So, it’s coming up to 3 years since I arrived in Dalian, a coastal city set low on the peninsula of Liao Ning Province.  That’s two and a half summers, three winters, two schools two trips home to Australia, two exhibitions and three weddings.  Who’d have thought? 

I am, for those who may not remember me, (I was featured on this site in Dec 06 and again in May 07) I am a student of traditional Chinese painting, hence the two exhibitions and one coming up in June, but more on that later.  I have been an English teacher since I arrived here in August of 2005 and recently I was married to a local girl from the north of the province.

We met one late Spring afternoon in May of last year when a friend of mine was in hospital for an IV and a glass of warm water, called to say there was a cute nurse who wanted to practice English, would I like to come down to the hospital and meet her?  I was in a taxi in 2 minutes and at the hospital in 15.  There to be met with a flashing smile and cheery “Ni hao Qi Bai Jiu”.  Qi Bai Jiu is my Chinese name.  The rest is, as has so often been said; history.  I certainly was!

We saw each other as often and as much as we possibly could for 18 months, and last January I took her home to meet the folks and get married.  It was a simple quiet affair with just family and a few friends, initially the wedding was to be beside a small estuary that runs by my home town, unfortunately or otherwise the rain put paid to that and we mad hasty alternative arrangements.

The family gig in China was altogether different.  First and foremost, when we left Australia (summer) it was 30ºC, when we arrived in Tie Ling (winter), Ocean’s home town it was -20ºC.  Oh God! What a shock.  From a typical western style family home to a simple, humble farmers cottage sleeping on a kung (an earthen or concrete platform set to one side of the room where the family sits, sleeps and eats) which is heated but the cooking fire.

When we arrived, the family had all been out for the day, so there had been no heating in the house since breakfast which is usually about 5.30am so the place had been chilling off for more than 12 hours.  It was almost as cold outside as it was inside.  I know that because I took a thermometer and measured it.  We bought mum and dad a television, which when removed from the box, it instantly iced over.  I was gob smacked.  Consequently there was no TV till the house warmed up and the television had defrosted sufficiently to be sure it wasn’t going to short out and kill itself.

There was a lot to prepare for the wedding, food to cook for the pre-wedding party, which meant shopping and chopping, it was down to business big time and the place was full of bees winging around in fog of chatter and laughter.  I milled around with the movie camera doing my best to capture the moment for posterity.  I don’t know why we had a pre-wedding party.  Everyone who was there was also present at the wedding.  Never the less, it was the usual raucous event, lots of food, lots of beer and bai jiu and lots of fun.

The morning of the big day arrived crisp and clean and cold.  I helped my about the become mother in law make jiao zi (Chinese dumplings) from about four o’clock in time for a leisurely breakfast at six o’clock.  This gave us lots of time to get to the restaurant for an early lunch reception.  An easy morning followed, fed the goats, and the dogs.  I chatted with the chickens that survived the previous day’s culinary cull and pottered around.  It was time to go.

Go hard or go home

After an enthusiastic attempt to push start the frozen wedding car, and failing, we the bride and groom hitched a ride on a three wheeled motorbike (think wind chill factor). Undaunted by ice, snow and life in the freezer, off we went, I feeling inspired by the intrepid nature of the moment, Ocean just happy to be getting it over and done with.  No one can appreciate how long 7 minutes can be until you have traveled on a motorbike at -20degrees regaled in ones finest wedding attire.  I take my hat off to these tough, work hardened local who suffer these conditions year in year out, eking a living from the land and still managing to smile the wide smile.

 Give me a mike and Im happy

We were greeted by fire crackers that nearly blew our eardrums out and welcoming questions like “Where the hell have you been?”  Auntie’s restaurant, which is quite sizable, was packed.  It seemed the whole community was there, with bells on.  Once mum and dad arrived, they had to wait for another wayward motorbike; the show began in fine form.

Painting by Qi Bai Jiu

The whole event was managed by the MC who perchance was the local high school’s music teacher.  Mr. MC was appropriately attired it would seem in a red jacket, purple shirt, gold striped tie, navy trousers and a slightly singed, polyester toupee.  At ear splitting volume and generous amounts of reverb the PA kicked off the event with a welcoming by Mr. MC to all and sundry and introduced us as the bride and groom.  There was one worrying moment though; in the formal manner he would occasionally do a little bow to the gathered therein; each time he bowed I was certain the singed toupee would fly off into someone’s soup only to be mistaken for some recently dispatched rodent.  Oh, I prayed for that to happen.

As is the custom, we answered some important questions.  Mr. MC asked “Who chased who first?” I said “Me.” The gathered said “Giggles and titters.” Mr. MC asked “What breed of kid do you want?”  I said “Two girls and one boy.” The gathered said “Oohs and gasps.” We did three bows to mum and dad, one to grand dad, and two to the masses. To the delight of all three people who were watching we danced a waltz to a Rod Stewart ballad and it was all over. Not!  Now the party really began.  Drinking, eating and making merry were done by all with the expected gusto of a community of farmers who live by the work hard, play hard credo. Everyone that is except of course the bride and groom.  Oh no, we had duties to perform, no such thing as having fun for us, God forbid! 

Each and every table had to be welcomed and thanked with a glass of that ubiquitous beverage bai jiu, which must, to the very last drop be drained lest someone be offended by what could only be contemptible reserve.  I did, it should be said switch to brain stabbingly cold beer. There were 7 tables at which there were three sittings.  That’s 21 glasses of booze.  So much for the wedding night!  Finally, everyone happy and rosy cheeked, satiated and staggering sallied forth to the warmth and comfort of their homes.

So indeed did we with 30 of our more intimate friends to continue in a more relaxed and informal manner, eat the lunch we hadn’t had time for, imagine 21 glasses of firewater on an empty stomach.  Once in a lifetime, trust me.  Then as if the setting sun had whispered “It’s time to go home.” to all the guests, it was just me, the wife, mum and dad, little brother and the dog.  And the cooking fire.

In that little farmer’s cottage, we sat and chatted, finalized accounts for the day; and I allowing the warmth of the fire in the kung, the love of my new mum and dad and the gentle arms of a raven beauty to enfold me.  So it is that I have allowed something of myself to infuse with this country, its grace and beauty, its brashness and arrogance.  I am by the very nature of my presence here part of the coca cola-ization that is sweeping across the Diaspora.  Should I not offer up a part of myself to the China-izing that life here demands? Perhaps in the end it’s a fair exchange.

“Any regrets?”  Mr. MC. asked.  I said “None whatsoever.” The gathered said “Ahhh!

Watch this space over the next few weeks for details on Craig’s up coming exhibition to be held in Kai Fa Chu, just 30 minutes from Dalian by electric rail.

(Craig)