“Do you know weak?” asks my mother politely as she holds up her thumb and index finger a few inches apart – a gesture she often uses when she wants hot water in her coffee so it isn’t too strong.
The teenage girl standing behind the Starbucks counter in Guilin, China looks terribly confused. I don’t blame her. She then points at the menu consisting of a few cold coffee options dwarfed by a buffet of tea.
“Nope, that’s okay. Thank you,” says my disappointed mother as we leave the Starbucks empty handed. “I don’t drink cold coffee.”
It’s been three days since we arrived in southern China and my mother is down to one cup of coffee per day. She knew her favourite beverage would be hard to find in a culture that revolves around tea, yet she still agreed to spend seven days with me exploring the picturesque landscapes of Guilin and Yangshou – but only if I also took her shopping in Vietnam.
It’s
our first big mother-daughter adventure – and one that is long overdue. My fascination with this part of China started
in 2012 when I saw a photo of the mysterious karst landscapes around Guilin and
Yangshou. The pinnacle shaped limestone mountains plopped amongst rice fields looked
like nothing I had ever seen before. I knew that someday I had to experience it
by biking and hiking.
But this wasn’t just another trip to satisfy my constant wanderlust and curiosity about far-off lands. After making the difficult decision to move from Edmonton to Victoria in 2015, it was a chance to spend some quality time with my mother, who hadn’t been overseas since I was born.
Her interest in southeast Asia was sparked when I returned from a three-week backpacking adventure to Vietnam in 2012 with a suitcase of stylish clothes made for my petite frame for less than $100. It was easy to talk my mother into coming to Vietnam, but China took a lot of convincing due to preconceived notions about the country from watching the news.
Located in the autonomous province of Guangxi, the region is touted as one of the most beautiful areas of China and is part of the South China Karst – an area that spans through four provinces and is listed as a natural UNESCO World Heritage Site for its diverse karst formations.
The Li River winds through hundreds of odd shaped karsts, caves, and bamboo groves with water buffalo, ducks and the odd village sprinkled in between. The most famous point along the river is the scene pictured on the 20 Chinese Yuan.
Standing on the observation deck in the sweltering 35C heat with a handful of wide-eyed tourists, I’m relieved to see the river is sparkling clean. The landscape looks like a painting I can’t take my eyes off of. My mother is also captivated by the magic of the karsts.
“It sure is different,” says my mother, who’s beginning to bond with a few European travelers also going through coffee withdrawal.
Farmers in conical hats gather rice stocks in their fields and colourful butterflies dance around small purple flowers lining the path. Fisherman patiently sit on the riverbank waiting for their rod tip to move, creating idyllic scenes of simple rural life. This is the China I had dreamed of.
“Take a picture of that!” says my mother, as she hops off her bike and points to an old truck with no hood over the engine parked on a small path beside a rice field. Her face is lit up with amazement. “Now there’s something you don’t see every day.”
As the days went on, any preconceived ideas my mother and I had about China were continually shattered. I thought it would be ridiculously crowded, but it didn’t feel any different than the other countries I had been to in Southeast Asia. The people were kind and polite, and our attempts to communicate with them in halting Mandarin always generated a warm smile. The culture also provided surprises around every turn.
Modern shopping malls were filled with high end brand name stores, such as Nike, Coach, Gucci and The North Face, which was selling a tent for $500. Groups of giggling teenage girls swarmed me on the street to take a photo of the foreign blonde girl with their smart phones.
I saw food vendors grilling various types of weird-looking meat on a stick including large centipedes, spiders, scorpions, grasshoppers and beetles. I also found gutted dog carcasses hanging in one of the bustling local markets, which immediately made us head for the exit.
At night, Guilin transformed into an explosion of colour when dozens of lanterns hanging on trees lit up and flood lights were casted on bridges, pagodas and the shores of the Li River.
By the end of the trip, my mother was used to one cup of coffee a day and was even using chopsticks to eat the tasty bowls of rice noodles Guilin is known for.
Although I’ve read about China’s turbulent history, there’s a lot about life there I will never know or understand (yes, there are surveillance cameras everywhere), which makes it a fascinating place to visit. Even in the tourist regions of Guilin and Yangshou, China is a place that still feels off the beaten path, and where blondes are as scarce as a cup of coffee.
Sharing the experience with my mother is what made the trip special. The older she gets, the more I realize how precious the time is that I spend with her.
“The terraces were so beautiful and peaceful, and something I had never seen before,” says my mother. “I’ve never traveled to that part of the world, but I loved everything about it. China is a very diverse and complex country.”
If you go: Finding people who speak English in
China is a challenge, which is why I booked hotels with reviews noting helpful
English speaking staff. Many locals also use the WeChat Pay App to pay street
vendors, restaurants and shops, but cash is still accepted in most places.
NOTE: I travelled to China in October 2019, but waited to post this story due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
