Joining a tour group has always been the last thing on my mind, but I had little
time and no choice. So on the first day of Chinese New Year, I paid Y150 for a
Yangshuo and Li Jiang cruise and boarded a tour bus with Chinese tourists from
all over the country. Our guide was a young, scrawny guy by the name of Mr
Xiong. He said that in Guilin, people refer to their friends as “gou rou” or dog
meat. Well, I didn’t bother to check whether he was pulling our legs, but I
certainly had no problem calling him dog meat when the first spot he brought us
to was a rock gallery selling a gem called cat’s eye. Oh yes, it’s said to do a
lot of good things to you and frankly, I’m impressed with the beauty of some of
these cat’s eye stones. It’s just that those I fancy cost Y2000 upwards.

Our second spot was Dragon Cave in Yangshuo. At the entrance, there was a short
photography session. We were asked to pose like an idiot on a cement slab and we
didn’t have to buy the picture if we didn’t like it. I decided not to take. We
then got into a boat with another guide who took us into the cave proper. Some
people may not like the way the Chinese light up their caves with coloured
lights, but I think Dragon Cave was very tastefully done. The coloured lights
accentuatd the reflections on the water as well as the textures of the
stalactites and stalagmites. My apologies to the purists, but this was the most
beautiful cave I’ve seen.

Strange rocks are one of the many products of Guilin/Yangshuo. At the end of our
rocky tour of the cave, near the windy exit, was a little rock store selling
luminous rocks and even a yellow “jade” made into all kinds of ornaments. Most intriguing were the “meat rocks”. They look real enough to make pork lovers drool.
Strange rocks or tampered “rocks”? Some were ridiculously cheap. Some were
ridiculously expensive.

Next stop, was a Buddhist temple that looked pretty authentic. The guide at the
temple also gave a very good introduction to Buddhist principles. I was touched.
Then, came the interesting part. We were asked to pick a divination lot to tell
our fortune. It costs Y10 to have our fortune told. My intention of picking the
lot was to take the opportunity to make a small donation to the temple.
Apparently, the monk in charge of reading my fortune had something up his
sleeve.

“Judging from your birth and your facial features, you ought to be worth 8
figures by now. But looking at your hands, they suggest a lifetime of hard work.
No easy money for you…”

Money? Well, yes. I can do with a bit more, but I don’t need 8 figures. As a
Buddhist monk, he ought to be teaching contentment. But never mind, it got even
better.

“One way to improve your fortune is to get a “qiling” from the temple…”

The alarm bells went off. I thanked him for his advice. He asked me to light a
lamp. I almost did that without asking how much it would cost me. Y100. Oops. I
bravely told them I was not lighting and joined Mr Dog Meat on the bus.

Next, we went to a park to see the giant rong tree. Then, it’s lunch time at
Moon Hill. This is an interesting rock formation looking like the arch of a
bridge. Lunch at this restaurant serving “farmer’s cuisine” was covered up to
Y10. This meant that Y10 would be deducted from our final bill based on what we
ordered. Guess what. Nothing on the menu cost less than Y10. Mr Dog Meat’s
strategy. Never for one moment believe that the guide is on your side.

After lunch, we went on a cruise on the Li Jiang. There wasn’t as much rain as
the day before, but the sky was cloudy and the distant peaks obscured.
Otherwise, I would have agreed with with anyone who says 桂林山水甲天下. The
water in the Li Jiang was emerald green and relatively clear. Nearby, the peaks
present themselves as sheer cliffs and walls put there to guard an invaluable
treasure or secret. In the distance, they resemble fingers of the Buddha from
which even the Monkey god could not escape.

It was cold on the small boat, but I had to open the window to try to capture
the stunning scenery with my camera which lacks imagination. Under such
conditions, the mind can fill in the details, but the camera can’t. It’s a pity
that the weather wouldn’t cooperate.

We returned to Xingping to board our tour bus. Next destination - military site.
Yes, these folks mean business. In the interest of national security, no
photography. We were shown the Chinese tank that had a certain indestructible
thickness of armour and a top speed of 80km/h. We were shown artillery shells
that could destroy anything. Chinese military hardware - best in the world. Feel
proud to be Chinese … then, we were led into a demo room. We were shown an
artillery shell and the kind of high tech alloy that went into its construction.
The same alloy was used to make … the kitchen knives that were on sale at the
facility! I was stunned by such creativity.

