Getting to Yangshuo, Guangxi, China

 

My journey to Yangshuo began with a chaotic start, as I almost missed my train in Guangzhou despite my best efforts. The morning rush, combined with a last-minute sprint, brought me to the platform just in time. With my ticket in hand and my heart still racing, I boarded the train, eager to escape the daily grind and dive into the tranquility of Yangshuo.

The high-speed train itself was a modern marvel. Smooth, quiet, and efficient, it sliced through the countryside with precision. Outside the window, the world transitioned from urban sprawl to rolling fields, small villages, and distant hills. The man seated beside me, noticing my foreign appearance and my tentative grasp of Chinese, smiled warmly and insisted on sharing a beer. A small gesture, but one that underscored the kindness I’ve often encountered during my travels in China.

As the train approached its destination, I caught sight of an enormous structure on the horizon, a nuclear power plant looming like a quiet sentinel against the landscape. It was a stark reminder of China's duality—its vast, unspoiled countryside standing side by side with its relentless industrial drive.

Disembarking at the Yangshuo train station was a lesson in contrasts. Perched on a hill, the station was clean and new, having been completed less than a year prior. Yet the road leading away from it was a bumpy, narrow dirt path that quickly dissolved into the countryside. A cheerful, slightly battered blue bus waited to ferry passengers into town for 20 RMB, its well-worn seats a preview of Yangshuo’s laid-back charm.

The bus wound its way through the hills, passing fields, rivers, and clusters of traditional homes before arriving at the South Bus Station. From there, the town opened up like a treasure map, with small streets branching out into neighborhoods, local markets, and the occasional foreign-inspired café. The air was crisp, carrying hints of the river and the faint scent of wood smoke from nearby fires.

My hotel, the I Style Boutique, was an intriguing mix of modernity and traditional charm. As a strange sub-hotel of the Green Water Resort, it managed to strike a perfect balance. Just far enough from West Street’s lively nightlife to maintain its quiet ambiance, yet close enough to allow for convenient exploration, it felt like the ideal home base.

The room was a delight. Designed with a creative, almost cave-like aesthetic, it was both cozy and spacious. The king-sized bed, adorned with crisp white linens, promised a restful sleep, and the Western-style mattress was a welcome surprise after months of firmer accommodations. Soft slippers waited by the door, a thoughtful touch often found in Chinese hotels.

The room’s centerpiece was its unique décor—a blend of minimalist modernity and quirky charm that made it stand out. A small but well-stocked minibar sat to one side, and the clean, contemporary bathroom offered every amenity I could need. Even the balcony, despite facing a wall, added a sense of openness. From this quiet corner, I could see the outlines of the limestone karsts that make Yangshuo so famous.

After a quick rest, I stepped outside to explore. The streets near my hotel felt almost European, with their open-air shopping arcades and cobblestone pathways. Bright lights from international chains like Starbucks and McDonald's stood in contrast to the rustic charm of local vendors selling handmade crafts and street snacks. Though it was only Thursday evening and winter had settled firmly in the air, the streets buzzed with energy.

As I wandered toward the Li River, the town’s heartbeat became more apparent. The river, though low in the dry season, flowed gracefully past the karsts, their jagged peaks mirrored in the still water. Across the way, a small group huddled around a campfire, their laughter drifting softly through the air.

Dinner called to me after the long day of travel, and I found myself drawn to a small Thai restaurant tucked away near the edge of West Street. The warmth of the spicy noodles, combined with the friendly atmosphere, made for a satisfying meal. Travelers often ask why I eat non-Chinese food when exploring China, and my answer is simple: living here means I enjoy Chinese cuisine daily, so when traveling, I like to explore the variety of flavors these international hubs offer.

West Street, Yangshuo’s iconic nightlife destination, had a unique vibe that night. Despite the cold—around 4°C—the bars and restaurants maintained their lively spirit. Each establishment boasted live music, with bands competing for attention in a friendly cacophony. It was easy to see why this area has a reputation for its vibrant nightlife, though the winter’s chill had certainly tamed the crowds.

A craving for dessert led me through the maze of streets, where the glow of lanterns and the hum of conversation filled the air. The quiet charm of the off-season had transformed West Street into a more intimate experience. With a warm pastry in hand and the music of a nearby guitarist playing softly in the background, I felt a sense of contentment settle over me.

The day had begun in chaos but ended with calm. Yangshuo, with its stunning landscapes, welcoming people, and cozy accommodations, had already proven to be a place of quiet magic. As I made my way back to the hotel, the chill in the air seemed less biting, the night less dark. In a world that often feels rushed and chaotic, Yangshuo felt like a pause—a chance to breathe, to reflect, and to simply be.