Dancing (and Peeing) in the Streets

The weather has held steady around or above the 100 degree mark, my stomach can stand increasingly less and less food, and China continues to block major internet sites. I am now banned from using Twitter or Facebook and therefore cut off from communicating with many friends and half of my family. But I’m sure China has good intentions, right?

With nearly two months under my belt, I can truly say China has been an interesting rollercoaster jungle. The language is not an easy one to learn, but it is relatively easy to get by on a minimal number of phrases. The first one I picked up (and very invaluable): “Bu yao” – don’t want. Another one I cling to: “Ting bu dong” – don’t understand. Some phrases get worn out pretty easily. “Ni hao” is said often enough, and I often wish there were another way to say thank you besides “xie xie.”

But the faces are kind and the people make it their day’s ambition to have a good time. They love to eat and dance. Many evenings after supper, while walking down around People’s Square in Xiaoshan, a large congregation of women gather together outdoors to do Chinese line-dancing. Men are not allowed on the dance floor with these groove shakers, but many husbands will watch along the sidelines, their toddlers in tow. The music is a mixture of American pop and traditional Chinese with a modern twist. The dancing is a little more difficult than the familiar American hustle, but with a few nights’ practice I started to get the hang of it. The trick is to squeeze yourself into the middle of the crowd, so that when you turn, you're always following someone else's lead.

Not only do the Chinese feel free to dance in the streets like Richard Simmons on a holiday, but they also feel free enough to pee in the streets, as well. Grown men and women will suddenly cop a squat in the middle of the sidewalk. As you step around them and wonder how they can perform such a private act in public, they will look up at you when you walk by and meet your stare to say, “Ni hao.”

Of course, we can’t leave all the fun to the adults. Customary infant and toddler garb consists of light-weight pants with absolutely no bottom. The parents split the crotch of the pants so that their children’s bums hang free in the breeze. Or, if they’re exceptionally proud of the fruit of their loins: no pants at all. This, I’ve noticed, only holds true for the male variety. One man at West Lake held his stark-naked son out in front of him like a ring bearer’s pillow, holding each leg behind the knees as the child leaned his back against the proud papa, feet stuck straight up in the air and the family jewels pointing the way. I guess if you got it, flaunt it.

I pride myself on having, so far, altogether avoided public restrooms. Why? Because they are nothing more than glorified holes in the ground. Some of them are ringed with porcelain. Why bother? If you’re going to have a porcelain toilet, why not install one you can actually sit on? These squatters are the only option in practically all of China. Each time I venture out, I pray I can make it through the afternoon without having to stop. Luckily, even though I keep well hydrated with bottle after bottle of water, the heat and humidity suck all liquids out of me and I can hold it until I get back to my western haven. My goal: to live in China an entire year without once having squatted.