The train journey to Guilin was another 2 and a half hours, and this time we had purchased standing tickets to save some $$. They were also the only tickets available due to the Chinese National holiday week. China travel tip - don’t travel to China during this ‘Golden week’ unless you enjoy being on the road with all 1.3 billion Chinese nationals and enjoy paying triple the price for everything. Do travel during this week if you have a soft spot for delicious mooncakes and views of the shining orb larger than you can imagine. The ‘Golden week’ or as it’s also know ‘the Mid-Autumn Festival’ has been celebrated in China for over 3000 years. Emperors would worship and make sacrifice to the moon in the hope of a plentiful harvest, and also use the time as an excuse to hold lavish parties under the bright silver light. In the Yuan dynasty, the tradition of the mooncake took hold, a tasty vessel to smuggle rebellious messages and ploys against the Mongol rule, although I'm sure Kublai cottoned on. I have heard that some can cost up to $150, containing ‘luxury’ ingredients such as shark fin, abalone and the tail feather of sacred birds.

We found a spot around all the luggage, mainly decorative golden mooncake boxes and settled in for the ride. There was a really cute baby opposite us who took our mind off our heavy feet and tired legs. She lit up like sunshine whenever we locked eyes. We played this almost silent game for a few hours before we all fell asleep; us on the floor and baby in her mum’s arms. After an hour or so 2 free seats became available and we were forced to wave goodbye to the smiling Buddha baby.

We arrived to a wave of heat, made worse by the cool air of the train. On the outskirts, Guilin was a lot larger than I was expecting. It had streets wider than any I have seen, completely spotless of any rubbish, leaves or life and shrubs lined the highways in immaculate consistency. The buildings felt tall and grey, each with a perfectly calculated set of windows and doors. I guess it was the people who really gave the city its colour. As we exited the train station we were swept up by a man named Andy. Andy was an Uber driver and was looking for business. We made it clear that we were fine catching the bus and he didn’t seem to push the issue. We stood talking to him for a while - after all this talk of ‘Oh, you will hear no english in China - no one speaks English - no one will understand you,’ we were delighted and intrigued by this man who had a faultless grasp of our mother tongue. As we talked, he caught sight of Mr Huang. Mr Huang reminded me of my Pa. He even smelt like him, under the layer of tobacco. Mr Huang was milling around the station for a reason unknown to us, but he was headed back to Yangshuo that evening. We ended up hitching a ride with the kind and quiet old man. Costing only as much as the public bus, we rode in the luxury of a leather lined Toyota.

The sun began to set as the famed karst mountain spikes became silhouettes against an orange sky. Mr Huang drove nice and calmly, I can’t say the same for the rest of the traffic. Intersections were particularly scary. After another couple of hours we arrived, Mr Huang taking the time to drop us directly out the front of our hostel. We were immediately greeted by the spritely Hamsun, ‘ham like the meat, sun like the sky.’ He was in a good mood as his weekly Beer Fish party was in full swing. We checked in in no time and made the 6 flight hike up to the dorm room. We opened the to the sound of urine hitting ceramic, and 2 Chinese guys spread out like they owned the place. I guess we ruined their chance of an empty room.

We headed back down to the party where we joined another table to the ever growing surface as beers flowed and fried rice flew out of the kitchen in a swarm of yellow plates. Hamsun directed a competitive game of scissor paper rock, which no one knew was possible, and our two Chinese room mates pointed out our chopstick holding flaws and ignored all our questions. They, did, however unabashedly take a photo of both of us; a conversation killer if I ever saw one. It was actually a really fun evening even though we lasted only an hour before our eyes begun to drop. It was when I made Hamsun’s baby cry that we called it a night, running back up the stairs to our exposed beds and smelly bathroom. We slept soundly regardless.

The next morning we arranged a trip out to see the silver caves. I had read a bit on these caves and was keen to see the stalactite formations that were opened up to public eyes in the 90’s. China has a funny way of making beautiful natural wonders feel a little like a theme park. Not only is there a ticket gate at the base of every hill you would like to climb or river you would like to cross, but queue lanes are added in, audio guides are readily available and gaudy coloured lights usually lead the way. The caves were no different. Our bus dropped us off out the front and a lady jumped on board using google translator to tell us that we had 2 hours before we had to be back in the carpark for our bus back to the city. We needed just about every minute of those 2 hours. The trail through the cave was about 2km, and an enthusiastic audio guide explained various myths and legends surrounding the unique structures. The helpful lady in our ear reminded us that we were free to roam around the caves provided we didn't beat the stalactite. Just what I felt like doing...

