Of farmers and freedom

This past Friday heralded a fairly auspicious holiday amongst we Americans, being, that is, the anniversary of our Declaration of Independence and thorough thumbing of King George and England. This also marked the second such Independence Day that I have celebrated in China, last year being in Beijing. I found that my ability to celebrate such an event to be rather stifled in that I was lacking in essential ingredients -- that is, fireworks, barbeques, and large crowds of inebriated Americans. Luckily, that weekend I managed to find all necessary ingredients to successfully celebrate the 4th -- in a rural village called Maoershan.

The weekend was intended for a chance for us Americans, being mostly from cities around the country, to experience life in a traditional farming village ('nongcun'). This tiny area is called Maoershan after a mountain that resembles a hat. The weekend was kicked off when someone thought it would be a good idea to climb to the top of that hat, and somehow I thought it would be a good idea to agree. The funny thing about mountains in China, however, is that they are basically large Stair Masters (TM) -- stairs lead almost all the way to the top, and with a 'direct is faster' approach causing the stairs to be unbelievably steep. I somehow made it to the top, after scaling a stretch of sheer rock, helped only by rickety chains and a few footholds. It was absolutely worth it, of course; 会当凌绝顶，一览众山小 as the poets sing. We had to then hurry down the muddy, slippery rock face and stairs as it was about to rain. Afterwards, we were rewarded for our bravery and endurance with a public bathhouse where we could shower off the sweat and mud and grime -- and truly, showering with one's professor is quite a new experience for me.

Anyway, the extent to which the goal of experiencing Chinese farming life was reached can be easily doubted, but nevertheless that night we celebrated with a bonfire, fireworks launching all over the two-street radius that made up the tiny village, chuanr (or sticks of meat) roasted over barbeques (one of which fell on my leg), large quantities of Snow Beer, and -- of course -- karaoke.

Now, karaoke is without a doubt the leisure pastime of choice for many Chinese. Outside of our own American celebration, there were two other parties going on in this minuscule village, centered around karaoke. I decided to further investigate these areas. In one, there was also a bonfire, where men were running and jumping through the flames. When they saw me and a couple other Americans, they waved and shouted at us to join them. I declined on the fire jumping, instead politely applauding when the jumper's pants did not, in fact, catch on fire.

The other party was far more low key, but I am proud to say that with a few other students, we turned their quiet evening of relaxation and singing into a raging dance party. I also managed to talk with a girl who had just taken her college entrance exams, and her father who -- like many others -- thought that wearing a shirt was unnecessary.

And that was how I celebrated America's Day of Independence. That aside, I may still know nothing about farming in China, but I've become a champ at singing Theresa Deng in karaoke.

Miss you all!