Colorful Characters along the Road to the Yellow Mountains

Inspiration comes when we least expect it. Conversations at a bar, on the street, or in a hostel lobby might one day fester in your mind and send you on a half-baked adventure flying by the seat of your pants. This was how I ended up going to the Yellow Mountains, and it’s how many of my travels have unfolded recently. You see, traveling off the beaten path – away from the tour guides and cruises and four, three, two, one star hotels – leads you to so many inspirational and bizarre encounters. These are some of the people I met along the road to the Yellow Mountains.

In Nanjing

Jumping back to Nanjing, my hostel in the middle of old town (LaoMenDong – 老门东) had its usual bunch of interesting characters (as most hostels do). Here I met Juan Vila, a grad student from Colombia (as opposed to a Colombian grad student) who shared with me, in great detail, his hitchhiking journey across Siberia. Since it was summer, he camped out at night and hitchhiked during the day. At a certain point, he ended up in the remotest of villages, not speaking much Russian, and was basically stranded with a train to catch the next day. Juan told me he waited for hours by the only bridge in and out of this small town. Finally, a bare-chested sports-car driver stopped and asked him if he wanted to go for a swim. Juan shrugged and agreed, and after a dip, the driver gave Juan a ride to the next town. Serendipity.

Seeing as I was already flirting with the idea of hitchhiking in China myself, his stories clinched it for me. I was inspired and armed with some hitchhiking strategies from my new South American friend. Read more about my hitchhiking adventures here.

It was at the Nanjing hostel where I met Farland Chang. This encounter still feels surreal to me today. When Farland first approached Juan and I while we were getting into the nuts and bolts of hitchhiking, I mistook him for being mainland Chinese. His deep, yet reassuring voice and American accent instantly told me he was from California. Turns out, in his past life, Farland was a television news reporter and CNN anchor! He even worked in Seattle for many years as a broadcast reporter for Komo 4. I would have never imagined meeting a local Seattle celebrity in a random Nanjing hostel.

Nowadays, he is a communications professor in China, expressing to me that he wanted to reconnect with his roots. Our conversations were a real pleasure, and he had a special way of speaking. His tone was familiar and calm yet commanded respect, and his questions cut through the usual small talk I’ve grown to hate. He had a black belt in communications. He was a master interviewer. Interestingly, Farland also had a habit of ending a conversation at its high point, leaving his viewers waiting for the next broadcast.

In the Huangshan Hostel

Besides the clowness at the hostel in Huangshan, there were plenty of other merry and unique individuals there. In the bunk under my bed was a rambunctious old Chinese man who woke me up with his Chinese comedy videos played at full volume. When I got down and shot him a glance signifying disapproval (a very Seattle thing to do), he seemed oblivious and started asking me about myself.

– “Where are you from?”

– “I’m German”

At this he started goosestepping and saluting, roaring with laughter. I was pretty used to this, as Chinese people aren’t the most culturally sensitive lot. I ignored him, and went about my business researching the mountains.

– “Have you ever had a Chinese girlfriend? How was she? … That’s why our Chinese men can’t get any wives!”

Eager to get away, I told him I was going out for some food, at which point he leapt out of bed and said he’d come along. Oh well, at least it’s an opportunity to practice my Chinese and pick his brain about the mountains.

It turned out he was a pretty decent guy; a bit of a nihilistic old kook who wanders around Asia climbing mountains (pictured left as we walked through the old town together). He even climbed Mount Everest and dozens of other peaks around the world I hadn’t heard of. He bought me lunch in the kind and sneaky way that Chinese people often do (where they pay without you realizing).

On our return from lunch, the hostel room was noticeably more full. When the new guests saw me, they instantly ran over, wondering what a Westerner was doing here. After the initial flurries of praise and congratulations that happen every time I speak with locals (which was at first gratifying, then embarrassing, and now numbing), I got to meet who they were.

