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| Bonfire Extravaganza |
After visiting Lijiang Old Town, I fly to Xi Shuang Ban Na, also known as Sipsongpanna, which in native Thai literally means “twelve thousand rice fields”. It’s a city in Yunnan close to the border of Burma, Thailand, and Laos. Tropical weather, lots of ethnic minorities, you begin to see Thai influence in the temples and architectural styles.
On the way there, I couldn’t help it but to think about Han. I was seriously disturbed after meeting him. I thought this “one-man-to-multiple-wife” thing was a dinosaur concept as outdated as feudal China. It’s 2011, for god’s sake, are we progressing backwards now? He kind of ruined the image I’d originally held about Chinese men, who in my eyes, were supposed to be family-oriented and loyal, more into relationships than one-night-stands. Sweet, caring and romantic…
I was half hoping I’d fall in love with one…
And then I meet Cloud.
There’s a popular evening event in Xi Shuang Ban Na called bonfire evening extravaganza. It’s set in what used to be the imperial gardens of the Thai rulers. At the event you get all you can eat local specialty foods, and there’s a 2-hour evening show, and in the end, a bonfire.
The evening show of singing and dance in brilliant ethnic minority costumes included an interactive element, where the humorous host will invite members of the audience on stage to play some games, and make fun of them at the same time.
“Can I please have four volunteers?...Three gentlemen, and one lady…” the host asked.
Before the he could finish his sentence, I hear a rumble on the floor among the audience, as men jumped out of their seats, squeezed past their neighbors, dashed to the front, and leapt on stage.
The slowest runner, and hence the fourth man to leap on stage, was Cloud.
The host asked him to return to his seat since he’s clearly, not a woman.
Unfazed by the host’s request, Cloud went up to the third guy, whispered something into his ears, who then promptly walked off the stage like an obedient puppy. And the man left standing in his spot, was Cloud.
The host asks again among the audience for a female volunteer.
A long silence draped over the halls like a heavy blanket.
No one would go up.
The host asks again.
Still, no one.
After the 3rd call for volunteers, I was so surprised that no one went up. I mean if this was in North America, at least three girls would have raced up stage along with the men at the first call.
Are Chinese women that shy? The place was completely sold out. There’re over 2000 people, and half of them were women. I’m shy by nature too, so volunteering was out of the question for me.
“Can we please have a female volunteer from the audience?” The host continues.
There’s desperation in his voice, “or I’ll start picking…”
People began to shift and fidget and look around their seats nervously.
I couldn’t sit there and watch this any longer. Overwhelmed or maybe compelled by a sense of duty to get the show started, and to pay homage to my North American upbringing…
I stood up.
It took a moment for the host to notice me, still searching in the darkness for a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t until people started pointing that he finally looked in my direction.
“And we have a volunteer! Please come on up!”
The host is relieved to finally see someone, anyone, willing to participate. The whole place clapped. Relieved also.
I walk up feeling like a hero.
“Where are you from, pretty lady?”
“Tianjin”
“Wow, you’ve come all the way here from Tianjin,” the distance between Tianjin and Xi Shuang Ban Na is a 7 hour flight.
“Where in Tianjin are you from?”
I found it odd he asked me that question, (I mean, would you know even if I told you?) and wasn’t sure how to respond, so I said, “HeDong District”. If he’d then narrowed it down to street name and house number, I would’ve given it to him too. Whatever he asks, I just wanted to cooperate. My hands felt so cold and numb, as if all blood had drained from my fingertips and rushed to my face. All I could do was cooperate.
“Who are you here with?”
“No one”
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Are you sure? Are you just saying that because of what is about to happen?”
Hmm… I wonder what is about to happen, but it seems like staying single is the way to go, “I really don’t have a boyfriend,” I confirmed.
“Where are your friends?”
“They are at the airport.”
“And you came to the show all by yourself?”
“Yes.”
The audience found the exchange funny because it couldn’t possibly be true. Seriously, who goes to watch a play, or a musical, or a movie at the theaters by themselves, while her group of friends are about to fly out of the city? It’s as odd as a penguin taking a stroll in the jungle. But I was just telling the truth. My tour group had already gone to the airport because people’s flights were departing at different times of the evening. My flight wasn’t until much later that night, so I had time to check out this consistently sold-out event, highly recommended by tour guides and former travelers alike.
Somehow, our awesome tour guide managed to get me the very last ticket at the very last minute. Perhaps it was in keeping with this lucky pattern of “lasts”, I nudged myself out of my comfort zone and became the very last volunteer. And as I stood there, with blinding stage lights blazing down like hot camp fire, and 2000 pairs of eyes gazing up expectantly, my solo adventure ceased to be a solitary one. In fact, it is about to get a whole lot more interesting…
The host asked the four of us to turn around, with our backs facing the audience.
