Dragon River Retreat Adventure, Fishing Show and Impressions of Guilin

This morning we reluctantly departed the comforts of HOMA, bade farewell to Daisy and headed to Yangshou with Leo. Once in town we hopped onto a large golf cart and enjoyed a spin around a local farmer’s village where we met a very proud woman farmer and had a tour of her home/converted barn. A large portrait of Chairman Mao was hung on the wall of her living/dining/family room, and she expressed enthusiastic gratitude to the Chairman who had enabled her to now enjoy the profits of her tireless working of the land rather than just the hard work while the landlords take all the profits. The farmers in China are particularly fond of the Chairman and after seeing their new more prosperous living conditions, I can understand why.

Along the village tour we saw some women with their children placed in baskets and slung over their shoulders like cabbages, but this per Leo was simply a ploy to attract tourist dollars rather than a genuine type of local snuggly. Livvy was quite upset by the sight as she felt, “Those moms are kind of mean because their children can’t be very comfortable in those hard baskets.”

The scenery was beautiful however. After the tour we checked into our new hotel, the Dragon River Retreat, where the chipped paint, well smudged glass doors, harsh fluorescent lighting and worn lobby furniture was not lost on Livvy. She quickly asked me to confirm that we were only staying here for one night. Livvy noticed a sign above the check-in desk displaying the different kinds of rooms and their respective rates. The highest end room was called a Suite and cost the equivalent of $85 USD while the least expensive room was called an “O’Clock Room” and cost $17 USD. We were shown past the kitchen to the rear stairwell where a dozen clear garbage bags containing discarded aluminum cans were piled up, as if awaiting a garbage truck that refused to come.

We climbed the stairs to our 2nd floor room and with some trepidation opened the door with the single scotch tape covered key card we had been given. I had asked for a second key card for Livvy but this request was denied with some incredulity on the part of the manager who must have thought an extra key card was an obscene extravagance when the room had lasted on this one key card for over a decade. Once inside we found a small room that had been painted a dark plum color sometime in the late 80’s. There were 2 twin beds with a scratched night stand between them, a small desk with an old television, and a sliding door to a small balcony. There was also a small bathroom which had a sink and a toilet but no bathtub nor shower, at least none that I could detect. There was a “Toilet Disinfected For You” paper wrapper laying torn in the waste basket, and so I felt good knowing at least the hint of hygiene was present. The muddy footmarks on the bathroom floor were easily hidden away with the scratchy hand towel provided.

I called to Livvy, letting her know we wouldn’t be showering tonight because there was no shower. She came running into the bathroom, and after a quick scan said, “There is a shower Mom, look up.” Indeed just above the toilet and slightly to the right was a showerhead sticking out of the wall. Livvy continued laughing, “I guess you can go to the bathroom and get showered at the same time.” With that, I decided to take in the view of the river from our balcony, and ventured outside. There on the balcony I could see the stunning limestone mountains, the Li River, and several Speedo clad local men collecting river snails with diving masks. River snails would not be on our menu anytime soon. Livvy joined me on the balcony with her knapsack and sat down to begin her math homework, and in mid-Distributive Property Addition problem said without looking up, “I think they gave us an O’Clock Room.”


We had dinner at a local restaurant, and then went to see the Cormoran fishing show, which is quite a sight. The local fishermen tie a small string around the necks of these birds so that the birds can catch any fish they like as they swim through the water, but the birds can only manage to swallow the small fish and must hop onto the fisherman’s raft and get his help when they catch too large a fish, and the fisherman then frees the larger fish from the bird’s mouths and puts them into his fishing basket.

After the Cormoran show we went to see "Impressions of Guilin", the most amazing sound and light show created by the same man who created the Opening and Closing Ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics. Leo assured me we could just buy ordinary level tickets but I insisted we purchase VIP seats for an extra $7 USD, and was delighted we did. The entire show is done on the river with over 600 performers and the limestone mountains form the dramatic backdrop, all lit up in vibrant color. Amazing. We returned to the Dragon River Retreat where we slept almost fully dressed to minimize contact with bed linens. We were up at dawn and ecstatic to depart for the Reed Flute caves in Guilin and the Pearl Museum.

Li River expedition, Pasta Yangshou style, cooking class and a trip to the local food market

This morning after breakfasting on dumplings which have become Livvy’s go-to food at all meals, Leo and our mute driver picked us up and we drove to Yangshou, about 45 minutes away, for a Li River bamboo raft ride with a mercurial boatman. The boatman grunted at us to don the rust stained orange life preservers sitting on the rickety bamboo chairs affixed to the equally rickety bamboo raft. The raft was more of an open concept Tom Sawyer-like contraption made of 4 long bamboo poles tied together with twine upon which two bamboo chairs were secured by more twine.

