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Return to China
Pity poor Guizhou
A fairy godmother in blue
Honesty doesn't always pay!

Return to China 
Mum and I met at Hong Kong airport, and by the time we were outside figuring out what bus to take, it was like we had never stopped traveling together. Hong Kong was a great place for us to talk non-stop, as it is blissfully easy to get around and filled with Western food - Maccas and Pizza Hut got a hammering!

From a Latin American New Year to Chinese New Year - completely by accident we arrived in HK before the start of the Chinese Lunar New Year and were thrilled at the idea of their celebrations. Yet we had become accustomed to the Latino way of partying, crazy and colourful, with lots of loud music - their processions take to the streets without escort and traffic just goes around them.

While we liked the efficiency and order of Hong Kong, their parades were very organized - with FAST and SLOW signs for performers. And they were performers rather than people dancing for their soul in South America.

Buoyed by buying an e-ticket to Guangzhou, we waxed lyrical at how much China must have changed in the four years since our last visit, how everyone must speak some English by now, and what a go ahead nation China is. We walked into the Guangzhou ticket office and it was if someone had stuck a pin in our inflated expectations. I let out a low, long expletive as we were faced with a huge hall with 40 queues, lots of noise, and 100 people in each queue, each jostling to buy tickets. (That's at least 4000 people in ONE room!) Huge precise electronic signboards listed destinations and departures in Chinese characters. But there was not ONE word of English! Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead and panic gripped my stomach. It's a feeling of utter bewilderment that China brings on, and suddenly I remembered all the things that I didn't like about China.

Three hours later we had been to the bank, and bought tickets to Guilin. On our first trip to China we used to allow a day to do that. We considered we were doing well!

Pity poor Guizhou
We had wanted to visit the Longsheng Rice Terraces for some time, and this time it made sense as they were geographically between Hong Kong and Kunming (our leaping off point for our planned Myanmar land crossing). We figured we would travel across dirt poor Guizhou province, rarely visited by Western travelers. Particularly, mum had seen a documentary about a tribe "the Long Horned Miao" who are named for their practice of winding their hair around enormous long horns, who celebrate an important festival about the time we would be visiting.

We should have taken into account our guidebook's comment that Guizhou is where the sun is considered precious - literally, it is seen rarely. In fact, we should have thrown the whole guidebook away - considering it was 6 years out of date and misleading and confusing rather than useful as we hunted for non existent places or buses.

So in our search for the Long Horned Miao we firstly encountered the Long Haired Yao - a tribe with the longest hair in the world wrapped impressively (and heavily!) around their heads and that easily reached the ground when loose. Sadly, they also come across as irritating people, entirely ruined by tourism, that of Chinese, not foreigners - there are few foreigners there!

We bumped and rattled off on bad roads, slipping and sliding as rain fell steadily and silently. The mist filled the river valleys and our visibility was limited to several metres. Yet, amidst the fog, it was a soft romantic agricultural landscape, and was if we had stepped back in time hundreds of years. This is a charming China, so little seen in the major cities which is dominated by the drab sterility of white tiles.

We first visited China 5 years ago when we hadn't seen much of the world, and everything had been fascinating. I believed that China had the huge capacity for change. Now, I am not so sure, it's another 3rd world nation where they push and shove, are pig headed about bus seats, litter prolifically, and worst, fill the buses with cigarette smoke.

With people projectile vomiting all around us we finally arrive in Kaili, deep in Guizhou province, frozen from the bus trip, and discover that it is just one degree! No wonder we can't feel our feet and ice hangs off the trees! We regroup and head for a hotel with
heating to work out a battleplan. Do we continue with our search for the Long Horned Miao, or do we abort? We resolve to press on, and go out and buy thermals.

Sporting new beanies and gloves plus some chic Chinese cheapies, we were ready to head out to the Miao villages which were apparently celebrating their Lusheng (reed flute festivals). We get no further than a bus station where the people were unfailingly helpful but had no idea where we wanted to go - then an ethnic woman came at us mewing, "Miao miao miao" and tugging at our sleeve. It was haunting shades of the Yao and we took one look at each other and said, "Lets get out of here!" Our quest to find the Long Horned Miao would have to wait for warmer weather, improved Chinese and a LOT of time.

A fairy godmother in blue
Spring Festival had started the day before and pretty much everyone said we had buckleys of getting train tickets from Guizhou's capital, Guiyang, onto Kunming, but we approached the station with a joie de vivre in our step - we were escaping this frozen hell. Police and barricades surrounded the new space age station, but undeterred by several false starts, we finally made it to the front line where the police turned us back saying "students only". We negotiated the crowds to find another ticket office - small by Chinese standards - with probably only 300 people waiting. The baby face young police
almost maliciously bullied and pushed the people into dead straight queues until they caught sight of us and we gathered a crowd of them. They asked, "can I help you?" beautifully in English but couldn't say anything else. When we finally arrived at the ticket office, we found, as we had suspected, there were no tickets for tonight's train. In fact, the best we could do was "standing room" for tomorrow. (the trip is only 11 hours, no problem to stand!)

Seeing our crestfallen looks, a very young baby face policeman took charge, "follow me" and so we did, and the fortified barrier parted miraculously, allowing us entry into the hallowed station. We were seated in a plush leather chairs in an important office as people buzzed around us, both police and railway officials, occasionally firing questions at us in Chinese, to which we would look confused, and probably very helpless! Finally our fairy godmother in blue came to us, a beautiful Chinese policewoman named Whisper, who spoke wonderful English and somehow orchestrated us ONE precious ticket to Kunming, for that night!

We pointed out that there were in fact TWO of us, and she sent off a "young man" (aka baby face policeman) to hawk for tickets on our behalf at the front of the station. When he returned empty handed she smiled brightly and said she thought it would be ok, we'd board the train with just one ticket. She wrote us a letter to the director of the train, asking for another berth, and explained "in China you are VIP. We must do everything we can to help you. I think the director of the train will find you something." There ensued two hours wait (in the Soldiers Special Waiting room NO LESS!) and then a special escort to our train - all organized by the divine Whisper. Things fell into a bit of a hole (no entry to the train) until we displayed our magical letter which had us waved onboard. We cheered quietly as we pulled out, figuring they couldn't throw us off. Miraculously, our joweled conductoress,  not only gave us a spare berth (how is that possible on a chockers train?) but let us have two bunks together. (I will add that they FINALLY collected the money for the second berth just out of Kunming!)

Honesty doesn’t always pay
Kunming, the city of eternal spring - we only had pleasant memories of this place as a city of respite with a backpacker oriented hotel and facilities. We had goals here - specifically to organize our Myanmar permit, a "minder" for the sensitive border areas (required by the Burmese government) and also a visa. Passports in the embassy we went to fine tune our minder's details when the girl stated, "You will fly out of Yangon." Myanmar's military dictatorship keeps a tight grip on tourists, attempting to discourage independent tourists at every turn, and part of their strategy is to make people fly in and out. We had, however, found we would be able to cross legally by land in the south.

Being honest types, we considered lying, but couldn't do it and said, "no we won't fly out." What followed is so convoluted and bureaucratic that it defies description, but at the end of hours of negotiation they began to ask for bribes and had our hands tied. We
balked and walked out on a four year dream to cross the Ruili-Muse border.

Crapped to death, we said, "forget Myanmar, let's go to Laos!"

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