China 10/25/14

Saturday 10/25/14 - Tang'an Dong Village, Ma'an Dong Village

We woke up at 7 a.m. The twin beds were very hard, but we had still managed to sleep well. We had decided not to take showers. Before bed we could hear some sounds from other rooms, so we knew how much the sound traveled. We feared that if we took showers, we would wake up everyone else in the place. Which was a shame, because there was hot water!

There was a breakfast seating at 8:15, so we went down to the dining room and sat at a table. We had toast with jelly, fried eggs, clementines, pre-packaged rolls with lemon butter inside, tea, and coffee. They gave us knives and forks - our first time since in China. Boo! We preferred chopsticks. Although breakfast was fine, Craig would have preferred what the guides were fed - spicy noodles!

I asked for the bathroom in Mandarin, and the employees were tickled by it. They showed us where it was, and when we thanked them and said goodbye afterwards, they were so excited. We met Wang Jun at our meeting spot at 8:50. Mr. Zhou was off getting permission to drive through the village so that we didn't have to take a 20 mile detour on our way to the nearby Tang'an Dong Village.

He secured permission, picked us up, and we were on our way. Along the drive, we had a gorgeous view back at Zhaoxing village down in the valley below the road in the beautiful morning light.

When we arrived at Tang'an, we walked around the 700-year-old mountain village. Though they welcome tourists here, it is nothing like the scale of Zhaoxing in terms of infrastructure. It seemed much more low-key, and the villagers seemed less jaded. It is actually billed as "the most primitive Dong Village in China" (though we did see some satellite dishes on traditional houses made of fir timber).

Walking paths led up into the village. We passed some ancient burial mounds which dotted the mountainside. Bunches of sticky rice dried in the sun. Some of the buildings had been recently rebuilt, as they had suffered a fire five years ago. The drum tower was exquisite. A man sat on a bench next to the fire which burned in a recessed fire pit in the center of the floor. An ancient well poured forth from the hillside, with a rock carved like a human face acting as the "faucet".

Wang Jun gave us 30 minutes of free time, so we climbed further up the mountain to have a view down at the village. We met some Chinese tourists (a photographer and his wife). They wanted our photo, and when they found out that we were American, even their guide started snapping photos of us.

We then walked down the steps and down a path to get a view of the rice paddies. A little toddler was carrying a hoe and she and her grandmother went down into the fields to meet her father. She then hoed the land with him. It was adorable.

We needed to use the rest room before leaving, and Wang Jun told us that it cost 1 Yuan (about 15 cents). The bathrooms were immaculate and as soon as we used them, the villager in charge of them ran in to make sure they were still spotless. Definitely worth the 15 cents! We left the village at 10:15.

The road was very windy and we hit lots of dusty construction. I tried to type in my notes, but was starting to feel a little motion sick, so I made many mistakes and had very slow progress.

At noon, we stopped in a small town at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant run by a woman with three young boys and her mother. The men at one table (who also seemed to be related to them) offered us a glass of locally-made grape wine. We shared it and really enjoyed their hospitality. For lunch, we had fungi, tofu soup (which included animal parts that Anthony Bourdain would classify as "squeaky bits"), greens that were related to the Chinese cabbage, pork spare ribs in a deliciously sweet sauce, tofu, and local small whole fish from the nearby river. The fish were hard to deal with because they were so tiny and didn't have much meat on them. The locals eat them whole, bones and all, but we couldn't bring ourselves to do that with so much more appetizing food around. We got photos of the family. The young boys were curious but petrified of us. We used their bathroom (also immaculately clean) and then were on the road again by 1 o'clock.

Nearly two hours later, we arrived at the ticket office for Ma'an Dong Village. Wang Jun bought our tickets and was surprised and annoyed when they told him that we couldn't drive to the hotel due to road construction, and that we would have to walk in carrying all of our luggage. It was quite warm, and we carried our bags down a path next to the massive wind and rain bridge, and walked a short distance to the Longfeng Hostel. We checked in at 2:50 p.m. Wang Jun told us that there was a cultural show at 3 o'clock, but that rather than trying to rush, we should get settled in our room and wait for the 4:20 performance. Wang Jun had said that he would meet us at 3:45 to walk over to the performance area.

This sounded good to us. It was hot and we had worked up quite a sweat carrying all of our luggage from the van. The hostel is another rustic place with hard twin beds and a bathroom where the shower has no shower curtain or walls. Also, the toilet had a slow leak that made the bathroom floor always wet. We were overheated and a little bit cranky after the drive. Craig turned on the fan to cool the room down a little bit.

We relaxed for a few minutes in the room and then walked down to the iconic wind and rain bridge. It is gorgeous, and on a much larger scale than any we had seen previously. Sellers were set up on the bridge. Although we were enjoying looking at their wares (heart-shaped Chairman Mao tassels to hang from your rear-view mirror, anyone?) the vendors were kind pushy, touching us and harrassing us to buy. We were not really in the mood for it, as we were hot and tired, so we headed back toward the hostel.

We saw a shop selling cold bottles of Sprite. Though we had plenty of water, the lure of a COLD refreshing drink was irresistable. We bought two bottles and then met Wang Jun at 3:45. The performance space was on the other side of the village, across the river. We could see adrum tower rising above the other rooflines. We crossed the smaller Helong wind and rain bridge (built in 1814) to the performance space.

There were several benches set up in the shade on one end of a cement courtyard, and there was an open-air Dong opera stage at the other end. Wang Jun set us up on the benches and then returned to the hotel to catch up on some work. A Chinese family befriended us - a large patriarch with a camera who got our photo with his wife, daughter, and grandson. The daughter knew some English and asked where we were from.

