"Bustling hill town"?
Trip Start
Jan 10, 2010
1
12
29
Trip End
Feb 23, 2010
Qiongzhong, Hainan Province, China
Monday, February 1, 2010
Several hours later we arrived in Qiongzhong, a dusty, dumpy little hill town. Once again, the lodging recommended by the LP would not accept foreigners. We ended up staying at a hole where the propane tank for the hot water had apparently been empty for some time and was being used as a receptacle [around the top] for lodgers to jam their soiled toilet paper (one doesn’t flush such in China because it might destroy the decrepit old plumbing).
Today we got a little motor-cart up to the falls. Our driver had never been there [though he was from the area] and had to stop and call a friend for directions. We thought it strange that he had never been to the one attraction that his hometown claimed. He hiked up to the falls with us and we three took many a photo. Some other people were up by the falls, lounging and splashing about, and there was a pleasant feeling of camaraderie in the morning sun with the falls pounding behind us.
Back in the town, we strolled over to the bus station only to find that, though buses dropped passengers there, the place no longer functioned as anything but a play area for raggedy children. A cart taxi kept bothering us, but we ignored him and wandered off, having no idea which direction to go to find the new bus station. After some time of confused walking, Martin asked a random fellow for directions. Not seeming to feel like explaining, the guy told us to just get in his car and he would take us. Now, most people who offer help of this sort in China want to make conversation with the "laowai" (foreigners), but this guy seemed to have no interest in doing so. He simply dropped us at the station and that was that.
The bus we got to Wuzhishan was packed with students, apparently returning home to the countryside after the semester in the town. Some had plastic bags with books and clothes, and others had buckets with their things. A few had suitcases.
After a short time, the bus broke down and much shouting occurred. Then, fortuitously, another bus to Wuzhishan came flying around the corner; our bus driver frantically flagged it down and we all rushed over to it, arms and things flopping in our hurry. The passengers made room, somehow, and we piled our things in the aisle. This bus driver was even faster than the previous and tore around the hairpins of the mountain. Our things tumbled around in the aisle and were completely covered in bus grime by the time we arrived.