Next was a demo that we’ve all seen before at supermarkets and departmental
store. Carrots were shredded. leather was cut. Wood was stripped. And for a
limited period only, the whole set with free gifts cost only Y198. Wow! I’m
impressed. Not by the capabilities of the knives or the tank, but the sales
tactic. Amazing!

And if you think all over. Not yet. Before we could leave the facility, there
was one last room. And what did they sell there? The same stuff that was sold in
the cave. Strange rocks. Confectionery at inflated prices for the “benefit” of
those who hadn’t checked them out at the unpretentious stores in Guilin.

Well, Mr Dog Meat wasn’t that bad. Even though I didn’t buy anything, he still
sent me back to my hotel. Squid hot plate for dinner that night. Leaving for
Nanning the next day.

Guilin was cold but not so rainy on the second day of Chinese New Year. The entrance of Lixin Fandian was still littered with the remnants of firecrackers. Nobody believed in sweeping away their own fortunes. I checked out early that morning and took Bus 11 to the bus station on the advice of the security guard at the hotel. It was a short and relatively comfortable ride that only cost me Y1.

I arrived once more at the provincial capital of Guangxi at midday. Langdong Bus Station was relatively deserted compared to the mildly chaotic situation 2 days before Chinese New Year. Not familiar with the local buses, I took a taxi to the city which cost me Y37. Along the way, the taxi driver called all his friends and spoke in Cantoses: “Go to Longdong (Langdong), make more today.”

I checked into Ying Bing Fan Dian. Y80 was a steal for a very nice single room with hot water, heater, computer, TV and electric kettle. Unlike the old China, all these things actually worked. Surprisingly, my ATM card didn’t work at the usual place - China Construction Bank. Pleasantly and surprisingly, it worked at ABC - Agricultural Bank of China.
Cool.

The taxi ride from Langdong Bus Station was a
scary Y37. I decided to try out the buses and soon discovered that Bus 213
goes to Langdong for only Y2. After lunch at Do & Me - a cool and trendy fast
food place that served fusion food (beef steak with rice, fried sphaghetti etc),

I took a casual ride on Bus no. 32, all the way to the terminal, Qing Xiu
Shan. It’s a very well-manicured park on a hill, thronged with Chinese tourists. Many areas of the park were still under construction. They were building a very attractive pavillion-like sheltered path to the top of the hill. There was a fair going on at the top of the hill and many stalls were promoting luohan guo drinks.

There was also an obstacle course and you can see Chinese people of all ages trying them out even though some of the obstacles were obviously of “military standard”. In Singapore, parents would be screaming at their kids if they ever got near one of these things.

Near the foot of the hill, was a little food fair. Yes, more “fusion” here from almost every province. And yes, the usual take a picture
on a camel, noodle stalls, luo han guo drink stalls … Most interesting, were
the kebab stalls manned by Uyghur and Mongolian men. Dressed in their
traditional costumes, they danced to the music as they turned the skewers. I was
fooled into buying some of that kebab. After tasting it, I wondered if the main
cost of running the stalls came from the salt that they virtually dumped on the
meat. Either that or they seasoned the meat in the Dead Sea. My throat was completely salted out on the second skewer.

Luckily, there was Do & Me. Sphaghetti for dinner and an elderly gentleman there complained that the sphaghetti was not Italian enough. Lord Buddha. Is this really China? I took a walk in the park that evening and found some old folks dancing there. One old lady was probably in her 80s. Scenes like this may make the young and inactive feel guilty.

There are glittering malls and impressive condo projects sprouting all over Nanning. And this is one of the poorer provinces in China. Nanning may be a great place to shop for necessities, but
there is little attraction for nature lovers. I planned to visit Detian
Waterfall the next day.

