Anyone who wants a crash course in contemporary Chinese culture need only spend an hour strolling through the cemetery. I myself recently imbibed in the essence of all things beautiful and absurd on a morning jog. I invite you to join me on a journey into the heart of twenty-first century China as I recount this jog for you :).
As I approach the park, I must dodge sprays of water from a start-up car wash company whose clients have taken up all of the sidewalk. The dodging continues at the park's gate, where I need to avoid cars turning hither and yon. Another entrepreneur is using the stretch of concrete in front of the gate as a parking lot for the city's countless new automobile owners.
As I enter the cemetery, I smile as adult children push heavily clothed parents in wheelchairs, sharing an opportunity to enjoy a mild autumn day outside. Other folks who are older slowly stroll amongst the graves of the cemetery's eponymous martyrs.
I turn the corner and encounter a new scene: young adults with badminton racquets hitting a birdie back and forth, a troop of tai chi practitioners beautifully swaying together in motion, and oddly, one lone individual seeking some sort of spiritual connection by vigorously rubbing a hapless poplar tree. All of this on top of a slender stretch of grass beside the jogging trail.
Before long, the trail veers left and opens up to a new collection of statues, fountains, and pavilions. A band of retired folks is gathered under one pavilion, belting out an opera song of a bygone era. Tuba and oboe players accompany them. One lone soul sits under another pavilion with his erhu (a Chinese stringed instrument), strumming a haunting song undoubtedly about unrequited love.
As I continue to jog, most people I pass on the trail avoid eye contact with me. A few children shriek "lao wai!" (foreigner!), and a few others steal curious glances. Some look at me, then turn back to their friends to laugh at the freakish alien in their midst. One woman, however, smiles directly at me, gives me space to pass, and cheers me on with an encouraging "jia you!" (you can do it!). I smile back at her in gratitude.
After meandering through small yet lovely expanses of bamboo, the trail journeys forward to the park's front gate. The scent of incense increases as I swing near the Longhua temple, which sits right outside the park's entrance. I glimpse the top of the temple above some juniper trees.
As I continue on the trail, I leave the incense behind and encounter other pockets of activity (this time underneath an ornate archway): an assembly of ladies line dancing, as an upbeat Chinese love song blares through a portable speaker. Another group of ballroom dancers bumps against the ladies, as the couples' waltz and song compete for prominence. The trail proceeds past the jostling dancers to a small inlet of water, where a bridge crosses the water and circles me back in the direction of my apartment. Spruce trees almost hide a few lone fisherman who sit beside the pond. Judging by their facial expressions, I suspect they care less about catching fish, and more about avoiding problems at home.
I approach my last stretch of greenery in the park, and am not disappointed by the scene I encounter: some friends in full fencing garb, their swords clashing dramatically in an intriguing dance, while a peasant couple nearby holds their crying toddler at arm's length. I soon discover that the toddler is defecating in the grass, and I quickly turn away when I get a glimpse of his small penis. If the word feels awkward to write, I promise you it was just as awkward to see! I seem to be the only one embarrassed by this situation.
Saturated with intrigue, curiosity, and contemplation, I exit the park and walk the mile back to my apartment. I find China often leaves me with a smirk on my face, and this morning is no exception!