Sometime between the fourth and fifth day, I finally fell in love with Shanghai — the ruckus and the uproar; the staring, spitting locals; the bizarre and piquant smells. Now it's time to leave. In the morning I will begin a lengthy and bewildering journey to Yangshuo. There will be air travel, harrowing highways, and thunderstorms. There will be hawkers, racketeers, and conspiring bus drivers. And at the end of it all, a small town in the Li River Valley, where the international conveniences of the city will be no more. Bring it, China. Here I come.