Tally Ho!

I am tired in a outside-all-day-in-the-wind-and-sun-having-a-whole-lotta-fun kind of way. Today was the Blessing of the Hounds for The Miami Valley Hunt. The Blessing marks the start of the formal hunting season. It was the first time in the hunt field for Oslo, also for Peaches and also for my Middlest! So, I put a bunch of faith in The Blessing! Take care of my precious family! I got up in the pre-dawn, waking my Middlest and adorning her in white ratcatcher, white stock, pin, yellow vest, buff breeches, Melton wool black coat, with a tweed coat for the breakfast, boots, hairnet, belt and helmet. Then, did the same for myself. Up to the dark barn with warm water to scrub manure stains off Peaches white parts. Wrapped and blanketed, the horses loaded on the trailer, and we were off as the sun came over the silo. Between our house and the hunting fixture(where we will hunt today), a brisk 90 minute drive, there are two diesel gas stations. We needed to fill up Blondie, so stopped at the first one, about 25 minutes from home. It was the slowest pump ever. 25 minutes later, I gave up and cashed out. We had enough fuel to get us there and back, but lost a lot of time. Now, I know there is some trick to getting a slow pump to work more quickly, but I'll be dashed if I can remember what it was....
Upon arrival at the fixture we unloaded horses, and I braided Oslo's long black mane. Peaches went with the more expressive "mane as a hedge" look. We went to breakfast with a big roaring fire in the lodge and made to order omelettes. Fruit and pastries and lots of green tea for me, hot chocolate for Middlest. We met lots of riders and observers and warmed our frozen fingers. Soon it was time to dash back to the trailer and get the horses into their tack, us out of our tweeds and mount up!
The Blessing took place on the shore of the lake. The water looked so cold with the orange trees in its reflection! The riders all form a semi circle around the hounds -it helps keep them contained, and the french horn quartet plays music facing the field of riders. Each rider is in a black coat, buff or white breeches, a white stock tie and yellow vest. There are colorful exceptions- the bright "Pinks" so called red coats that are worn by the staff. We even had a Whippers-in (the staff that assist the Huntsman in controlling the hounds) wearing  a top hat! The Deacon comes out and says a long blessing. Then he blesses each hound, shakes holy water on them and then each rider and horse. It was funny to watch the horses, some of them rather relaxed, react to the water flying into their faces. Our horses were a bit jazzed already, and didn't seem to notice. The Whippers-in were kept busy trying to keep Jagger, Jake, Jasper, Jared, Julep and Jed in line. Since the straying hounds were all "J" names, they are from the same whelping year, and are probably the cubs- the hounds on their first year of hunting. Pups if you will, but no longer puppies. The scarlet coated riders and matter-of-fact horses, steam bursting from their nostrils, make up colorful teams. Whips(short for Whippers-in) with their long leather whips coiled and ready to crack the air to get the attention of a stray hound.
 The Deacon then went around hanging a St. Hubert medal around each rider's neck. St. Hubert being the patron saint of hunters. Hubert was a man with a passion for the chase. Then, the lord gave him a talking to, and Hubert also became a religious man. He did some exorcism, cured rabies, went after the pagans, and all the while, loved the hounds and the chase. His symbol of the stag with the cross is the sign of the Master Hunter- or Jagermeister. Yep, that is on the bottle.
Anyway, medals around our necks we divided into three fields; first field- the fastest, jump anything and most directly follow the Huntsman. Second field- a bit more cautious, or a little less wild. And third- the slowest field, known for caution and going around jumps. Often the collector of oldest folks, youngest folks, and greenest horses. This was our field. 3/4 inexperienced=3rd field. I do believe it was a bit slow for the Middlest. We did get to see some good hound work, casting and working, looking for a scent, but alas, the hounds only gave false tongue (barked after the wrong line, or scent, that of a deer) and were called off by the Huntsman. Too dry, probably, for a good hunting day with the hounds.
After more than two hours, the hunt was done. Now, as an extra perk, at the hunt was Samantha, the yellow horse I took to the hunt barn in Dayton to get put to use for the season. So excellent to see her. Calm and easy for the blessing, and smack at the front of the first field for the whole hunt. Go Sammie Go! Ridden by an adorable girl named Mary, they are having fun together. I am so pleased. After the hunt broke up, the little group from the hunt barn where Sam lives decided to go for one last romp around the lake. Middlest and I brought up the rear on Oslo and Peach. A must faster clip, we mostly cantered around the lake, and then, back the other way. Now Middlest was really having fun. Looks like we'll have to break for second field next hunt!
Also at the hunt was my friend, Eileen Nixon. She is a lovely photographer (she is lovely, and so are her photographs). She was thrilled to have a chance to come to The Blessing and shoot film. Perfectionist that she is, the photos probably won't be posted to her website for a few weeks, but I'll keep checking, and let you know when they show. Because she was there, I didn't have to worry about taking pictures!
www.eileennixonphotography.com

Halloweeeen!

