I turned the corner into the ladies’ toilet. And was presented with an old lady, squatting side on, with a poo coming out of her bum. I froze. Then pretended it was completely normal and went to find my own doorless cubicle over a single channel running the width of the room. There was no flush. No wonder Chinese toilets stink. Not just an unpleasant aroma, but a choke-inducing, breath-holding stench. But why, China? You’re so much more advanced than the SE Asian countries but don’t have flushing toilets. Everywhere in SE Asia had flushing toilets, even if it was with a bucket.
It was one of about a dozen stops on our journey from Jinghong to Jianshui. We’d got ourselves comfortable at the back of the sleeper bus (although we were travelling during the day), reorganizing the blankets, draping our not-quite-dry laundry over whatever we could find and generally making ourselves at home for the ten-hour trip. We’d only been on the road twenty minutes when we stopped for the first of many checkpoints. Not just a “tick in the box” drive-through jobby, but a spot-check luggage inspection. Twice we were required to show our passports and our visas were inspected. First time, all passengers had to show ID, and she clearly took it very seriously indeed. But once she had inspected our passports and asked us various questions (“Where do you come from?” “Where are you going?” etc), she was very friendly. It was only once she’d gone that I realised my pants had been hanging right there in front of us, like a fourth party in the conversation.
The second time, of the whole bus, only the three tourists were targeted. It didn’t make us feel welcome, but I think it was just because he found our documents more interesting than theirs. Again, once he’d done his job, he was very friendly.
And, rather disconcertingly, one of passengers couldn’t take his eyes off us. It was like we were a beautiful lady that he just couldn’t resist looking at. Eventually, we started waving at him each time he glanced our way. He’d look embarrassed, pretend he wasn’t looking… And less than a minute later his eyes would be back on us. It was either a fascination with westerners… or a crush on Rudy 😉
Our day had started early, up to watch the school run:
Pavements were a hive of activity as children and adults got their noodle soup before school:
And then suddenly they’re gone:
Children were making their way to school unsupervised at a much younger age than back home. Is it safer here? I don’t think so. But the Asians seem to have a much braver approach to child independence.
Noodle soup for our breakfast – quick, nutritious and customisable:
Rudy reached for the salt, turned the cellar upside-down and shook. Nothing. He shook harder. Nothing. He shook harder. And a single toothpick stuck itself upright in his noodles. Silence. Bursts of laughter.
Dinner in Jianshui was more successful – most places were closed by the time we went out (Asians eat early, by my norms anyway), but we stumbled upon a steam pot restaurant. A flashback to our fondue over the bamboo bridge in Luang Prabang.
Pleased with our luck, we retired happy and full, past this lovely creature:
That one was for you, Sis 🙂