life's adventures This is the story of my wanderings through Asia

Basically on Saturday, I had finished a second draft of my assignment that I am reasonably happy with. It was time for a night of drinking. I hadn’t had a real good night, letting go, since leaving Dalian, so Saturday eve at the Bad Monkey was my mission. The pouring was light so I powered through my first 8 Jameson, but like a clever drunk I only take out so much cash, and I distinctly remember thinking, I am quite happy, with enough cash for one more drink. Then the night got out of control. I was making friends with two cool guys from England who are visiting the owners of the bar, Carl and Scott, both great guys themselves. Then some Chinese man who was chugging back beer, in the typical ‘gambei’ style of China, started getting me my own glass to gambei with, but I don’t drink beer, so three or four glasses later… Also I recognized Elliot, an old acquaintance from two years ago. We talked and he bought me more drinks. I remember falling over in the middle of the street as others motored off to bed, Christina collected me, informed me of my inebriation, and gave me a glass of water. Angel. Then I was escorted to my hostel, unhappily anticipating the hurt that will come.

Sunday I woke at 8am, drunk. Food, then sleep more. Same again in the afternoon, but I stupidly searched for a greasy hamburger, and found the most miserable excuse for food in Café de Jack. (Now blacklisted!!!) I had two bites of the burger and left it on the table in disgust. As evening approached the town was astir. The Fire Festival of Dali began. I grabbed a coffee at the Monkey, and then back to the hostel to relax and shower, before the night begins. Carl told me a week ago about the absurd nature of this festival. A long time ago, two men from two rival villages in the vicinity of Dali, the Yi and the Bai, had a disagreement over a woman...more or less. One village’s elders took their guy back to his house and told him to settle, and resolve the issue, as the other villagers were a bit loose. Meanwhile, determined to have their way, the other village had set out to burn the house of the guy who had started the mess. All the village elders were burned alive too. And so goes the history of the most mental celebration of fire I, and all others, will ever take part in.

I headed back to the Monkey for their Sunday Roast, which was awesome. Then, not knowing what to expect or prepare for, I wandered around the streets where fire filled fun had begun. The police were stopping the torches going down Renmin Rd, where the Bad monkey was biding its time. So at the intersections at either end, chaos was conquering. Big totem torches decorated and in flames stood outside most establishments. Torches blazing held in the hands of many, young and old, were flying about. Bags of pine resin were littered around, hanging from belt straps of boys, handfuls being thrust toward the fire to create a giant explosive balls of flame. Families grabbed and counted and threw, in my spot taking pictures I was engulfed, repeatedly, in fire. Later the torch went up outside the Bad Monkey. The play list pounding out all songs to do with fire and burning, the crazies that run the bar, in war paint and covered completely, let loose like maniacs, dancing like demons and throwing fire at each other and the massive crowds of observers. According to the guys, this year was tame, Hard to believe, unless you meet these devils, but the safe spot for me was just inside the door, taking pics and vids to record the event, laughing, dancing and diligently drinking water all night. A thick layer of dust covered everything, and I still felt rubbish. With an early bus to catch, I bid the good people goodnight, and went back to the Lily Pad Inn to shower and sleep.