I finally made it to Hong Kong! I flew Northwest Airlines from Detroit to Japan/Narita (13.5 hours), had a 90 minute layover in Japan, then another 5.5 hour flight from Japan to Hong Kong. Because of the time flying, and because of crossing the international date line, I arrived at my hotel in Hong Kong at 11:30 PM on Friday, January 9. Tired, but delighted to be on terra firma!

The bus from the Hong Kong airport into the city of Kowloon was quite nice. Since it was dark, I could barely make out the outlines of what would prove the next day to be stunning and dramatic mountains, hills, and harbors. Hong Kong is a city like no other: a little London, especially because of the street and building names like "Victoria" and "Nathan Street," - a sure mark of the English colonialization - a little New York because of the many extraordinary skyscrapers, and a little Las Vegas because of the gaudy glittering and flashing signage everywhere.

I particularly enjoyed the breakfast combination of dim sum (Chinese dumplings) and an English breakfast. The various dim sum was fabulous. I have pondered for many years the English tradition of beans on toast for breakfast. I am no closer today to understanding this peculiar legume gastronomy. But, when in Rome... (Well, when in Hong Kong...)

I can't wait to return here in two weeks for a few days of discovery!

Well... Another day of flying. A temporary goodbye to Hong Kong, but much excitement about coming back in a couple of weeks. The flight from Hong Kong to Guangzhou was very good. I met an American man from Orlando, Florida, on his way to see his wife in Nanning, so we chatted about Guangzhou and Nanning. The flight was only 40 minutes.

When I arrived at the Guangzhou airport, there were signs everywhere about SARS. (The SARS epidemic originated in the Guangdong Province, and has recently reappeared in Guangzhou.)I had to fill out a health questionairre to enter Hong Kong, another to leave Hong Kong, and now yet another to enter Guangzhou. After making it through the health screening, I discovered that the Guangzhou airport is a confusing place. Not many English instructions.

Following the health screening, and passport and customs check, you must collect your luggage and leave the airport building. When you exit the luggage/customs space, there are 15-20 service agents that plow you with questions about your destination, if you need to change currency, have you paid the airport tax (more on this later), did you pay for the extra baggage？, etc., etc. I quickly discovered that these people are independent agents that want to charge you a fee for anything, just to make a buck (or a Ren Mi Bi). I finally asked a P.R. of China official where I was to get my connecting flight. He pointed me outside to the neighboring building. I followed his instructions and went to the building and found half of China's population waiting for connecting flights. Thus began my introduction to the Chinese system of order.

Being a Southerner, I am accustomed to lines and falling into one when it exists. When I finally figured out the line where I was to stand for the connecting flight to Nanning, I was at least the 50th person waiting. However, people join the line from all sides and directions -- you must force your place in line or lose it. So be it! After one hour and fifteen minutes, I make it to the agent. (Good thing I have three hours of layover time before the next flight!) The agent takes my ticket and passport, then informs me that I have too much baggage and that I must pay for the overage. (I am carrying two heavy boxes of music for the Guangxi Symphony Orchestra). OK say I, and I produce the Chinese currency I just got from the ATM. (No thanks to the agents who were trying to charge me for getting currency.) "Oh no" says the agent, I must leave the line and go to the excess baggage counter, with its line and pay for the overage. I agree, but only after I beg him to keep my luggage and let me come back to the beginning of the line. So I pay for the overage, cut to the front of the line, trying not make eye contact with the many people still in line and finally get the boarding pass. Now I am off to the "Security Check" area -- with 10 lines of about 30 people each. I finally make it to the security agent who informs me that I must go back and pay the "airport construction tax" before I can pass. Ok, so I go back to the airport construction tax area and pay the fee (about $6) and go back to security. After I set off every alarm and have the body wand check to which I am so accustomed, another security agent informs me that I cannot carry a bottle of Scotch on board the plane with me and that it has to be included in my luggage. You see, I bought a bottle of Scotch at the duty free shop -- for medicinal purposes of course, what with SARS and all... There are duty free shops AFTER the security area, so why couldn't I take my bottle with me? I learned to not ask why.

