It has been far too long since I have written about my life- I've
simply been too busy to jot down even the simplest of notes! I hope
you hadn't given up hope, because here is the long overdue second half
of my August vacation. Yes, yes, yes, that was quite a few months
ago, but I really have been so busy I couldn't even finish it, and I
couldn't very well just leave any parts out, now could I?
Floating down China's famed Yangtze River for four days sounded like the perfect break from the hustle and bustle of running around Shanghai- not having to plan meals, think of what to do all day, find lodging or transportation, and instead just soaking in the beauty and history of the river. It was indeed relaxing, but not exactly the kind of "cruise" that my 12 other classmates and I had imagined. The boats used for these river cruises certainly range in quality, so I'd like to believe that the vessel we boarded was mid-range, if only to give hope that there's something more luxurious out there. That's not to say that our boat wasn't nice, we were just a bit surprised after the travel agent told us it was an American-style cruise, and instead we found sub-par food, tacky decorations, peeling paint, worn carpets and signs in not only Chinese but English and German as well, and generally felt like we
were chugging our way down on a large ferry boat. Nevertheless, we got a good taste of the Yangtze, making side trips to the Fengdu Ghost City and the smaller Three Gorges, waking up early to snap a hundred pictures while we passed through each of the Three Gorges, spotting monkeys, ancient temples and famous rocks on the riverbanks, and of course ending our journey at the gigantic Three Gorges Dam. Throughout the cruise, I was in awe from the beauty of the steep banks of the majestic gorges and somewhat saddened whenever we passed by billboards with big red numbers perched on the hillsides marking where the water level will rise to when the dam is finished. 
These signs were well above many bridges, homes and cultural sites, even a whole city that has now been demolished and rebuilt on the opposite bank above the water level. The locals' attitudes towards the Three Gorges Dam seemed mixed, though it was difficult to determine if anybody did welcome the changes when our local tour guides were probably sponsored by the government. 
As we passed through the ship locks of the dam and strolled around it, I was no longer impressed by the engineering, but instead horrified by the monstrosity and disregard for preserving what this country often holds above everything else- its long history. Although there are creative efforts to preserve cultural relics, some sites will be lost, and the local environments and economies will continue to change as the project nears an early end. Just as it would have been difficult to imagine the changes
from twenty years ago on the river, I cannot imagine what that winding river will become in the next two decades.The end of the cruise marked a turning point- the friends I had stuck with in Shanghai headed to Hong Kong as I joined two other traveling buddies, Katty and Yan, to climb Huangshan (Yellow Mountain) followed by a few more days in Shanghai. Our agenda seemed reasonable until we had a better look at the train schedules and discovered terrible weather upon our arrival, the limited transportation options forcing a seven-hour layover, several half-days spent in hostels and hotels hiding from the rain, frequent adjustments to our plans and exhausting travel conditions. The days were soon filled with constant travel, sleep and boredom, the glizty excitement of Shanghai and scenic peace of the river cruise hardly a possibility. We managed to pass the time with inventive card games and long naps, which sounds more like a lazy vacation than it really was, because one forgets that traveling through China is far from easy and certainly not relaxing.
Transportation from the city of Yichang, where we disembarked from the cruise, to the small city of Tangkou at the foot of Huangshan is a complicated combination of bus and train options. Before leaving Beijing we had already decided to take a slightly longer southern route to Huangshan that only required two trains, rather than a more direct bus-train-bus route along the north, which worked out quite well (my pack of cards proved to be our savior on the 15 hour train ride). During our 7 hour layover in Yingtan, a city within the region of China's top "furnace cities" (i.e. really hot places that one should avoid, especially during the summer), we amused ourselves with a walk around the block in search of food, but finding more sunglasses vendors than restaurants. Going by the logic that if the restaurant is filled with customers then it must have good food, we settled on a small bustling place for fried rice, and the young waitress quickly kicked a man in the middle of slurping noodles to another table to make room for us, leaving him for at least 10 minutes without a chair while we started ordering.
The waitress was clearly overjoyed in the presence of waiguoren (foreigners), and became ecstatic when I asked to take a picture with her and the restaurant address in order to send her a copy. Her wide, glowing smile warmed our hearts, as we sensed that her happiness over the simple joy of meeting foreigners would keep her smiling all year.
We eventually arrived at Tangkou after an afternoon of training by hard seat (the cheapest, dirtiest, noisiest but bearable train option) and dealing with insistent cab drivers that spat at me while we loaded our packs into a cab that offered the same exorbitant prices but whose driver was simply nicer. Our impressions of locals improved as we chatted with the driver during the hour long ride through a dark valley, asking him about the area more so to keep him from dozing off than to satisfy our curiosity. We were especially pleased to find that the old couple that ran the hotel we booked online were like friendly relatives, helping us plan our route up the mountain, cooking dinner, and advising us to delay our climb if it rained again tomorrow. When we awoke after a solid night of sleep, the floodgates of the sky were wide open, and it did not look like they would close anytime soon. We did not realize that hiking in such rain would be rather unpleasant until we stepped outside with our packs, ready to conquer the peaks, looking for the buses that would take us to the steps, all the while becoming more drenched and discouraged from climbing by every local. We finally admitted defeat, retreating to a hotel to wait out the rain, though Yan decided to return to Shanghai early to visit his friends without attempting Huangshan. Sure enough, by 3pm the rain had been reduced to a thick mist, and we decided to hike up the eastern steps, a route half the length of the more scenic 15km west side, which would hopefully be short enough to finish in the remaining daylight. Before starting, we had the owner of the restaurant we had lunch at, Mr. Hu, arrange two cheap bunks at a mountaintop hotel, lest we end up with no place to sleep when we arrived.
