Perhaps mud-caked shoes and heaps of buffalo dung don’t immediately come to mind when you think of a place called the Forest of Sweet Osmanthus. For eighth graders, though, this year’s Guilin/Yangshuo China Alive trip was just that and plenty more. It was a memorable five days, packed with a host of physically exhausting activities—the types of activities that, thankfully, don’t involve crawling through museums. They were the types of activities eighth graders love best, and the reason this trip is the most coveted of the ones taken throughout middle school.

The mud cave is probably one of the more well-known aspects of the trip. It’s a simple enough activity, but a surprisingly fulfilling one—romping in the mud without a worry in the world is something everyone has wanted to do. We only spent a meager 15 minutes sloshing through slipperiness before we had to clamber out of the pit and begin to make our way back out of the Moon Water Cave, though.

As the mud dried and stiffened over our faces, we braved the rocky path back through the countryside, wading through gurgling streams and flicking mud on the leaves we passed by. By the time we had dried enough to become rather frightening terracotta warriors, we had reached the entrance to the cave again. We were only too happy to leap into the muddy water of the outside pool there, and wash away all of the muck that had collected in our hair and, well, all over.

The biking activity on China Alive, as well, became infamous for its muddiness during our five days there. It was clear to me why as soon as I began riding. Traversing the muddy countryside meant having to ride though puddles of rainwater; it caused ridiculous amounts of mud to be flung onto our pants, bottom, and lower back. I wasn’t surprised to see villagers staring at us as we passed, muttering, “Oh my…” and tsking. After all, we were basically a line of silly kids mounted on bikes that had once been bright red, in the process of dyeing our pants a lovely shade of brown. We fell a lot, too. It’s hard to believe, but the bike ride was one of the highlights of the trip. The karst mountains and other scenery flying by us as we rode might have played a part in that.

Kayaking was something only a few of us did, as the river was closed off part way through the trip because of heavy rain. Those who did it, though, were definitely the lucky ones, as it was an exhilarating experience to be able to paddle down the river in Yangshuo and watch the villages on the shoreline whoosh along. We splashed each other and sped though sheets of mist clinging to the water, and I felt grateful for having had a kayaking unit in PE. Our laughter and disdainful screeches probably kept all the boats away. Yangshuo’s crickets and frogs are loud enough without the screaming of hyper eighth-graders to add to the mix.

Then there was rock climbing, abseiling, and traversing. Abseiling involved jumping down a cliff (with a rope and harness of course!) We went slowly, though some people still managed to slam themselves against the wall as they were going down. Traversing involved sliding on a rope between one rock point and another. Rock climbing involved grappling with a rain-slicked cliff side and trying, despite precariously balanced limbs, to keep up with your rock climbing guide’s yells: “TO THE RIGHT! STICK YOUR HAND IN THAT NICHE THERE!” In any case, it was pure heaven for those who enjoy rock climbing, exciting for those daredevils who have always wanted to jump off of a cliff and avoid death, and all-around an excellent activity.

We also experienced orienteering, which was a first for many students. This involved map work with a compass and calculating the general direction of a landmark with the aid of a list of degrees. Then we had to physically trek there (this in a very large stretch of farmland) and take a photo of it. Our group did this in the sweltering heat, all the while dodging thorny bushes, buffalo dung, newly planted trees, and mud-slicked ledges. Few people understood the map work, and many found orienteering to be rather unexciting. It was still better than a museum, though, and it allowed us to slow down and take a proper look at the sprawling landscape that Yangshuo is so famous for. You don’t soak up these views properly while speeding past them in a kayak or a bike.

Chinese Cooking was one of the least physical of the activities, but still worthwhile. I had originally thought that it would be boring. It turned out to be anything but. Yangshuo-style eggplant, egg dumplings, a pork and vegetable stir-fry (“the orange thing” that everybody loved), steamed chicken with wolfberries, and a healthy portion of greens were among the dishes we learned to make that day. They turned out delicious, despite how some of the cooking teachers enjoyed dumping ridiculous amounts of oil into them. I was among the many who were finally proud that they could cook something beyond scrambled eggs.

And we definitely won’t forget the free time on West Street we were allotted every day. Fooling about with your friends is also what China Alive is all about, after all, and our bargaining skills came into play whenever we set our eyes on a pretty trinket.

On the very last night of China Alive (a grief-filled one indeed), we held Camp Yangshuo. We gathered in the hotel dining area while teachers and students alike put on wonderful performances. We sang along to songs, laughed hysterically at the antics of the performers, and closed China Alive with a bang. I don’t know a single person who could have avoided being sucked into the fun and cheeriness of it all. Most of us basked in it, and the memories of this trip will stay with me for a lifetime.

By Catherine LI, G8, Puxi Campus