I’m surprised not many people have even heard of it, but Detain Waterfall has to be the most beautiful waterfall I’ve ever seen. Situated in Guangxi Province, right at the border with Vietnam, it is 200m wide and has a drop of over 70 metres. Though winter is a time when the water volume is at its lowest, the beautiful setting was enough to impress me.

bus broke down

I woke up early on the morning of the 16th of February and headed for Langdong Bus Station. I asked for Detian Waterfall, but was informed that the bus on that day only went to Daxin. It seemed like a short distance on the map, but there was no highway. The bus started at 7.30am, broke down at 10.30am, the “rescue” picked us up at 11.00am and we arrived at Daxin about 1.00pm. We were on our own. I quickly got acquainted with Mr Zhou from Beijing and a Finnish couple. We decided to pool our resources.

view from the broken bus

From there, a local taxi took us to a street in Daxin town where we boarded a bus headed for Detian. Normally, the bus there only went to Shuolong and we’d have to get a bus to Detian from there. On that day, there were enough of us, so the driver decided to go all the way to detian.

The entrance fee at Detian was a whopping Y70, but it’s probably worth it. There were many stalls and restaurants and even a hotel around the area. The hottest items were of course Vietnamese products including Vietnamese hats, perfumes and cigarettes. Inside the park, it was equally crowded. We had our lunch at a Zhuang Restaurant. I decided to try an exotic dish - ant egg omelette. The ant eggs were hardly visible and it tasted like ordinary egg omelette. According to the waiter, it was high protein, low cholesterol stuff. Another dish was the niang dou fu which is nothing like our Yong Tau Foo because there is absolutely nothing there to “niang”. Just plain tofu, a little smoky, but that’s the way I like it.

picture taken by Mr Zhou from Beijing

If not for the touts and the crowds, I can spend a whole day at Detian. The water volume was not impressive, but the mountains in the background, the emerald green pools of water, all added to the charm of the place. Mr Zhou and I went on a bamboo raft and had a ride around the pool which seperated Vietnam from China. As we neared the falls, a relatively warm water spray refreshed our weary souls. On the Vietnamese side, there were also rafts. Somehow, they were not moving. Perhaps nobody wanted to pay Y20 per person for them.

After the bamboo rafting, we checked out the stalls inside the park. There was even more vaiety here. There were toys made from ammunition shells and empty cartridges. Definitely not the sort of thing you would like to carry with you on a plane. It got more interesting as we crossed the border itself and came to the Vietnamese trading post. Unlike the Chinese stalls which were set up within the park, the Vietnamese stalls were set up on a plateau area surrounded by an amphitheatre of peaks. The scenery here probably rivals that of Guilin. The goods sold were not very different from those peddled on the Chinese side and they preferred Chinese currency too.

Vietnamese traders who are not bothered with borders

Motorbikes with Vietnamese registration numbers were parked at a corner of this trading post. From here, there was a mud track that led towards the mountains. We walked a bit on the track. The few people we met all spoke Mandarin, but they were Vietnamese and we were technically, albeit unofficially on Vietnamese soil.

Locals said we could wander about 1km inside Vietnam without getting into trouble with the authorities. In fact, we had an invitation from a Vietnamese girl whom we promptly rejected in spite of all the assurances from her. I figured it would be nice if I would enter and explore this area with an official entry stamp in Hanoi.

I was getting dark and quite reluctantly, Mr Zhou and I left the park only to find that there was no more public transport going back to Daxin. A minibus parked near the entrance demanded for Y180 to go to Daxin. We found a young lady also stranded there. She was from the northeast, studying fashion in Guangzhou. Mr Zhou and I tried very hard to persude her to share the minibus with us. I didn’t catch her name, but Mr Zhou addressed her as “gu niang”. I followed suit, sounding like an ancient swordsman.

Just as we were about to leave, we saw a family also stranded there. That’s 5 more people and we had a hard time persuading the driver to break the law and take all of us. We paid him more, of course. But the mother in the family protested. I wished someone could stuff a sock into her mouth or just leave her to spend the night at the waterfall. The last bus to Nanning was going to leave in an hour’s time and she was arguing with the driver over a few yuan.

We finally got her to shut up and proceeded to Daxin. The driver drove fast. We arrived at Daxin bus station just in time to catch the last bus to Nanning, about to leave at 7.30pm. We arrived at Nanning at about 9.30pm - surprisingly fast considering the fact we took the whole day to get to Daxin and in daylight to boot.

