Guilin, Day 1

I teach my essay writing class to combat writers block through ‘writing-warm up exercises’: writing for thirty minutes about anything that comes to mind without stopping until time is up. I ensure my frustrated pupils that simply putting pen to paper and scribbling freely for even a short span of time can stretch the “writing muscles” much like hamstring stretches before a basketball game stretch our actual fibrous tissues.

So what is the point of this story? Since I last posted, I have had a hell of a time articulating my thoughts in written form. During times in which the writing itch has struck I have found myself far away from my computer.

However, the longer I go without an update, the longer I go without satisfying the original purpose of my blogging (detailing my adventures into the real world) and the longer I am badgered by my younger sister to put up a post. So if only for the second reason, here is another blog post.

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My intital impression of Guilin (in Chinese: 桂林) was that the air quality was much better than my ‘home’/host city. The ever-opening baggage claim doors ensured that the crisp mountain air hit me as soon as I stepped off the plane. The entire city of 740,000 is filled with osmanthus trees, the fragrance of which is occasionally overcome by the ‘stinky tofu’ that seems to be popular in many Chinese cities. For those of you who don’t have the pleasure to enjoy this sensuous treat, the tofu smells like stinky feet. Guilin has the charm of a small town. The narrow streets are lined with beautiful landscaping and many typical Asian shops. The tallest building has only 20 stories to leave plenty of room to view the scenic misty mountains. The people themselves were more polite and occasionally stopped for traffic.

Above: Osmanthus tree

To my surprise and delight, most of the cab drivers I experienced were cordial and spoke some English. Although my mandarin has improved since I arrived in China, (from zero words to slightly functional), it is always nice to know that the driver can understand you if you aren’t up for a game of Chinese charades.

The hotel staff at the Shangri-La was even more friendly. We were welcomed at check-in with a cup of the traditional local tea-which was sweet and delicious. Every morning, we were greeted by our full names and asked questions about ourselves. By the end of the trip, it seemed like everyone on staff knew more about us than we ever cared to know about each other.

Stay tuned to hear more about Guilin.再见