Ghosts, Goblins and things that go BUMP in the night. Okay, well, around here, that is not just a Halloween thing.
Trick or Treat has become less and less important in the family. Poor youngest kid. When we lived in town, and the older ones were younger, the costume and the event was terribly important. My Eldest would think about a costume for weeks- and it was usually a challenge. A flower, Katy-No-Pocket; they involved sewing machines and wire and hot glue. When we moved back out to the country, we would trek back to the big city in costumes less elaborate, but often still obscure; cowboy, Geisha, Clara Barton. After a few years, though, it has fallen off my radar. It was only yesterday at work when someone asked where we Trick or Treat, that I thought "Hmmm, yes, where do we Trick or Treat? When do we Trick or Treat? But, yes, for at least the little guy, I ought to bother." The kids had not asked. In fact, the only mention of costume was my Middlest asked me on Wednesday if I could find her a ball gown for Friday, as she would like to attend the Middle School dance as a Princess. Ball gown? Sigh. But, at 12, probably winding down on the desire to be a Princess. So, I did what any self sufficient gal would do- I called my Huz. See, he is often at a computer. Find out when Trick or Treat takes place. Tonight? Oh. Okay. Then, I buzzed by the second hand teen shop and found a bubble gum pink prom dress, with beading and overlays- unbelievably, already taken in by it's previous owner to perfect size. When the Middlest and Youngest arrived home, they were thrilled to go Pagan (or Princess). Well, the Youngest was stumped about how to dress. Since it has become very cold, I was thinking warm costumes. So, I raided my closet - unbelievably useful for costuming, sadly, (except for pink poufy ball gowns) and turned him into a Viking.  Off we went to the beautiful town of Lancaster. I have a great time looking at the little ones in their costumes, but I really have fun looking at all the wonderful old homes. As the darkness grew, the kids filled their sacks with candy. This, naturally, made Eldest- who was at a band practice- jealous. But... she has had her day.
Halloween? Check. Done with it as far as what is considered "Halloween".

For our actual Halloween weekend, we have the last Friday Night Footband. Saturday, I will work, followed by the Marching Band State Finals!
And Halloween itself,last day of October,  Middlest and I will head out early in the morning to attend The Miami Valley Hunt, Blessing of the Hounds. This begins with a Hunt breakfast, followed by music by the Centerville French Horn Ensemble, actual blessing of each hound by Deacon Joe, and then the Hunt! Doodee doooo!

Don't like scary.

I went out last night. I haven't gone "out with the girls" in years. I was trying to remember if it had been our last town, or our last state... I think it might have been in Oklahoma. But, I was greatly looking forward to a night out with some of my riding pals. We went to dinner, and then to see "Secretariat"- a movie suitable for a pack of riding gals.
I arrived home at 10, having left the kids home for the evening, as Huz was giving a talk and tour to future veterinarians. The kids were to eat dinner, do their homework, complete the barn chores, feed the dog.
So, at 10, I arrived home to the mild but windy world that is Cowfeathers on an October night. Now, as anyone who watches horror movies knows, you always check under the bed. You assume there is someone hiding in the closet....instead, I was like the short lived character that blithely enters the house, starts the shower and begins to disrobe, while the audience screams "RUN, RUN YOU IDIOT!"
Now, there wasn't anyone in my closet, and my husband was reading in bed, valiantly trying to stay awake until I arrived home. So, we went to sleep.
Around 3:10 in the morning, the dog starts barking. This is nothing too novel, as the barn cats come down to torture him fairly regularly, and I think they peek in the door windows of the mudroom where he likes to sleep. But last night, he was really upset, and even started running around the house barking. So, I got up to see what the alarm was about. Sure enough there was a guy with a head lamp on shining it in the window. So, Huz gets up and goes downstairs to see what was happening. I put on my bathrobe and followed. Huz chose to open a window in his study to inquire. I heard "two horses, one black, one black and white in the road, hit one...."
I was out of the house like a shot, threw on my muck boots, and my Carhartt and dashed to the trailer- nearest structure to the house, grabbed a few leadropes and a small bucket of treats and sprinted down the driveway, my footfalls matching the "Oh Please,Oh Please" in my head. The moon was bright but kept hiding behind clouds and I couldn't see any horses. My bathrobe had completely dissembled and I was wishing a sportsbra was standard sleeping attire. Once on  the horseless road, I could see off in the distance the hazard lights of the Good Samaritan's parked truck. Really far. I don't have a cell phone, I don't have a vehicle, and I may have a horse that has been hit by a truck. So, I run back to the house. By now, Huz has dressed. I send him back to find a cell phone and keys and throw on a pair of mudroom coveralls instead of my bathrobe. My Eldest, impressively is now up and dressed as well, and we leave her at the house by the phone. When we get close to the parked truck, I see Peaches, the black and white horse, standing by the side of the road. With my heart in my throat, I search for my big guy. He is there. Walking. I collect them both with lead roped over their neck and in the dark they look okay. I send Huz to talk to Good Samaritan and find out which one he thinks he hit.
I walk the horses back, through the fields, my lungs burning from running in the wind and cold, and my stomach in knots. It turns out he didn't hit either one, just nearly so. Frightening enough.
So, in the horror movie, it seems I am the heroine who gets out of the house alive. But now knows to check the closet. Or, in my case, the gate.

