Part 3
The Window of the World
All around people get ready for the New Year. Tickets are
hard to find. The whole of China is on the move. And anticipation
hangs in the air. Expectation of a better tomorrow. The
eternal promise of the New Year. Hopes of a new horizon.
And I roam around the streets of Shenzhen. Through its many
malls. Rows and rows of shops. Packed. Overflowing. And
I take in the fever. The rush. The madness. Again. It's
New Year. And it's Spring Fever. A fever that makes you
forgive everything. Forget everything. And really believe
in the promise of the New Year. May the Monkey arrive soon…
Shenzhen is huge. It takes two hours to go from one end
of the city to another. And it is to this other end of the
city that I head to. I have a guide, my friend's brother.
And destination therein to the Window of the World. Splendid
China it's called. And provides a little window, a little
mirror to the immense attractions of the country. Each and
every detail of China is painstakingly reproduced. Across
acres and acres of green space.
And I see all
the sights of China before I see them. The heart of China
is on display. Its villages. Its cities. The roots of its
culture are etched here. Its people. Its tribes. Its costumes.
Its colors. Its life. All encapsulated. Recreated. And
so I wander past its Great Wall, gaze on at a street performance,
roam its Karst caves, enter its temples, step through its
palaces and courtyards and climb its tribal dwellings. Realize
with wonder the sameness that crosses borders. That one
of the Chinese ethnic tribes has the same Indian way of
greeting. Hands folded. Namaste. Divine.
The park takes hours to explore. And many more hours for
it to sink in. To settle in the mind. And think of the depth
here in this land that would take years to discover. But
I would have to be satisfied with the little I glimpse.
Glimpses, which will last for a lifetime. Such glimpses
as watching a Chinese traditional play. Vivid scenes spring
to life. Of rural life. Of the life of the "simple."
Watching it all. The play ends in a dance. And finding myself
pulled along to their dance. Their feet are nimble. The
circles they draw you through dizzy. You can't keep up.
Yet, it's the dance of China. Fantasy land. Dance along.
It's the New Year. Tomorrow's hope once more.
