A Trip to Guilin – Part 1

Chinese often think of Guilin as heaven on earth. Steep and rugged limestone hills create a magical area of over 5,000 square kilometers, a seemingly endless succession of jutting exclamation marks with rivers, pastures, and occasional towns in the flat valleys below. Words cannot do justice to how awesome they really are.

Ten of us flew to Guilin for Easter break, leaving Macau on Wednesday afternoon for the 50-minute flight. Our group included seven of the nine Susquehanna students, an alumnus from SU’s Class of ’06, and an Anthropology professor – an American – at the University of Macau. (The other two SU students opted for a visit to the Philippines.) Guilin itself is a city of 800,000 in the northeast of the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, and a major attraction for both Chinese and international tourists.

Our guide, Chris Huang, met us at the airport and escorted us to our bus, a “Golden Dragon” 16-passenger model, piloted ably by Mr. Wong, a strong believer in the power of the horn. After a night in Guilin itself, we headed for our primary destination, the smaller city of Yangshuo, where outdoor recreation opportunities abound. River trips are available on large tour boats or tiny bamboo rafts. World-class rock climbing routes are everywhere, and several guide services are available to lead experienced climbers. There are even hot air balloon rides. And there must be thousands of bicycles for rent. The town itself features lots of shops with souvenirs and knockoff clothing, hotels, hostels, travel agencies, bars and restaurants, including Minnie Mao’s Café, a name that rather captures the East/West blend of the whole place.

On the way to Yangshuo, we joined the throngs on a tour through the Silver Cave, which was wonderful. Next we were taken to a “native village” where it slowly dawned on us that what we were witnessing was a remnant of three indigenous cultures. Each has been uprooted by the Chinese government from their original homelands and moved to the Guilin area. Basically, the peoples we saw have been reduced to dancing for tourists. In order for their unique and beautiful traditions and crafts to be “preserved for posterity,” the government has commercialized them. It was a sham, perhaps not unlike the way Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show depicted Native Americans in the U.S. 120 years ago. In retrospect we realized that our very presence contributed to the pretence, and wondered if a charade like this could be one of the travesties that native Tibetans hope to avoid. These seem like strong words, but I don’t want to be blithe about what we saw.

Today we joined 2,000 other tourists by the River Li for a Chinese opera of sorts, “Impression on Sanjie Liu,” created by Zhang Yimou, one of China’s most famous film directors. It was performed on the river – the world’s largest natural theater – by a cast of 600 hundred local actors. “Impressions” is a seven-chapter story of the Zhuang people, China’s largest ethnic minority, who for centuries have lived, worked, and loved in the Li River region of the province. It is a “must see” for any visitor.

After the performance I hoped to find some better hiking shoes than the smooth-bottomed and worn out tennis shoes I’d brought from the U.S. It had been raining every night and I knew we’d face slippery ground hiking on Friday even under the best conditions. To my surprise, even at 10 p.m., the entire shopping area (“West Street”) was in full swing, and I found a pair of hiking shoes and a pair of cross-trainers for a combined price of about $25!