I should say that my friend met me at my hostel for breakfast, took me via taxi to the bus station, waited for the bus, spoke to the bus driver about when I was to get off, gave the driver instructions to make sure the driver would transport me onto the second bus... which would take me to the village below. Pretty good friend to have.
Later that week, Hail and I went to a vegetarian buffet inside a Buddhist temple. The food was amazing, so I didn't stop at three plates– he was really impressed by my appetite. Chinese girls don't eat much.
Anyways, I arrived a few hours later to the terrace via my awful bus ride. It is Chinese custom to blare your horn every six seconds when driving. And because the bus was always overtaking another vehicle, I was a little nauseated from all the action. I figured it would be a peaceful stroll down the countryside. I wanted to scream.
But I did arrive and was pretty happy I put up with all the noise and oncoming traffic. The terraces and town built into the hillside were spectacular. Construction of the terraces began in the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368) and continued until the early Qing Dynasty (1644-1911).
The Dragon's Backbone Rice Terraces are the culmination of both the profound wisdom and strenuous labor of the Zhuang people. I arrived at a very nice time to see the terraces filled with water.
Ping'an rice terraces are built along the winding slope from the riverside up to the mountain top, the highest part being 880m in elevation while the lowest part 380m.
I had lunch in this town where I ate a big plate of fried bamboo shoots and a bowl of rice. The bamboo shoots were fresh and bright green– like asparagus but better. The cook had just pulled them from her garden and they resembled mini/skinny bamboo trees.
I had lunch in this town where I ate a big plate of fried bamboo shoots and a bowl of rice. The bamboo shoots were fresh and bright green– like asparagus but better. The cook had just pulled them from her garden and they resembled mini/skinny bamboo trees.
After four hours hiking around the fields, getting lost in the town and finding my bus back down the mountain... I barely made it to the last bus to Guilin. I had an Italian man who spoke Chinese tell our bus driver to call the next bus driver to hold the bus. Phew. It worked. From The bus station in Guilin, I took a rickshaw carriage "taxi" (motorcycle with a wagon attached) back to my hostel. It went a whole 10 miles per hour – max– but I would have chosen that turtle taxi over a bus any day.
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