The boatman basically punts the craft down the river and over multiple rapid chutes, occasionally grunting for you to step off the raft and perch precariously on the makeshift stone walls abutting the rapids while he slides the raft over the ledge and then grunts at you to jump back on as the raft begins to shoot down the rapid. This is not for the feint of heart nor for those with balance challenges, and our boatman in particular seemed to enjoy shocking us along our journey down the river and smiling with each shriek of terror we produced.

The river is surrounded by beautiful limestone mountains and sadly also inhabited by dozens of “hallo ladies”, which is what I dubbed these local women on their own makeshift rafts that shout out, “Hallo, hallo lady, you buy, I make-ah cheap prihe foh you,” and hold out everything from Coke cans to pashmina scarves as you float by clutching your bamboo chair terrified of drowning and keeping an eye out for the next unannounced rapid. The river is also home to a myriad of fish fry flotillas, where chain smoking couples prepare sumptuous feasts of river fish for the Chinese tourists who stop to board the restaurant rafts and ingest this local delicacy. The fish fry flotillas are devoid of running water but river water is ample and used to both prepare the food and clean the dishes, and the remains of fish skeletons (for the locals pick all the meat clean off the heads) are tossed back into the river to maintain the natural nutrient balance of the river. 22 rapid chutes and a very soggy pair of tennis shoes later, we arrived at the end of the ride and were met by Leo.

Lunch at a local hot spot was an experience as the menu advertised spaghetti and meat sauce as well as pizza marguerita, and so Livvy asked if we might share both. Something deep in the pit of my stomach told me this was a mistake but the thought of yet another meal of dumplings and rice got the best of me and I acquiesced. What arrived at our table quite literally brought tears to Livvy’s eyes, as the pasta was seriously undercooked and steeped in what I can only describe as fake ketchup (a syrupy cherry colored semi-gelatinous sauce that clearly contained no tomato whatsoever) and then topped with some stir fried shredded meat and green onion. Livvy did her best to swallow a forkful out of politeness. The pizza was a hard round cardboard-like substance covered in the same cherry colored gelatinous sauce with some melted cheese-like product on top. We gave up and ordered some dumplings and rice, and agreed never to order Western food again while on this holiday.

To regain our good humor we spent the next 2 hours in the local markets with Liv bargaining like a champ. I found a fabulous linen tablecloth but wanted it in a larger size and watched in amazement as the elderly woman stall owner sprinted from stall to stall in search of the 144 inch cloth I desired until she finally found it.

Then we were off to our half day cooking class with Ellen, Liv’s new best friend, a 22 year old Dutch tourist Livvy hopes to retain as a penpal. Our chef was “Kelly” and she guided us first through the local food market, an experience a la Fear Factor, which instantly turned me into a vegetarian for the duration of the trip. Imagine dogs in cages (so you know they are fresh), 1000 year old eggs, frogs tied in bunches like lettuce, eels by the pound, snakes, sows ears, and 17 different ways to prepare pork intestines. Kelly was quite clear that above all else “don’ photograp tofu lady,” or something bad, very bad would happen. As we passed the tofu lady yielding her machete, I found myself avoiding her gaze altogether.

Kelly’s instruction style can best be characterized as firm, “now you do ehh, fasser like me noh slow, you too slow, muss go fasser or foo’ tays oi-el-ee.” I think my pretending to be a vegetarian caused some consternation as the clearly carnivorous Kelly espoused her love of all meats and handed me some taro root and tofu with noticeable disdain. Our kitchen was a river side hut with a beautiful view of the Li River and the backdrop of the towering limestone mountains. There were 2 Dutch couples in our class, plus Ellen and her South African friend Malcolm. Our kitchen was equipped with 9 propane powered woks, 9 bamboo steamers, 9 machetes, some tableware and the food Kelly had bought at the market. There were a few assistants on hand to step in should the need arise and to rinse our woks between courses.

The operation of the wok’s control switch was a matter of much import. As Kelly explained and then demonstrated, the handle controlled the temperature and was to be referred to in nautical terms. “Sweech on is sree o’cloh, medium hee is seez o’cloh, high hee is seven thirty” (I am not kidding), were Kelly’s instructions. I failed to locate the seven thirty position repeatedly and Kelly was forced to walk over and adjust my wok each time. How one is meant to find a half hour with a one handed switch is beyond me but Kelly no doubt was sure I had some sort of learning disability brought on by vegetarianism.

My one relief was the fainting Dutch woman in our midst. One of the Dutch ladies was suffering from some sort of lightheadedness, quite possible brought on by the propane rich environment of our poorly ventilated riverside kitchen hut, and kept needing to pop out and faint ever so briefly, thereby forcing a most unamused Kelly to cook the Dutch woman’s dishes as well as demonstrate for us all. In the end I cooked a very tasty vegetarian meal while Livvy did exceedingly well with her meat laden version, and after finishing up and thanking Kelly, although declining her generous offering of a discounted price for her very own cookbook printed on 9 x 11 sheets of paper and stapled term-paper style, we drove home with Livvy asleep in my lap.