Saturday, January 12, 2008

Tiger Leaping Gorge



11th - 13th April. Tiger Leaping Gorge, China.

I had never actually seen a gorge before, so I wasn't too sure what to expect. It was certainly impressive and beautiful, but bloody exhausting to walk through. At least I can feel good about myself exercise-wise for the next two to three weeks, before the guilt sets in again.

Tiger Leaping Gorge is a canyon on the Yangtze River, a contender for the deepest canyon in the world. It is named Tiger Leaping Gorge because of the legend that a tiger once leaped across it at its narrowest point. Looking at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain on the other side of the gorge, it looked like it was moving away from us - I felt like Brody on the beach in Jaws, but without the accompanying feeling of horror.

The first stop on our journey was the Naxi Guesthouse, run by a family of the indigenous Naxi people, who are the main inhabitants of the gorge. Whilst their hospitality was very warm, their guesthouse was not! We froze in the bedrooms and roasted in the showers, which had only one temperature - really fucking HOT! The food wasn't much better; during my stay there I was treated to some dry pitta bread masquerading as banana pancake, and some vegetable dishwater. Yum.

With my belly not quite as full as I would have liked, we set off the next morning, and against all odds, made it to the Halfway Guest House in a mere four and half hours, only slightly slower than the normal people!

And how happy I was, at this guesthouse, to find 'The Number One Toilet On Heaven and Earth'. Their words, not mine.

And at this point, may I just say - thank you Michael Palin! First of all, for the good times. You rock. Secondly for writing about the aforementioned toilet in your book 'Himalaya'. The Halfway Guesthouse staff were so chuffed about your review of their facilities that they have stuck it up on the wall of the restaurant. I happened to see it there, and being intrigued, just had to go and check it out for myself. And I was certainly not disappointed!

The toilet was what I had come to expect in China, a simple troth affair (four weeks ago I was still aghast at such things, does that mean I've progressed or regressed?). The difference with this toilet however, was that the fourth wall reaches just high enough to cover your lady and/or gentleman parts, before giving way to wide open space and a breathtaking view of this -



True, we'd been spoiled with fantastic views for the past two days, but compared to the views I was used to having in the toilet, this was appreciated a wee b
it more.


Reaching the end of the trek, we looked forward to reaching the fabled Walnut Garden, a magical place that so enchants travellers that they forget the outside world and stay on for days or even weeks. Imagine our surprise then when we found not this wonderland we had been promised, but instead a quite ordinary (and quite ugly) building, forlorn on the side of the road. Where was the garden? Where were the walnuts? Where were our beers?

So with the promise of internet and toilets that flush, we instead went to Sean's Guesthouse. The internet turned out to be broken, but the flush toilets were no myth! Hurrah! And they had burritos and beer! Double hurrah!

At no extra cost, we also had students from an international school in Hong Kong sharing the guesthouse with us. (Who goes on school trips to Tiger Leaping Gorge? I went to Magilligan!). We had the pleasure of having the room next to the boys in this school, and, the walls being paper thin, we were treated to disturbing insight into the mind of a fourteen year old boy.

The next morning we got up before sunrise and walked to the place where we could get a lift back to civilisation. It was a tough hike, especially for a bona fide non-hiker like myself. But we saw mountains, rivers, a waterfall, and a gorge that may well be under water in a few years if the the Chinese government has its wicked way. We encountered locals, fellow travellers, and a herd of mountain goats, who were so completely unfazed by our presence that they let us sit and hang out with them for a while. They even posed for some pictures!



All in all, good times.

No Spitting - Please!



13th April 2007 - China

Everywhere I go, everywhere I look, men spitting. Women too, dolled up to the nines and hocking up their lungs and spitting the fruits of their efforts all over the street. And the walls. And the doors. And the floors. Yes, the floors.

Whilst walking down the (carpeted) stairs of a quite-alright hotel in Xi'an, I see a guy in his twenties swagger over with his buddy, when he hocks up a good old one, complete with stomach-turning sound effects, and spits it on the carpet! Indoors! On the carpet!

Maybe he was just trying to impress the foreigners with his displays of phlegmy masculinity, but the chambermaid walking by didn't bat an eyelid. This is NORMAL. This is not normal!

Maybe I'm overreacting, but I can't help feeling a wee bit disgusted when I hear of monks spitting in the foyer of one of the nicest hotels in Lhasa. Men everywhere, going about their daily business. Riding bikes, driving buses, building houses, planting crops, all of them with a cigarette hanging from their lips, which they take out just long enough to expel the crap in their throats. The phlegm is on the pavement, on my hotel wall, it's on my bloody shoe.

The anti-spitting campaign MAY not be working.