The Worst Bus Ride of My Life: Travel Misadventures in China

Beautiful scenery along the Li River, China

Big Country, Big Challenges

China is a big country. And that can be a good thing.Bigger means more opportunities for geographic diversity. More variation in regional cuisine. More distance you can cover without having to cross a border.

But it also means that seeing the country requires spending a lot of time getting from one place to another.Before I went to China, I didn’t think that would bother me. I’m a pretty accomplished rider of public transportation. I’ve used planes, trains, cars, trucks, buses, tuk-tuks, motorcycles, bicycles, elephants, boats, floating logs, a man who carried me piggyback, funiculars, trams, and a jeep that started out with four wheels but finished with three.

But China... oh, China.

Getting around China was enough to make me want to swear off public transportation forever and join one of those package tours where “locals” with perfect smiles sweep you onto air-conditioned buses and show you the sights through tinted windows. Normally, I scoff at tourists who pay ten times what I do to insulate themselves from the places they visit. That’s not for me.

But in China? I started to see the appeal.

Broken Trains, Broken Buses, and a Broken Elevator

Every form of transportation I used broke down at some point.My train broke down in Guilin (and the AC stopped—in June).The metro broke down in Hong Kong.Two buses broke down.The bicycle I borrowed broke down.I was even stuck briefly in an elevator that broke down.

And then there was the worst bus ride of my life.

A Rough Start in Xingping

I was in Xingping, and I had been about as sick as I’ve ever been. The scenery around Xingping is spectacular, but I spent most of my time there lying in bed groaning and watching Netflix.I’d stagger out occasionally, zombie-like, to gawk at the scenery before slinking back to bed.

By the time I left, I was mostly better—but still low on energy and cranky.I went to the bus station.

Bus stations in small-town China are confusing.When I had come from Yangshuo, the girl at my hotel desk told me to go to the station, walk into the middle of the parked buses, and yell, "Xingping! Xingping! Xingping!" until someone took pity on me and threw me on the right bus.It worked surprisingly well.

But the bus station in Xingping wasn’t a big parking lot. It was a chaotic mess.Yelling "Yangshuo! Yangshuo! Yangshuo!" wasn’t going to cut it.I knew the Chinese characters for Yangshuo, so I just had to find a bus with the right sign and hope.

None of the buses showed the characters for Yangshuo.

After three sweaty, sunburned, frustrating hours, I finally found someone who spoke enough English to help me. She found the right bus. I thanked her profusely.

I should have run instead.

The Crowded, Miserable Bus Ride

The bus was already packed beyond anything resembling safety.Whole families were crammed into seats meant for two adults.The aisle was jammed with standing passengers pressed back to front like sardines.

I’ve been in crowded buses before.Once, in Kyoto, I was so squished I could have fainted and stayed upright, held in place by the packed crowd.

I can handle crowded.

But this bus ride had three strikes against it:

1. I Was Still Recovering

My fever had broken, but I felt weak and lightheaded.Not exactly the condition you want to be in when squeezed into a human pressure cooker.

2. There Was No Air Conditioning

It was stifling. Oppressive.Sweat poured off everyone until the bus floor became a slick, treacherous swamp.I held onto the overhead rail and watched beads of sweat roll down my arms, pool at my elbows, and drop steadily onto the floor—or onto the heads of the unlucky passengers seated below me. (Hey . . . at least they had a seat!)

It. Was. Hot.

3. There Was a Duck

In a cage.And it did not quack. It screamed.

Picture the loudest "QUACK!" you can imagine.Now change the sound to "AHHHHH!" with a raw, wet, gargling quality.Now imagine it never stops. Not for a breath. Not for a second. For an hour.

That was the duck.

And honestly? I didn’t blame it.After all, the poor thing was trapped in the same sweltering bus as the rest of us, wearing its own form-fitting natural down jacket.The duck might have been the most miserable creature on board, but everyone else was tied for second.

The Journey Continues (Barely)

Eventually, the horror ended.I got to Yangshuo, then found another bus to Guilin using the classic "stand in the middle of the station and yell the name of the place" method.From Guilin, I caught a train to Hong Kong.From the Hong Kong border, I jumped onto the metro headed for the city center.

I was exhausted, smelly, starving—but relieved.

And then the metro broke down and stranded me on the outskirts of the city.

Sometimes, you just have to cry a little. Because travel has no mercy.