I do some earnest pleading, but it is to no avail. The agent instructs me to go back to the ticket agent (the first one) and ask to place the Scotch in my luggage. The time is now 15 minutes before I am supposed to board the plane for Nanning. So, I RUN back to the agent, cutting to the front of the line again. (No eye contact with the line.) After I tell my story, the agent tells me to go back to the excess baggage counter and they will help me. I do this, and the excess baggage agent tells me to go to the V.I.P. counter and they will help me find my luggage. I do this, and the V.I.P. agent takes me back to the first agent and explains that I want to place a bottle of Scotch in my luggage. (All the while, I am watching the minutes tick away.)

The V.I.P. agent gets a China Southern Airlines agent and this agent takes me over the moving luggage belt into the area where the bags are loaded onto a truck awaiting placement onto the plane. We find my bag,(miracle, I know), and I put the Scotch away. Back through the machinery while dodging quick-moving luggage trucks into the departure hall, where I say thank you and RUN back to the security check. Unfortunately, I must wait in line again. I go through security, hoping to have the same agent, but my agent has gone. Now the new security agent asks for my airport construction tax receipt. I explain what has just happened, and by a stroke of fortune, he believes me. Of couse, I set off every alarm again and must get the pat down and wand search again. I am now 5 minutes late for the boarding bus that will take me to my plane. I run to the waiting area just to find that my plane will be delayed one hour. Ultimately, I get on the plane one hour late, and just before we are supposed to leave, an announcement says we will be delayed another 50 minutes (while on the plane). Finally, two hours after I was supposed to leave Guangzhou, we take off for Nanning. The flight is only 50 minutes, and I arrive, at last, into Nanning.

Again, an overdue arrival! I was met at the Nanning airport by Renee Chen, my contact from Mississippi, whose hometown is Nanning. She was accommpanied by Mr. Teng (pronounced "Tung"), the Guangxi Symphony Orchestra Manager, and Mr. Sun ("Soon"), the orchestra's driver. We left the airport for the 30 minute drive into town and went directly to dinner. The restaurant, the "Bamboo Garden," (too bothersome to spell phonetically in Chinese) was Cantonese-style and is owned by a Mr. Hua -- a man who formerly played the bassoon. We sat in a private dining room, and food appeared immediately.

First course -- chicken soup with ginseng. Mr. Hua was proud to say that the ginseng was from Wisconsin, and was milder than Chinese ginseng and thus more desirable for cooking! The fascinating aspect of the soup was that the entire chicken, with head attached, was inside the large pot of soup. Further, the chicken is a special variety, particular to the Guangxi area, and has black skin. Mr. Hua assured me that it was honorable to keep the head of the chicken attached. (Welcome to China, again!) Other dishes began to appear -- and many of them, including: roasted chicken (again with the head as a garnish on the plate), fried pork ribs, fried rice, braised vegetables similar to tiny napa cabbage, and spicy beef. Enough food for at least 20 people. Some Chinese red wine accommpanied the dinner. Mr. Hua then presented some local "rice wine" that he used for toasting my visit to Nanning. The wine is a little sweeter than Japanese sake, but it has, I believe, a much higher alcohol content. Mr. Hua insisted that according to Chinese custom, toasts must be experienced in threes, so away we went, passing the three mark and stopping somewhere before I eventually made it to my hotel.

The potent rice wine did indeed help me sleep (!), although I woke around 5:30 AM. The hotel was a very poor hotel -- it was a switch at the last moment with the orchestra's booking company. The orchestra's manager, Mr. Teng apologized profusely, and I was moved later in the day to a 4-star hotel which is wonderful. My new hotel is the Yong Jiang Hotel, or Yong River Hotel, just on the bank of the Yong River. Beautiful views.

Renee Chen, my translator, met me at the hotel this morning, and we went to breakfast at another of Nanning's 4-star hotels. Thus continued my delightful dim sum breakfast experience including fish and soup - yum, yum!

After breakfast, we went to my first rehearsal with the Guangxi Symphony Orchestra. Before I say anything about the orchestra, I must try and convey something about the extraordinary and unbelievable trip to the rehearsal. The number of bicycles, and especially motorcycles, in Nanning is staggering -- more motorcycles than bicycles. In fact, the statistic is that Nanning has the highest per capita motorcycle ownership in the world. This is significant when you are speaking of a city of 3 million. Well, the bikes, both kinds, are everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Most of the time, there are no lines for lanes on the roads, and at most of the intersections, there are no signs or traffic signals. What happens is this: everyone goes at the same time and in all directions -- bicycles, motorcycles, cars, trucks, buses, push carts, pedicabs, wagons, pedestrians. All of the vehicles will drive in front of you, on the right and on the left, to turn in all directions. Most people simply enter the road or intersection and then look to see what is around them. The pedestrians, and there are thousands, just wander onto the busy streets, and the vehicles just seem to make way for them. There seems to be only one rule: don't hit anyone or anything.

