Due to a combination of a three-day weekend and our amazing foresight as teachers to ask for an extra day off on either end of said weekend, my co-teacher Andrew and I were able to escape the increasingly warm and humid confines of Shenzhen to journey out into the Chinese countryside. Our destination was Guangxi Province, one of China’s poorer and a neighbor of Guangdong to the northwest. After a seemingly interminable 20 hour bus ride punctuated by a 2 hour traffic jam and 4 hours waiting in the middle of nowhere for repairs, we arrived late afternoon into Yangshuo, a backpacker center of China.

Yangshuo sits in the midst of a region famed for its geographic features, namely the large karst mountain landscape that pocks the land. This large limestone monoliths tower up over the cities and countryside, lending an impressive feel to everything. Our first day involved settling into a hotel just of the Xi Jie, or West Street, the center of the tourist trade in Yangshuo. From here we explored the city and come night time ventured a little farther afield in search of good street food. Our efforts met with success, culminating in Andrew and I sitting at a table under a tent with an Austrian named Wolfgang and two Chinese men while a teenage girl played songs in Chinese. This was all precipated by the request of the Chinese men to take a picture of us ‘laowai’ (foreigners) and then we invited them for a ‘ganbei’ (cheers). This is the course of many of my social interactions here. It was a pleasant nice and despite our insistence on getting the bill, one of the Chinese men was kind enough to cover the costs.

Day two we hastened to make our plans to leave Yangshuo and penetrate further into the countryside. With our bus tickets to Guilin in hand, we killed off the remaining few hours with a quick hill climb of one of the karst peaks in central Yangshuo, followed by a frantic, manic, two-hour bike tour of the sites south of the city. We were a source of amusement for many slow-peddling Chinese tourists as we breezed by with bells chiming and calls of ‘Laowai lai!’ or “Foreigners coming!”. In our haste we saw a number of the famous formations for which the region is famed in China while successfully dogding aggressive tour bus drivers to make it back in time for our bus. Once in Guilin, we made the easy switch to a bus bound for Longsheng, a small town straddling a river.

We arrived after nightfall and, upon checking in, took to the streets to explore. A carnival filled the town square and we watched the Chinese play games for a bit before stumbling into a bakery which had a charming upstairs full of benches suspended from the ceiling overlooking the main floor. The next morning we set out early for Longsheng National Park, a couple hours out. As our minibus gradually filled up, we found ourselves pushing into the rural backwoods of China, passing Zhuang villages with their wooden houses and women walking down the road in traditional garb.

We disembarked at the park, paying a light toll to cross the long, swaying suspension bridge that goes over the Sang River, a direct drop of 150 feet. From there the trail wound along the hillside before pushing up into a valley, following a streambed. After some time we stumbled into a small farm, pushing through the open gate and walking amidst the rice paddies terraced onto the hill. Above was a traditional wooden home and we made for it, hoping to contact the owners before reaching the door. Making our way up, we met a woman working the fields who invited us to sit down and have a rest. We gladly accepted the offer and peeked in her home.

The woman asked if we wanted to stay for lunch and we agreed to. She showed us around the house, which was three-tiered. The base level was largely opening, containing the bathroom (or something approximating one) as well as stalls for a pig and some cows. The mid level held the rooms, while the upper was a large open area for storage and work. Here she had a whole room filled with rice as well as another one that was above the kitchen filled with dried meat which smoked as she cooked meals. Outside was a small woodworking area, as well as a tiny mill which could generate electricity when activated. Her setup was wholly impressive and everything she needed she had herself on hand.

We joined her in the kitchen, squatting down on our six-inch high stools and watching her work a wok over the open fire set in a hole in the concrete floor. Her cat joined us, sniffing out the food and making its presence felt. Ultimately we were treated to a minor feast, filled with coarse rice in a soup, some fried vegetables and some of the smoked cow meat she had. It had one of the most exquisite flavors I have ever seen from meat, simply fantastic. As we ate she plied us with som mijiu, a rice-based liquor brewed at home in the mountains. We gave scraps to the cat as we did our best to speak with her in Chinese, finding out that her daughter is away at school in Guilin and her husband is out today chopping wood. My pocket dictionary was a great ally for the day.

With heavy hearts and full stomachs we set out several hours after we had arrived, making our way back down to the road. The woman accepted the cash we offered her, though did not ask for any from us. Her hospitality was amazing and the overall experience truly unforgettable, a completely different side from the China I know here in Shenzhen. On our way past the road we skirted around a troop of monkeys who took a liking to my walking stick but otherwise let us be. Back down at the road, we stopped a few cars before hitching a ride back into Longsheng with two guys in a van. Back in town, we offered to pay them but they refused and we made our way back to the hotel before settling into the swinging chairs at the bakery once again. It was one of the most memorable days I’ve ever had.