China 2015 Installment #7: Sister's Meal Festival, Guizhou (Final Installment)

When we traveled to China 6 months prior, we had planned to attend the Lusheng Festival, a festival of the Miao ethnic minority group. But it turns out that the festival was not held on the originally scheduled date. They had postponed it to coincide with their town's anniversary celebration. Because we had been unable to attend that festival, Wang Jun had suggested that we come back at this time of year, so that we could attend the Sister's Meal Festival, a much larger Miao festival that centers around courtship.

The festival is held several hours away, near the city of Kaili. We had visited Kaili on our last visit as well, so we were familiar with the area.

We hit the road at 10 a.m. on the day before the festival. It was the first non-sunny day of the trip, but that meant the long car ride was cool and comfortable.  We arrived on the outskirts of Kaili and had lunch at a restaurant run by Miao and Dong ethnicities. It was only around 2 years old, but it is large in scale and built in the traditional style. The Chinese majority population (Han Chinese) have historically not been very interested in the culture of the various ethnic minorities. But Wang Jun explained that is now changing. Han Chinese are starting to travel to minority areas for tourism, and they want to learn about the cultures of the various ethnic groups. But they don't always have enough time to visit multiple villages which are a distance apart.

Restaurant in a Miao / Dong "village" built solely for tourism

So two of the minority groups banded together to create this more "Disneyfied" version of a minority village, built for the sake of tourism. Some buildings are built in the Miao architectural style, while others were clearly Dong (drum tower and wind and rain bridge). The employees are young Miao and Dong men and women dressed in traditional costume. Two young men played lusheng flutes to welcome us, and a young woman held a cup to our lips and poured in a mouthful of rice wine. It was strong, and we felt a small kick from that one serving. The restaurant was decorated with all kinds of traditional craftsmanship from both ethnic groups. For lunch we had local spicy specialties, and boiled tang yuan, my favorite!

After a nice lunch with Wang Jun and Mr. Zhou, we wandered the grounds admiring the drum tower, noticing that the streetlights were shaped like lusheng flutes, trash barrels were shaped like granaries, etc.  There were shops, hotels, and restaurants which served local specialties, including water buffalo, dog, and deer.

Craig is welcomed to the restaurant with a shot of strong rice wine

After that we drove downtown and checked into the Zong Heng Hotel for the second time in 6 months. At 3 o'clock, we met Wang Jun and walked a block to the Kaili Minority Museum, a grandiose structure behind the square which we had seen from the outside on our last visit to Kaili.  Wang Jun guided us through the second floor. He focused his attention on the Sister's Meal Festival exhibit, explaining to us what we would be witnessing tomorrow. Miao girls between the ages of 14-16 are dressed in traditional finery, including elaborate silver jewelry and crowns which may have been in their family for generations.

Long Horn Miao traditional dress, Kaili Minority Museum

They dance in front of the village boys to try to gain admirers. When a boy fancies one of the girls, he begs her for some rice. The rice is colorful, dyed with flower petals and leaves.   No girl can refuse to give rice to a potential suitor, but she will add a token of her feelings toward him in the rice, wrap it up in a large leaf, and give it to him. When he opens it, he will know how she feels as follows (the progression is from worst outcome to best):

• chilies: no way!
• a single miniature chopstick: Thank you very much for your interest, but I'm not really interested.
• pine needles: I'm not sure. Buy me some thread for embroidery, and maybe I will see you again
• leaves: I'm not quite sure. buy me some cloth and maybe I will see you again
• a pair of miniature chopticks: Yes, I am interested in you.

We couldn't wait to see this in action! The museum had various minority costumes on display, including the silver adornments that would be worn at the festival. Wang Jun gave us some free time, and we wandered the rest of the museum until it closed. Then we walked around the square and watched all of the kids having fun  participating in various activities. They jumped on trampolines, played in bouncy houses and sandboxes, went fishing in small kiddie pools, painted plaster figurines, and drove vehicles. from whimsical inflatable cartoon-inspired cars to pink Corvettes to army tanks flying the Chinese flag.

One tween-aged girl seemed particularly interested in us, and we noticed her watching us. She gestured whether she could take a photo with us. When we said yes, she ran excitedly to her mother. Her mother took out her smartphone to take the photo, but the little girl stopped her. She wanted it on her own smartphone. She dug out her phone, handed it to her mom, and posed with us. We took a photo of her in her pink dress and rose crown. As she and her mom went on their way, she had a skip in her step and kept looking back at us with a big smile.