When the performance started, the performers announced in Chinese that everyone should move the benches closer to the stage. One woman who knew a little English helpfully translated for us "Move up." The Chinese family saved seats for us on the bench next to them, right in the front. That was so thoughtful of them. We were much closer than we had been to the stage, but we were also now in the hot sun. We quickly guzzled our cold Sprites. There were Chinese as well as Western tourists in the audience, including a large British contingent.

The female performers were wearing knee-length indigo skirts with three white stripes at the hem, bright blue tunics, silver necklaces, and silver headdresses with small pom poms. They also had indigo gaiters tied around their calves with turquoise ribbons. The men wore indigo trousers, white tunics, and turbans.

Women came down from the stage into the audience, offering everyone a shot of rice wine. They started with Craig and myself. We happily accepted. After we drank it and thanked them in Mandarin, they continued to stand in fromt of us with their tray, pointing to a 10 yuan note which was sitting there. Ok, so I guess we are expected to tip for the drink. We had been presented with shots like this before as a gesture of welcome, but had never been asked for payment. I was totally unprepared. I had to stop filming to rummage through my bag for a 10 yuan note, eventually finding it and presenting it to them so that they could move on to the next people. THat was awkward! Many of the audience members refused the drink; we don't know whether it was because they didn't want the drink or they didn't want to pay for it.

The performance was quite entertaining. Men and women in traditional Dong clothing played lusheng pipes and stringed instruments while they danced. They also performed polyphonic singing. It was a bit more difficult to hear than it had been last night, as these singers had no amplification and there were children talking and playing in the audience.

At the end of the performance, they invited everyone up onto the stage to join in a dance. So many people went up that they wisely moved it down to the cement courtyard. I joined in and Craig filmed. We all joined hands and danced in a circle. They taught us a series of steps, and then we would reverse direction and repeat. I was holding hands with one of the performers and with the grandson of our friendly family. The patriarch of said family was trying to convince Craig to get into the center of the circle to film. Craig didn't understand, so he grabbed Craig and placed him in the middle of the circle. It was funny.

The circle dance then turned into a line which snaked its way back onto itself. Everyone had to high five one another and then run to keep up wit hthe person in front of them. At the end, a group of men picked up one tourist and tossed him into the air a couple of times. It was a lot of fun.

Ma'an Dong Village Cultural Show

The show lasted 45 minutes, and on our walk back, we stopped to admire a woodworking operation. Many village men were working on huge logs which would be used to construct a new drum tower. There was a drawing of what the finished building would look like. They were planing by hand and with an electric planer. They were also carving the logs with hatchets and blades. They carried the huge fir tree trunks by hanging them from their shoulders to move them onto sawhorses. We were very impressed, especially Craig who has a great appreciation for woodwork and craftsmanship. We attempted to convey this to the workers with a big thumbs up, which connotes something truly excellent in their culture. They seemed psyched that we were so interested.

Despite all the babies we had seen throughout the country, we never saw anyone nursing their babies. Breastfeeding is viewed as a very private thing in China. Here we actually encountered our first breastfeeding mother of the trip. She looked very nervous at first when she saw us. But we were quite respectful and always looked away.

After watching the woodworking for a considerable amount of time, I was able to pry Craig away so that we could see a bit more of the village before it got dark/ We walked over to see the existing drum tower, which we had seen from a distance before the cultural show. Some older men were sitting outside and motioned for us to enter. There was a fire pit in the corner, a TV and stereo, a ping pong table, and antique drum, and a cache of lusheng flutes. One elderly man followed us in and pointed to the stone tablets where they carve the names of anyone who donates as little as 10 yuan towards the upkeep of the drum tower. We contributed 10 yuan into the donation box, and he gestured for me to write down our names on a list. The man was thrilled.

Another local man came in and the first man told him that we donated money. The second man was quite small in stature, and he immediately came over to me with a big smile on his face, pointing out how the top of his head only came up to my shoulder. We got a photo of the height differential.

Craig gets a lusheng flute lesson in the drum tower

The two men directed us over to the pile of lusheng flutes. The first man picked up a small one and started to play it while swaying back and forth, The shorter man accompanied him on a larger flute which rested on the ground and stood about 10 feet tall. They played a short song for us, and then encouraged Craig to try playing the smaller flute. The first man whowed him how to place his fingers and blow into the bamboo instrument. He was able to produce some notes, and it was very cool! They were so gracious to us that we donated another 10 yuan to the drum tower maintenance fund in gratitude.

We were really enjoying making these personal connections with people. By now, most of the tourists who had been at the show with us had either left by car, or had returned to their hotel. We were pretty much the only tourists still out and about. The locals were very friendly to us, and obliged my picture-taking. One man showed us how he rolled his own cigarettes using a small rolling machine.

We got back to our room at around 6:15. I wrote in the journal until it was time to go downstairs to dinner at 7 p.m. Wang Jun had arranged for two traditional Dong dishes: banana dumplings and flour-coated pork resting on little crunchy cereal-like balls. Both were delicious! We also had beef with tomato, spicy sprouts, and and egg and potato pancake. There was a large Bristish group eating in the hostel as well. We had seen them at the afternoon's musical performance.

We chatted with an English-speaking young Chinese man who was on holiday with his girlfriend. He suggests going to Hainan Island the next time we visit China.

We finished dinner at 8 o'clock, and went outside. The wind and rain bridge was not lit up at night, which seemed like a missed opportunity. We looked at the stars for a while, and then headed back to the hostel. The British group was drinking out on the stoop, interacting with locals, and having a grand old time. We made the acquaintance of Nigel. the life of the party. We went up to our room, downloaded our pictures, and wrote in the journal. We went to bed at 9:45, still able to hear the good times that the Brits were having. At 10:22, we heard a tremendous crash from above, which shook the whole building. We wondered if Nigel had literally passed out.

Tang'An Dong Village