From the China Daily, August 18, ’98:

Officials were dumbfounded and embarrassed at Shanghai International Studies University when all of the students who passed the rigourous entrance exams turned out to be female. At that University males make up only 32% of the student body.

At Beijing Foreign Studies University the percentage is down to 25% male.

Teachers blame this disastrous trend on an enrolment selection based only on ability, a system which is disadvantageous to male students who are usually more active in thinking and have broader interests.

China is undergoing massive, uncontrollable metamorphosis. Many of the old values are being swept away. Confusion (not Confucius) reigns as everyone struggles to see how they fit in the new unplanned economy.

Mao had a dream of creating a perfect society, ending inequality, hunger, class injustice. Yet theGreat Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolutionkilled as many as 40 million.

What will be the cost of this latest revolution? Who can say. China lives in interesting times.

My travel, however, from Hong Kong into China was speedy and efficient. En route I adopted Asuka, one of the many confused Japanese backpackers found wandering this lonely planet. The most hapless travellers are Japanese.

Guangzhou (Canton) is another booming Asian megalopolis with little to see and few saving graces; loud, crowded, and under continual reconstruction. We wisely stayed on Shamian Island, formerly the French and British concession which the invaders held after defeating the Chinese in the Opium wars. Shamian is a quiet enclave of decaying colonial buildings now being somewhat gentrified.

At the hostel we got what we thought was the best possible advice for moving on out of the Special Economic Zone surrounding Hong Kong. My travelling companions of convenience were five; Asuka, two pretty (Chinese speaking) girls from Berlin, and a young Dutch couple.

It seems I always travel with this Dutch couple on these trips. The Dutch are still great travellers, speaking 3-4 languages. And they are so polite I’ve come to think of them as the Canadians of Europe.

It wasn’t long into the trip before we began to feel we had been duped. The Ferry which could take as little as 5 hours wasn’t moving very quickly. It bobbed 20 hours before depositing us at some little bus stop. After two hours wait in the heat, we were finally shuttled over … to another bus terminal where we gladly took up residence in an air conditioned waiting room. It wasn’t long before a shrieking lady (it seems all of the petty tyrants here are women) kicked us back out into the terminal. The waiting lounge was locked, empty. After another few hours we were directed to another bus which bumped along for 8 hours. All totalled it was 33 hours, quite a typical bout of travel in China. (My guidebook suggest I estimate an average of 25 km / hour.)

Travel is a struggle in China. All modes of transport are problematic. And the country is huge.

That said, I must admit that both the ferry and the bus were most comfortable. Not luxurious, but clean and functional. The boat had boiling hot water constantly available for tea and noodles. The bus was a sleeper — the seats recline into beds. I relaxed, chatted, snoozed, and read. The passing landscape was fascinating.

I write from the legendary backpacking Mecca of Yangshou. For thousands of years poets and painters have eulogized the stunning limestone karst peaks here which thrust up unexpectedly from green paddies. A rural green green scene, with picturesque farms, water buffalo, rivers and canals, ducks, dragonflies. No mosquitoes! Few birds(?). The men work or smoke. The boys swim all day. The womenfolk do all family chores.

I love places like Yangshou, small towns that somehow have become famous as retreats for low budget vagrants like myself. It has much in common with Pushkar (India), Dahab (Sinai), and even Pokhara (Nepal). Relaxed & comfortable.

Western-style cafes have names like Minnie Mao’s,McBlues Bar, and Hard Seat Cafe. They offer Bob Marley, banana pancakes, and western movies. It’s not the real China — but who cares! I can hop on a bike and be back exploring the real China in 15 minutes.

Everything is quite inexpensive. My bed costs about $4 /night. This bubble will burst, though. In 1995 the first 3 star hotel opened. One day this town will be as expensive and commercial as Guilin, the destination it displaced. The backpackers will move on to one of the more remote villages.

My first day I floated down the beautiful Li river on a tire tube. Another day we boated down the Li all day (magical, mystical mountains) and then cycled back to town.

I read somewhere that the Chinese have the only culture with absolutely no food taboos. Anything can and will be eaten somewhere in China.

Our guide Li (while she was making us lunch in her village) explained that dog is winter food, snake best in summer, but that pigeon and rat are good any time. We played with her pet kitten while getting this news.

All fine restaurants have fish, birds, and animals displayed live (if you can call this living) out front to show how fresh the food must be. We are constantly confused by which shops are restaurants & which are pet food stores. (Tip — the restaurants have a bigger selection.)

Li made us real farm food. She was particularly proud of her pumpkin flower stuffed with meat. All the dishes were delish. Li and I added strong pickled ginger as a garnish.

She took us by bike through the backroads and rice paddies. She showed us all of the different crops; they grow anything and everything.

We stopped at the “peanut oil factory”, a little hut where mom and dad run the crushing machine, little daughter sweeps away the husks, and the odd spider drops into the oil. Li explained the life of the farmer, the system of the schools, her family life — this was the most interesting part of my day.

I feel very comfortable with the people here. They are intelligent, hard working, and relaxed-happy. I like the loud, energetic, but good-natured arguments in the middle of the street. A big crowd always gathers quickly. (No doubt the gossip and politics of the village are Hell!)

I also feel quite safe here. (Crime is understandably low!) Yet I’ve seen few police or soldiers anywhere.

Yangshou is great. But as my obligatory bout of Asian Flu is almost finished, I’ll be setting off soon for Western Sichuan where they stay up late shouting, drinking Maotai, and where they still spit the chicken bones on the floor. One more night to enjoy a cheap local beer at the open riverside restaurant lit only by candles. (This is the one favoured by the locals.)

I’m going to miss this place.

– Laowai McCharles