Stupid weather. That one nice afternoon the day I last wrote? The
only one I've seen my whole time here. And it is NOT warm. At all.
It is simply above freezing. Unfortunately, since most of the time
this town is more temperate, most places (restaurants and bars) don't
bother to turn on any heat, except maybe at night when they get more
traffic. The "internet bar" (no food, no bar, just a water cooler)
where I'm at now has no heating ever, and the presence of many other
people doesn't really seem to be helping all that much, it's too big a
room, high ceilings everywhere, they probably make it all much more
comfortable in the summer...
The one concession to the need for warmth is the prevalence of little
charcoal burners. Go into a restaurant for breakfast and they'll pull
a small bucket filled with burning charcoal over to the table, and
it's common to see the hawkers outside huddled under big umbrellas
around concave trays supporting a nice little blaze. While the rain
comes down. It's cold and gray and wet and getting to me.
A few days ago, when it was just gray, not raining, Shannon and I did
some exploring on our own, more or less along the same routes tourists
take, but not on a tourist boat or anything like that. We took a bus
north to Xing Ping, a smaller town that serves as a jumping off point
for much of the prettiest, or at least most thoroughly named,
mountains in the area. From there we walked through town and found
the way out into the country along the river.
It was a nice, long walk. We had passed through at least one village
when we came to an old irrigation aqueduct. We decided to follow it
out to the river, which was a good distance away by now, at least a
quarter mile, and, having reached the shore, decided to try to find
someone to take us across, so we could explore what looked to be an
undeveloped, cool, mountainous west bank, very different from the
flat, farmed, rural plain we'd been walking through.
The first boaters we met wanted way too much to take us across the
river, if they understood what we were asking, so we walked back to
where we thought we'd seen a bridge, which turned out to be power
lines. So we flagged down a passing bamboo raft and convinced the
boatman to give us a lift across. As soon as we got off he started
trying to keep us from going on on that side. We're still not sure
what he was saying, but managed to set off after giving him a few
yuan.
It was an interesting place, but we never did find a path, or even a
good exploratory route, into the hills. There were many recently
planted, small, young trees, which may have been part of a plan to
reduce erosion. There was also a point where the path brushed up
against the edge of the karst, which had all these strange shapes worn
into it, holes, dripping overhangs, upward jabs. And plenty of thorn
bushes of varying types and sizes scattered liberally about.
Eventually we reached a point where the path seemed to end and,
surprisingly, the boatman who had taken us across in the first place
came along to take us back. It seemed that, beyond being inexplicably
concerned for our well-being on that side of the river, he also wanted
to give us a personal boat ride. I don't blame him, it is his job,
but at the same time, we were both more than ready to get out and
explore and get some exercise, neither of us had much interest in
sitting in a boat while someone else paddled. If he'd let us paddle
or pole it, we might have considered it, but just sitting and getting
cold when we could be walking, nah.
He let us off and we headed back to the road we'd been on earlier. On
the way back inland we ran into a couple young girls with surprisingly
good English who may have been inviting us in for lunch, or maybe
trying to get us to buy some. Whichever, we didn't, although we did
finally see the animals that had been leaving the big piles of
unexplained poop that we'd noticed walking in. They looked kind of
like a cross between a donkey (coat and size) and a water buffalo
(shape and horns).
Upon reaching the road we took it as far as it went, which wasn't that
much further. It ended at a few buildings that looked related to the
electric lines heading across the river there. A path continued over
the wall, but, as another guy who came up to dissuade us pointed out,
it ended not too much further along. But that guy did tell us that
there were a couple paths going up the hill above us, one halfway up,
one to the top. It being fairly late in the day, we gesturingly asked
him to show us the way to the middle path. He took us up it, and we
stopped at a collection point for bundles of firewood. I looked like
the villagers came up to this part of the hillside, chopped down small
trees and shrubs, and collected it into bundles there to be taken down
as needed.
The place had a great view of a bend in the river, and we spent some
time there, watching big, noisy, tourist boats go upriver. That was
kind of depressing, they seemed so unnecessary, especially with the
low tourist traffic this time of year, and so bad at going upriver.
Engines straining, polluting, loud, ugly, oog. I went a ways further
along the path, but went back before too long. The guy told us that
the path ended with a sharp drop downwards, which looked believable,
so we didn't walk to the edge to find out.
It seemed like he was a cool guy, not doing anything so showing us
around, but when we got to the bottom of the hill he started asking
for money. Which is what I hate about tourist economies in developing
countries. It seems like everyone wants money, sees you as a source
of money, and if you don't spit some at on command you're not doing
your job. Very frustrating.
Earlier today I was sitting over a coal pot in a restaurant and
reading when a guy came over and sat down at the table. I'd been
there for a while after finishing breakfast, quiet, reading, by the
door just enjoying the atmosphere, and helping make sure the door
(most of which are sliding) was shut when people went in and out. And
it turned out he just wanted to talk. His English was very good, and
we talked about sports, the Olympics, where he's been in China, what
we're doing, and some basic US colonial history. I think I taught him
some new words and refreshed him on some other advanced vocabulary.
It was fun and helped cancel out the unpleasant feeling of having so
many people asking me to buy or give money. And then this afternoon a
couple shopkeepers invited me in to look at their wares, and were
content to just show me around after I made clear that I'm looking for
a job and had no way to buy anything. Although later on, there are
lots of nice potential gifts. It's nice to be able to see them as
that, rather than having the constant pressure to buy that is so
frequent and thoroughly devalues the craft of making the various
objects on sale, turning it to meaningless tourist kitsch.
The walk back to Xing Ping was long and pleasant. There's a peace in
the villages here that's uncommon in the towns and cities. The people
obviously don't have much money, but they're surrounded by fields,
growing plenty of healthy-looking green matter, and seem fairly
content seated around fires in the village store, surprised to see
white people, friendly and curious. In some ways I wish that I could
get a job teaching and living in a small village like that, despite
the hardships I'd undoubtedly have to endure (no hot, probably no
running, water, no heaters/air conditioners, no local computer access,
minimal teaching resources). Unfortunately, there's no way for that
to be financially practicable, the best I can do is to occasionally
volunteer to teach somewhere like that, once I have a job.
All right, my feet are frozen and my fingers are stiffening. And I'm
blanking on what else there is to mention right now. Other than that,
after recovering from that first stomach bug, I've got something
that's causing minor diarrhea and Shannon's had something rather worse
(not than my first one, but than simple travel diarrhea). Yesterday a
guy who's hoping to employ him at a school here took him to the
hospital, where he got an IV and antibiotics. He's feeling better
now. I'm still good overall, but will be happy when this passes. Yay
travel diarrhea! At least I'm neither surprised nor distressed at its
occurrence. Okay, enough for now.