The rippling waves of milky crystal stretched on and on, the multi colour lights making it look like a Disney set. My favourite was the reflection pond. A circular pool of water lay perfectly undisturbed transforming it into a mirror of the wonderland above. We snaked along the trail before making it to the tallest part of the cave and the extraordinarily long exit. 'Exit through the gift shop' takes on a whole new meaning in China. There was quite literally a supermarket sized store as we approached the first landing. Selling everything from tea sets, to chicken feet, chestnuts and Avenger box sets. The path then took us through a mini Kodak store, to order and pick up photos of yourself superimposed or not in front of the famous sites a few meters under our feet. We shuffled along as fast as we could, tempted by nothing except ice cream.

When the sun started to loose a little bit of its ferocity in the mid afternoon we ventured out along the main road to a 'park' we had spotted on the city map. The park was called green lotus park and boasted superb views from its peak. On the way, we dropped in to sample a southern moon cake. There were a lot to choose from, all looking identical from the outside. Google translate proved useless, informing us of flavours such as crocodile. Thinking back now, there is a chance that perhaps it wasn't a mistake. Sorry Google. Further along the street, we bumped into a lady who pointed us in the direction of the lotus park. We turned to see where her bony finger led, a tiny overgrown stone step path leading up an almost vertical karst mountain. For some reason, we didn't hesitate, and started our ascent within seconds. It took about 2 minutes before the dense jungle and lack of breeze rendered us both saturated in sweat. Up and up, the trail seemed to get less defined. We were certain this couldn't be the 'park' we had read about earlier, or, the lady had sent us on a strange back path, laughing at us from the bottom.

Regardless, within 20 minutes we had reached the top, and the views certainly were superb. The karst mountains that this region is known for looked every bit as magical as I had imagined, sitting in shades of blue high above the flat valley floor. We had stupidly not thought to bring a water bottle with us, and were both dying for water after our climb. Strangely, there was a bottle sitting on a rock, right near a tripod that had been left or abandoned. I was suss, but Daniel gulped the liquid down. We started to become worried about the owner of the items; who leaves camera gear unprotected and abandoned on the top of a rocky mountain? A faint rainbow and a set of darkening clouds gathered above us and the fear of a lightning storm and the discovery of a dead body made our decision to make our way back down a quick one.

At the bottom, we both looked like we had walked into the river. My khaki pants did nothing to hide it, and every eye passed over us as we walked along the Main Street. We walked around west street for a little while, taking in the vibe of the place, before grabbing a bite to eat and spending $6 on water. As we walked home, a flash storm passed over, making the lights of storefronts and motorbikes dance over the glossy bitumen.

The next day we hired a bike. It was still boiling hot and the thought of walking was unbearable. We got a better deal out on the street and quickly found out that most of the bikes here are electric. Therefore, practically silent. It was a strange sensation and it took Daniel a little while to get used to it. We trundled along the 'scenic' street - a highway for bikes and pedestrians only, taking you directly to the main sites either side of the road. We headed for moon hill - a formation of rock with a giant circular hole through the centre, looking somewhat like the moon. We paid the entry fee and started to head up the 800 stone stairs to reach the top. Just as we were starting out, we ran into a woman who was carrying at least 30kgs in soft drink cans and snacks for tourists who make it to the top. She was moving slowly, but had calves like a horse and a back to match. Her brow refused to release even a drop of sweat. Daniel, being the guy he is, offered to carry it up the hill for her, carefully balancing there stick across his shoulders. The lady delighted in the novelty, fanning him and carrying his water bottle. She does this trip every day, making a living from the constant tourist flow. We reached the top, again, completely saturated. When I get home, every item of clothing I have with me will need to go in the bin - permanently stiff and faded from sweat and sun. The lady was deeply thankful, offering Daniel a cold coke free of charge as a gift. Once we all had our breath back, we wandered around the arch, admiring the shapes and forms worn into the rock.

The beauty of having a bike is that it gives the freedom to head of the main drag, and explore further afield. Although, being a electric bike, our eyes were constantly looking at the charge indicator, hoping its reading was accurate. We followed the river for half an hour or so, winding through villages and towns. The road narrowed to almost a footpath in some places, but we kept moving forwards, convinced that the 'dragons bridge' was somewhere ahead. We had read that you could jump off the stone bridge into the water below and this sounded amazing after our hot and sweaty morning. We arrived at the bridge nearly 20 minutes later. The little bridge we had in mind was actually swarming with tourists and bamboo boat men - this is apparently the starting point for the Li river boat rides. Our chance to jump off the bridge fizzled away and we contented ourselves with people watching and sketching.

That night, we headed back to west street, thick with Chinese tourists taking advantage of the holidays. Red lanterns glowed and Chinese flags flew from every window. We looked through every menu searching for vegetarian options, a task in itself. We finally settled on a place along a main pedestrian intersection and shared rice, pumpkin and noodles. When we wandered back to the hostel, Hamsun was playing a movie on the projector, so we got comfortable on the lounge with a local beer.

Hamsun helped us book our bus ticket to Longsheng for the next morning, he was also kind enough to come into work an hour early so we could have breakfast before we left - Yangshuo backpackers, it's a good one!