Another overnight train brought us to Yichang, for our Yangtze River Cruise. Let’s face it; not exactly the stuff of adventure, but as per Denis, if you want cruise on the Yangtze, and go through the locks, it’s the only option.

An enthusiastic crew worked hard to cater for western taste, without being all that clear what that is, and included day trips, plus educational demonstrations in the afternoons and entertainment after dinner. All the announcements were done in Chinese, German and English.

The trip ended with a talent show in which we – the passengers – were expected to participate. We initially balked, but fair’s fair. We decided to spoof both the Beijing Acrobats and the cruise. Denis surprised most everyone by announcing, in Chinese, that in the west, we too have acrobats, and as luck was with us, three members of the troupe were part of our group. Steve repeated it in posh British and I followed in German. The ladies then came out with umbrellas and started twirling and “balanced” them (holding them with their toes). It came off well.

We embarked at Chongong, flew to Guilion and boarded a bus for the three-hour bus trip to Yangshuo. Denis, generally giving the impression he’d rather be someplace else, was oblivious to the mutinous undercurrent.

Yanshuo

The area around Yanshuo is a landscape photographer’s fantasy, easily accessible to hiking and biking. The town is a favorite with western tourists so the main thoroughfares are packed with stalls selling everything you would expect to find in China. I bought a Calligraphy scroll. A couple of us also arranged some Chinese Calligraphy lessons in a local school, and a Tai Chi lesson was on the riverbank.

Denis’s girlfriend came to meet him so he was as rare as blue Jade. Being in a tourist center, the bars were lively: with a swarm of guides, English “teachers” and assorted riff-raff. Steve and I had little trouble finding entertainment until the early hours.

We flew to Kunming, city of eternal spring, and on our free day I stayed in the city when the rest visited the Shilin stone forest. We'd burned the candle pretty intensely and I decided to nurse my killer cold. This is when I first tried to mail my scroll home.

The next day we had a “5-hour” (9 hours) bus ride, to Dali, an old walled town. It was a beehive of tourists, this time for trendy young Chinese. We chilled, and had a pizza. I tried to mail my scroll again. This time the guy spoke English: “no”.

However, I didn’t move from the counter and finally he brought out an export form with English translations. He pointed at a clause concerning the exportation of hazardous materials.

“Huh?” I said. I tried again, and this time he pulled out another sheet that said I needed a permit to export my $8.95 cultural artifact. I mailed it from Australia.

We headed off to Qiaotouu, where our 45km trek on the Tiger Leaping Gorge would start. The gorge, cut by the Yangtze, is named after a legend of a tiger leaping across it to escape capture. Someone lit a cigarette on the bus, and Joan whispered, “He’s smoking” in the same tone one would use to say, “He’s a child molester”.

The hike was muddy the first day, but the drizzle cleared the next day and we had good trails and great scenery.

We stayed in family guesthouses and on the last night a group of Chinese military guys (1 girl) stayed in the same one. Denis, ever on the lookout to spend time with anyone else, joined them. Soon however we were invited too. Only Steve and I jumped into the steady stream of warm beer (we had finished the cold ones). One thing leads to another, and soon we were doing our bit for cultural awareness by teaching each other “our” dances. As the local Torch festival was in progress, they taught us the “torch dance”, we in turn taught them the “Hokey Pokey”. Drunk or sober, doing the Hokey Pokey, around a fire, with the Chinese military in uniform, is surreal.