Feb 10th - Do The Real Estate Boogie

So I found out that the underlying reason for this little trip to Hainan was so that my wife’s mother could look at real estate. She wants to be a snow bird, Harbin, which is in the North, is -20 today. Sanya, where we are, is a stifling +22 Celsius. That’s a 40 degree difference without leaving the country! We looked at a couple different places, one called Crabapple Bay, which was sort of like a little beach community, and then we looked at a brand new development called Serenity Coast.

We were taken to one of the Show Rooms at Serenity Coast up on the 14th floor. There was an amazing view of the Hills to our right, and the water ad sandy beaches to the left. I’ve never been to L.A. but I hear it looks like this. I’m in a postcard! When I looked down, directly beneath us, I saw the labour camp. It’s Sunday today, and all the workers who are building these condos have the day off. I can see them playing cards and Ma-jong, smoking and drinking beer. Looks like a good time! O tell you the truth, no offense towards anyone, but I’d rather be hanging out with those people than with the rich snobs spending millions on these apartments. I’d probably fit in a lot more.

As the development grows and grows, some of the natural beauty will be lost, it’s inevitable. I think that’s a dilemma that we don’t think about too much in Canada. We have so much land and so few people compared to China. This country is roughly the same size of Canada, but nearly half of the world’s population lives here. Classified as a developing nation, China seems like it is trying to catch up with North America, Europe, and other Developed Nations. But I can philosophize forever. Now we dance!

At Serenity Coast, they like a welcome reception for all the would-be home buyers. There were snacks, drinks (that you had to pay for, of course) and some traditional Chinese dancers. Not like the silk-veiled, prancing type that we always think of in North America, this was an intense work out going on. I could tell because the dancers were all seriously fit. My wife pointed out this one girl’s les, which were like a horse’s, only much more feminine. I found myself staring at her, as she jumped around like a gymnast. And I didn’t feel guilty for staring, because my wife pointed them out! The perfect crime. Plus, she probably didn’t mind me staring. She looked like, if she felt uncomfortable, she could probably kick my ass.

Now comes the part of the show when they invite the audience up on stage to try. One of the dancers, not tank legs but still really fit, grabbed me and pulled me up on stage. I looked at my wife for approval – she had her camera out. Either that’s a sign of approval or she’d going to use these photos for blackmail later. She was smiling and waving me on, so it was all good. Of course I was the only white guy around for miles, and probably the first one this dancer had ever touched.

Now to describe the way they were dancing. There were 2 rows of people kneeling down and facing each other, 5 people to a row. There were 10 bamboo poles on the ground between them, and each person held onto the end of one in each hand. Think of it like 10 skipping ropes, only the ropes are bamboo. The idea was for me to run down the middle, stepping between the poles. The thing is, this was like some sort of American Gladiators event where they’d lift up the poles, slide them apart, creating little obstacle course for me to run through, all while holding hands with this gazelle, who has done it a million times and moves with the speed of Riverdance.

I played football for one season my senior year and I remember the tire drill. I was actually quite good at it. At my very first practice, the coach thought it would be a gas to send me through the tire drill, and then have me tackle someone at the end. I ran through as hard as I could, determined to wipe the shit-eating grin off their faces ( I guess the new guys usually fall all over the place in this drill) and then I tackled this “superstar” player into the ground. I had no idea he was the starting quarterback, otherwise I wouldn’t have planted him so hard. It turns out I gave him whiplash and he was out for the rest of the season. The coach never “tested” me like that again, well at least when my teammates were the tackling dummies.

I didn’t tackle anybody at the end of the bamboo dance, but I managed to move my feet faster than the rest of the volunteers. You know those sneakers with the lights in them? If I was wearing those I probably would have given the kid in the front row a seizure. I wonder why they don’t make those shoes in adult sizes? Probably because of idiots like me, who would insist that they put them in every pair of shoes I own, including the shoes I wore down the aisle on my wedding day.

Anyway, I ended up getting a bigger applause than the actual performers, so they brought me up to do it again. I don’t know if I helped them sell any condos, but I sure as hell put the crowd in a good mood. “Dancing white man brings very good fortune” – can hear the real estate agents saying it now. “He’s Craaaaaaazy about our prices! Come dance the blues away in one of our exquiset beach-front properties!” I can’t wait for my commission cheques to start roling in. Bambooya!