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Zhangjiajie – an Accidental Opera Date

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Missed both trains, had to catch a lift with a random family, and arrived at your destination two days late? Am I an optimist? But nineteen years on this earth has led me to believe that everything happens for a reason. Whether that reason be good or bad. At the time, missing my first train seemed like the worst possible thing in the world. This was, of course, before I missed my second train. But I had heard of Zhangjiajie. Rock towers seemingly floating on clouds. Monkeys like the flying beasts from The Wizard of Oz. That afternoon, I caught the train to Guangzhou, planning to catch a second overnight sleeper train to Zhangjiajie. As it turns out, there are more than two train stations in Guangzhou. And I booked it from the wrong one. Fast forward to me laying on the train station floor tired and defeated. No accommodation, no transport, no-one to turn to. I message my friend and he tells me exactly what I need to hear. Paraphrased, of course. He was definitely slightly more empathetic towards my pathetic situation. Only slightly. So, I whip out booking. Praise the Lord for booking. I find a dodgy hotel and I book it. I have no other options. So, I trudge outside to the taxi bay. I have a giant-ass backpack and two little bags. I whip out the hotel address, show it to the taxi driver, and he refuses. Second taxi driver, same result. He finds the directions on his phone, helps me load my junk in the car, and directs the taxi driver to where I need to go. He makes sure I get into the hotel safe. He sees a distraught little eighteen-year-old Aussie and he looks out for her. An actual legend. Thank you, kind stranger. Thank you so much. Now, this hotel is pretty bizarre. The bed had bugs and black hair in it, and you could hear people yelling on the street. But I was exhausted, absolutely deceased. I said screw it and went to bed. Got woken up an hour later by some crazy person banging on the door. Honestly, it was probably my fault for locking the door and not letting him into our sharehouse. So, I let the guy suffer. Two hours later, I awaken and book a train for that morning. And then finally, after a full day in the train station, I board the train to a town halfway to Zhangjiajie. Some kindly strangers help me with my luggage and I settle into my seat to confirm my hotel plans. I find a hotel also dodgy and arrange a train station pickup. Four hours later and a random guy is picking me up at the station. He takes me to his car while telling me how piaoliang beautiful I am. The guy has his whole family in the car for some reason? Honestly, could have turned out a gazillion times worse. This hotel is basically just little units. I get a little bedroom with a lovely bathroom and drop toilet. The owners agree to call me a taxi for the next morning and I book the final train ticket. The next morning I bid farewell to my kindly Chinese hotel family and head to the train station. Miraculously, I manage not to miss this train. No idea. Guess it was fate. Six hours later in a seat with no power points, people staring and taking photos of me, and a nearly dead phone, I finally arrive. The first thing I see is a cable car stretching into a collection of towering mountain formations. The Avatar mountains, named as so for their likeliness to the floating mountains in the fictional planet of Pandora. I stare at them, encapsulated by their glory. Until suddenly I am reminded of my need for accommodation and I head off in search of a bus station to take me to my hostel. I spent about half an hour wandering around, trying to find a bus, until a woman came to my aid and pointed out the bus stop situated directly behind me. Literally right behind me. Am I stupid? No, just illiterate in Chinese symbols. The bus stops, I quickly find some girls and whip out the directions on my phone. Straight ahead, they say. Excellent, I whisper as my main phone dies in my hand. I trudge along for half an hour, sweat dripping from my yellow shirt, my backpack laughing as I suffer. I force another stranger to look at the directions. Miraculously she knows exactly where my hostel is. She takes one of my bags and leads me to this cute, hidden street. The hostel is flanked by potted plants and has timber stairs leading to the door. Man, it was so hot there. And so, I collect my dorm room key, throw myself into the frosty air-conditioned bedroom, shower, and order food to be delivered to me. A time-savvy person would use those last few hours of daylight as a chance to explore. I, a very not time-savvy person, whipped out my laptop and watched Parks and Recreation while shovelling noodles and rice into my gob. I had not eaten all day. Step 1. Locate the front gate of the Zhangjiajie National Park. This step is extremely important. You have to be in the park to meet your man. Grab yourself a five day ticket and head on in. It was to the far right. Just catch that one. And when in doubt, follow other westerners. I planned my itinerary around my lunch plans. Fit and healthy people would opt to hike up the mountain. So, I was neither fit nor healthy. I had also acquired a smooth yuan from the completion of my internship, and I planned to use it. Thus leading me to the cable car station. The cable cars soared into the sky, twisting and winding through towering rock pillars frosted in fluffy green trees. Natural rock bridges stretched across the formations, birds flew by like prehistoric beasts. I managed to find the courage to ask the couple sharing my cable car for some photos. And they did good. They did really good. When the cable car reached the end of its journey, we hopped out and looked around in awe. We were on top of the mountain. Like tiny ants trapped in a surreal mountain snow globe. Step 3: Find some temporary friends to lead you to food. A group of guys adopted me for a bit. They gave me a plum and dropped me off outside the restaurant. I guess they thought I was coming back because they stuck around