A town-sized water fight in China's Yunnan province was an astounding family experience, writes MARIE NOONAN
TRAVELLING independently around China with three children, aged, nine, 10 and 12, might seem the ultimate in holiday madness – a foolproof way to ensure family friction, exotic (or even mundane) illness and lots of discomfort. While we had moments of mutiny from the children, and comfort became a relative term, we also had tremendous fun, especially when we visited the tropical city of Jinhong, in beautiful Yunnan province, in southwestern China.
Like all the best adventures, our visit was almost accidental. Flicking through a Chinese guidebook, 10-year-old Aonghus was grabbed by an account of a water-splashing festival in Jinhong. Could we go? The timing was right and, consulting a map, it didn’t seem very far. Bad mistake.
We staggered from the bus in Jinhong about 36 hours later, having survived (barely) three connections, a mad scramble for bus tickets that was like the invasion of Croke Park at the end of All Ireland final day, and impressive landslides that completely blocked the roads. We subsisted on fried rice and dumplings and chewed on the dust that filled the bus on the unpaved sections – which made up at least half the journey. But the scenery was stupendous. We had no idea that China was so beautiful, with towering mountains, dense forests, deep gorges and fast-flowing rivers. Valiant efforts were being made to prevent landslides and erosion with enormous concrete barriers on some hillsides – we can personally vouch that sometimes this was a losing battle.
Through it all, the Chinese talked on their mobile phones, which had incredibly good coverage, and spat up great big gobs of phlegm. The Chinese custom of hawking was difficult to get used to, although Aonghus and nine-year-old Cormac had no such qualms and whiled away the hours by spitting out of the bus window. When in Rome and all that.
The festival ran over three days with a real carnival atmosphere – fireworks, dragon-boat racing on the Mekong river and parades of local people in traditional dress. The variety of food being sold on the streets was incredible – strange fruit, seeds, quail eggs, dumplings, barbecued fish and lots of unidentifiable meat (even cockroaches?) being roasted over charcoal. It was a far cry from the burgers and chips of Irish festivals.
We were also a sideshow simply by being a family with three children in predominantly one-child China. We got used to people approaching us and miming that they wanted to be photographed with us. I imagine our faces are probably now in lots of Chinese photo albums.
Our highlight was the much-anticipated water-splashing aspect of the festival, which was confined to the last day. The idea of splashing water is to wash away the demons of the previous year and herald in the happiness of the new. It was April but, amazingly, we were celebrating the arrival of the Dai New Year. Nothing was surprising on this trip.
The instant we stepped outside our lodgings, at about 7am, we were drenched to the skin and surrounded by hordes of grinning Chinese determined to wish us luck and happiness by soaking us even more. We were blessed (or attacked) by kids holding water guns, basins of water were thrown at us from the roof, and passing trucks crammed with people doused us. Everyone was dripping, but we were wetter than most.
Through this mayhem I spotted a fire truck careening down the street with its hose aimed at us. “Take cover,” I shouted as we dodged behind a life-size ornamental elephant decorated with garlands of flowers.
“We need more ammunition,” yelled 12-year-old Caoimhe, “and bigger guns.” The price of the big guns had at least tripled since the day before.
Eventually, we braved it down to the main square, working as a team, and we certainly “blessed” lots of people. The streets were closed to traffic and the scene was one of pure bedlam. People of all ages ran laughing through the streets to the sound of beating drums, Chinese chimes and raucous screaming.
The children, who often had water-fight parties in our garden at home, were ecstatic at the idea of a whole city being turned into a giant water fight for a day. “Can we come back again for more good fortune?” asked the children. “China is torture but so cool.”
Despite the drenching, or maybe because of it, we never felt luckier in our lives.