Loco

The night train from Kunming to Guilin was a modern breezy affair with lots of shiny white surfaces and gray upholstery. We were on the top bunks of an open carriage, with our faces pressed up against the too cold air conditioning and our ears being constantly blasted with random music, including bizarrely the theme tune to Popeye (yes, the sailor man) sung by a troupe of Chinese school children. Occasionally the music would be interrupted by an announcement. But since the only words I know in Chinese at the numbers 1-20 and the ever-useful phrase “let’s have a party” I couldn’t really pick out much of any use.

Despite the sensory torture, Vicki and I were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves, having rocked up at Kunming station at 5am that morning with a vague notion of catching a train. I wouldn’t normally advise this sort of reckless behaviour, but one of the major problems with Chinese train travel is that there isn’t really a central booking system. While it’s possible to find timetables and get an idea of price from places like this (they have an excellent map), it’s rarely possible to buy tickets except at your point of departure.

Besides, our well-rehearsed routine of pointing and jumping (stick man on stilts, telegraph pole, dance party) only just got results in person so we didn’t fancy our chances of explaining 桂林 over the phone. We’d got lucky this time and managed to secure a berth on a train leaving that day, what a result.

The train was packed – as with everything else in China – and our hard sleeper berths, while not “hard” per say lacked in the way of headroom, so we ventured to the restaurant car for beer, a game of cards and a little nǐ hǎo. Here we made a handful of new friends, and sparked all manner of animated conversation among the railway staff, before retiring to bed for a blissfully peaceful sleep. This is where low carbon travel really pays for itself; where else would you be invited to play dice with old men over a cup of suspicious mushroom tea, or help an aspiring Mongolian poet improve his English vocabulary before retiring to a bunk where the train rocks you to sleep like a little environmentally friendly baby? I may not need to say it, but I am a fan of the sleeper train.

At 7am we were rudely awoken by the music once more – “I’m strong to the finish, cos I eats me spinach”, grrrr. I’ll admit that this part of bus and rail transport in Asia can be somewhat painful on the ears. But we consoled ourselves with a breakfast of fresh mango and spicy noodles (all Chinese trains have a hot water urn) as the train pulled up in Guilin station. Guilin is another “small” town by Chinese standards, with a mere 1.5 million inhabitants. I know I keep hammering this point, but China really is massive and full of people. I am from a small town, so I know one when I see it, and Guilin ain’t small. Because of this Vicki and I didn’t take the time to explore, but chose instead to board a bus at the railway station and continue our journey to Yangshuo on the Li River. Compared to it’s neighbour Guilin, Yangshuo is a mere dot on the map, and a lovely dot at that.

Surrounded by dramatic limestone peaks (karst if you’re into your topography, and frankly who isn’t?) Yangshuo looks like something out of Lord of the Rings, and though not populated by elves it was nearly as exciting. Chickens strapped on to the back of bicycles; eels, toads and dog on sale in the market, hundreds of bamboo rafts complete with sun umbrellas floating down river, a canal network running straight through the town. Granted there was ample neon, rip-off DVDs and novelty phones but we’re still in China afterall. I loved it.

From family dinners in an exceptionally friendly hostel and late night games of beer pong, to cooking lessons, and bikes rides, this 300,000 community was by far my favourite place in all of China. We had barely put our bags down before a member of staff burst in to invite us to float down the Li on some old inner tubes, before dragging us up to the rooftop bar to challenge the proprietor to a drinking game. We saw local boatmen dozing on their narrow boats with their domesticated cormorants, clambered around caves and had a mud fight in an underground pool. Vicki took to the skies in a hot air balloon, while I mastered the art of Liar’s Dice. I was having so much fun that I barely slept in 3 days, but the Russian visa was looming ever nearer and we were going to make it the 1000 or so miles to the border, we’d need to get our skates on. And so to Hong Kong.

Back to top