Along the Li River

First, congratulations to brother Paul and his sweetheart on their wedding two days ago and to niece Sarah and her sweetheart on their wedding tomorrow. Wish I could be with all of you!

Second, I made it! With new passport and visa in hand, I made it through the checkout counter and security in Chongqing. (Never mind that my flight was cancelled--I eventually got another to Shanghai.)

So, this week I decided to just let my camera do what my pen can't while traveling here along the Li River here in southeastern China. (That's a chicken's way of telling you Mid-Missourians now reading Raymie's accounts of teaching in China that, well, he's a lot funnier. Read him.) But! Look at these incredible things they call mountains in Yangshuo--not far from Guilin--seen with a passel of Brits, Kiwis, a Congolese woman, a German, my three dear buddies from "East Campus" in Columbia--and our tour guide, Qin, from right here in Yangshuo.

Looking down from Moom Mountain.

Hiking in Yangshuo

Amazingly fit at 72, a Yangshuo farmer makes us at home
and tells us stories about everything adorning his walls. Jim Curley photo.

Pan Xiansheng toasted us with not any old rice wine. His comes from a jar
with snakes, scorpions and spiders--and 10:30 was none too early
to toast us -- Gan bei! Bottoms up! Jim Curley photo.

Most of the rafters along the Li River
were Chinese tourists yelling out "Hellos!"
to our gang of cyclists.

Pan Xiansheng's crow couldn't do as much as my sister's African Grey parrot can,
but it could jump up on odd numbers and down on even.

Forget the cotton spinning and notice the water buffalo
horns--and the Obama pin in the middle.

Rice!

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