Two kids go for a ride in a whimsical Year of the Sheep vehicle in Kali square

Our new friend who wanted a photo with us in Kaili Square

At 7 o'clock, we met up with Wang Jun and Mr. Zhou and drove to a restaurant which specialized in sour fish hot pots.  Wang Jun ordered one like they would cook for locals, and the waitresses warned him that  that tourists never eat things as spicy as he was ordering. He  inisted they didn't know who they were dealing with here. And at that moment, he and Mr. Zhou dubbed Craig the American Chili King.

Wang Jun presents us with rice wine

We had rice wine which came in a lovely fancy clay jar tied with a red ribbon. Craig correctly guessed from the taste that it contained honey. To me, it tasted like rocket fuel.  It was probably good that Wang Jun had only bought a small bottle for the two of us to share, as we had a big day tomorrow and this stuff had a kick.  The hot pot which simmered away on a burner on our table contained trout in a hot and sour broth. We also had "crispy bones," stinky tofu, addictive pineapple naan, and sweet potato balls. Everything was delicious.

Sour fish hot pot

When we got out of dinner, it was raining, so there was no evening activity in the square. Wang Jun was worried about tomorrow's forecast. Rain would ruin the young women's costumes and jewelry, so the festival is not held when it is raining. Craig and I didn't want to get worried as it was nothing we could control. We would accept it either way, because it is what it is. We thought that Wang Jun would actually be more disappointed than we would if it didn't happen, since he felt some degree of irrational guilt that we would have come to China twice with festivals on the itinerary, and not have been able to attend either. And it was the timing of the festival that made our visit to the waterfall land on the second busiest time of the year. We had no regrets and reassured him that it would work out as it was supposed to. If he believed that destiny caused us to meet, then we needed to trust destiny for what would happen next as well.

The weather was not looking promising the next morning when we woke up. We prepared for a potentially wet day, and went down to the Chinese buffet breakfast. Craig got his favorite spicy noodle bowl.

Flying Tiger P-40 across from the water buffalo fights in Tai Jiang

At 9 o'clock, we embarked on a drive to Tai Jiang to see some traditional water buffalo fights that were a part of the festival. It should normally take about 45 minutes to get there, but it was doubled due to a traffic accident and subsequent backup. When we arrived, we saw 3 Flying Tiger airplanes on the side of the road. They were just sitting there, like an abandoned car would be. I took a few pictures and then crossed the street where a  hillside outdoor arena prepared for the fights. They charged 50 yuan to enter, and Wang Jun was shocked, as it is usually free. And they weren't just charging us because we were tourists; they were charging the locals too!

Previous bull fight champion is paraded around the ring

The open-air arena had cement bleachers. It was lightly raining, and entrepreneurial types were selling umbrellas and interlocking foam floor puzzle pieces to use as cushions to keep your butt dry. Wang Jun bought us umbrellas and we sat on our raincoats. Bulls, including last year's winners, were paraded around the ring.  Today's contenders were spray painted with ID numbers on one side (e.g. A-1) and Chinese characters on the other,  sometimes stenciled, sometimes freehand.  A TV crew was down in the ring, filming the bulls and interviewing the handlers.

Reporter and cameraman from CCTV-7 national news

Us, as we were interviewed for CCTV-7 News

Wouldn't you know, a few minutes later, they were standing right next to Wang Jun, asking him if they could interview us for national news CCTV-7. Wang Jun translated for us, and they asked us why we were here so early  (it was only 40 minutes before the scheduled start time), as well as whether we were here for the festival (yes), would we change the rest of our itinerary for the day if it continued to rain (the rain might change it for us), and whether we had seen bullfighting before elsewhere in the world (no). Then they asked what our expectations were for the upcoming buffalo fights. We said that we liked the idea that the bulls fight one another rather than fighting a human, and we liked the idea that a bull could step aside at any time; it is not a fight to the death. When one gives up, the fight is stopped.

First round of the water buffalo fights

As the start time approached,the arena filled in with spectators, No wonder the TV station asked why we were here so early. Nobody shows up until start time. Some people congregated to watch the fights from a steep hillside overlooking the arena. We guessed that this might have something to do with wanting to avoid the newly-instituted admission fee.

We wondered if we would be able to see over the umbrellas in the rows in front of us. But we needn't have worried: the rain stopped. Not only would that make watching the fights more comfortable, it also meant that the rest of the festival would go on as planned this afternoon! We were so happy.

The judges convened, and a man pulled numbers to determine the match-ups. A Red Bull van (seriously.) pulled up and delivered cans of Red Bull to the judges and owners. Then it was time to begin.