“Now ladies and gentlemen, have you ever wondered how ethnic minorities conduct their wedding ceremonies? Since our four volunteers are all single, willing, and without offspring, we thought we’d pair them off with some of our finest in Xi Shuang Ban Na,” the host announced.
Four actors in vibrant ethnic minority costumes came on stage, 3 women and 1 man.
“Now pick your future wives,” the host instructs, “And stands next to the woman of your choice.”
Two men stood on either side/both side of the prettiest girl in the bunch.
The host walks over and says, “Sorry, we don’t do ‘one-woman-to-multiple-husband’ kind of thing here. Since you came up last, you’re last to pick,” the host tells Cloud. He seems to enjoy picking on Cloud. Reluctantly, Cloud walks over to his second girl of choice. I hope he thought of something nice to say, like, “I only picked her because I was intimidated by how stunning you are.”
The choice for me was easy, since there’s only one guy on stage. I went to stand next to him. The host comes over and says, “Look at you, you’re grinning from ear to ear. Are you satisfied with this man?”
“Yes.”
“Because if you’re not, there’s more backstage that you can choose from.”
“Oh, really?” I raise my eye brows with interest.
“One is eighteen, one is twenty-eight, and the third one is eighty-eight. Which one would you prefer?”
“The twenty-eight year old?”
“The eighteen year old has a pockmarked face, the twenty-eight year old has herpes, but the eighty-eight year old is strong and healthy, just a few missing teeth. Now which one do you want?”
“I’ll stick with this one,” I reply meekly.
“Good choice. You guys look good together.”
While the host goes on to harass other couples. My “future husband” takes off my hat, and helps me change into ethnic minority clothing - a colorful turban with tassels on each corner, and gently ties an apron around my waist.
“Before we conduct the wedding ceremonies, and you officially become a married couple. Is there anything…why are you so nervous? Don’t be so nervous girl.” The host says.
I was so nervous I didn’t realize I was being nervous, and that it was so obvious. I shake myself out from top to bottom. “Ok don’t be so nervous,” I mutter to myself, and then announce, “Ok not nervous anymore.”
The host chuckles, “Is there anything you’d like to know about this man? Are you satisfied with the way he looks?”
I study his face for a second. He has a beautifully structured face. Big bright eyes, sun-kissed skin. Very handsome. Since I am about to “marry” him, hmm...I wonder how he looks…
“I’m only getting partial view, not the full picture here,” I reply provocatively.
The host paused for a second. Not sure if he’d heard me right, or not sure how to respond? Then he gave me a little mischievous smirk, as if to say, I didn’t see that one coming, but this is getting interesting, kiddo.
“What would you like to see?”
I think about my options for a second, hmm… I wonder if he goes to the gym, and has nice biceps, or thick, well-defined pecs, and oh, a six-pack would be nice…wait, why do I have to pick and choose?
“Everything…” I reply greedily.
The whole place bursts into an uproar of laughter. I turn around to give them a wink, as if to say, we’re in this together.
My “fiancé’s” face turns into a red tomato. The audience is clapping hard to pressure him into compliance.
“I’m sorry dude, I guess today ain’t your lucky day. Looks like they really want to see EVERYTHING,” the host says to my “fiancé” apologetically, who is standing up straight like a stick, hands down his sides, clenching his pants, wearing a facial expression of agony and embarrassment and restrained laughter that looks as if he’s about to be raped.
Seeing this multitude of emotions pass over his face, the host decides to help him out a bit, and says to me,
“Ok, how about we show you everything from the neck up?”
I shake my head. No deal.
“How about from the chest up?”
No deal.
“How about we show you half of everything?”
Ok, that’s what I would’ve bargained for. I nod in agreement.
The host then turned to face my “fiancé”, and then as quick as lightening, swiftly lifted his shirt for just a second, then asked me, “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“Half of everything?”
“I saw his bellybutton,” I said. Sure it was a nice bellybutton, but who cares about bellybuttons, we’re about to get married…
“Oh I saw a lot more than that.”
“What did you see?” I ask in confusion.
“I saw his bellybutton…and three strands of black hair growing out of it,” the host said.
We all laugh. My “fiancé” lets out a big sigh of relief. I hold his hand to comfort him.
The host says, “Why are you holding his hand?”
I look at him innocently as if to say, why not?
“Why are girls so forward these days? You’re not married yet you know?!”
I promptly let go of his hand like an obedient child.
