Flavours". An accurate, though unexpected use of the word.
Not as amused though, as I was when I reached my aprtment block where
one of the neighbours was having a three-piece suite delivered... on
the back of a motorcycle!
Travel, language, poetry, teaching and anything else that occurs to me.
Not as amused though, as I was when I reached my aprtment block where
one of the neighbours was having a three-piece suite delivered... on
the back of a motorcycle!
So we were in. After a small and deeply uninteresting museum there is
the trail itself. My advice is not to bother. Phoney totem poles have
been set up along a path that you can easily walk along in about ten
minutes. Here and there, there are equally phoney "village huts" where
people in authentic polyester prehistoric costume try to convince you
to have your picture taken with them (printed and for sale at the
gate). Then, just as you are thinking "There must be more to it than
this" you discover you are right. There is more. There is a gift shop
through which a snaking aisle leads you past the overpriced souvenirs
for almost as long as you have spent on the trail.
A final twist and you are back out on the car park.
We spent a few minutes trying to find any sign indicating either the
admission price or the true nature of the attraction but were unable
to discover one, which prompted our decision to skip the Butterfly
Spring as it had a similar lack of detail at its ticket booth.
We did however stroll on to the Banyan Tree Park where, for a far more
reasonable 20Y we wandered around a pleasant and busy park which just
happens to have a Banyan tree in the middle of it. Sure, it's just a
park but it's a nice park filled, even on a fairly gloomy day, with
people enjoying themselves. Families were playing with each other.
People were wandering round just relaxing. Bamboo rafts were punting
along the river.
We continued on. The Assembly Dragon Caves were along a detour from
the main road and we decided that if we had the time and the
inclination we would see them on the ay back and pressed on to Moon
Hill itself. Once again it was in a park with a small entry fee. It's
called Moon Hill because there is a roughly semi-circular rock arch at
the top of the hill which has its lower edge obscured by trees when
viewed from the level of the road. The result is to make it look like
a crescent shaped hole through the rock.
The climb up to it was steep, zig-zagging between the trees along a
path that took about twenty minutes to climb. It was about half that
on the way back down.
The walk back to town also seemed to go rather faster, perhaps helped
by the decision not to visit the caves. Back in town we opted for a
curry in a Malay restaurant and then settled down in a pub called The
Alley for a couple of beers. It had been a long and pleasant walk
though mostly along a main road. We made plans for a couple more walks
and called it a day.
The main problem, I realised, as I waited for him at the bus stop next
morning, was that although I knew what time his flight was due in at
Guilin, I had no idea if it would be on time and no idea how long it
would take him to make his way from there to here.
In the event he was later than I expected and I had time to go eat
some breakfast before he turned up. We walked down to the hotel he'd
booked for his first night and when he'd checked in and freshened up
went back for his first look at West Street.
West Street is the main tourist part of Yangshuo. It's a narrow
pedestrian-only street several hundred metres long. It's lined with
shops selling souvenirs of all varieties. Necklaces nestle side by
side statues. T-shirts hang above lucky cats with their waving arms.
Carvings, paintings, postcards, jewellery, Chinese Chess sets,
miniature Mah-jong sets with tiles too small to ever handle.
Interspersed among them are cafes and restaurants and bars. Side
alleys run off the main street, dodging over bridges that span the
narrow water channels, lined with more restaurants and bars.
At the far end, by the river, there is a market where larger items can
be found – fans five feet across, carpets, statues of stone and wood,
stone xylophones (though perhaps that should be lithophones).
It's busy and colourful though why the salesmen seemed to think I
would be interested in buying silk dresses remains a mystery.
We wandered relatively aimlessly – me because I knew the area well
enough already and John because the lack of sleep on the flight and
the jet-lag were taking their toll.
There were two weeks ahead to get a more detailed view of the town.
I will in my next post get back to talking about my holiday in
Yangshuo. For this one let me tell you about an incident this week
which illustrates perfectly one of the major differences in teaching
in China and England.
Earlier this week I had a class in which a number of students arrived
late. As they were only a few minutes late and the lesson is only
forty-five minutes long, rather than spend a lot of time addressing it
I gave them a brief warning and sent them to their seats. One of them,
a girl of about twelve always has an attitude problem in class and she
was also eating when she came in. A few minutes later she started
fighting with one of the boys. I sent them to separate corners of the
room to separate them. When I let her sit again she immediately
started a conversation in Chinese with the girl next to her. I told
her very clearly to stop talking and her response was to echo the
warning in a mocking tone.
So far this could all be a student in in any school in the UK and,
indeed, it isn't the student's behaviour that has caused me to
comment. It's what happened next.
As she was clearly taking no notice of me at the end of the lesson I
took her to the office to be spoken to by her Chinese English teacher.
This teacher shouted at her quite sternly and then telephoned her
class teacher who came to the office and shouted at her some
more...and gave her a series of extremely hard open handed slaps
across the face. Hard enough to leave the face a stinging shade of
red. Hard enough that they rocked her on her feet.
I was stunned. If any teacher in the west did that they would lose
their job immediately. They would probably arrested for assault and be
put on a child protection register. This isn't meant as a criticism of
the teachers involved. This kind of punishment is perfectly normal.
Commonplace, even. There were five other teachers present and not one
of them reacted at all. It's such a normal thing that it's not even
worthy of comment for them. It sits very uncomfortably with us though.
The girl had been a pain in the arse in class and had needed to be
spoken to but I hadn't expected her to receive a physical beating for
it. If I had realised that she would, then I probably wouldn't have
taken her to the office at all. It's made me rethink my policy of
threatening them with their class teachers as a threat I'm not
prepared to carry out is no threat at all.
Last week I had witnessed something else in the office that was also
pertinent. The junior students had been given a dictation test in
their Chinese English class and most of them had done very badly. I
saw some of the papers and they were very poor indeed. However, for
us, a failure of so many students wouldn't be looked at as a failure
of learning it would be looked at as a failure of teaching. The
response here though was to call ALL of the failed students into the
office and give each one a few sharp raps across the palm of the hand
with a heavy ruler. Dozens of them were lined up and punished in this
way. FOR FAILING A TEST!
I sort of understand, without in the least condoning, why you might
use physical punishment for discipline issues, but for failing a test?
It really is a different educational world.