The first fight was the most dramatic.  When the 2nd bull entered the ring, he was all fired up and immediately confronted the first.  They locked horns, pushed one another around in the slippery mud,  and head-butted one another resulting in a broken horn that started bleeding. Eventually he retreated, causing the alpha bull to be declared the winner and move on to a future round. Cheers erupted as the crowd rewarded what they saw as a job well done.  Because the loser had broken a horn, Wang Jun explained that he would ultimately be killed. Despite the fact that we feel that this kind of bullfighting is less exploitative and inhumane than a human stabbing a bull until it dies, it was still uncomfortable and disturbing to see the bulls injure one another, and to know that it can ultimately still be a life-and-death battle.

The second match only lasted 19 seconds with very little contact and the loser giving up very early. The next couple of rounds were draws as the bulls refused to fight. You could tell the crowd wanted action. These peacenik hippie water buffalo were not satisfying the coliseum mentality, though we preferred to see bulls that just wanted to socialize rather than fight.

Water buffalo fights

In a later round, the action took place against the boards on our side of the ring. People in the front couldn't see, so they stood up to get a view down at the action. There was immediate backlash as those behind them started yelling at them and throwing chopsticks at them.After being pelted with projectiles, the people sat down. This was interesting to us, culturally. In a country where personal space is at a premium and people seem to forgive a lot of transgressions, this clearly was non-negotiable.

The arena is packed with people to watch the water buffalo fights

Wang Jun said that we would stay for one final match before heading to lunch.  Bulls A-8 and A-18 seemed pretty well-matched from the numerological perspective as well as physically. They locked horns, pushed,  pulled, and wouldn't let go. They slid one another through the wet mud, and bled from being scraped by one another's horns. At the 6 minute time limit, it was deemed a draw, and they put a rope around each bull's hind legs to separate them.  Both of these bulls would move on to the next round for having fought valiantly until the time limit. A draw with no serious injuries, but two bulls exhibiting their strength and determination was the most positive end to the bullfighting experience that we could hope for. We now knew definitively what we had expected before, that we would not enjoy  watching traditional man vs. bull to the death bullfighting.

It was time for lunch, but many restaurants were closed so that their owners and staff could participate in the festival celebrations. We stopped in at a local hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Happy Staying,  where an older woman, a younger woman, and a young man prepared, cooked, and served the food.

Our food being prepared at the Happy Staying restaurant

Wang Jun ordered food for us and they didn't believe that foreigners could eat food that spicy. He insisted - prepare it the way you normally would, not the way you prepare it for foreigners  (though we wondered how many foreigners had ever been in there...it was not a typical tourist restaurant).
They skeptically did as they were asked, and they were very eager to see us eat it.

As always, Wang Jun watched the food preparation. When we walked in, there was no food to be seen. But the family prepared the food in the dark back kitchen while one person cooked it in a wok out front. All of a sudden there were five delicious fresh dishes on our table. Only a few minutes had elapsed. These people were good - and fast!

Restaurant proprietors want photos of them with these American chili eaters

When they saw us eating and enjoying the dishes with the hot chili peppers, they were so excited that they took photos of us on their phones. That had broken the ice between us, and they immediately began chatting, asking where we were from, what brought us here, etc.

Wang Jun explained that we were going to the festival.  They showed us a video of festival preparations on their cell phone, and then the older woman brought over a little video player that looked like a vintage radio to show us clips of other Miao festivals in other seasons. They were so sweet! We are very glad that we patronized their establishment.

We drove an additional 40 minutes on winding mountain roads through beautiful scenery (rice paddies full of water at this time of year) to Shidong for the Miao Sister's Meal Festival.  Mr. Zhou parked the car and we walked to the village on footpaths past fir houses as females, regardless of age, from infants and toddlers to the elderly, were getting dressed up in their traditional finery for the courtship festival. There were a number of tourists here, but it wasn't overrun as we had feared.

Festival grounds, Shidong

We walked to the village festival grounds where vendors were selling balloons and toys. Girls aged 14-16 were being dressed and bedecked in intricate silver jewelry and headdresses by their female relatives. The girls themselves looked completely shell-shocked. I thought back to how much pressure there is around the prom in American society, and then realized how much more pressure this must be. Girls needed to impress the boys, to encourage suitors. The girl could then choose between any invitation she gets. Hopefully this would lead to marriage. The stakes are unbelievably high. And now this all plays out publicly not only before the entire village, but also foreign tourists. The pressure must be unbearable.

Young women adjust one another's clothing and jewelry

14-16 year old women dance in their finery to attract suitors

All generations of women dress up for the occasion

Upon realizing this, we at first felt a little bit uncomfortable gawking at and photographing these girls as they went through a rite of passage. It felt a little bit invasive to us. We observed the other tourists swarming like paparazzi, taking photos, getting right in their personal space and photographing with no interactions. I had a different approach.

