When we found out that we had to take a mandatory guide into China with us for an entire month, our imaginations went wild. In one case we imagined a grumpy middle aged man, who having been a tour guide for too long, had developed a drinking problem, had a nasty habit of hawking on our van floor, and wasn’t too worried about having showers or impressing us. Another worst case scenario was a sumo-wrestling eating machine, who would end up breaking Miranda’s precariously balanced suspension and eat and drink us dry. I remember Col saying that he couldn’t imagine spending one whole month, with a guide he didn’t know and it all going completely well. Fortunately we were wrong.
When we met Louis Long at the Chinese border our imaginations had led us astray. Here stood a young, boy animatedly waving at us. He looked like he would have trouble getting into a nightclub, with a slightly pubescent complexion, great big toothy grin, chirpy pip squeak voice (that would give mine a run for its money) and a big backpack on his front that seemed to be carrying him. That’s right he was barely taller than me and much lighter than me, a meagre 46kg. His immediate enthusiasm – taking self-portrait pictures in front of the drab border post buildings and instantly presenting us with a synopsis of the itinerary, before we had even been granted permission to enter China - gave me the impression that he had just graduated from tour guide school with flying colours. That said, I thought his career might be short lived the first time he had to help lift Col + chair (a combined 100kg) up a flight of stairs at the border post, at which point his face turned beetroot red and he sounded like he had sustained a hernia, letting out a bellowing groan that would rival that of a woman with small hips giving birth to quintuplets.
As we would soon learn, one of Louis Long's favourite sayings was "
you can’t judge a book by its cover" and in actual fact, Louis’ initial appearance was deceiving and our imagination could never have been capable of conjouring up such a unique and friendly character. Louis may have looked slightly young for his age, but in actual fact he was a 26 year old, newlywed, walking encyclopedia, who had guided foreigners for three years and possessed a wisdom and maturity beyond his years. Louis had a brilliant sense of humour, was passionate about China and Sichuan food and was a very easygoing, affable bloke, whose favourite pastime was spotting beautiful Chinese ladies (or ‘
menures’ as he called them) from the car. Although he claimed that his wife was his number one menure, the ‘
menure hunter’ as we nicknamed him, didn’t mind us driving late into the night, never complained when dinner or lunch was put on hold (despite his enormous appetitie) and was always happy to sit or sleep anywhere – even when he was cooped up into the back of Miranda.
Although Louis’ strongpoint wasn’t navigation, he would always scurry around for us and eagerly caterpault himself out of and into the back of Miranda, sometimes four times on one, 1km straight stretch of road to confirm (and reconfirm) the correct direction of travel with any local passersby. We assumed such a conversation would ordinarily take 20 seconds, something like “
hi how’s it going, I was wondering if you could tell me where the A11 highway is” followed by “
sure no problem, just turn right at the next set of traffic lights” but Louis was a great people person. Instead the conversation took a minimum of three minutes, during which Louis and the stranger he had asked directions from, engaged in a lengthy conversation. It appeared they discussed the directions first, testament to the fact that they began wildly gesticulating in all directions but then they appeared to calm down and begin asking each other personal questions: perhaps how their respective families were going, what their Chinese horoscopes were, and how the story of their lives began. Sometimes they exchanged a joke or appeared to get into a lively debate. In any case by the time Louis returned to our car, he and the stranger looked like the best of friends and we were only slightly clearer as to which direction we should be heading in. Sometimes for insurance purposes it was typical of Louis to simply invite his newly acquired soulmate into the back of Miranda and they would cooperatively direct us in the right direction, whilst happily chattering to each other the entire way.
Louis was was absolutely enthusiastic and grateful for everything. Whenever I cooked him some two minute pot noodles, or presented him with a bowl of sloppy oats, he made me undeservingly feel like Jamie Oliver as he ravaged the food in minutes and complimented me like it was the best meal he had ever eaten.
Having Louis in the car was like being on one of those hippy-esque, positive affirmation courses. After a long days drive, he would always repeat “Colin you are great, Chrissy you are great” to which in unison we would reply “No Louis, You are Great!” Col introduced him to the 20 questions game which he became seriously addicted to, although he picked up a cheeky habit of trying to cheat. He also just loved chatting to Col and I about Jin-glish and Aw-dalian culture and would ask us back to back questions, whilst squatting by Col’s side like a little mouse – incidentally his Chinese horoscope was a Rat.
Whenever we presented him with a new colloquial phrase e.g. “
shizer” or “
the shit has hit the fan” he would write it down in his little book, recite it and proudly use it in as many conversations as possible, even if it was completely out of context.
Here is an excerpt from a recent e-mail he sent us testament to this fact:
“
acturally ,I like the prases you taught me "what goes on the trip stays on the trip, shit happens, touch wood and so on" they are very useful ,so thanks again ,yes "right" is a funny word I will use it more often when I'm on the tour. as for the 20 questions game is also very interesting I like it very much and it of course will do a great help to my latter work. so thanks for the 3rd time!”
Of course we also delighted in picking up his catch phrases. Whenever he started a new sentence he would always precede it with “
Yes”. Whenever he described something it was always preceded by "
very, very" or "
many, many" and he loved to finish every statement as though it was a question by saying "
right?" e.g. “Yes
shizer we are in Chengdu today where the shit has hit the fan and that is great because there are many, many, very, very beautiful girls there...right"? Another amusing catch phrase was used whenever he couldn’t remember what he was going to say next. In these cases he would suddenly pause and shout “
it’s something like...WHAT??” to which Col would shout back “
I don’t know...WHAT?”
Louis loved to talk, any time, any place, especially about Chinese culture and history. As soon as he had navigated us out of a town or city and we drove onto a new motorway, like clockwork he would stick his head in between the driver and passenger seats - in a turtle popping it’s head out of a shell fashion - and regardless of the conversation which had been taking place, he would clear his throat and begin reciting a thirty-fifty minute historical monologue related to the next town or city we would be visiting -with the odd "
understand?" thrown in to check we were listening. It reminded me of going to a museum with an audio-guide and listening to one of those pre-recorded spiels relating to a certain exhibit number. If there was no historical significance relating to the town we would visit, the romantic Louis would simply tell us a Chinese love story. These stories would go ahead rain, hail, tollbooths, roadblocks or shine, unless it was interrupted by the sound of “
just sing me a song, and you won’t be alone...” Louis’ soppy love song mobile ring tone.
Louis helped us so much with our mechanical troubles and never ceased to amuse or entertain us. We were lucky to have scored such a cool guide on our voyage through China and thought we’d dedicate a blog post to him. “
Yes...thankyou...SHIZER...it’s something like...WHAT... Louis you are very, very great ...RIGHT”?
On a positive note, upon crossing the border Col immediately spotted a Dusky Langur (a charasmatic little black faced monkey) and we headed for the chaotic and humid town of Alor Setar where we spent a night before legging it down to the Cameron Highlands in search of cooler air. 
