Toerke

I had almost had it with Chinese cities: a stressy string of endless boulevards loaded with would-be western shopping malls, bombastic banking palaces, smelly food stalls and screaming advertising light seducers. Where is the cosyness, the peace and quiet? I’ve found it this morning. At 7:30 I stroll through Revolutionary Park and behold a choreographically perfect ballet of morning folk in motion. Here a lonesome kungfu dancer, there a couple embraced in a tango duel, further on a group swinging their arms on a disco tune. The fan ladies too perform their act in this green open-air theater. Swords cut silently through the Great Nothing – a sea of concentration, a beach of tai chi peace. Nobody walks straight forward. While walking arms are swinging, hips are swaying, heads are rolling. Ageing joints bend according to the chi qong rules, the ancient skills of a young spirit. What a joy to watch. It makes me smile. Even the birds in a cage are off the hook. I had almost had it with Chinese cities. Until I came upon the park dancers.