Bells

My grandparents owned a home in rural southern Idaho just in the heart of cattle country. Their back fence bordered goats on one side and cows on the other. Every so often my cousins and I would wake to the sound of clanking bells and my grandmother's holler, "Bill, there's a cow loose in the yard!" followed by a masculine stern warning of "go on now cow," followed by some mooing. Our final morning in Yubeng Village I woke out of a deep slumber to similar clanking cow bells and had hopped to my feet before realizing my toes wouldn't be touching the familiar pink carpet of my grandparents home but instead would land on the ice cold warped wooden floors of a hostel in rural China. It was so cold in fact that I could see my own breath and there were ice crystals frozen to the window sill. I looked outside and saw a belled yak calmly grazing on frosted ferns and bushes. Above him, the foothills of Kawa Karpo's wife and crown were covered with a dusting of snow. The pigs and the chickens that had roamed freely the day before were all cuddled together in the space below the main house providing warmth to each other and to the people resting above. Winter had arrived in the valley, and with it, our departure from Yubeng Village.

But I Digress

This is Mike. I post this picture to illustrate that Mike is tall. Very tall. Like basketball tall. Much taller than most people we met in China. Kids seriously used him as monkey bars more than once. He also has a loud voice and infectious laugh that would always draw attention. There was no place we could go in China that people didn't instantly recognize him as an American. And when he would whip out his pidgin Chinese, people would start chatting with him on almost any subject. He received marriage proposals, solicitous offers, sage wisdom, free advice, and often directions, but my favorite was a conversation he had with one government official on tour of Yubeng Village. The official looked at Mike and said "So, you are an American?" When Mike responded affirmatively, the official laughed and said, "I like Americans. American people are very good. American economy is very good. American government? Not so good." Right on. It just makes me think of Crooked Trail's moto: "I love my country, I just think we should start seeing other people."

I Probably Should Have Mentioned It....

When last I wrote, fifty-five government officials had just arrived in Yubeng Village. Wet and saddle sore, the officials moved straight into the main lodge to warm themselves by the fire, have a bite, have a drink, and most importantly, to have a little entertainment. We waived to them from under the awning of our hostel and then pondered what to do. In true Mountaineers "alpine start" spirit, Gail, Doug, James, and Percy all headed early to bed in preparation for our departure from Yubeng Village the following morning. Roy headed to the head, and Mike, Spring, and Tao momentarily excused themselves to the quiet of their room. Since everyone else had settled down, I pulled out my book, my headlamp, and most importantly, my Rolling Stones, and snuggled under my worn blanket. By the time I was settled, Percy was already asleep, headlamp still on. Roy sauntered in and we joked that Percy could sleep through anything. I make this point to illustrate that Roy was in the mood for small talk but failed to articulate that at that very moment, there was a HUGE party going on at the main lodge and that Mike, Spring, and Tao were dancing it up with the villagers and the government officials AND that we were invited! I'm not bitter. Not at all. But Roy, I was the one who used up all the hot water before your last shower. Sorry. I probably should have mentioned it.