Katty and I slowly made our way up the mountain, trudging up the seemingly endless steps. Though the steps were not quite as steep as parts of the Great Wall and were
generally evenly spaced, the wet weather forced us to be extra careful, especially with all our belongings on our backs. It was peaceful and refreshing, heavy droplets of fresh rain dripping off the lush green trees, glimpses of the towering rocks through the flowing cloud cover, and not another hiker around besides the occasional worker making his way down. About a third of the way up, Katty hired a tall, lanky Chinese man to carry her pack up the rest of the way for a reasonable price, which turned out to be more useful than just taking the weight off her back, as he directed us towards the correct paths as the sun faded away and we became engulfed in complete darkness. After nearly four hours of hiking, we finally arrived at the fancy hotel where Mr. Hu had booked us two beds, only to find that what we were getting was the typical Chinese tour group accommadations: beds in one of many rooms crammed with five bunk beds, behind the in-house massage parlor and some store unidentifiable from the billowing clouds of cigarette smoke. The man who took our money tried to charge us more for the use of the shower in the room, but we made enough of a fuss that he agreed it was included in the price we had decided upon. 
Perhaps not the most comfortable lodging, but it was just enough for us to recharge for a 4am wake-up to see the famous sunrise above a sea of fluffy, white clouds, followed by our stroll down the west steps. 
Unfortunately, when we awoke the next morning and tagged along with the gobs of chinese tour groups, the thick fog and rain clouds had not cleared, leaving us with nothing but a wall of whiteness. With nothing to do but go down and hope that we have another chance to come back to the mountain, we started off with everyone else, and were terribly glad that we did not decide to hike up the longer western steps, blown away by the strength of the workers that lugged gasoline, water, and other supplies up the steps.
We hiked down faster than we had planned, probably because the time we had factored in for stopping to take pictures at every scenic spot had been lessened by the weather. Ironically, by the time we were off the mountain, Yan had finally arrived in Shanghai. We spent the rest of the day sleeping at the hotel we had first stayed at in Huangshan, resting before our morning train ride to Nanjing.Such little rest was not enough to ease our muscles the day after such hiking, and certainly did not prepare us for standing the entire 7 hour ride to Nanjing. Yes, for seven hours I stood in the aisle of a train packed with students returning to the cities after a summer in their hometowns, trying to ignore the burning, aching pain in my already tired legs as I watched the sitting passengers play cards, munch on sunflower seeds, and one mother continually smack her 5-year-old son on the head for no good reason (I knew such violence was bad when everyone else on the train was staring too... but perhaps they only found it surprising that she was doing it in public). I'm still not quite sure how I was mentally and physically able to get through all seven hours fighting for leaning space against the seats and stealing a squat or two before the snack cart came squeezing by, but I know that the express train from Nanjing to Shanghai had the most luxurious seat I've ever sat upon.
Before heading back to Beijing, we made our way around a few sites we had missed our first time through Shanghai, like the Planning and Exhibition Center, which was a
fascinating history lesson on the development of the city and an interesting glimpse of what to expect in the coming years. On my last full day in Shanghai, I was feeling frustrated that I had exhausted all to do and see in a thriving city- surely my boredom could be combated by some unique and fun sight in Shanghai. It didn’t help much that my two travel partners were bored too, and only wished to lounge in the hostel or go to the gym for four hours, unwilling to accompany me to cultural streets or museums. My itch to be surrounded by culture led me to the Shanghai Art Museum, a magnificent racehorse club building filled with contemporary Chinese art. My craving for art was thoroughly satisfied by the three solo exhibits on display: ink paintings of Yang Zhengxin, who blends Chinese and Western themes and techniques to create beautiful, chaotic, delicate images of mountains, flowers, fish, bird and the wind; Zhang An Pu’s startlingly clear photographs of landscapes and locals across China that become surreal; and a retrospective exhibition of 's art work, from sketches of tourist attractions to poster and stamp art. With a few more hours left to explore, I left the cool, nearly empty museum to find 50 Moganshan Lu, 
an industrial complex that once housed spinning factories and has recently been converted into art galleries, creating a cozy community of artists. I was worried that I would never find it, however, because the map I had was not detailed enough to mark side streets and alleyways, and any directions for locals were too vague, leaving me wandering around the area for nearly an hour. I gave up searching for the road it was on, and turned down a wide alley that I figured would loop me back towards the subway station. As I rounded the corner, I noticed the street sign: "Moshangan Lu". Yippeee! I kept walking, still not seeing anything that resembled art galleries, but regaining hope as I admired the whimsical graffiti on crumbling walls. I finally 
arrived at the complex, both relieved and giddy to explore the clean, modern galleries. The artwork varied greatly in medium, style and subject, though it was dominated if not entirely consisting of contemporary/modern art, and was surprisingly all intriguing. My artsy itch was thoroughly satisfied.When we finally returned back to Beijing, I realized that I was completely relieved to be back. Beijing had somehow become more of a home than I had realized over the first two months, and experiencing Shanghai only made me miss every good and bad thing about Beijing. With the end of summer, a new chapter was beginning in my life in China as I moved into an apartment with two UC Santa Cruz students and prepared for classes at Peking University, and I couldn't have been more excited.
Love,
Kenzie
P.S. Love hearing from all who write, and just wanted to let you know that fast on the heels of this bit will be all my excuses for why I haven't been keeping up!!!
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