Dark Days

The Dark Days are here. These are the days that begin and end with the moon high in the sky. These are the days that my Huz may not see daylight for days on end (the curse of the windowless office). I am the last to rise on weekdays. Huz is a 5:30 riser, the girls are gone by 6:35 and Hamilton gets up at 7. I listen to all these comings and goings, my head stubbornly staying on the pillow, or under the pillow depending on how many lights and how much noise. Middlest child heads up to the barn first thing, about 5:45, and does the first round of barn chores in the moonlight. I head out when the sun is breaking over the east field....the time will vary as will the sun. The cats line up near the fence, my welcoming committee, their heavy coats and strong bodies belie their chorus "I'M STARVING!" The ducks and gander wait on the other side of the barn door to burst through as it's opened, the cats looking to avoid notice by the gander, and charging in to turn the more bashful ducks in the dooryard. The sheep are mostly quiet, well, more than usual, as they have finished their morning hay, and lie docile, working their cud. The lambs have to tell me about it, but are not ready to go out yet. And Oslo, big black head hanging over the stall wall, waiting to see me first- then a long and enthused wicker. Peaches just bobs her head up and down at me "Shoo" she seems to be saying. "Go get something tasty from the feed bins- and make it quick!" Their coats are getting thick and fuzzy, the black parts on Peach, and Oslo's whole body has a blackness that defies depth. Can you sink your fingers all the way in to that blackness? The whiskers on the chin are getting long, and the hair on their ears, even Oslo, monster horse starts looking like an overgrown pony. Steam pours out of their nostrils and hangs in the sunlit shafts of the barn wall slats. The Dark Days are here- the Cold Ones shall follow.

New Year's Resolution Project- October

This month's project (Number 10 of the year, as my New Year's Res. this year was to complete one project each month that had been on my "to do" list for years) will not have a picture until the spring. You can't see it until then. No one can! October's project was planting bulbs. When we moved here, one of the things I started doing was planting daffodil bulbs down the lane. I figured if I did 100 a year for 10 years, and they multiplied, as they do, by year 10 I would have more than 1000 daffodils blooming each spring. I was good about it for a few years, and one year, my Mom arrived with a bunch of daffs and planted them with the kids. And then....I slacked. So, it has been on my list for years. Also, replanting the tulips that I planted in about 2004, and adding some alliums-because I like them. Well, Mom got me started on the October resolution while Huz and I were in China by planting 250 daffodils on the lane. Then, yesterday, Huz helped me plant 150 tulips ( 100 White Emperor in the front of the house, 50 pinks in the perennial bed), 64 muscari (under the pink tulips) 20 crocus (by the mudroom door) and 4 Giant allium and 20 shorter alliums (in the center circle of the perennial bed with the peonies).
 The perennial bed planting made MUCH more fun by not having to clean the beds out first- thanks to Mom, who did that while we were in China, too. My parents were busy while we were gone, and I'm still finding little gifts in tasks completed. Dad did stall repair, fence repair, put in latches on the pocket doors (also on the list for years), even commisioned a door latch for the kid's bathroom from an ironsmith. He also rigged a baling twine and vinegar bottle door closer for the back stairs, so maybe not everything I've ever wanted..(this was just the mock-up. He has a more refined final version in mind). My Mom gardened and cleaned out the fridge (all her good work there already looking undone, sigh) organized the laundry room, my pantry under the stairs (also on the list for years) it looks like we need to leave more often, get some things done around here!

Just to rib my Dad a little. This is the Vinegar and twine door closer. I have threatened to leave it until he comes back to create the final version, but I don't know who that is punishing. I suspect it is me.

PuMPkin Show

I have two pet peeves about the local speech affectations. First is the ending of sentences with a preposititon. I seriously cringed hearing my Youngest's early grade school teacher say; "Hamilton, where's your backpack at?" UGH!!! "Where you at?" (translation; "Where are you?"), "Where's it at?" (translation; "Where is it located?") all pervasive and very common in this area of Ohio.

Really big pumpkin? 1622 pounds big.

The second centers around the most famous local festival: The Circleville Pumpkin Show. " The Greatest Free Show on Earth" is how it is billed, and somehow, like homing pigeons, anyone who has been raised in the area flocks home for at least one day at the week-long Pumpkin Show. Or, as you say if you live around here; "The Punkin Show". Sigh. You can't say it without the required hillbilly twang; "Pun'kin". My Middlest in order to avoid the inevitable maternal correction pronounces it "Pu m p kin".

We returned from China to a Pumpkin Show in full swing. There are two parades a day at the Pumpkin Show. Our kids marched in three of them. And what parades! Floats! Tricks! Queens! Bands! Animals! Cute Kids In Pumpkin Decorated Wagons! The Pumpkin Man! (Umm, man on rollerblades with an orange tee-shirt that says "The Pumpkin Man") Each parade a spectacle that lasts more than an hour. And pumpkins- REALLY BIG PUMPKINS! I'll just have to show you pictures.






The Pumpkin Man. Hey, it's a small town. He's big time!

 

My Eldest (2nd from left) with her line of flutes, nearly ready to march!

