The 8+ hours' bumpy (big understatement) from Congjiang to Kaili was not the end of the Guizhou drive-through, but Kaili is the base for any proper village-hopping in the area, and I already chose the one village in its vicinity out of the available list on the guide book that sounded like it would be most value-adding.
Ling-zi offered to go together to the biggest attraction-village, Xijiang, once she'd finish working at 6PM. The place, thought the most touristy of the bunch, sounded like it's touristy for some good reasons, but those would be mainly day-time reasons (at night the all surrounding scenery will not really be available), plus I had some indications that there are no buses going back to Kaili in the evening. Ling-zi claimed (and I believed) that she knows how to get cars going back when we'll need them, but the whole thing somehow felt like a bit too much.
Either way, morning time I was clearly heading for my chosen destination - the Gejia-minority village of Matang. Easy enough to decide, small and unknown enough to be an adventure of its own to just figure out how to get there.
See, Kaili - as small a city as it might be - has about 5 bus stations. Add to that the fact that there is actually no bus going there as a destination, and that most people around may have heard about the place, but never really gave it a thought such as visiting, and there you go ...
I asked the lady in my hotel about it, as I was checking out, and she gladly told me that I can get a bus from down the street, adding something with the number 4, as in the counter for 4, as in there are 4 of something ... "4 buses a day?" I was guessing gladly, but she just repeated what she said, obviously we were not really understanding each other, but I had to stick to my guess.
At some point later, I realized there was no bus station proper down that street, but rather that she meant take the #4 bus - only she did not use the bus-line counter (I'm pretty sure), and she didn't really tell me where to be heading with that bus.
After also failing to find the station for the #4 bus, I went to one of the bike-riders on the street corner, and asked him if he knows where to get a bus to Matang from. With all my bad intonation, I have no idea how I can ask about "Matang" and they can come back with "Xijiang?!" - but this repeated several times that day. I showed the guy my pre-written little note of the place's name, and then he happily said "Ah, Matang" (right) "you should get a bus from the ~ bus station". He was pointing in the general direction which was the right one (easy enough, we were all the way on the east side, and he was pointing down the main road going west).
So there I was, sitting at the back seat of a Chinese motorcycle, flying down Beijing Dong Lu with the Engine off and in Neutral (to save on some Gas downhill), and without a helmet - cursing myself for being stupid enough to do that.
So I was happy enough when the guy said we arrived. But after some back and forth at the station I finally realized that this was of course not the right station, and the most that the ticket-clerk was helping me with is something along the lines of "take bus #4".
But again, no heading, and no help with where to get it.
Eventually I did find the #4, and went on it. The bus driver, as well as his ticketselling assitant, though, had no idea what everybody else was talking about. They had no idea where a bus to Matang would be going from, and where I'd expect them to be dropping me off.
Eventually, some of the people on the bus had an idea, and helped with some suggestions, and once she got it, the assistant even wrote for me the actual destination I should be aiming at - the bus that can drop me along the way in Matang. I started walking in the direction they indicated, which would have drawn a big blank if not for the nice guy who decided to follow me from the bus. We walked to a crossroad where he indicated I should be able to flag a bus, and waited with me, but once we failed flagging a bus, we headed up the street towards supposedly the actual bus station.
And there I was on the bus, and was indeed dropped off at the entrance to the village road. It's about 20 minutes down that road to get to the actual village proper (including a parking plaza for tourist buses, but not yet a restaurant), but the road itself is part of the fun, as it goes through the village's fields, filled with farmers beating the grains out of the rice growings.
The village is very nice, if very small, and once you're done exploring it, you can follow the path that leads up the hill and towards the village of Shilong - I did not follow that path, unfortunately, as I had no idea what that might be, and had not yet fully explored the village - but that now seems like a great recommendation - if you're already in Matang, go for this path, and get another rare minority village into it - it's a Xi-minority village, and from it, you can go on to the road that leads back to Kaili on the village's other side - no need to track back. You can then walk for 20 more minutes down the road towards Kaili to get some great views of mountain-side rice terraces before flagging any bus back to Kaili.
I stayed in the village, though, and tried to find a place to eat. Seeing me going back and forth near the village's entrance (which seemed the most tourist-oriented spot), a woman (who's picture I just took 5 minutes earlier spreading rice grains on straw matresses to dry, dressed in the local traditional clothing) asked me what I'm looking for. I asked her if she knows where I can get something to eat, and she happily replied "here, what do you want to eat?"
I said "vegetables", as I wasn't sure she'd be prepared with a sophisticated menu, and then I was seated in front of the rice-drying mats to wait, while she headed in to prepare. At my back was her house, at the side of which was the kitchen she entered to prepare the food.
It took close to one hour - apparently my timing was spotless. She started chopping some pumpkin, and before long her little daughter got back home, and was sent to buy some fresh green leaves. She then went and brought in some wood to light the kitchen's fire, went behind the house and picked up some spices and specifically fresh chillies from her garden.
The rest of the family arrived just as the smells were beginning to show, and just after she showed me a big chop of pork and asked me if I'd like some of that (with my vegetables).
When everything was ready, I was seated inside the "dining room" with the rest of the family. I said yes when I thought I was being offered some tea, but soon enough I found in front of me a bowl filled with a pinkish liquid which turned out to be their own brewed liquer. As I was drinking that, the grandpa figure was trying to convince me to let him pour me some of his own transparent liquid - he had his own stash. The father, though, insisted that I should stick to what I started with.
It was a great meal.
After saying my goodbyes, and heading back to the main road, I decided to give myself an hour of walking towards Kaili, in the hope that it will be enough for getting to a bend in the road I earmarked during the busride earlier for some great views of rice-terraces (in compensation for having skipped Longsheng). It took 45 minutes to get there, going by a number of small villages, including the mentioned Shilong.
Passing that views-section, I flagged a bus and headed back to town. Got my bag at the hotel, and headed to the bus station for a bus to Guiyang, from which (after a few hours) I got the night-train all the way to Chongqing.
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