The host then moves on to tease the other 3 couples. That’s when I overhear that Cloud is from Beijing, and he’s a tour guide. He’s very funny and is one of the crowd’s favourites. I’d thought he was one of the actors hiding among the audience pretending to be a tourist.
Each couple has to complete a challenge before they can marry. One of the couples had the “fiancé” smoke out of a pipe the size of a Japanese missile, because that’s the size pipes come in, in XiShuangBanNa. They turned off the stage lights while he sucked on that thing. When they turned the lights back on, the “fiancé” had a black ring of smoke on his face. Kind of like the Got Milk? Milk moustache Commercial…, but with Got Smoke? Instead.
The challenge for my “fiancé” and I was to switch places on a short narrow stool without falling off it. If we succeed, then we’d be allowed to marry.
I don’t see how this was possible, considering the stool is only maybe 15cm wide. He looked at me reassuringly, and says, “Don’t worry, just follow my lead.” Don’t you just love it, when guys say that to you?
He held my arms, placed a foot in between my feet, and asked me to place a foot in between his feet. Then in one fluid movement, before I could realize what had happened, voila, we’ve switched places, and we’re still on the stool!
While we stood on the stool, rejoicing over our success, the host asks me, “How long have you been in XiShuangBanNa?”
“Two days.”
“Where are you going tonight? I mean, which hotel, so you can take your soon-to-be husband with you.”
“I’m going to the airport.”
Cloud chimes in, “Oh I’m going to the airport too! I’ll see you there.”
The host makes a few more jokes, and then asks the audience to choose their favourite couple: numbered 1, 2, 3, and 4.
Maybe certain members of the audience had the strongest vocal chords, or the biggest lungs, or particularly enjoyed screaming, we heard a rambunctious wave of cheers for “Couple number 2”.
We were couple number 2.
My “fiancé” and I remain on stage to perform the wedding ceremony.
The girls bring up golden goblets of Chinese spirits. I was surprised these were real spirits not just water for show. As we crossed our arms to drink together, my “husband” whispers to me, “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.” I drank it anyway. Having so many people stare at me while I wed this man, I wouldn’t mind a little alcohol in my system.
And then they brought up two more sets of goblets of hard liquor for us to drink. Each time my husband would caringly whisper the same thing about not drinking. And I’d sweetly ignore him and drink it up in one gulp every time.
After the drinking and ceremonies, my “husband” picks me up and holds me in his arms, (in case the bride runs off?).
The host says to me, “so now you’re officially husband and wife. Look all that he’s done for you, are you happy?”
“Yes”
“Really? How happy?”
“Very very happy.”
“That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.”
“I’m super happy.” Running out of words to describe happy.
And to prove my point, I give my “husband” a kiss on the cheek.
He was shocked and nearly dropped me. (I thought he liked me?) The audience loved it and applaud loudly.
“You’re so forward! I haven’t even asked you to kiss him and you’re kissing him already!”
“Too handsome. Can’t help it.” I confess. Darn! Should’ve waited for that line where the priest says, ‘you may kiss the bride’.
“Now that you’re going take your new husband with you to the airport, I’m going to ask you to leave us with something. Can you sing us a song?”
“I can only sing one song.”
“What is that?”
“Happy Birthday.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m dead serious.”
I can dance but I really can’t sing. Mom has always said that I’m tone deaf. So I never bothered with learning songs growing up. While my “husband” carries me in his strong, muscular arms (he could’ve put me down long ago), I sing Happy Birthday in front of 2000 people, completely out of tune. The host almost didn’t let me pass, but the audience was mightily satisfied. They gave me a gift of appreciation, a little hand-woven purse that’s got XingShuangBanNa embroidered on it.
And walking out, I almost had this celebrity status. People would come up and say, “Are you that girl on stage earlier? I thought you’re an actress. You really ARE a tourist.” Others would ask if I’d exchanged contact information with my “husband”, to continue the romance off stage. He’s only 20 for god’s sake and I’m going back to Tianjin tonight! Even later at the airport, people would pass by, and I’d hear them whisper, “Isn’t that the girl?” Some would even come up and tell me, “You were so funny, and so brave. I thought you were an actress from CCTV”. I think I’ve done Canada proud.
I ran into Cloud at the airport also. We chatted for a bit before he had to board. He’s a man in his thirties or forties. Deeply tanned, direct, sincere, rough around the edges and has a gruff sense of humor. Forever resentful that I was the crowd’s favourite and he was disappointingly the close second. He really is a tour guide in Beijing. But is a tourist on this trip also. I tell him I might visit Beijing soon. He tells me there’s a cool palace once occupied by the best looking man in Qing Dynasty in Beijing, and that I should I check it out. We exchanged phone numbers and he flew off.
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