Middlest, foreground, marching with her saxophone. "The Hey Song" on repeat.



Youngest, far right, marching with the Boy Scouts.



Queens, Princesses, on floats! Oh My!

We live in a place where folks put their toddlers in ball gowns, and plop them onto the hood, or the top of the car and drive around. When we moved here, I found this ritual disturbing. I'm getting inured to it apparently, although I have not done this to my kids.....yet.

Where a grown woman can dress as Strawberry Shortcake and her little dog too.
Disturbing? Um, yes.

I'm a lert.

"At least the field is plowed" was my first thought. "I don't want to walk all the way across this plowed field to the house" was my second thought. "Dammit, Oslo, you are NOT dumping me!" was the third one that set my determination and saved me a short flight and a long walk. I have been home for almost 3 days and have been putting off riding Oslo until I felt more alert. Evidently, I don't do jet lag well. I fell asleep at the high school football game last night and a neighbor took pity and drove me home. Thanks, Laura. But today, I feel a lot more like myself. We spent the morning stacking wood for our future winter warmth, and I didn't feel an involuntary nap coming on, so after driving my Middlest to the school for a Girl Scout event and a trip to the grocery, I stuck my courage to the sticking spot and saddled up the big black horse. He was grand, if jumpy for the first half mile or so, and then, WHOOSH! Into the air we go! Crowhopping madly across the cornfield. Land, jump, spin, up, land, up, over and over again. The legacy of Frost Fire means it takes hardly a second for me to get the head up - bucking prevention, get my shoulders back and legs on - balance and rearing protection and get mean. Fortunately, Oslo has the endurance of a warmblood, so eventually tires when I don't oblige with a tumble. Then, the real work begins, keeping light and firm and making him work his tushy off. Relaxed, but definitely alert. Naughty boy.



I didn't have a picture, but this is what it looked like.



Homer Again Jiggety Jog

Homer. Took him forever to get home. I'm thinking the Odyssey might be my next read, as I sympathize. Our trip home started with a car that wouldn't. The 6 a.m. taxi to the airport hadn't had any coffee. The driver tried to push start us. In the rain. Nope. We left the cab in the middle of the road and hiked back up hill with our luggage to try to call another cab. Hainnan airlines, China Eastern or something (it was confusing) flew us to Bejing, where our plane was delayed a few hours, so we left Bejing about 13 hours after ditching our cab driver for a 14 hour flight to Newark. Where, we naturally, had missed the last connection to C-town, and had to stay in a hotel overnight. It had been about 29 hours since I had slept- I was woefully unable to sleep on the plane, but we had an awesome NYC style pizza anyway before passing out for 4 hours. Up again to navigate the inefficiency that is Newark Airport. Against all odds, we made our morning flight (thanks to interior lighting that was on the fritz) and were collected by my Dad in the morning sun of Columbus, Ohio. Thanks to them, home sweet home was sweet indeed to come home to....and kids and critters and a bed that is not a board with a sheet on top. Still feel like I'm in a bubble, but the bags under my eyes are less, and I'm not dizzy every time I turn my head, so must be getting back to normal. Sure is good to be home!

Out of the City

We left the confines of Kunming today, to explore a bit of Yunnan's countryside and beautiful sights. I felt much at ease as we wended our way into the hills and started seeing corn. Plus every other type of Chinese vegetable imaginable. They plant the crops even on fairly sharp hillsides, between rock outcroppings, everywhere. The fields are neatly kept, appear constantly tended, and are small patches of many things, instead of the American method of large patches of few crops. Most all the cultivation and maintenance and harvesting is done by hand, and we saw many people working the fields. They still seem fairly nattily attired, but have the traditional and practical cone shaped hats on their heads, and often large open baskets on their backs. The hoe is the tool of choice, and the water buffalo the heavy help where needed, although we saw a donkey or two and some ponies (I think- pretty scrawny equines!). This is how they grow the produce for some 1.4 billion people.

 The villages are largely composed of low slung clay dwellings, mostly bricks, not seemingly hard fired, or in some places more stucco like outer walls. There are often windows that appear to have nothing in the openings. Some roofs are tin or tile and some are thatched. Most homes appear more rustic than mean. I would doubt there was electricity in most of the farm houses, and I'm doubtful about running water. Many homes had corn, tied in clusters, hanging from the roof, or A-framed hangers. Lots of chickens running around, and tough dogs that I don't believe are pets, but seem to ignore the humans completely. Evidently "Here kittykittykittykitty" is not universal, as none of the cats I tried this on even looked my way.

One of the most stately of farm houses.

 We rode in a small bus with another tour guide that was often incomprehensible, but evidently full of information. At some point you listen so hard, trying to make sense of words your brain starts rejecting all words as nonsense.
Our first destination was Jia Xiang. This is an amazing area southeast of Kunming, in the lands of the Yi people. It has the most amazing, often enormous caves. According to our guide (I think) he told us the area was discovered only in 1986 when the Chinese government was searching for oil, and found these caves. I can believe this, as the road to Jia Xiang was probably made in 1987, and has had no lovin' since. But it is hard to imagine this area was not widely known until then. Of course, "discovered" seems a bit presumptive, as the Yi peoples had been using the caves for thousands of years.