At the bus station, Mr Zhou and I had economy rice Nanning style. A metal plate and for Y10, you get 2 vegetables and one meat dumped in. Free flow of rice or porridge. Not very palatable, but that was all that was available. Mr Zhou then decided to check into the same hotel where I was staying. His room went for Y120 per night, but it was still a good deal.

Back in my room, I packed my things and got ready for Friendship Pass the next morning.

I checked out of Yingbing at about 7.00am and took 213 to Langdong Bus Station. It was about 9 deg C. Langdong was crowded that morning, but there was hardly any queue at the ticket counters. I bought the Naning-Hanoi ticket and proceeded to wait at the “business class” departure hall. Unlike the “economy class” hall, this hall was cleaner, more brightly lit and even heated.

The bus to Friendship Pass was in excellent condition. I boarded in comfort and had a smooth, uneventful ride to Friendship Pass. I came this way from Pingxiang a week ago, but this time, there was daylight. I could see that the highway was indeed very well-constructed.

A bit of a mess occurred when we disembarked at Friendship Pass. No clear instructions were given. Some of us were going to Hanoi. Some were on a daytrip to Friendship Pass from Nanning. Those of us going to Hanoi were eventually identified (some couldn’t understand Chinese). We loaded our bags onto trams which took us to the Chinese immigration.

After clearing Chinese immigration, we walked over to the Vietnamese immigration. I ran into the same commotion. This time, there were 4 guys working at the counter. All passports with arrival or departure cards were piled up at the same place. When cleared, the names of the passport holders were called out and we had to squeeze through the confused crowd behind the counter to get them.

A sigh of relief when the Vietnamese side was cleared. It was a windy 10 deg C. I’d rather the walk to the bus terminal, but a gentleman who saw my tag insisted that I waited for the tram. When the tram was full, we boarded, only to be stopped at another guard post. Check passports. Again? Well, judging from the commotion at the Vietnamese immigration, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone slipped through without getting his passport stamped.

Finally, we boarded the Vietnamese bus which was nowhere comparable to the sleek machine which took us to Friendship Pass. The “highway” on this side was winding and full of motorbikes. Lots of swerving, sudden braking and honking to chase the motorbikes out of the way.

We stopped briefly at a restaurant at Lang Son, then proceeded to Hanoi. We were supposed to alight at a bus station. Somehow, the bus took us somewhere else. A lot of questions in Mandarin from the passengers fell on deaf ears. Answers in Vietnamese were not understood. The Italian and Irish guy asked me what was going on. I shrugged my shoulders and got off. Unlike the first evening when I arrived at Hanoi, it was 14 deg C on this day.

Taxis were waiting. Tired from my long ride from Nanning, I got into one without thinking and aksed the driver to start the meter. Halfway through, I discovered that something was wrong. The meter was showing a ridiculously high fare. For less than 5km distance to the Old Quarter at Ma May, the fare shown was already higher than the 15km airport transfer.

I argued with the driver and refused to pay, but my backpack was locked in the boot. I realised I should have kept my backpack in front so I could exit the vehicle after throwing what he deserved at him. It’s one thing if I was cheated without knowing it. Here I was, knowing that he had cheated and he still refused to compromise or negotiate.

I checked into a budget hotel and poured my grievances on the receptionist. He’s a very pleasant-looking Vietnamese man 28 years old and proudly single. I asked him why his government didn’t take any action on these #$%^! drivers. He replied it’s because it’s a @##$! government.

I took a walk to Hoan Kiem Lake and took some pictures. The lake was crowded that day. Everyone seemed well prepared for the cold weather. And Tet was in full swing. The shrines and temples around the lake came alive with smoke and candle flames and the strain on the Sunbeam Bridge was almost palpable. Hawkers set up their makeshift stalls to sell snacks and colourful flour dolls. I had dinner at a very posh restaurant. I figured that since it was my last dinner in Hanoi, I might as well pamper myself with some fish stew and grilled beef. There was a little “stage” with a modest traditional Vietnamese performance. Men and women in traditional Vietnamese dresses filled the cosy, heated quarters with traditional Vietnamese sounds - including sounds from porcelain cups.