Good thing that my driver, Mr. Sun (pronounced "Soon") is a great driver. I sit in the car, mouth wide open, staring at the throngs and crowds, amazed that the streets are not littered with bodies.

We finally make it to the location where the orchestra rehearses. The rehearsal room is a large room which is part of the local opera company's building. The room is not heated -- it was quite chilly this morning -- plus, the doors remain open to the outside while we play. There were some short speeches about my appearance with the orchestra, and I was allowed to say a few words before we began playing.

A few words only, then we play Bernstein's "Candide Overture." The strings are generally good. For the winds, brass, and percussion, I will use a phrase from my friend and mentor, Louis Lane: "I am hopeful." Bernstein will be OK. Next we dive into Copland's "Rodeo." To an American orchestra player, this piece is standard fare. Nevertheless, it has some very difficult and tricky rhythmic passages. (I have heard major U.S. orchestras make mud of the first movement, "Buckaroo Holiday," in performance.) The very syncopated rhythmic language is the focus of the first movement and is essentially a major component of the fabric of American musical culture.

To the Chinese orchestra players, this is foreign material -- in every sense. I affirm my intent to the orchestra that this is a great opportunity for the players to learn new music and to experience what is quintessentially American music. At the break, 80% of the orchestra steps outside for a smoke, and I think they smoke a little more than usual today because of the shock of playing the Copland. This will be a great challenge, but a wonderous collaboration.

After two rehearsals today, I am a bit pooped, but I have been invited to be a guest at a concert of the Opera Ballet Symphony of the Opera and Ballet Theatre of China (from Beijing) in concert here in Nanning. Their conductor, Mr. Jiang Jin Yi, attended my second rehearsal of the Guangxi Symphony today and addressed the orchestra about their fortunate opporunity in playing this "American" music.

Mr. Sun arrives at my hotel with Mr. Teng to drive me to the concert. When we arrive at the concert hall, Mr. Sun parts the enormous crowd in front by driving right up to the front steps, much to the consternation of the military guards that are wildly waving him to do otherwise. Again, it is amazing that no one is under the car...

The concert of the Beijing orchestra was a delightful "light" program, and appropriate for a Western-style New Year's concert (Chinese New Year is January 21): Shostakovich's "Festive Overture," a few light pieces including the movie theme "Somewhere In Time," Glinka's "Russlan & Ludmilla" Overture, and many pieces by Johann Strauss. It was a fun concert, and completely sold-out in a large concert hall. I congratulated the conductor following the concert, and he was flattered that I would praise his work. I was invited to dinner following the concert, but my body clock still says Eastern Standard Time. Back to my new, nice hotel for some sleep.

Breakfast in my new hotel was another introduction to a new culture! There is a luxurious breakfast buffet at the hotel. Of course, there are a few western-style dishes placed on the buffet, but I am not interested -- I must explore new territory. So, I have some steamed pork dim sum, glutinous rice and chestnut cakes, sesame rolls with chestnut puree inside, shrimp cakes, and the most challenging: ox intestine with green pepper and onion, and fried chicken feet. (You read that right.) The chicken feet were amazingly good, assuming you get past the idea that you are eating chicken feet. The ox intestine tasted like, well, a very old musty rubber band. Don't think I will be having this again.

I scheduled only brass and woodwinds for the first portion of the morning rehearsal today -- we need the time, especially for the Copland. The strings join halfway through the rehearsal. I talk about fundamental issues with the wind and brass players: set the embouchure before playing; don't "chew" the articulations; listen to other parts of the ensemble; don't allow the tone to spread so far that the intonation changes, etc., etc. This is all particularly helpful for the orchestra, and especially for the music we are playing. I finally have a chance to chat with some of the players, (with a translator), and they all have fascinating stories to tell.

I discover that many of the intonation issues are due to instruments in disrepair, and the lack of materials needed for maintenance. So, we will do the best we can do. I offer alternate fingerings to the clarinet and bassoon players, and instruct the trumpets about the use of the first and third valve slides when they play. They are grateful -- and so am I.