Leaving the light

 We wandered around this site, each turn a new "Oooooh" or "Ahhhh".  We made to the ceremonial cave when some Chinese asked if they could get a picture with Dr. Natalie- her blond hair setting her well apart. I am less blond these days, and was wearing a hat, so thought to escape much notice. Indeed I did until later in the day, when I was in the light of above ground, and my blue eyes were noted..."Pic-ture?" I obliged with the expected "Peace" sign.

The caves are beautifully and colorfully lit.

Eerie and surreal pools, some as big as 100m square, deep in the caves of Jia Xiang

Jia Xiang is another place rife with stairs. In one section of the caves, the climb is considered strenuous and you can hire a litter to take you up. You sit in a big armchair, supported by two poles, and a man at front and back. They lift you up and carry you the 322 stairs to the top of the section. This is done for the capitalistic fee of 50yuan, about $7.50. We had lunch at the Jia Xiang hotel, another bounty of food. For such a small people- not many overweight folks in China, they sure can eat! At the hotel was an artist, doing traditional Chinese art. We bought a simple painting of a chicken, on rice paper. Chinese Chicken.
After lunch we headed to the Stone Forest.

Tod identifies with Crocodile Rock (I told him it was "Gator Rock", obviously)

This is another geographically astonishing area long lived in by the Yi people. For an area miles square, rocks jut up out of the earth (with corn and other crops planted around them), but in one place, they are concentrated and it is here they call the Major Stone Forest. A word to the horizontally endowed- prepare to get stuck like Pooh Bear in Rabbit's hole. I imagine the NAACP would have a fit. You can't be fat, or handicapped and see this place. Indeed, dubbed "Narrowest place" was so narrow you climb up sideways, bending and contorting to get around the rocks. 

Dr. Natalie, sizing up her path through "Narrowest Place".

The Chinese spent much time seeing figures in the rocks and labeling them. Two Birds Feeding One Another, Embroidered Shoe, etc. But this one seems fairly obvious. This is Baby Elephant. (Momma Elephant is at another geo site in China, they got separated. There is probably a romantic story about it too. )

Sword Peak Pond.

The Chinese don't bother much with signs in these places. They just carve the characters right into the rocks, and then paint the characters a bright color. Because the writing is such beautiful pictographs, it adds somehow to the beauty of the natural creation. The only signs they have put up reflect more modern sensibilities like "no striding" or "no climbing". Of course, these, like traffic laws are merely suggestions. And the rock that the sign is attached to is often being climbed by one or more Chinese. In the photo of the Baby Elephant Rock above, you can see one such Chinese girl, perched on the rocks, quite close to a "no climbing" posting. Nothing furtive about it.
After a few hours of winding around the Stone Forest in the Chinese air (not to be confused with "fresh"), we piled back on to the bus to go back to the city. Tonight we ate at a "Hot pot". This is a  Yunnan style of restaurant most familiar to us as a fondue restaurant. Only, in the Chinese version, the table has a hole in the center, in which they light a burner and put a large pot of broth down in the table to get boiling. When the broth is very hot, they dump a bunch of poisonous fungus into the broth. Really. Poisonous. Then they caution you to wait for it to boil for at least 10 minutes before you eat any. That 10 minute boil is to denature the toxins. Of course, the caution is in Chinese. I didn't ask how many tourists they lose a year. After they think it is safe enough to eat, a server comes in the room and ladles some fungus into your bowl. I got a large blob of fungus the size of a wet dishtowel and the consistency of mucous. Yum. Fortunately, my Huz quite liked it, so I picked stuff that looked more like mushrooms out of his bowl and let him attack the big loogie in mine. Also available for our consumption were a few dishes known only in Yunnan. One was a vegetable for which no one knew the name ( always suspicious in a restaurant that serves poisonous mushrooms) that tasted vinegary until the chilis hit, then you tasted nothing but hot. The other was pine needles. Smells like Christmas, tastes like a foot. And happily diving into it all is my Huz. What a guy. The rice at this meal was served as bamboo rice. The rice is stuffed down into the hollow center of the bamboo and steamed right in there. It has a sweetish mild flavour. The Chinese enjoy the process of eating. Picking frog meat off tiny bones, peeling layers of bamboo away to get to the edible part. Serving yourself one pickled lotus slice at a time. Ironically, Yunnan is one of the three provinces that makes its food very spicy, and the process of eradicating all tastebuds in a flaming flash is very fast.

Louisa and Me in Lion's Cave

In the predawn we leave Kunming tomorrow. It has been an excellent adventure, and I will miss our new friends. I've been to China.






Chinese moving van.





Tea, fishing and streetfood- Oh My!

I had mentioned in an earlier blog that I wanted to find some Pu uau(maybe) tea. From what I understand it is the tea for which the Yunnan region is famous. In a country that has a potentially hazardous water source, alcohol and boiled water become very important. I think, in China, these have long been standard. We drink much bottled water here, but at meals, there is beer and tea. Lots of tea. Apparently, in Yunnan, beverages with a meal are uncommon, but most of the meals we have been served include cha(tea). And what wonderful tea! So, huz and I ventured forth to find a tea ceremony. This is like a wine tasting, only with tea, and a sober server. We chose Taetea, perhaps encouraged by the recognizable characters. The young woman who served our tea ceremony spoke no English beyond "Hello" and "My English very poor"- which was already waaaay beyond my capability with Chinese. So, sign language it is!

