Backpacks and Mopeds

Once in a while (which is probably a little too often from my boss's view), the only respectable thing a girl can do is to hand in a leave application, grab a backpack, and go on an adventure.

Yang Shuo, nestled in its mountainous layers and idyllic streams, was the place.

We first inserted ourselves as a surprise foreigners' musical tribute in a very traditional wedding.

Met friendly Miao tribesmen who were out for a casual stroll in all their splendor.

Explored the rocky slopes and the lush countrysides with steamed pork buns and busting plantains squirreled away in the hiding spaces of our rented mopeds.

Wandered into the occasional farmer's home as he husked outside, wiping his sweaty brow in the midday sun.

Jumped off bridges to splash the passengers on the bamboo rafts.

Fished with Cormorants, webbed-feet birds that torpedoed into the dark waters and brought back fish because they couldn't swallow them with the strings tied around their necks.

Held back the giggles as a hundred "kissing fish" ate at the dead skin on our feet.

Squeezed in work in between everything, till 2 am or electricity shortages.

And rode a 22 hour train, hard seat, back home, with little old ladies leaning in for pillow comfort.