Kayaking Down the Li River

On a sunny Shanghai Sunday, life took a deviation from the monotony of insanity and entered the realm of fabulousity. The D.E. chapter of my life was finally finished, left alone for a period to be later evaluated and used for material for future creative endevours. Over to Nina to sum up the tone of that particular breed of goodbye:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OfJRX-8SXOs

We joined the butterflies in the sky and stamped sooty footprints across The Orient to Yangshuo in China's southern Guangxi province. Cue blue skies, visible stars and air that doesn't sizzle the cilia.

A brief history lesson: The karst landscape which makes up a large part of the Guilin region is one of the most unique and beautiful vistas that this wonderful world has to offer. The subject of many classical Chinese paintings, the 100-kilometer stretch of the Li river is flanked on both sides by thousands and thousands of pointy hills of varying shape and size. So revered is this image that it has reached the Chinese financial wall of fame. It is proudly displayed on 20 yuan notes, further emphasizing that which makes China truly fascinating: the constant contrasts - nature meets consumerism, industrialism and a drive towards moderate prosperity.

  

During our four day jaunt in 'the nature', Hope and I did a considerable amount of r-shaped verbs: relaxing, reading, writing, recuperating, reclining, resting. If I was American I may say that it was 'rad' but as I am one of severe sophistication, I will say that it was all pretty great, really.




The highlight of the trip, ironically, is the part that I was initially most reluctant to. On the morning of our kayaking adventure, there was a massive storm and I was unable to run. Days, these days, seem split into the days when I run and the days when I sleep in. It seems strange to one such as me, physically lazy in the several past me's, to say that the days when I wake up early to run are far more palatable than those that I don't. Lazy me reared it's head this day and brought with it a colourful array of irrational fears regarding capsizing and a swimming related amnesia; a freak wave the size of China; white water rapids, unexpected, we're probably going to die.

Hope is, luckily, far braver than me and after a certain amount of serious agitation over some toast and tea, we were off rumpachumping into the hills to start our down stream meander. And meander it was: no waves, no rapids, no need to remember how to swim, just a beautiful smooth river running on and on between the hills. So quiet, it was, that even several feet from one another in our respective kayaks, we could whisper and still be heard.

The sound of silence

The river took us around many bends, displaying the irregular heart beat of nature, the limestone hills forming a kind of electrocardiograph which continued for miles and miles. We stopped halfway, pulling our kayaks up onto a tiny harbour where we sat in a bamboo cafe which was floating next to the shore. A little way up the slope stood the ruins of an ancient temple, completing a perfect example of why China remains one of the most mystical and fascinating of places.


In total, the trip took just under three hours. Once we reached our final destination, a tiny village in which we with our white skin were almost famous, I was completely soaked. Kayaking, as it turns out, requires a special kind of grace which I just don't have. Luckily, or so it would seem thus far, the Li River is not as potentially mutating as Huangpu (Yellow River) in Shanghai and it was therefore relatively ok to shower myself in it with every stroke of the paddle.