A Foreigner's Birthday in China

Closing your eyes and making a wish before blowing out birthday candles is a custom that most countries enjoy. But a word of warning, if you're in China, NEVER close your eyes around a birthday cake!

The school I taught at was located on a back street on the edge of a small tourist town called Yangshuo, one of China's most popular tourist sites. It is well known for its many rivers and streams that meander through green Chinese hat shaped mountains. Being located on a rarely traveled back street, our school enjoyed the luxury of utilizing the surrounding properties for events. Canopies, tables, chairs, and ping pong tables were fixed to the sidewalk across the street for students and staff to use.

It was a night of toss and turns. Sheep counting turned into sheep herding; sheep herding turned into sheep sheering; and sheep sheering turned into pork chops on a plate. My mind was a turbulent mess of tumbling trivia. I opened my eyes to a dimly lit room and thought, ‘Today I’m fifty years old.’ I glanced at the clock resting on my nightstand and saw it was early. I propped myself up against the headboard, and stared at the black screen on my TV. My small one bedroom dormitory was located on the floor above the classrooms. It was comfortable and sufficient for one person.

I continued to stare at the reflection on my TV, clicking through the channels of my life, stopping just long enough to preview the highlights. It was a show that included almost all genres with me as the writer, producer, director, and actor.  Subjectively, my life was an Emmy Award winning series.

At the request of several of my friends, we spent the day together. They mapped out the day with a few activities, which I later learned was a ploy to keep me away from from the school. We swam in the Li River as bamboo rafts drifted by carrying photo snapping tourists. They treated me to my favorite English restaurant which was situated in the midst of other small restaurants. Street performers demonstrated their Ninja and magic skills; contortionists exhibited their flexibility; there were jugglers and fortune tellers at every corner. You would think you were visiting a circus.

After lunch, we bicycled on paths along a smaller river that weaved through the beautiful countryside and green mountains, making frequent stops along the way to watch children leap effortlessly from waterfalls. The children succeeded in coaxing us into jumping with them. Being afraid of heights, I was quite apprehensive. After remembering what day it was, I decided, ‘What the heck,’ and accepted their invitation.

I stood on the cliff top staring down at what seemed to be twice the distance from looking up from below. I took a deep breath and, “Geronimo!” I screamed. I hit the water like a bag of bricks. Not quite the world class entry I was hoping for. I struggled out of the water in pain, but wasn’t afraid anymore. I decided to make another plunge. The next jump was performed with a bit more grace, but still, definitely not a gold medal candidate.

The sun beat down on us as we continued our trek through the countryside, stopping to take a short dip in a river pool surrounded by trees and sounds of a waterfall. After a short swim, we climbed out and dried ourselves off. One of my friends, Andreas, a music composer from Greece, remained in the water and ventured downstream for awhile. A garbled yell soon came from around a short bend. We trotted downstream and met Andreas swimming against the current in horror. The force had begun taking him towards a waterfall. With a futile  attempt at swimming upstream, Andreas screamed out, “Help me! I don’t want to die!”

As Andreas frantically flailed about. We could see the terror in his eyes as he fought to refuse his untimely desmise. Sorry to say, we could not stop laughing. Like our previous cliff jumping episode, your perspective is distorted when previewing something from another angle. Andreas didn’t realize that the waterfall was a mere two foot drop at the most, and since we could see the bottom of the river from the shoreline, We yelled to him, “Stand up! Just stand up!” Our words fell on deaf ears.

Finally, a laughing bystander waded in a short distance and grabbed Andreas’ death-like grip. Andreas was saved. After some verbal beatings from Andreas and our continued laughter, we decided to return to the school.

A welcoming breeze had filled the air as we coasted into the vicinity of the school. The days activities provided exercise, excitement, and Andreas’ near death experience. I lazily climbed the four stories to my room, showered, and reenacted the bag of bricks dive onto my bed. I glanced at the clock, it was still ticking forward and as usual, on time.