I started off slowly, making sure to make eye contact and greet people with a smile. This instantly softened them and they would often pose for photos, or ask for photos of us. It instantly made all the difference to make that human connection. After photographing a small child, I would show them the photo, and they would often giggle and point at their image, which in turn made their families smile.

We also acknowledged that some of the locals were curious about us. As they took photos of friends and family members during the festival, they would sometimes try to take a surreptitious photo of us. When we noticed this, we would smile and pose for a proper photo, and they would giggle and say thank you.

It comes from an attitude of reciprocity and respect. We know that we are probably as interesting to them as they are to us. Here we are, invading their villages and cultural events...the least that we can offer is a cultural exchange for those wishing to partake.

A couple of parents wanted to photograph us with their children. One woman (not dressed traditionally, so she may have been a Chinese tourist) gestured that she'd like a  picture of us with her daughter. When we said yes, she plopped her bare-bottomed toddler into our outstretched arms. We wondered what the girl would think when left in two white strangers' arms, but she was completely unfazed.

An eligible bachelorette poses with youngsters

Young girl dressed up for the festival

Toddler dressed up for the festival

We walked down a foot path to the river, passing food stalls cooking up delicious smelling festival food. There were photo stalls with live peacocks and people could buy prints on the spot. The women formed concentric circles (older on the inside, younger on the outside so that they could be seen by potential suitors) and danced clockwise, while two women beat a large drum. You could hear all of their silver ornamentation jingling, making a pleasant sound like a wind chime or rainstick.

It was interesting that only females were dressed traditionally. The Miao have tradition men's outfits as well, but none were being worn here, except for a few very young boys. It was difficult for us to tell which young Chinese men might be tourists,  or which might be involved in choosing a girl to approach and ask for rice.

The young women dance in a large group to impress the boys

Wang Jun convinced me to go into the center of the dancing circles. My first instinct was to stay outside, so as not to intrude. But Wang Jun said that it was perfectly ok; he had just been in there himself.  I am so glad that he convinced me to go in. From this angle, I was able to get many portraits of the young ladies' gorgeous faces, accessorized with flowers and silver. The girls face inwards into the circle as they dance, and boys on the outside can only steal glimpses of their faces. Maybe it adds to the mystique.

The young women dance in a large group to impress the boys

The young women look gorgeous and elegant

As the afternoon progressed, girls would leave the dancing circle and others, who had taken longer to get dressed, would enter. But at around 5 o'clock, most of the eligible bachelorettes had left the riverside. Now the older women (mothers and grandmothers) danced and beat the drum.

We were the last tourists, and among the last people period, to leave the festival grounds when everything wound down at 5:45. Away from prying eyes, boys would now ask girls for rice, and the girls would accept or reject their advances.

Traditional meets modern:
Friends and family photograph and text one another

One of the young ladies poses with Craig

Married women get the dance floor  to themselves at the end of the party

We walked back through the village to where the van was parked, and met Wang Jun and Mr. Zhou at 5:55. We headed back to Kaili for dinner.  The roads were very mountainous and curvy.  As we took a left hand turn, my left arm rest popped off and I kind of fell into Craig's lap. I held it up and said "Sorry!" and Mr. Zhou  started laughing hysterically.

Craig, Wang Jun, and Mr. Zhou at our farewell dinner

It took about an hour and a half to get back to Kaili.  Wang Jun chose a nice restaurant for the 4 of us to celebrate our final night together after an amazing trip. Wang Jun bought me a bottle of Great Wall wine, and he and Craig drank beer (Mr. Zhou needed to drive, so he didn't partake). We needed to move to a bigger table in order to fit all of the dishes that would be coming.  Every time Craig took a sip of beer, Wang Jun immediately replenished his glass.  Mr. Zhou filled my wine, and I ended up drinking the entire bottle myself!

Mr. Zhou started  giggling hysterically, recalling me holding up the broken van armrest "like a chicken leg." He recreated the scene, and then Wang Jun did the same, holding up an empty beer bottle.  We were having a wonderful last evening together, sharing so many laughs that  the restaurant owner even came over to share a toast. When the last of my wine had been poured, I held up my empty wine bottle like a chicken leg and Mr. Zhou once again started to laugh and snapped a photo with his phone.

Mr. Zhou kept my wine flowing!

The broken armrest, and subsequent retellings of the tale

We would need to leave for Guiyang early in the morning, so we decided to call it a night. There was an inch of beer left in the bottle. Before Wang Jun could think to give it to Craig, I got up and poured it into Wang Jun's glass. He said he was laughing so hard that he his stomach hurt.  When we got to the car, Mr. Zhou hopped into my seat and held up the armrest. It was so funny! Did we really have to leave tomorrow?

