Instead of spending lots of money on a long trip for the May 1st holiday here in China, I decided to stay in Hangzhou. But by Wednesday I was getting antsy, and Joan and I decided to take a day trip to the village of Anji, made famous by Ang Lee's "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon."

When we got off the bus at the Anji station an hour after we left Hangzhou, I looked around, trying to figure out where the movie was filmed. Where were the forests thick with bamboo? From where I was standing at the bus station, we were just in another Chinese town, construction and all. After talking to a book store owner with a map (Ok, Joan did the talking) we found a Chinese family headed to some of the "scenic spots" too, so we followed them around, and soon realized they didn't know what they were doing either. It is always comforting to see that even those who speak and read Chinese, and have lived here their whole lives, don't know what's going on here either.

With the help of a group of Americans (who Joan knew through a contest she judged months ago) we got on a mini bus heading to the Da Zhu Hai, Big Bamboo Sea. Near the entry to the forest was a conglomeration of bamboo playground equipment, with more adults playing on it than children. You have to admit it is fun to see a grown man in a suit try to swing on the monkey bars.

We started walking up a hill and into the thick bamboo. But first we had to pass the gamut of men trying to get us to take their sedan chairs up the mountain. Even though the Chinese have no problem paying two men 20 yuan to sit on a chair that they carry up a mountain, as an outsider here, I would feel a bit too much like the foreign devil exploiting the natives.

The hike wasn't very long, but it was hot, and Joan and I kept stopping to take pictures everywhere. Once we scaled a lookout point we realized why it's called the Big Bamboo Sea -- looking down at the forest as the wind blows, the flexible bamboo branches undulate back and forth with a rhythm much like a large green body of water. It was beautiful to look down on the bamboo under the bluest sky I've seen since being in Yunnan province.

For lunch, we were picked up by a man offering to take guests to his restaurant in a nearby village on the back of his motorbike. I've decided I hate motorbikes. The two times I've gotten on them in China I've sworn it was the last. But there I was again, on the back of a motorbike without a helmet, expecting to go flying head-on into a big blue truck around the next corner.

We made it there in tact and starving. We were ushered into the kitchen where we picked out our vegetables (making sure we didn't get any of the frogs that were already skinned and waiting to be prepared). The owner’s wife brought in our chicken, still clucking, while we sipped tea and waited for lunch.

Our meal of chicken, huge bamboo shoots and a grass-like vegetable was delicious. We had some trouble pulling the meat off the chicken and at one point the grandmother of the house walked in and watched us struggle with the bird. She was trying to tell us to drink the soup too, but we were too busy trying to tackle the wings.

At one point, while she watched in amazement, Joan told her we were "Hangzhou ren," meaning “Hangzhou people,” or, from Hangzhou. People usually laugh when we say that, because we are clearly not Chinese. She just stared at us and nodded, and we wondered if she actually thought that we were Hangzhou natives.

Stuffed and ready to hit the road again, Joan and I walked back to the road that intersects with the entrance to the bamboo forest. We walked through a few tiny villages, passing some adorable children, single-family homes, and a few guesthouses advertising 24-hour hot water (that’s more than I can say about my apartment). We marveled at the silence there. In Hangzhou we live at the corner of a massive elevated highway and a very busy four-lane road, so we are unaccustomed to the sounds (or lack thereof) of the country. It’s easy to forget that such a place exists so close to where we live.

The rest of the day – a walk through a bamboo garden and our quest to find a popsicle – went by in an exhausted haze. As our bus got closer and closer to Hangzhou, the air slowly became more and more brown, and at one point I thought it might be a good idea to get on the next bus back to Anji.