The ceremony involved much pouring of hot water, rinsing, more pouring, lots of water spilling everywhere on the ornate tray under the pots. We tried three different teas, what I would call a black tea, a floral tea (maybe jasmine) and a green tea. Our favorite was the black tea. The discs in the background are discs of tea. They are pressed into a round disc and covered in paper. We purchased the chosen tea in a disc for 120yuan. We also found some unique little figurines with magic in them. I will ask my mother to figure out how to use them to show off the magic- she thinks creatively and I'm sure will find a use. After some time spent with the agreeable and patient tea girl, we collected our things and went off, another thing checked off the list of experiences I have wanted to have here in China.

Also pro-peace!

We left the tea shop, and I did something I just don't do. Ever. I bought street food. ( I know, gasps). But there was a vendor selling fried stuff on a stick, like funnel cake, and skewered goat, and kabobed whole fishes, and for some reason I was drawn to look. I recognized the large warm flat breads that I once enjoyed in another life in New York City, and their sesame crusted edges called to me. I bought one for 5yuan and gobbled the whole thing up. (okay, I shared some with my Huz too). So, now I've had street food in China. If my old friend Christopher, from Bath England were reading this blog, he would cheer for me. Loud enough I might hear it here. That man never met a street foodstuff he wouldn't eat. Happily.
That brings me to fishing. I just have to point out that, although cell phones seem very prevalent here, ubiquitous even, I have yet to spot a person speaking on a cell phone in a restaurant. And, although I have seen many children, I have not seen a one with a hand held video game zoning out in the corner. I suspect that children here actually still play. And invent games. So, I was pleased to watch this in progress. A child of one of the street vendors decided she wanted to fish. So, she took a plastic bag, a bit of food and a chopstick, and fashioned a fishing _____. We watched her make her device and then leap to a stone in the pool by her mother's stand. When we returned from our tea ceremony and walk about, she was still there, persistently fishing. Inventive, persistent, and having fun. Ganbei!

xingqiliu

The room comes with a 90 minute massage. Every day. This is our spa, and massage table, and my masseuse for the day.

Wo milu le.

In Yunnan province, there are some wonderful remaining minority groups. Because of the topography of the region, with tropical climates like Vietnam, Myanmar and Laos on one side, and Tibet, with the Himalayas at the north west side, the province holds many different cultures within its border. I read somewhere that although the official language is still Han, in Yunnan the Han is spoken slightly differently, and is titled Yunnanese. This is another intricate twist in the barriers to me ever understanding Chinese. I had learned that Thank you was "xiexie"pronounced, "ssee-eh-ssee-eh" with the first part in a declining tone of voice. Sounded somewhat like "she she". But in Yunnan, "she she" means "pee", as in "I have to". For thank you, it sounds more like "shay shay". So, I told a lot of Chinese people I had to pee. Luckily, they are a forgiving and happy people, and smiled and giggled at me regularly. They still tend to do this, even if I do say "shay shay", so maybe my general goofiness is enough to bring forth their easy smiles. And, within Yunnan, there is something like 250 other recognized dialects. Good luck Catie. Wo milu le. (I am lost).

This is a girl from the Wa minority. 

Since China has become open, the country has begun to really celebrate their diversity. There is a beautiful place nearby that has many of the smaller cultures represented. Huz and I went to see what we could learn, and it was good fun (except the elephants, who made me sad).

Grandma playing a game with a stick, rope and top.

It seems, in China, even in the city, people are having a good time. There are many smiles, and at least in Kunming, not quite as much bustle and urgency as I had expected. People here play, and joke a lot and seem to be enjoying life. I won't try and figure out if it is political, cultural, or chemical, it is just my impression.  They seem not to mind me taking their pictures, and smile for me, but don't seek me out to take a photo either. In the minority villages, many young people were there, in the costume of their culture, demonstrating their unique characteristics. Some tried to speak with us, but my Chinese is worse than their English, so mostly we used sign language. I did understand one woman. She asked if I were American, and I understood and said "yes".  A sound like "shhrw". I've no idea if that is right, I could be saying "explode". But I could understand her because all she said was "Meiguo lai" which is "American", and no other words around it. If she had said, "Excuse me, are you American?" I wouldn't have gotten a bit. But, being a school teacher, I 'm sure she knew this. Thus, short. Simple. She was surrounded by beautiful children. The kids here are astoundingly cute. I am drawn to each one. They love to wave to me and say "Hi" and "Hello".

We waded through a class of young ones having a snack. They were pro-peace.

And the minorities were indeed different. They had faces that seemed somewhat distinct for their lineage. The Wa faces were broad and handsome, somewhat like the Maori in New Zealand. The Mosuo were more refined, longer faces. The Mosuo minority is from the area near Lugu Lake, remote, nearly inaccesible country. It is a matriarchal society, where the women choose the father for their children, never marry and live in groups.