The next morning, we skipped breakfast because we needed to leave at 7:40 for the drive back to the Guiyang Airport. We arrived at the airport at 10:20. We had to say bittersweet goodbyes to Wang Jun and Mr. Zhou. But it's not really goodbye...it's until next time. Hopefully we would see Wang Jun in a couple of months when he guides a group of Chinese students in the US, and will be stopping in Boston. And we will see Mr. Zhou the next time we come to China for the spring festival.

Saying farewell to Mr. Zhou at the Guiyang Airport

Until next time, dear Wang Jun!

We flew on Air China to Beijing, arriving at 2:30 p.m. Our itinerary had called for lunch and dinner. Since we were fed on the plane, we were thinking of skipping lunch. We picked up our bags and were met by Simon, an eager to please but nervous young man who said that his agency said that he should get us some fast food at the airport. We told him that we had thought of skipping lunch. He did not seem comfortable deviating from the itinerary. "Are you sure you don't want something? Burger King is right here..."

I said "If we're having dinner, we don't need lunch..." He didn't seem to know anything about dinner. And he really wanted to get us some fast food. After telling him that we didn't want American fast food, we agreed to a bowl of noodles at MyMill. We each got a "spicy sirloin noodle bowl." Simon warned us that it would be spicy. Ummm...Simon...this is the American Chili King you are talking to.

So Craig and I each got a huge bowl of local noodles with sirloin beef. It wasn't Guizhou spicy, but it was certainly spicier than most Beijing food. We enjoyed it, and when we were done, we went out to the car.

Simon pointed across the street at one of two hotels which looked like bookends on either side of Terminal 2. We drove the short distance to the Langham Place, and were confused because our itinerary had said the Airport Hilton (the other hotel we had just seen). We didn't really care one way or another, but we thought he had brought us to the wrong place. But after calling his agency and then talking to the desk staff, Simon confirmed that our reservation was indeed here. It was a nice hotel - very modern decor and pretty fancy. We spent the rest of the day relaxing, watching TV, and packing for the long flight home tomorrow. Our room had a view of Terminal 2 with "Welcome to Beijing" written in flowers and 3 flags waving in the wind.

View of Terminal 2 from our hotel room

The next morning we enjoyed a leisurely delicious buffet breakfast at the hotel. It was a great buffet featuring bacon quiche, homemade donuts, muffins, pastries, bacon, Beijing pancake (folded omelet with eggs, veggies, and a tomato-ish sauce), fresh pineapple juice, French toast with strawberry jam, "India curry puff" (a.k.a samosa), hash browns, chicken sausage, pork sausage, cheese, and good coffee. This would be our last real meal in China, so we enjoyed it to the fullest.

As we left the restaurant, we passed some small statues of a man doing tai chi by artist Xie Aige. I was missing my 4-5 times a week yoga practice, so I decided to pose for a photo doing a little tai chi with "Frank".

After we checked out, Simon picked us up and drove us to Terminal 3. We got out of the car, unloaded the luggage onto a cart, rode in a crowded elevator, and a people mover to get to check in only to find that it was the wrong terminal (as Craig had suspected)...it was domestic.  We needed to be in Terminal 2. So we backtracked, reloaded the car, drove 10 minutes, and did it all over again.

Practicing some tai chi with Xie Aige's "Frank and Tai Chi III"

We checked in, did some shopping at our favorite gift shop, and then went to our boarding gate. We got on a bus that seemed almost full to capacity when we boarded, but the amount of passengers doubled before it took the long journey to where our Hainan Airlines Dreamliner was waiting.

We boarded and got settled in our seats. A toddler in the front row of economy seating projectile vomited into first class after crying for 15 minutes at the top of her lungs. It was going to be a long flight. We took off at 2:32 p.m. We listened to Led Zeppelin and I typed up my notes from the trip. The lady next to Craig seemed to spend the entire 13 hours removing then applying beauty product. At one point, Craig came back from the bathroom to find her wearing a facial mask, and it startled the crap out of him. Vomit baby walked by and stopped in the aisle next to me, then  hit my delete key while I was typing. Her overly indulgent grandparents just laughed. Ok, I'm ready to be home.

We landed at 3:10 p.m., technically not even an hour after we had left Beijing. Time zones can really mess with you! After an overly long unpleasant but uneventful immigration experience, we picked up our luggage. Craig's brother Steve picked us up at the airport, and another trip is in the books!

Hainan Airlines 787 Dreamliner from Beijing direct to Boston