Thanks to the recommendation of our guesthouse keeper, the honorable Mr. Wu, we are headed to the Grave Sweepers Festival in Fulu. Every year or so a huge festival is held and Chinese minorities (the Dong, Miao, Yao, and Zhuang) from the region congregate. The following is a chronology as the day happens:
9:00am - After a fine noodle breakfast we depart via a shaky bus for a slow 70 km journey. Supposedly three hours. The road runs along the Cong river, hundreds of rice fields at various stages of growth provide the scenery along the bumpiest and dustiest road in China.
12:00 - We arrive in Fulu, stop the bus, and join thousands of pilgrims as they make their way down the main street and then descend to the river bottom where hundreds of vendors wait in the most colorful market in the world. Ethnic costume is the norm as the various tribe people struggle through the crowd shopping for colorful plastic shoes, bamboo, fishnets, fruits, vegetables, noodles, etc. Approaching from the Cong River are hundreds of boats maneuvering for a port. In between the town and the brown muddy water is a rocky river bank with thousands of aimless people. The town has setup a stage where the talented display their skills dancing and playing bamboo horns of various sizes. Cosmopolitan South China in full color. As usual, I'm snapping pictures and sharing the digital results with my subjects like some type of magical shaman.
1:30pm - The stage readies and colorfully dressed children with dangling jewelry and ornate headdresses begin their program. The redundant bamboo music repeats and repeats as the girls dance in various formations. The crowd pushes forward in typical Chinese style. Manic camera men barge into the middle of the dance ensemble nearly ruining the choreography and snapping amazingly rude photos. I put my camera away in shame.
2:00pm - Two lovely Chinese girls stop by to practice their English. They hop up on the dock where a group of us are resting to get a photo with their western friends. I take the time to show them postcard pictures of my home in Minnesota and give them the colorful woven strip I bought from one of the tribal women. I have this tendency to buy things I don't need in order to practice my bargaining skills. They girls seemed appreciative as they left with a Minnesota postcard and a worthless cloth strip in hand.
2:15pm - Lunchtime. Fried noodles with pork and a dash of chili. To the right of the lunch area men are playing ring-toss for beers and chicken. The idea is to roll a bike tire on to a sort of playing field so it falls precisely around a stack of Liquon beers or better yet around the sacred chicken in the middle. As Naomi said, "that is one nervous chicken".
2:30pm - Running Chinese! Is there a fire? A sale? A train to catch? No, hundreds of Chinese men fight for a small birdie of sorts, like a Harry Potter golden snitch. The game resembles rugby with its running, tackling, and scrumming. Periodically someone gets their hands on the snitch and then tosses it into a crowd of unsuspecting people. A mad rush of people escaping before the sweaty, shirtless mob attacks.
3:00pm - Monkey knife fights. Actually it's monkey tricks by three abused monkeys and an evil whipping master. I'm certain the humane society doesn't exist in China.
3:10pm - The group collects and begins the climb up the bluff from the river bottom toward the hated bus. As we leave the river and enter the town side streets the market turns from hap-hazard to more permanent. The crowds are dense. Mobile peddlers carry colorful party favors. The tribal women sellers are there. They are everywhere with silver bracelets and dangling jewelry. Glassy-eyed men smoke their splifs or pipes full of curly woodlike tobacco. Everyone has icy deserts on crooked sticks. We force through the crowd and arrive at the dreaded bus.
3:30pm - After quick relief behind a small well placed van we sit our sore asses on the wicker covered bus seats for the painful ride home. Round two of the bumpiest, dustiest road ever. As we arrive back in Chen Yaing my teeth are gritty, my eyes are clouded, my skin has a lovely gray sheen of mixed sweat and dust. Thank god we're off that fucking bus.
6:30pm - Shower time!
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