outside for a while. But I needed the air con and the burger. I was taking my time. And so they left. Life was good. I was experiencing the CGI mountains from the movie Avatar with my own eyes. I needed to show people, to share my joy. I needed some photos. Step 4: Ask a random guy for photos. I asked one guy. He was good, not much English. Took some decent photos. And then a second guy appeared. This guy had a professional camera so I knew he was going to be good. And he was. He was really good. And he spoke good English! This guy was Luca. And he was the reason I missed both of those trains and drove in a car with a random family and slept in a bed with bugs and black hair. All those bad things led me to him. And it was worth it. We spent the rest of the day exploring the mountains together. He was funny, practising his English on me. Came from a little village. Had never left China before. Never used a knife and fork before. Was super friendly with every foreigner we came across. We found a monkey sanctuary. Giant monkeys leapt from tree to tree, babies clinging to their backs. And they attacked those who got in their way. Those guys were feisty. We witnessed a woman getting carried down the mountain in a hand-held chariot. Men with throne-like chairs would sit by long strings of stairs, offering to carry tourists down the mountain for a price. Peak laziness, but also a cool idea. We descended the rest of the mountain together, and he invited me to see a traditional Chinese Opera with him that night. We agreed to meet outside of his hostel, a mere three minute walk from mine, a few hours later. This gave me enough time to nap, shower, and get changed into something slightly less sweaty and smelly. We walked by a lake, witnessing groups of locals participating in outdoor dance sessions. We saw people dressed like characters from the 16th century Chinese novel Journey to the West featured characters included Sun Wukong — Monkey King and Zhu Bajie — Pigsy and got dinner together. Tofu, rice and noodles and beer. We watched the buzzing street while we ate. The street was alive with vivid colours, people dressed up portraying traditional Chinese stories, and locals and tourists tasting the spicy foods of Zhangjiajie. Finally, we headed to the opera. And oh… My… God… It was incredible. We bought popcorn and settled into our seats. But alas, Luca was a man of perfection. And so, when the lights dimmed, we crept into the centre of the theatre. We had the best seats in the house. Two projector screens were flanked on either side of the stage. These screens projected the story of the opera in both written English and Mandarin. The play was centred around traditional Chinese stories dealing with politics and societal ranks. The first act involved a man trying to win the hand of a woman. However, he was not of her status. While the woman danced in a tree house above, the man and his comrades built human ladders in an attempt to reach her. The costumes, acrobatics and vocals were incredible. Each act that followed had similar choreography and beautiful, glamorous costumes. Until the second last one. Women bid farewell to their husbands, fathers, and sons as they left for war. And they cried mournfully as the news of their deaths emerged. He cast a spell so that the dead would walk. And they did. All the thousands of dead soldiers walked straight back to China, neither alive nor fully dead. This act was astonishing. And raw. Because it was based on facts. But there were no Shamans around to bring the dead soldiers home. These soldiers never saw their families again. After the impactful acts, an intermission occurred. During this intermission, volunteers from the audience were called up. And who would be ever so lucky to be chosen? Ah yes, my dear Luca. It was a challenge to see who could get dressed the fastest. He came second and won a key ring. But it was funny to watch. After the opera, we all headed outside to watch fire acts and strong men. I gasped, multiple times. There were guys with bricks, planks, and other people being piled on top of them. Then there were people running through fire. Like jeesh, these guys had zero cares in the world. Finally, the Chinese Opera was finished. And I was super sad. Luca walked me home, hand in hand, past a giant lake. The bustling sounds of Zhangjiajie had quietened down. Everything was serene, peaceful. He took me to my hostel and I said farewell to him in the lobby before returning to my dorm room. I spent the next few days exploring the mountains by myself, eating KFC, and running along the bubbling brook while monkeys preyed on people. And by the end of the week, I felt content. Replaying everything that led me to that moment. That moment when I was laying down, filled with pure content. Being lost in a foreign country can be scary. Wow, the story sounds crazy! I am glad that you managed to get to Zhangjiajie safely. Luca sounds amazing! The opera date sounded so cute! Glad you enjoyed your time! Skip to content Search for:. Zhangjiajie — an Accidental Opera Date. Missed that bus? Failed that class? And I was determined to get there. An hour is spent lined up to get a new ticket. Another three hours are spent wandering around with this giant-ass backpack on my back. I made it. And boy, was it worth it. Am I in heaven? The next day I would venture into the mountains. And I would meet him. The man who would take beautiful photos of me. The man who would take me out for dinner. The man who would take me out to see the most incredible Chinese Opera performance imaginable. All this and more in chapter 2!! Step 2: Buy a cable car ticket. Damn right I wanted to see a traditional Chinese Opera! And I realised. Either everything happens for a reason. Or I am just one lucky girl. Share this: Facebook. Like this: Like Loading Living on an Island. Labour Day Weekend in Guangzhou. Eighteen Years Old and Living in China. Previous Previous post: Living on an Island. I feel like everything happens for a reason. Leave a Reply Cancel reply.

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