New Cities, New Adventures

Xiamen, Gulang Yu, and Wuyi Shan, to be precise.

I've entered a new province, yet another to cross off my list. Right now I am in Fujian, just one up from Guangdong on the East Coast of China. According to Lonely Planet, Fujian doesn't receive very many tourists, which I think might have been their lame way of excusing themselves for having terrible terrible coverage of the area. It does receive a lot of tourists, they are just all domestic. I think I've glanced at about 5 other foreigners in total since leaving Guangzhou, and I haven't ventured as far as to talk to any of them. I figure that my time in solitude will come to an end all to quickly when I check into the Hostelling International youth hostel in Hangzhou, so I am enjoying it while it lasts. There is nothing quite like being alone with yourself and your thoughts. I'm really starting to settle into the rhythm of traveling alone. I'm moving away from doing the things that I "should" do in a place and started doing only what I want. Kind of like the way that I never visited the Great Wall when I was in Beijing. I can by sporadic or impulsive or lazy or irrational and no one can tell me otherwise. At first I had to keep telling myself that I didn't NEED friends, I didn't NEED people to talk to, but now I just sort of know it. I have my journal and my camera and amazing stories to tell, but sometimes I don't even want to. Today, for example, I spent the day in the most beautiful area I have found outside of Yunnan and I didn't bring a camera. I have no friends here with me to vouch for the experience and no proof that it ever happened - the experience is mine alone and always will be. The tourism industry, both in China and out, lends itself to a sort of frantic need to record every day, every event, in words and pictures and tshirts and key chains and coffee mugs. Without a souvenir or a picture, it's like the day never even happened. You might as well have no climbed to the top of that mountain if, without reminder or proof, you will forget it in the years to come. And I definitely buy into that. I keep a journal (not to mention a blog) for fear of forgetting and I usually take all the right pictures. It's easy to start feeling like you never even saw the valley or the river or city scape if you didn't take a picture of it. But what about this - maybe you never saw it if you DID, because you only really saw it through a lens?

I did take pictures of Xiamen, but I'm afraid due to the continuous rainy weather none of them turned out fantastically. I arrived bright and early one morning on the night train and spent a few hours finding a hotel. A few hours seems a bit excessive, but here's what I went through: There is a bus stop at the train station, but the bus that takes you across town to the ferry doesn't leave from that stop. Nooo, that'd be too easy. Instead you have to cross the street and walk a block and then will a #3 your way. Half an hour later, if you were paying attention and knew when to get off, you find yourself next to the river that divides you from Gulang Yu - the island off of Xiamen known for it's quiet, twisting cobble stone streets and colonial architecture. You figure all you have to do is find a ferry and it will take you across, and you unwittingly pay 15 RMB to a lady sitting under a sign that says "Gulang Yu Ferry". 15 RMB seems a bit steep, and you soon find out why. It isn't really a ferry, it's a tour. It doesn't take you directly to the island, it first takes you all the way around it all the while blasting a Chinese recording at you through a loud speaker explaining the island's scenic spots and history. An hour later, somewhat bedraggled from the crowds of domestic tourists running back and forth from one side of the boat to the other as the loud speaker instructed them, you arrive at the pier on Gulang Yu directly across from the pier that you just left. You are, however, pleased to discover that your ticket includes a free return trip, one that does not include circumnavigating the island.

I started wandering around, looking for a decently priced hotel. Turns out the only hotels that the locals know of that will even accept foreigners are fairly over priced, so I finally settle for the cheapest one I can find (at 180 RMB a night) located in the building that used to be a British Consulate. Let's just say the building had seen better days (or so I hope, for the Brits' sake). I spent the rest of the day wandering around Xiamen and returning to the train station to buy my ticket from there to Wuyi Shan. Xiamen itself is not to particularly amazing - more or less a small Chinese coastal city. I did eat dinner in a fairly fabulous restaurant called "The Music Kitchen". I assumed, having an English name and boasting of "Coffee" on it's front window, it might have some western food and maybe even an English menu. No such luck, but the menu did have pictures and I choose what turned out to be rice cooked inside of a pineapple with roast duck. Not too shabby.

The next day, I returned to Xiamen and took the bus down to the southern fringes of the town to see the beautiful Putoa Temple, and it really was amazing. It was located at the base of a mountain with various shrines and pagodas all the way. I wound up hiking up with two Chinese men who for some reason decided to see to it that I made it to the top ok. I decided that my best plan of attack would be to pretend that I spoke no Chinese at all. We had a mutual understanding that outside of sign language, we didn't understand each other and that was ok. Took all the stress out of communicating. Why had I not thought of this strategy before?? Once you show the slightest ability to speak Chinese, people tend to treat you like you are fluent and ramble off at light speed, all the while assuming you understand. Speak no Chinese, however, and the pressure is off! Sadly, I discovered that I suck at pretending to not speak. I first slipped up on our way down when a particularly large snail occupying not a snail shell but a shell from the beach went crawling across our path. The thing was the size of my fist and fairly disgusting looking. One of my male companions declared "hen hao chi!" (very delicious!). I gasped and gave him a horrified look. Woops. They started saying "ta ting dong!" (she understands!) and then started talking to me in Chinese, to which I responded with only a blank stare. Stick with it, I thought. You haven't lost yet. A few minutes later one stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow and asks me "Ni lei bu lei?" to which I respond unthinkingly "bu lei". Shit. Luckily the Chinese are not an awkward group of people and decided that my sudden decision to speak showed that they had achieved friend status. We took pictures together on the mountain, exchanged email addresses, and were on our way.

The rest of the day was spent on the island, a place I wish I'd spent more time. I have no exciting stories to report, but I can say that the island is amazing. It's filled with colonial style mansions surrounded by high stone walls and meandering cobble stones walkways. Closer to the harbor, there are a handful of touristy stores and even a Baby Cat cafe that sold western-ish dishes and amazing coffee. After hours of walking around and getting drenched in the pouring rain, I retired to the cafe for some coffee, dinner, and internet before making my way to the train station.

After another night train, I woke up this morning to find myself in Wuyi Shan - but I'll wait until later to write about today's adventures. For now, a night-time stroll along the river and a good night's rest awaits me.