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dolorous_ett[Warning - LONG post ahead.]
Just back from Zhenfeng - the small county town surrounded by mountains which I mentioned in passing in my rather over-excited last post. It was a great couple of days but rather overwhelming - I'd really just expected to have a quiet time chewing the fat with my old student and cooing over her baby (who is fortunately very sweet, and wanders around picking things up with a serious expression on her face). I'd forgotten, though, the speed with which news travels in a town like that, and in a surprisingly short period of time my hostess had managed to rustle up a lot of ex-students, all of whom dropped by to say hi, one or two of whom were surprisingly and touchingly pleased to see me.
All but one were married with a baby (or one on the way), which feels a little strange, as I'm older than them, and neither of those things. But that's the way China is - marry early and have a child as soon as possible - and a gratifying number of the female students had held out long enough to get a further degree in before the baby.
Anyway, we went for a walk round Zhenfeng, which was a study in itself. Bits of Zhenfeng remind me very much of my old stomping ground when I first came to Guizhou - narrow little streets, concrete buildings plastered in faded, flaking, muted colours, narrow entrances leading to official work unit courtyards, motorbikes with a trailer on the back as taxis, streets lined with dusty trees - then you suddenly turn a corner and there's this enormous great four-lane road leading to a roundabout ornamented with neon palm trees that flash in snych in the dusk. Take a left turn at the roundabout and you hit another common part of China - the construction site - a huge new courthouse is going up and the new Public Security Bureau, plus a spanking new set of government offices - all white tiles, blue double-glazed windows and fancy bits of extra architecture (odd greek bits, or upturned eaves on the roof) - all interspersed with half-built structures, and lots of hammering and sawing noises. I particularly enjoyed the signs hanging side by side from one half-finished building: the first said "Safety First", the second "Quality First" - laudable sentiments, both, but surely only one of them can be first - how to choose? Go a few hundred yards past the building site, take a right turn, and you're in the countryside again - one-storey buildings, dirt tracks, paddy fields, sweetcorn plants and water buffaloes.
Anyway, I was actually going to talk about hospitality before I got distracted. China is famous for its hospitality - Chinese people boast about it, and occasionally I feel they're overstating the case - and then I meet with a case like this one and have to admit (when I remember to breathe again) that they are quite right.
My friend's brother came along after the walk, and took over the proceedings with great aplomb. He organised taxis for us all to go to a restaurant, and ordered the best dishes he could get his hands on, plus beer, plus coca-cola, plus good-quality Chinese spirits (baijiu). I'm not sure I have the energy to quote the whole menu at you - there were many other good meals that weekend and time's precious - but highlights included:
- Wafer-thin slices of hard, dried beef.
- Bitter melon stir-fried with eggs.
- A cold soup of runner beans and unripe pumpkins boiled in water - very cooling.
- Tiny, hot chillis mashed with mince, ginger and garlic.
- Beetles stir-fried with dried chillis (yes, you read that right, beetles. Sort of crunchy. They taste perfectly all right - if a little chemical. I later found out that the local name is fang pi chong - break-wind beetle)
- Steamed local wind-dried sausages - not like the muck you get in Cantonese supermarkets at all - not in the least sweet, and with just a hint of chilli and Sichuan pepper.
Our host broke open the bottle of white spirit, to the obvious dismay of all - this stuff is strong - and proceeded to make at least twenty toasts - to all of us in turn. Some of us were getting very red around the face, even though they were drinking beer, and would actually have given a lot to make him stop - but in the face of such warm hospitality, who could resist? They just had to swallow the drink and smile. Host continued apparently unscathed throughout the meal, and then downed half of the hot chillis plus mince - he must have a gut of solid iron.
We struggled to pay for the meal - but in vain (Chinese custom is that only one person pays for all, and there is often a scrum at the cash desk as various people struggle to be the one who pays) - we were out-manoevered and never got near the cash desk. Then our kind host, still perfectly steady on his feet, took us to a very flash and expensive tea-house indeed - the kind with waitresses in qipaos who pour delicious, fragrant tea from minute teapots into exquisite, tiny cups, telling you the correct culture as you go along. The poor girl could hardly get a word in edgeways this time, though, as people were quite noisy by now, and the children some students had brought along were starting to get fractious.