It was dark when I left the restaurant. It was cold outside and the crowds have cleared. I found the lights around the lake most enchanting and decided to take some pictures. There were some stone slabs which allowed me to rest my camera for a long exposure. But I was surprised that many of the stone seats were occupied by young, kissing Vietnamese couples. Some of them appeared to be in their teens.

Goodness gracious me. Why don’t people give Communism a chance anymore?

This was my last day in Vietnam. I checked out of the hotel before breakfast and left my backpack with them. My flight was 8.30 that evening. Still gripped by taxiphobia, I decided to take a walk from Ma May to the famous, must-see Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum.

First, a brief intro:

In his will, Ho Chi Minh stated stated quite clearly that he wished to be cremated and to have his ashes scattered in the hills of north, central, and southern Vietnam. It’s interesting to note that in spite of the deep respect that the powers that be seem to have for Mr Ho, they went against the hero’s wishes and built a mausoluem to house his preserved body.

The structure is 21.6 metres high and 41.2 metres wide. Flanking the mausoleum are two platforms with seven steps for parade viewing. The plaza in front of the mausoleum is divided into 240 green squares separated by pathways. The gardens surrounding the mausoleum have nearly 250 different species of plants and flowers, all from different regions of Vietnam.

The parade square looks and sounds interesting enough, but don’t ever try to get in from the numerous pathways. They are all guarded by whistle-blowing policemen. There are many ways by which you may leave the compound, but there is only one way to get in. No, it’s totally free and they are not afraid of visitors entering without paying. The most fundamental ruling here, is that you must pay your respect to Ho Chi Minh’s embalmed body before you can explore the other parts of the mausoleum.

Hence, even though there are numerous pathways leading to the mausoleum and no fences or signs saying that you can’t get in that way, you can be sure a whistle will be blown at you if you try to get in without first clearing security.

1. No bags allowed.
2. No cameras
3. No shorts or short skirts
4. No smoking
5. No hats

At the only dedicated entrance, you must join a long queue of Vietnamese and curious and probably unsuspecting foreigners. After going throught airport-like security screening, you surrender you camera and bag. These will be treated as checked in luggage. Once you begin your “journey” into the mausoleum, two by two like school children, the checked in cameras and bags will be transported to the exit where you’ll collect them. Everybody was understandably uneasy about it. Would they lose our bags or cameras?

Depending on the crowd, you may have to stand for hours on the “parade square” before entering the air-con mausoleum. As you approach the “red carpet”, further regulations come into force.

1. No talking.
2. No hands in the pockets.

Every few metres, there would be a soldier in white to make sure that you obey those regulations. Ho Chi Minh’s body is housed in a glass coffin in a darkened room. His body is illuminated by a couple of spotlights. Visitors walk anti-clockwise around the body and then exit the mausoleum proper. The surrendered cameras are waiting at the exit. They have been transported there from the entrance. If only Vietnamese airports could be so efficient.

Once out of the mausoleum, you are free to take pictures - that is provided you don’t get too close to the folks who are just about to enter the mausoleum. Try taking their picture and some grouchy policeman will shout at you. I’m sure we all respect and admire Ho Chi Minh. Do the keepers of the mausoleum need to go to such lengths to impose and ensure that respect?

It was a misty, chilly morning, 14deg C with a light breeze that made it seem colder. As I left the mausoleum with a lot more freedom to choose my path of exit than my path of entry, I couldn’t help noticing the glare of the huge communist slogans hanging on either side of the mausoleum. Equally glaring were the red flags with yellow sickles flapping in the wind. Looking through the mist, I caught a glimpse of what is really enshrined here.

Lunch was at Pho24, a beef noodle outlet.

http://pho24.com.vn/htmls/index.php?f=company.php&cur=6&about=1&language=en

After that, I was on my feet again, headed for the Temple of Literature. Having just come from China, the architecture of this old building wasn’t that impressive, but bearing in mind that this is Vietnam, the overwhelming Chinese influence here may blow you away. Inside and outside the compound, scrolls of Chinese calligraphy were on sale. Those inside were more the mass produced stuff. Outside, were the more interesting written-to-order scrolls for sale.

I walked back to the Old Quarter, had an early dinner of lemongrass chilli chicken with rice and collected my backpack from the hotel. A few last MSN messages to help out our proudly single receptionist with his numerous online girlfriends and I was off to the airport.