Mosuo youth, keeping warm at the fire. This was a very smoky area, I could barely stand in the enclosure and still breathe.

Each group wore their traditional costume when they were inside the village, but you still see some of these minorities around, in more simple dress, but not "western" style clothing.  We went to see the elephants, and there were two in the enclosure. Hard cement and a steel fence. Poor babies were bored, and wanted to have a chat with me. I spent some time crooning and speaking to them, they reaching out with their trunks and following me back and forth at the fence. This amused the Chinese who kept taking our photos. I felt bad for the elephants, and wanted to stay to play. There were a small group of Chinese Army fellows there, I presume to also see the elephants, but they were still intimidating. Handsome uniforms, though. Anyway, after my chat with the elephants, and them blowing their trunks at me, me blowing back, I left them, convincing myself that most of the time, they are kept engaged. I only saw them for the few hours a day they are bored. Right? Sure hope so.

Reminded me a lot of Oslo, actually. How do you think my trail riding buddies would take it if I brought an elephant to ride?

At the Naxi village, my Huz played ancient Chinese basketball. Give a man a hoop and something to throw through it and they cannot resist. I noted that each man that walked through the arch that marked the entrance to Naxi, saw the hoops, looked around, spotted something to toss and then tried their hand, persistently, until they managed a score. Universal.

Behind Huz is a rather large drum. Also noted to be irresistable to men.

Behind the drum is the elder's pavilion, where they would meet to make pivotal decisions about life. Or, maybe just to gossip. In any case, we are in China, still land of the Feng Shui, the Chinese nutritional balance (food should be hot and wet, not cold or dry) and yin and yang. The elder pavilion was presided over by a large yin yang symbol. Huz sat down for a staid picture, but inspired by the fun loving Chinese, I changed things up a bit.

He's got to be Yin here. That makes me the Yang!

And, of a sudden wo tingdedong!

Kunming City

Your intrepid correspondent under The Arch of the Cock, Kunming China

We keep returning to the same area of Kunming. This is perhaps because it is relatively close to the hotel, or because it is showier than other areas. Certainly, there are a lot of high end shops, Galliano, Vuitton, Cavalli, but you cannot mistake it for Austin, Manhattan, or Quebec. First of all, there are people with no limbs on skateboards. Secondly, there are fast food restaurants that let you know you are not in Kansas anymore.

This is a fast food restaurant with the name translated to "Duck Neck". And, indeed they serve that, along with every other part of the duck. Including the little heads. I spared you that photo.

And, the translation to English continues to amuse, with signs and names.

For instance.

We went to this part of the city for a meal and to wander around the markets. There seems to be a few stores we would consider "grocery stores", but mostly there are local shops and markets, all open air. The shops pull down a door when they close. Sadly, we have even spotted a Wal Mart. I wonder if they sell stuff from the U. S. here?

One of the many tea shops. This mound of black stuff is molded out of tea. The mold tea into all sorts of shapes, but seem to sell it commonly, in a disc shape.

This is a fungus shop. All the bins and jars are full of mushrooms and other types of fungus.

I have bought very little while here, mainly because I don't know what anything is, and asking is futile. I would like to buy some local tea pronounced "Pu-era"(maybe). I'll have to figure that out! I doubt I'll be bringing home any fungus.

At dinner. A "simple dinner". I couldn't tell the difference, except there was fewer dishes. The whitish slash across my neck is a reflection from the large, glass lazy susan. The tables all have one. The dishes are placed-sometimes stacked- on the lazy susan, and you just keep turning them to access the desired dish. Most dishes are served with chopsticks, but it seems some things you are just supposed to pick up with the chopsticks you are using to feed yourself.

We spent the rest of the evening in the shopping areas, trying to avoid the downpours. The goods can be quite expensive here. I found a shirt I liked, it was 630yuan which translates to about $100. This was at the sporting goods store. Of course at the designer stores there was another zero on the end, shirt more like 6300yuan. When we decided to leave we had some difficulty finding a taxi, as most were already full in the rain. Which brings me to a sight we had not really, surprisingly seen before. A traffic jam. Now, driving in China is, how do you explain this? Begori, there are no rules. There are lane lines, double yellows, shoulder lines, no turn signs, one way signs, a sign you see with what looks like a souzaphone with a red line through it, that I interpret to mean "No horns". All this is just mere suggestion. Pedestrians walk down the middle of the road, bikes, electric scooters, rickshaw looking things, cars, buses all mash together, somehow- impossibly- avoiding smash ups. It is unusual to drive in the lane instead of with your hood ornament using the line as a guide. And you honk. A lot. Side streets just shoot cars right out into the road. Why stop? And making a u-turn across 4 lanes from far right to far left over a double yellow during rush hour? Why not? And seatbelts? Often unusable from disuse and the layers of road pollution caked on them so thick they don't move through the surcingle at the shoulder. Today we witnessed a toddler having a lying down temper tantrum in the middle of the second lane in the road, close to the double yellow. Grandpa just waiting for him to stop, horns bleeping, and everyone just going around. I feel more empathetic to the Asian drivers in the U.S. that seem to have no clue. They are just driving as they've been taught. 