Again, no question of us paying - though again, we tried - the same brother paid for all.
Then we realised we'd been booked into a hotel for the night - one with air-conditioning and showers. Once more, the brother had paid before we realised what was going on.
We felt terrible. Then my old student said that we weren't to worry - he worked for the local government and could sort it. For a few minutes I felt very happy that I wasn't bankrupting the poor man - and then, of course, I felt worse again when I realised where the money was probably coming from...
And so to bed - after drinking the entire contents of the room's water cooler in an attempt to stave off a hangover.
The next day was market day. It was somewhat less glamorous than I'd led any regular readers of this journal to suppose - yes, there were still minorities in traditional clothes, and yes, there was that markety feel to the place that's very typical of such days, with stalls set up on both sides of the road, and people carrying goods too and from the market on carrying poles or baskets on the back - but only old and middle-aged women were wearing traditional costume, and only a few of the men were even wearing a turban. When I was there in '97, friends of mine had taken pictures of pretty young Buyi or Miao girls in full costume, but apparently this is too troublesome to make and keep clean and young people don't bother except for special occasions. So I'm glad I saw as much as I did - in another ten years' time, who knows how much will be left?
We spent the rest of that day sightseeing - gorgeous green mountains and terraced fields. As is traditional, we took many photos, especially group pics with amazing mountains as a backdrop - we also stopped at a place called Shuang Ru Feng (two-tit mountain) which was straight out of Benny Hill. Two tour busses were there already, their occupants busily snapping away.
On the way home we took a side-track down to a village where it was rumoured they made and sold traditional clothes. In fact, they did no such thing, but it was quite an eye-opener to see such a place, especially compared with the county town - noticably dustier and more worn clothes, a lot more obvious Buyi costume and use of the Buyi language. Most of the houses were made of the traditional stone, with low, tiled roofs and faded red good-luck cloths and mirrors over the door. There was a tiny market there too, selling a very few things - someone had slaughtered a pig, and there were a few stalls selling an odd mix of things like fertiliser, batteries, cigarrettes and hair ribbons. Things could have been a lot worse (and no doubt are worse, away from the roads) - there was a primary school, the children looked healthy and well fed, and the elderly seemed in reasonable nick, but life must be hard there, especially when it's raining and cold. I think even my local friends felt a bit conspicuous, coming there by taxi and carrying cameras and bottled water.
Quite a contrast with eating beetles at the taxpayers' expense.
The hospitality continued right up till we left - we didn't even pay for the bus ticket back, despite vigorous protests.
When I left a lot of these students, they seemed destined for life as teachers in tiny, dreary villages, dreaming of further study as something forever beyond their grasp. It's unbelievably cheering to see how many of them did manage that two years' further study, or to buy a flat of their own, or their dream motorbikes. I'm not sure all of them are really contented with their lot, but even so, it's impressive what they have managed. Good for them.
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no subject
Date: 2005-08-08 07:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-09 02:20 pm (UTC)I'm completely failing to do the place justice, trust me. But I'm glad I've sparked your interest.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-08 08:28 pm (UTC)H
no subject
Date: 2005-08-09 02:24 pm (UTC)I've thought about travel books, or writing down some of the stories of people I know. I may do it one day, but the problem is that if you get too involved with people or a place you lose your neutrality - you find yourself wanting to protect them from publicity, or simply to keep your favourite places to yourself. Still, thanks for the encouragement - perhaps one day...
There will be more entries - I'm taking a big jump soon, and going to the deserts of the far north-west - new territory for me. Before thatI'll hopefully get some Guizhou photos posted.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-08 09:35 pm (UTC)It sounds like you're having a fantastic -- if busy -- time. It's great that you got to see so many of your students again.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-09 02:26 pm (UTC)Word to that. *Shudder* I think everyone has a baijiu related horror story or two to tell - not to mention the ones We Never Talk About. Ever.