One guy around my age with a scruffy goatee and traveler’s clothes went on a fifteen minute monologue lionizing the German people and industry, all of which I barely understood because of his use of honorific flourishes and poetic Chinese.

Another traveler, a shy and reserved academic named Yu (于) who studied for years in Finland, spoke perfect English (and Finnish) but was kind enough to use Chinese with me.

Both of them helped me tremendously in booking a room on the mountain and getting around the barriers of online payments in China. We all grabbed a fantastic dinner together before stockpiling for the climb the next day.

In my last evening at the Huangshan city hostel, I also met an old French man, as well as a local couple hiking the mountains for the first time. The husband, in his early thirties, wore a bright smile from the moment he saw me, and it never left his face once. He told me he and his wife were planning to leave around 8 AM and would treat me to breakfast. At this point, I was honestly craving some alone time. I informed him I was leaving at 6 AM.

At 6 in the morning the next day I was ready to begin my adventure alone when I bumped into the couple in the lobby. They purposely got up extra early just to treat me to breakfast and go with me! The front desk also told me that the old French man I met the night before left a book behind for me. It contained a very thoughtful note wishing me safe travels. I was overwhelmed by the hospitality and generosity that I encountered from so many near strangers.

One of the most significant life lessons I have learned time and again while solo traveling is how many wonderful, generous, humble and helpful people there are in this world. For every scammer or jerk, I’ve met ten people (from all backgrounds) that want to share with me what ever they have. Food, knowledge, time, friendship. We are bombarded with bad news on a daily basis, yet the beautiful reality is that there is kindness all around us. Of course, boring old generosity is much harder to sell than fear.

When the local Anhui couple and I arrived at the foot of the mountains, I regretfully explained to them that they were taking a different trail than I. I was walking up instead of taking the cable car, which added an extra four hours. I knew we must say goodbye at this junction. When you travel often, you get a bit desensitized to farewells, but I promised myself I would not forget these people. As a parting gift, they insisted on buying me breakfast, and I reluctantly obliged. It can be hard to accept all the kindness offered to me, and I tend to feel guilty over it. I like to use these moments as overwhelming evidence in my mind of the goodness this world has to offer. I also remind myself to return the favor as often as possible, even if it’s just karmatically through kindness to other people. Finally, I was at the head of the trail, ready to embark upon the 60,000 steps of the mountains. I envisioned a meditative experience where I would test my body and mind in the serenity of nature. This turned out to be decidedly not so.

On the Climb

In the first few minutes, an older Chinese woman with a speech impediment started hitching her wagon to mine. She spoke incessantly to me. And her impediment made concentrating on her and the trail very difficult. This was going to absolutely ruin my date with nature! I made up the excuse that I wanted to meditate for some time before climbing up.

She said she’d wait for me.

I somehow convinced her to keep going. I meditated a little bit and cautiously started on my course again.

Ten minutes later, there she was again.

– “Hi my foreign friend! Are you a monk yet?”, she bellowed from above.

I sighed and decided there was only one thing to do.

I started running.

I sprinted past her, shouting, “Sorry! Sorry!”, and made my way up the mountain. After some time, when I was positive there was no catching up to me, I finally slowed back down to a walk.

That’s one unexpected beauty of solo traveling. If you don’t want to interact with someone, you never have to see them again. At the summit of the Brightness Top Peak (光明顶), I coincidentally bumped into Yu again! It was a fun surprise, and we chatted for a bit before parting for separate paths.

After a night and day at the top and many adventures in between, I made my descent and headed back to the hostel. Yu arrived around the same time, along with others who were still in our room the day before. We made our farewells, and I set off via train for my next stop: Guilin (桂林). I had a brief layover in a neighboring town before an overnight sleeper to the famous hills of Guilin. Walking over to an empty seat in the train station, I make eye contact with someone staring. It was the woman with the speech impediment in Huangshan! She flagged me down and talked my ear off for three hours until my train arrived. I guess you meet everyone twice in life!