we ever both managed to acquire the precious seats we’d be sure to lose them as soon as we got up to get some hot water or go to the toilet. That night we went to sleep while lush green haystack mountains and rice paddies whizzed by and awoke to arid orange gorges as deep as the mountains were high behind them. No matter how unsuitable the farming conditions, ever inch of land seems to be utilized and from the train we could see meager plots right beside the tracks and winding all the way up the mountains. We arrived in Xi’an soon after the sun had set and found that the landscape had changed once more, this time to a flat developed city.

Uh oh, I think we're next

That night on a stroll through a park in Xi’an we stumbled across a large crowd congregated around a Chinese building enraptured with a woman singing. We lingered, taking a couple of photos when a man came up to us and started speaking to us excitedly. We decided that he was explaining what the event was all about and nodded appreciatively. We tried to move on, but he insisted that we come over to the steps where we could get ringside seats. People moved aside for us to sit down and it was then that I noticed that everyone around us had sheet music. Nodding and giving the thumbs up sign, we thought that we were commenting favorably on the performance. When the last act was over, two microphones were thrust into our hands and we were brought out into the center of a crowd which seemed to have grown larger. After we were given an introduction in Chinese, the crowd went silent and all eyes were on us. Unsure of what was expected, we decided to sing the only song we both knew all the words to – our national anthem. It is so much longer than I remember. When we finally finished croaking out our pathetic duet we attempted to give the microphones back to no avail. Our coaches were humming an unfamiliar tune and encouraging us to sing something specific. Finally after a couple of shrugs and a quick “thank you” to the applauding crowd, we managed to ditch the microphones and escape. As we made a clumsy exit we obliged one of our fans who wanted her photo taken with us.

China is a place where it is unthinkable to leave your chopsticks sticking upright in your rice and beckon with your palm up, but where shoving, burping, spitting and nose picking appear to be socially acceptable for all occasions. Overcoming these idiosyncrasies in restaurants while minding our manners, we have managed to fall in love with Chinese cuisine – particularly the dumplings, herbal teas and noodle dishes. We are looking forward to tasting Peking Duck but will save the delicacy for its founder city, Beijing.

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