Read part 1 and part 2 of the article.

The banquet was pretty much what I expected from a corporate sponsored event. There was food, entertainment, and lots and lots of drinking. The wine was being doled out by wandering waitresses dressed smartly in Chinese qipaos, who would fill our plastic wine glasses on command, which meant that there was really no limit to the amount we could drink, if left to our own devises. However, this still was not good enough for Wild Swan, who sauntered over to the wine table and grabbed a couple of bottles for himself. Wild Swan was the type of person who could get away with doing things like this, whether it was because your typical Han Chinese person was vaguely afraid of him, or because he managed to always look like he was supposed to be doing things like stealing wine at a banquet, smoking pot in movie theatres, or eating your last French fry. He never got called out on his shenanigans, abundant though they were, and somehow this added to his charm. In any case, our table wasn’t about to call him out when he came back loaded with several bottles of wine. Onstage there was a minority song and dance routine where five extremely bored looking dancers in flimsy satin outfits that had sequins and a festive trim hot glue gunned to the borders were moving their hands in vaguely Yang Li Ping-esque Dai style formation. They were heavily made up, stick thin, and barefoot (a common characteristic of Han-interpreted minority dance numbers because Han Chinese like to imagine that “real” minorities can’t afford shoes). The wine was certainly coming in handy.

Photo: maveric2003

Soon, however, the banquet was over, as was our tour of the wine factory. On the way out Wild Swan swiped a couple more bottles of Yunnan Red, stashed them in his man-bag, and then stashed a few more, which his tucked under his arm as he walked out of the banquet hall. Next on our agenda was our performance for the citizens of Mile, and so naturally we had to go for a sound check and a brief rehearsal before show time. The Yunnan Red Company had set up a huge stage for us in a large field; however, the equipment provided was rather minimal. We were told there were two microphones available, so the vast majority of us would be onstage, but sound-less. One of the mics would be hooked up to the jazz drum, and the other would be given to the singer from the band we were accompanying, a Chinese guy called Laowai (the wai, others were quick to point out, was not the wai for foreigner, but the word for crooked or bent). The Chinese band looked a bit dubious about this whole setup. I could see them inwardly shaking their heads at the unprofessional nature of this wine festival business. We foreigners were obviously not musicians (well, with the exception of Bike Mike and his slide trombone), and these Yunnan Red folks didn’t really seem to have their acts together either, what with the two microphones and the two rather forlorn looking off-brand speakers perched on either end of the stage. There were some tense, diva-esque moments as the bassist from the Chinese band proclaimed he couldn’t work in these conditions and stormed off. Wild Swan, a master at talking people down off of their various cliffs, lured him back, perhaps with one of his stashed bottles of wine.

Photo: gurms

Finally the sound checks were done and it was time to take to the stage. I was on the tambourine, the Italians were on the maracas, Bike Mike had his tambourine out, there was a Canadian with a harmonica and, of course, the Chinese band, including Wild Swan on his signature hand drum, a large African Djembe. We started to jam and the crowd went wild – well, the crowd who could hear us anyhow. The field was packed with at least three thousand Mile residents (which really goes to show how little there is to do in Mile), and the five front rows were filled with men and women in green army uniform. In a typically Chinese fashion, the best seats in the house had been given to army officers and party cadres. The Italians busted out a joint that I hadn’t even noticed them roll, and lit up, right there on stage. It was just like Woodstock. We were on top of the world, real live rock stars, hopped up on Mile Red and Dali Green, jamming out in front of a crowd in a giant field. If only the party cadres had started a mosh pit, it would have been perfect. When our number finally finished, the crowd started to disperse, but, to my surprise, a lot of people lingered around, hoping to talk to us, to meet the stars of the show. I was standing around on the stage taking in the moment when two young Chinese girls approached me and asked for my autograph – my autograph! That had to have been the first, and only time, I have ever, in all seriousness, been asked for an autograph. As I accepted, I noticed the Chinese band scowling a bit from the sidelines, the real rock stars forgotten as we monkeys basked in our unearned glory.

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Related Links:

Expat Corner> My Favorite Places in Yunnan
China Explorer> Reflections, Rice and Curves- Yuan yang, Yunnan
China Explorer> Intro to Chinese Manners at the Restaurant 101

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