The Days I Live For

There is a Flow that exists in life and traveling. It’s not fate or destiny, but when you tap into it, events seem to happen for a reason and at just the right time. The world opens up to you and presents you with all the beauty and energy it has to offer. One of the reasons I travel is to access this current. There are certain things in life that keep me from reaching into it. The main one being habit and routine, any type of shutting down or going on ‘auto pilot’, also close-mindedness, a judgmental attitude, or any belief that I already know everything there is to know about my surroundings. For me, putting myself into a completely new setting allows me to shed all of these obstacles. It brings me to a place where my mind opens up, discovery and curiosity take over, my senses completely awaken, and the world is there to dive into. This flow also requires a letting go, putting a trust into the goodness of the world and the people in it. Allowing it to bring you to the places you need to be, meet the people you are supposed to meet, and do the things you should be doing.

So days occur on the road which are like no others, where around every corner the world is ready to show you how fascinating it is, when you are lost and a person comes at just the right time to help you in the right direction, where everything falls into perfect place and everything seems right in the world just as it should be. Early in my China travels, Sarah and I tapped into this Flow and had one of these days that I live for.

After a few quick days in Beijing, we jetted down to Guilin, and then hopped on a bus for the town of Yangshou in south-central China. We were here to see the amazing karst (limestone) mountains of the region. I have found that most of the breathtaking scenery I’ve encountered across my travels can be found also somewhere back home in the US. But as far as I know, we don’t have these karst mountains, which create a mystical surrounding that I have fallen in love with. In a land of flat rice fields, the landscape is filled with mountains that suddenly jut out of the ground like knifeblades. Tall and steep, they create a landscape that should be inhabited by giants. Instead there are roads, paths, and rivers that make their way through the land twisting and turning around the mountains.

Sarah and I wanted to dive in and get as close as we could to the local scene in the area. We woke up early when the tourist town of Yangshou was still sleeping, grabbed a quick breakfast, rented a pair of bikes and headed out leaving swirls of sunscreen odor in the air as we rode through town. In no time we moved from city streets to gravel roads to dirt paths, to no path to a dead end, on the way taking in all there was to see, locals biking to work, flower girls selling fresh natural tiaras, dogs feeding their young, and all sorts of farm animals milling about. At the dead end we decided to cross the rice fields on their foot wide elevated paths, only to end up at another dead end into a toothless farmer’s home and yard. With a wide smile and broad straw hat he motioned us to cross over his ancient stone fence and make our way through his land back to a path. Backtracking to the road, many more bicyclist were now out and about including some Chinese couples out on tandem bikes for two, some wearing newly bought flower tiaras.

At some point here we pick up a follower, a local woman who attempts to communicate with us, but it just wasn’t happening. We felt fine on our own but she continued to ride along side with us with a smile and a rather pleasant air about her. But a few miles further down another local woman starts biking with us and we are being followed at this point by two Chinese women on bikes—potential tour guides—vying for our business, even though we have not asked for and do not want a tour. At one point, these women have a shouting match (no exaggeration) over, we're pretty sure, which one of them is going to be our paid local guide.As we bike onward, it appears this competition will be won by the person who follows us farther. So for a few hours we are three; when we stop to photograph the sleeping boy, the remaining woman looks on with a smile. When we sip our water, she sips hers. When we get back on the bikes, so does she. No words are exchanged, but there is no air of ill feelings between us either.

We come to a bridge spanning a small river and after a few pictures cross over to a tiny town. All the locals seem to be hanging out at the general store, giving the rest of the town an abandoned feeling, ours for the exploring. Crumbling houses, stables with cows and oxen, and yards dotted with personal belongings draw us in where we come upon a chicken and then a gaggle of young ducks making their way home on a rice paddy path back from a swim in the river. Heading out of town we stop for a coke and a few minutes of lounging around which the local men here are so good at doing that it seems like they’ve made a job out of it.

We leave this town for another our guidebook mentions, an ancient one dating back to the Tang, Ming, and Qing dynasties. We’re not sure where it is, but we take one turn off the main road, and we’ve struck gold. Walking into the small town we pass three man-made pools, one of which has a massive water buffalo in it bathing under the hot mid-day sun. Around the corner we come upon two massive sows, so heavy they try but can’t get up to welcome us. We head down the street with houses on each side. This town too seems abandoned but here and there we peak into open doors and see families cooling off at the lunch table or in front of their TV sets.

A few more streets down we come upon a young boy being given a haircut right in the middle of the street. We capture with a few snaps of Sarah’s camera and pass by admiring the barber’s work. Next we come upon a man taking a nap on the threshold to his yard. We walk slowly down the street but he awakens and is all smiles as his beautiful set of gleaming white dentures punctuates his face. He invites us in where his yard is filled with beautiful wood work, he is proud and happy to show off the masterpiece as well as his potted plants. We share smiles, pics, and a few handfuls of peanuts. A donation is asked for, no problem this time, as we were happy to help out this jolly man.

Back on the road, were not sure which way to head. We’ve been told there is a beautiful riverfront spot with a few places to eat and some great lounging. We start biking, but we’re running low on water, the temperature is in the high 90s and the humidity is so high we’ve sweated out all the water we have drunk. We’re in the shade of a single tree on a path in the middle of fields. The local highway is in front of us and tempts us to call it a day and just head back to our air-conditioned hotel room. A few minutes pass, I’m not sure what to do. Then I see a young girl biking her way towards us. We break out the lonely planet looking up the language section, ready to ask for directions. The biker pulls over at our motions and we soon find out she speaks fairly good English. What luck, her English name is Joey, she’s a high school senior and here in the middle of nowhere her favorite class is English. She begins to give us directions but then just decides to bring us there herself. After another 30 minutes of biking we make it to the river and a restaurant, ready for a good lunch which included the best fried rice either of us have ever had. We get to know Joey and she is just the coolest person we’ve met so far, answering all of our questions we come to know what it’s like to be a student here. After a few beers, some river gazing, and much needed lounging about, we take a look around town and then head on out. Joey accompanies us back to the highway home and then leaves us with a big smile on her face. Our ride home is smooth and easy going, and just as a rain storm opens up on us, we reach a toll gate with plenty of coverage. Then back into the populated area we have a fun time swerving, dodging, and mastering the art of bike riding in Chinese traffic, it’s a fun way to get the pulse moving.

That evening another sumptuous dinner is had and the day is proclaimed an enormous success. These are the days I live for on the road. Not days in museums, or temples, or spent hanging out with other backpackers. But days interacting with people that are the heart of this country, taking pleasure in seeing what their lives are like, and knowing that life is good. And I’ve gotta say that Jeremy was right, it was incomparably better sharing the experience with someone who means so much to me.