It’s late afternoon. The sun has finally penetrated the
smog, though there;s still a smell of coal-smoke in the air. Warm and still. And very noisy. This is the People’s Park, in the heart
of the city of Chengdu. Hawkers
crowd near the entrance, calling their wares: snacks and gewgaws and your
fortune foretold. Apart from the
thunder of traffic, there is a cacophony of music, all mixed up and badly
amplified: time to investigate.
Push through the jostle at the gates, into the deep shade of the trees and you find the park swarming with people: mostly old couples, entertaining their single pre-school grandchild; or in groups or singly up to all sorts. Here a large group practising tai chi; and up a shady lane, another mature lady doing some sort of exercise with a sword. Then there’s a tea garden: every table is filled with intent mah jong players. Another little enclave is full of card players, mostly old men here, who fling down their long narrow Chinese style cards with a defiant thump. There are tourists of course, mostly around the obelisk commemorating the 1911 tram workers’ strike, posing with heads on one side and two fingers in the air. The noise is getting even louder: we are reaching the centre of the park. There is a large central plaza and about 50 old ladies, led by a couple of younger men in vests are line dancing to a local pop song. Suddenly the music changes: it’s gangnam style! – and these grey haired dears, some of them maybe in their 70s, launch into the whole routine!
Arranged in deep shade around the plaza
are improvised open air stages, and in each some amateur group has set up, to
perform their latest set piece: Chengdu traditional opera; or even cultural
revolution era opera complete with red guard uniforms. In another, a wizened man is singing
some old pre-war song a capella: his vibrato so
wobbly it elides several semitones either side of the target note. Next, some strictly old-time
tango. And finally, a group of
very jolly looking matrons in long red dresses performing a spectacular
fan-dance. All at high volume so
the sound spills over from one stage to the next and across the park. In the farthermost dark corner of the
park, I’m nonplussed to find a group of men, mostly 50s to 60s, standing
silently with placards. A
political protest? No, says Hong: they’re bachelors
advertising for a partner.
I soon realize that most open spaces in Chinese cities are like this: full of people doing whatever they love doing, without inhibition in public – physical exercises, dancing, singing, playing games – they certainly know how to have fun for free. ‘Old people!’ says Hong, with a shrug. ‘All they want to do is dance!’
Push through the jostle at the gates, into the deep shade of the trees and you find the park swarming with people: mostly old couples, entertaining their single pre-school grandchild; or in groups or singly up to all sorts. Here a large group practising tai chi; and up a shady lane, another mature lady doing some sort of exercise with a sword. Then there’s a tea garden: every table is filled with intent mah jong players. Another little enclave is full of card players, mostly old men here, who fling down their long narrow Chinese style cards with a defiant thump. There are tourists of course, mostly around the obelisk commemorating the 1911 tram workers’ strike, posing with heads on one side and two fingers in the air. The noise is getting even louder: we are reaching the centre of the park. There is a large central plaza and about 50 old ladies, led by a couple of younger men in vests are line dancing to a local pop song. Suddenly the music changes: it’s gangnam style! – and these grey haired dears, some of them maybe in their 70s, launch into the whole routine!
I soon realize that most open spaces in Chinese cities are like this: full of people doing whatever they love doing, without inhibition in public – physical exercises, dancing, singing, playing games – they certainly know how to have fun for free. ‘Old people!’ says Hong, with a shrug. ‘All they want to do is dance!’
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