On the Way to Yuanyang: Bus from Jianshui to Xinjie
We rise before dawn to catch the bus. Bats are chittering invisibly in the dark street. A three-wheeled motorcart whizzes by on the broad paving stones. Two men scoop garbage into the garbage truck. They pause as we walk by, waving “Hello!” with huge smiles across their faces.
We had a chance last night to walk through Jianshui, and both sides of the street were lined with brightly lit modern shops: phones, shirts, shoes, barbecue stalls. This morning they are all closed still, and as we walk through the city’s landmark gate, it is the first time I’ve seen a park in China not full of people dancing in choreographed rows to a shrill boombox.
This story is the continuation of a series that begins here.
The quiet will not last; activity grows with the predawn light. Bicycle carts loaded with cabbage wheel past. People carry bamboo pole yokes across their shoulders. I spot a steamed bun seller and Ert negotiates several small bagfuls for our breakfast.
We walk on, eating. A woman wearing a hijab catches up to us and speaks to Ert in rapid Mandarin. She has chased us half a block to see if we want to get on her bus. We do! Our packs are loaded into the trunk and we are offered seats on the already full vehicle, stepping over the crates on the floor.
The sun rises over a haze of smokestacks ceding to cropland. We wind up a mountain and, after spraying the brakes, back down. The Red River runs through the valley, rich ruddy brown blanketed with floating trash. We cross, and pause in a town.
In town, we are the object of stares. One woman sees me, then takes her friend and turns her by the shoulders so she can see me too. I wave and they break down in giggles.
We buy corn for seven cents, and fruit, from Hui women in their traditional embroidered dress and return to the bus.
Two buses and a taxi ride into the hills, and it’s after noon by the time we start our hike.
To be continued…
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