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So we finally made it to Jiuhua.
At first it looked a bit empty and unimpressive…just a huge white building next to where the bus parked. As we were getting off that rickety metal box, the driver approached excitedly: “Jiuhua Shan? Jiuhua Shan?”—pointing upwards.
We guessed he meant the fabled Holy Mountain, and nodded our heads.
Alex Breiter—the reliable German and defacto leader of our expedition—is thankfully also pretty fluent in Chinese. He chatted up the driver as the other 9 of us piled our bags into the back of a minivan. Everyone managed to squeeze into the seats except for me…I had to cramp up my legs and sit on a tiny plastic stool…as if my ass didn’t hurt enough already after the 6 hour ride. The driver started the ignition with Breiter riding shotgun next to him, and we were off… The original arrangement was that the driver would take us to the foot of the Holy Mountain. From there, there were other buses.
Now this driver was a real smooth talker (even though I had no idea what the hell he was saying)…he just puffed on cigarette after cigarette, blowing his hair out of his face…just smooth-talkin’.
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| Smooth Talkin' |
Breiter would translate: apparently the buses that went to the top of the mountain weren’t working after 5pm, and now it was almost 6pm…but he could take us for a fee. After we made sure this was true, we accepted. We told him to take us to the hotel where some of our party had made reservations. He told us that besides the bus company, he also owned his own hotel at the top. He could accommodate us for a cheaper price, he offered.
We debated as a group in English…could we trust this guy? What about the original plan of the boys in our cohort—spending the night in a Buddhist temple?
Breiter told the driver we’d see what the situation was with the temple. Then we’d decide about the hotel…
-Seb
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