A couple of hours went by when I was awaken by a knock on my door. It was Peter. Peter was a professional artist from Leeds, England. We did everything together, and still remain best friends in China. With a soft English accent and a slight grin, his solemn words sounded like a guards dreaded announcement from the Green Mile. “It’s time bud.”

I donned some fresh clothes and ran downstairs. Peter and a few friends then escorted me to a nearby restaurant. When we entered the room everyone yelled, “Happy Birthday!”The room was full of friends. It was the first surprise party for me.

During dinner, there were repeated toasts of “Happy Birthdays,” with China’s nasty white wine known as “bai jiu.” With its color and consistent innocence of water, it had a lethal kick of 54%. If you’re not used to drinking, this is something you definitely want to stay away from. It isn’t pretty. Not being much of a drinker, I sipped the poison in moderation.

Everyone remained eating and drinking, the room was full of fun and laughter. Every now and then, I witnessed signs of people whispering about me. When Chinese secretly speak of other people, they have a tendency to whisper in each others ears, look at the person they’re referring to, and often point at the person they’re talking about. So much for being inconspicuous. I didn’t care though. There secret actions told me the night wasn’t over.

The time had arrived to leave the restaurant. Most guys stumbled out of the restaurant, while the girls kept organized: acting like they were following an agenda. The instant we turned the corner towards the school, I saw what looked like a County Fair. There was a banner with multi-colored streamers, flags and balloons hung from one side of the street to the other; several BBQ’s were set up; there were large speakers with a computer for music; and table clothes drapped over tables in canopies. Written across the huge banner was, “Happy 50^thBirthday, Rick!” My first thought was, ‘Great. A public announcement of my age,' but as I wiped the tear from my eye, I got over it. I couldn’t believe they went through all this trouble for me. My emotions were difficult to hold back as I began getting a bit misty.

Guys picked me up and carried me on their shoulders under the banner while others took photos, and music played. I glanced down at Peter and jokingly yelled, “Paybacks are a $%&#. I owe you big time.”

He just smiled then said, “I just told them it was your birthday, they did the rest, buddy.”

We ate BBQ, drank and danced into the night. It was a beautiful birthday block party that was heard from many streets away. People from neighboring locations came to join in the festivities.

During a short lull in the action, a table rolled out of the school lobby with the customary large pink box on it. A circle of people formed around the rolling table, inching their way to a canopy. Several moments later, I was standing over the cake ready to make my wish and blow. Written on the cake was, “Happy 50^thBirthday, Rick.”

Everyone sang Happy Birthday. I closed my eyes; made my annual wish that ‘time would stand still for a day’; drew a deep breath; and with a little help from the breeze successfully extinguished all the candles. Cheers and claps echoed in the street. After cutting the cake, equal slices were placed on paper plates and distributed. I remember the cake was a cool creamy custard, with slices of assorted glazed fresh fruit toppings: kiwi, papaya, mango, dragon fruit, peach, and banana. It was beautful art.

Some customs in China vary depending on location. That evening, I learned another new custom. In Yangshou, cake isn’t for eating. After everyone received their slice of cake, shifty eyes and suspicious stares pinpointed targets. This small quiet educational neighborhood was about to turn into a chaotic war zone. I would later learn, this would not be my last cake riot.

Another thing I learned was, once cake gets on a part of your body, it has an tendency to travel to other unspeakable parts. Again, not pretty. People ran up and down the street, hiding behind cars, under tables, behind each other. Even innocent onlookers were ambushed. Once behind enemy lines, you were guaranteed to get pelted. After forty-five minutes of retreat and revenge, people tired and gave up. The party came to a close with a public shower (with clothes on) by means of hoses sprayed in the air. It was a welcomed rainfall under a warm starlit sky with pieces of fruit falling from bodies.

Back in my room, the black screen of the TV hypnotized my attention. As I clicked through the channels of the day, I determined that my life was indeed an Academy Award winner. Before closing my eyes, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand, it was still on time. I’m happy my wish didn’t come true, and time still ticks forward. I now prefer to live my life in real time.