Old People Dancing

Well, heavy weather lightens the mood. Today was officially my first day of rain in Kunming. For those of you in Washington State, this will come as a somewhat envious statement. But to tell you the truth, I couldn't have been more happy to have some rain. Things where getting a little bit dry around here.
And perhaps it is fitting that I take time on the one day when no one is dancing in the local park, to tell you about the people dancing in the local park. My school is not terribly far from a large park. The park, Green Lake Park, is like it sounds, a park with green lakes. Lakes is a term which is used with no little amount of poetic license, but such usages are more than acceptable here in China. By lake the Chinese usually mean some pit, fenced in by large stone walls which contains stagnant, dirty, foul smelling and otherwise obnoxious substances which have been called water (mostly by people who are unaware what water actually is). Green Lake Park is divided into three separate lakes by many wonderful walkways and plazas. At the time of my visit, one of these lakes has been drained, ostensibly because the water was too dirty. This is a very large step for the Chinese authorities: actually recognizing the possibility that water does indeed become dirty...something almost unheard of here. So you might currently call Green Lake Park the Park With Two Green Lakes and one Brown Swamp.
Concerning the one brown swamp: there are several small birds which seem not yet to have realized that this lake is no longer a lake, no longer a suitable habitation for any sort of fowl. These birds are obviously of the younger "Punk" generation which has yet to realize the futility of struggle. Currently they are busily "sticking it to the man" or Gander as is more appropriate in this case. While I do applaud their fervor and gusto, I do not see the wisdom in covering oneself with horrible smelling mud and floundering around like some nasty species of bullfrog when one is a perfectly sound waterfowl capable of flight. At least they were capable of flight at one point, I think the mud has so clogged their feathers, they shall be doomed to their swampy existence forever. And I have a feeling the older members of the aviary community at Green Lake Park take the high road when it comes to these "Punks." The high road being a stolid course of ignoring the little turds and living it up while their intolerable presence has been removed.
But surely you would like to know more about this park than its bird-life. During the day, the park is what you would expect of any park: full of tourists, people trying to sell miscellaneous articles of jewelry, produce and handicraft, and many shady people who look like the type who would stab you and take your wallet. The tourists can be spotted a mile away, as can the vendors while this last group can often be seen stabbing people and taking their wallets. But it is as evening settles upon the Chinese world that the life of Green Lake Park really begins to soar.
If you happen to be making your way through the park around 6 or 7, you will generally be startled by a course, high pitched screeching which reminds you of a horror film which traumatized your youth. You might have expected that this was a group of the shady people who stab and steal, molesting an undeserving individual, however you would be horribly wrong in such a judgment. How dare you assume that China has such problems?the screeching happens to be a very high class form of Chinese opera. Like anything high class, this singing generally strikes the untrained ear as the most annoying thing on earth. But for those who have taken the time (and endured the torture) long enough, it is supposed to be one of the highest forms of pleasure. Personally, I am content to take their word for this. If you can manage to tune out the wailing of these many amateur vocalists, you will be able to navigate further in to the depths of the Park. And then you'll be in for a wonderful treat.
At these waning hours of the day, the older community of Kunming (much like the older aviary community of Green Lake Park) enjoy their freedom from the younger generation--the opera singers serve a double purpose: their voices are so high pitched they actually attain ranges inaudible to the average sexagenarian's ear, but which prove to be very uncomfortable to those with young ears.
The old people in the park gather in their large groups to dance and frolic free from all cares. Mostly these dances remind me of square dancing back in the states, but occasionally you can see waltzers and perhaps even a salsa or two if you keep your eyes pealed. They use very old boom-boxes to blare music which must be even older. And despite their age they keep up a fast pace, which I would probably be incapable of maintaining. I thought a bit about joining them, but not wanting disturb their perfect tempo, I thought better of it. As you may know, I am not a dancer. No twirling and whirling and prancing for me, I like my music and exercise unadulterated and pure.
If I had a camera, I would have taken a picture. But since it is always dark when the dancing starts, taking a picture would have not achieved anything more than replicating darkness. So for those of you who want me to get a camera, please stop your whining. Have a little respect for yourselves.
Phil.