A few weeks ago
on our day off, the editorial team decided to go for a day trip to a site in Hengdian. Eric, David, and I had previously bought bicycles in a wholesale mall in Yiwu and were ready to give them a test. We contacted our local friend An Li, who is spending her summer vacation working in her hometown before heading back to college in Beijing in the fall. She had previously taken us to a couple of other local sites, such as Hengdian’s
Dàfó Sì (literally “Big Buddha Temple”). She said she’d borrow a bike and lead us to an interesting place.
The entrance to the Garden of Eden seen from within. The "health rooms" can be seen to the right of the mass of park cleaning staff in yellow shirts standing near the entrance.
The morning of the ride came and the motley crew assembled. An Li had appeared on a speedy electric scooter rather than a bike. David and Eric had purchased swanky multi-speed Trek beach cruisers. I perched atop the worst bike I’ve ever owned, a rickety 10-speed with plastic pedals, ineffective brakes, and a frame too small for me to extend my legs fully (but it was, of course, a great bargain at 220RMB). We set out into the clear humid air and headed for the hills outside town. The mercury read 35ºC (95ºF).
An Li zoomed along with little effort and David and Eric forged ahead. I struggled along pedaling with my knees, constantly falling behind. We’d brought bottles of water but they lasted about 20 minutes. An Li had thought to bring extra and passed them around. Eventually when we were in the hills and the grade became too steep I gave up and walked my bike a few hundred meters, to find that around the next bend everyone else had stopped at a small shop to hide from the sun and buy more water. Thankfully we were very close to our destination.
We arrived at a very clean and new looking park or resort, paid our entrance fees, and went inside.
I’d describe the park’s design as Chinese-romance-gothic. It featured hearts over the entrance, alabaster statues of cupid, and colorful fake flowers and lights stuck in blocks of styrofoam in the middle of a large pond.
As soon as we’d entered, An Li asked the guards something about a show, and then shouted to us “Go, go, go!” and started running. We followed.
These dudes walked out and played a buzzy tune, I think each blowing air over a leaf held in his lips. The very enthusiastic smoke machines and the sound together helped forge a "fire in a duck farm" atmosphere.
The show, a series of ethnic dances by a troupe from Yunnan province, had just begun. The dances weren’t especially energetic or coordinated, but they made up for it with innovative use of bamboo. At one point, the women were banging bamboo poles on the floor and smashing them together and the men were prancing around without tripping on the poles. Then they asked for audience volunteers to step between the bamboo. An Li and I volunteered. Years of Super Mario Bros practice served me well –I quickly determined the pattern in the bamboo movements
and managed to prance without getting my foot smashed. Perhaps one day I too can become a Yunnan bamboo dancer.
The show ended and everyone was ushered outside to a rickety metal staircase that led to the upper floor of the building. We stood on that staircase for ten minutes while the staircase shook and made creaking noises and the usher tried to get the door open. I spent the time staring at the rust on the staircase, wondering whether I’d be there long enough to see the rust eat through the load-bearing members. Eventually someone from inside the building was summoned and we entered a round room with a 360 degree video projection of guys in Fred Flintstone outfits with spears standing around while scantily clad women cavorted on swinging vines.
I think David was just happy no elephants were hurt in the film.
A herd of menacingly animated computer generated elephants began to run toward the happy but segregated group, forcing the women to notice the men, cling to them, and form a circle. The women were protected, the men looked pretty psyched, and the whole story had acquired a slightly creepy romantic feel. Then it was time to move on, leave the room as the film began to replay, and walk down a couple of flights of stairs.
As we walked down the stairs, I looked down past the railing and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be prone naked bodies in glass cases two floors down. Our descent was halted on the second floor, where we and our fellow ‘Garden of Eden’ tourists were left to gawk at… sex toys in glass cases:
Click any image to make it bigger. Heh heh. You know you want to.
After that we were led downstairs, where we viewed a series of very lifelike wax cadavers each displaying the grotesque symptoms of a different venereal disease. I think the moral of the tale is that even after the elephants have gone away, you still must maintain a vigilant attitude. Bad things that can happen to you if you don’t use protection during an elephant-attack inspired romantic encounter. “
Go, go, go!“
We left the exhibit behind and walked toward a smaller theatre whose sign I read as “Beautiful Women something Water”. I had a uneasy feeling about this one.
We entered the very small, dimly lit theater, and were seated at a table. There were about 6 little round tables, each with 3 or 4 guys. In front of the tables was a metal railing, and behind that were 3 chairs in front of a curtain. An Li want to a table behind us and started having a conversation with the only other female customer, a tourguide who I’d seen previously leading middle-aged Chinese men around the sex toy exhibit. Music started and out popped 3 women who started gyrating around the chairs, bending over and stroking their legs, etc. It was a striptease without the stripping, and without a lot of variety –the dancers kept repeating the same moves.
The waitress came by and dropped off a basket of baseballs at each table. Baseballs? WTF! Having seen Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, my brain knew one possible use of baseballs and my imagination began to run away with it. …bbbut it was us rather than the dancers who had been given baseballs, and baseballs are kinda large. I was stumped. As I stared at the basket of baseballs with trepidation, the dancers retreated behind the curtain and the music ended.
A minute later the curtain opened, and the mystery was revealed. At the front of the stage were three chairs suspended above clear water tanks, and to the right of each tank was a heart shaped metal target. The music began, and all the Chinese dudes ran to the front to throw baseballs at the targets from a distance of about 10 feet. None of them managed to hit. David and Eric stepped up and each scored a bullseye on their first throw, which dropped two dancers into their tanks of water. The dancers climbed out and remounted their chairs. I threw and missed, I think I was laughing too hard at the whole enterprise to aim –and I suck.
After all baseballs had been expended the MC encouraged people to buy more throws for 5 yuan each, but the crowd was not interested. Maybe they weren’t happy after being outthrown by a couple of foreigners, but in all fairness baseball is a lot more popular in the US and I’m sure both Eric and David have far more experience throwing baseballs than that crowd.
The performance ended and our local friend led us over to a little pond. We pushed ourselves around it on bamboo skiffs for a few minutes with long bamboo poles and marveled at the huge insects that skittered around on the surface. Then we left the park.
On the way out, we passed a couple of rooms whose names I read as “health room”. The word “health” can have a different connotation in China, as David found out when he poked his head in the door out of curiousity and a small crowd of “ladies of the night” burst out and chased him for a few meters, entreating him to return so that they could work on his “health”. He managed to escape un-healthed and we all rode home. The end.
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