All the cars whose headlights you see are heading down a one way street. The wrong way. The one without headlights is not strange, they are only optional as well. The scooters, with raincoats that fit over scooter and driver, just weave between cars and barely miss the pedestrians that just stride right out into moving traffic.

And yet, it all seems to work somehow. We have seen one fender bender only since arriving.

Quite a city. 

Xi Shan

The morning began as usual with a trip to the Cafe Swan Lake for breakfast. I am developing a breakfast routine of watermelon and a croissant, followed by more adventurous breakfast offerings. Green stuff and white stuff. The beginning of the day's conference was to be a group photo. So, the participants and course lecturers assembled for a photo on the hotel grounds.


Huz stands out as the crouching man in blue.



 Today, I have travel companions in Dr. Hans Koch, German and a founder of this European-Chinese Veterinary Training group, his friend Jean-Jacques from Luxembourg, and Dr. Elissa. I had misspelled her name in a previous blog, but I am now better informed! We decided to head up Xi Shan and stretch our legs a bit. We were also joined by Shui Chian and her mother, who speaks no English, but is very spry.
We took a car to the foothills of Xi Shan, and there caught a Gondola that takes you about halfway up the mountain. And then, we began to climb.


Going up!



Xi Shan's face is decorated with temples and early palaces "to prevent sunstroke" of the royals. In the 1781 a Taoist guy got it in his head to carve stairs and build a temple. This he did over the next 13 years or so. No surprise, he eventually fell off. The Chinese made a romantic story about him throwing himself off the side of the hill when he broke a bit of his statue, and then his fiancee, waiting all these years for him to finish his pet project cried enough to fill Dian Chi and then she died, making the foothills. This does not explain why the hills were there before the guy got it in his head to carve stairs. But, romance does not always make sense, eh? The project was completed in 1835.


There were lots of stairs, built over many years, but some of the older sections were one person wide (or two Chinese persons)



The day was overcast, but cleared slightly as we climbed. Temple of Heavenly General (taoist) , Temple of the Divine Parents (Parental)....Hall of this, Hall of that, and between them all? Stairs. Lots of them.


It got no clearer until this afternoon, when we were off the mountain. Kunming city stretches as far as the eyes can see in all directions. Massive. And yet, a small city by Chinese standards.



Considered the Jewel of the side of Xi Shan, Dragon's Gate (Long Men)  is fairly close to the top. The cliff face was carved by the Taoist guy and his spoon to make a way to get there. When you look out the openings in the carved tunnel, you see straight down to the lake. Bad idea to look.


You can just see Elissa's foot disappearing at the end of this section of the tunnel. On crowded days I would not like to navigate the open area that dips low! And, this was not built for tall persons.



Dragon's gate itself is somewhat subdued when compared to the bright temples we have seen. But, considering it is part of the cliff....makes it a bit more remarkable. When we arrived at the temple, there was an old Chinese couple having their picture taken. He kept looking at me, and then shambled up and asked "Where you from?" I replied "America". He said "Us too! We are from Atlanta. In Georgia." They had grown up in Cheng Du, and were back visiting family. I think they speak better English in the states, as they were somewhat hard to understand. But then, I think I speak better English in the states too. I find myself saying sentences with different syntax, perhaps to make them more easily understood.


Dr. Elissa and me on our way through the last section before reaching Dragon's Gate. You can see in the back ground the pavilion like arches jutting out of the cliff.





The actual temple carved into the cliff. Dragon's Gate.



In this heavily staired, somewhat taxing hike up the cliff face, had many differences from a similar activity in America. There is very little to keep you from killing yourself. In the U.S. we seem to think it is the responsibility of the park to keep you from falling off a cliff. In China, self preservation is supposed to be at work. Heels. The women here often wear heels. I mentioned this with our translator, Louise, who is always in tiny black ankle boots with a 3" heel. We walked all over the Golden Temple Scenic Area of Interest, and the rest of the Kunming city tour with her in heels. But she is not alone. There were several women hiking around Xi Shan in heels. Up and down. Heels, tights and dresses, often topped by a fashionably cut short trench. I'm pretty sure you go hiking in Colorado, you won't see many hikers in heels. Props to these gals, as I like to wear heels, but not to hike.  Also, more than half the people climbing around the hill are elderly. Old. Some of them look really old. But not incapable at all. We did the 698 steps at a park in Georgia's hills, and saw no one older than about 50 or 60. Now, looks can be decieving, so perhaps some of the Chinese people that look about 90 are merely victims of growing up in a communist regime that did not hand out wrinkle cream. But I don't think so.


Older gentleman rubs the turtle carapace for luck. He is about 4' 6" tall.





The Pavilion in the Sky. I am above the clouds!



After this wonderful climb, I was ready to poke around Sanqing Ge, a villa of a Yuan dynasty prince, but my guides realized we needed to return for Dr. Elissa's scheduled lectures. I thought to turn around and go back down the way we had come. They had another idea.


Going down! Where are my skis?



Xi Shan, well worth the trip!