The Birthday Dinner
On Monday, my friend and I (who share a birthday) invited about 20 people to a Tibetan restaurant in Kunming for our birthday dinner. Neither of us had been before, but the place had been recommended by a couple of good friends and we thought we'd try something different.
The deal at the restaurant included both food and a "performance", which we imagined would be a song and dance routine that would last less than an hour.
Soon after arriving, the performance started. Groups of "Tibetans", many of whom I suspected were actually Han Chinese, emerged wearing traditional Tibetan costumes. One man wore a fur coat so thick that I'm sure a PETA member would have thrown paint on him had one been present.
Some of the performances were nice- I liked the percussion and dancing. The singers belted out "traditional" songs at such a high volume and register that I was surprised the neighborhood stray dogs didn't storm the restaurant in unison. Conversation became reduced to people leaning next to each other and shouting. I started sweating from the noise, which I didn't believe was physically possible before.
After about two hours of straight high-volume performance, our beleaguered guests began straggling out of the restaurant. I thought about complaining about the music being too loud, but the thought that I had reached an age where high volumes bothered me was too depressing to contemplate.
Finally, we agreed to move on to a little bar near the restaurant. The twenty or so performers subsequently stopped, and while we moved outside I saw a few of them in their street clothes. All of them were gracious and kind, wishing my friend and I a happy birthday.
The event, I thought, was pure China- dinner theater at maximum volume, audience participation, abundant food, and good humor throughout. I do believe everyone left in high spirits, which is the most a birthday boy can ask for.