A break for lunch: stewed pumpkin and braised pork, and some more of the soup the Chinese have translated as "porridge." It is made of rice (porridge consistency), egg (like in egg-drop soup), and pork. Back to rehearsal.

The rehearsal this afternoon was not as good as this morning. The orchestra seemed to lack attention and focus. I expressed my concern to the Concertmaster during the break, and he assured me that this was because the orchestra was concentrating so hard on this difficult music and that they were fatigued from the effort. Plus, he said that the orchestra usually rehearses for 4-12 weeks for a program! This week, the orchestra was expected to rehearse more difficult music and present a performance in only six days! I didn't have the heart to tell him that we usually do programs with only two rehearsals in Tupelo, Mississippi.

After rehearsal, Mr. Sun gave me a long ride around town back to the hotel. There I was, as usual, with the window rolled down, face staring out the window at the hundreds of shops, thousands of people and vehicles, and smiling at everything (again at the chaotic but homicide-free traffic). I think I was more a spectacle than anything on the street. I decided to study a bit and have dinner at the hotel before trying to get more sleep -- I have not yet fully adjusted to the time difference.

For dinner, another daring excursion into the local fare: chicken and snake soup. I saw this soup on the menu yesterday and had to ask some of the orchestra members about it. They all insisted that the soup would provide great medicinal benefits and would give me enormous strength. So, I ordered. Out came a large pot, and whoosh!, off comes the top in a ceremonious manner. The chicken was not the usual black-skinned Nanning chicken, but rather a tiny bird (head attached, of course) that was so tiny that it would fit inside a serving spoon. The snake was cut into sections so it would fit into a Chinese soup spoon. The soup was delicious! However, I never imagined that snake would contain so many bones -- many more bones than the boniest fish. Well, I ate as much as I could, and then was satisfied that I was strong enough. Off to bed.

Up at 5:30 AM again, and off to fresh dim sum! The only great gastronomic challenge this morning was cooked duck feet. The spices were quite nice, but it was a duck foot. Renee Chen later assured me that it was only the meat on the foot that is close to the leg...

This morning's orchestra rehearsal was great fun -- we played through Michael Daugherty's "Red Cape Tango." Frankly, this piece caused me the greatest concern before I ever heard the orchestra, due to the demands it places on the performers. However, the orchestra played this piece better than any other so far. I rehearsed with the percussion section only for the first 45 minutes. The composer Michael Daugherty, who is a great friend on mine, calls for techniques that are extremely peculiar to the five Chinese percussionists in the orchestra. It was tremendous fun to teach the two cymbal players to slide the cymbals back and forth to create rhythm. The orchestra does not own good castanets, so I had the castanet player mount the castanets on a stand so he could play with both hands. The player of the tam-tam (large Chinese gong) is required to strike the gong very hard and immediately choke the sound -- he had never done this and was in disbelief when I explained that it was necessary for him to do so. He hit the gong in a gentle manner and produced a polite sound (even for a gong). I directed him to hit the gong with all of his energy and strength and then to choke the gong immediately. He smiled with an "if-you-say-so-Cheshire-cat" smile and gave it his best shot. The sound he produced was perfect, and he saw that I was pleased with the result. He smiled so big that I thought his face would stretch! He began speaking very high and fast to his colleagues and starting banging the gong so hard and repeatedly, trying this new sound, that I though my teeth would come loose.

After I calmed him down, I continued clarifying how to play the instruments and their respective techniques. This is when I discovered that the orchestra does not own a set of chimes. They offered that we could use an electronic instrument to make the sound, and I had to agree. (There is a crucial role that the chimes play in this piece, playing the "Dies Irae" death chant representing Superman's fight to the death with Doomsday.)

Finally, we explored the sound of a brake drum. The score calls for a brake drum, but no matter what I described, the percussionists could not understand what I was requesting. They produced 6 different types of metal, and none of them were appropriate brake drum sounds. (This instrument is an actual brake drum from a car or truck, which produces a resonant metallic sound. Michael Daugherty has used this instrument in better ways than any other composer I know.) Finally, I took one of the percussionists outside and showed him the tire of a car, pointed behind the tire, and acted out a braking motion with my foot while pretending to hold on to and turn a steering wheel. If I had not confused him before, I certainly did now. Back inside the rehearsal hall, he shared what I did with his colleagues, and I repeated my pantomine. There was about 5 seconds of dazed and confused silence, then enormous laughter from everyone! I gave up for the moment.

The full orchestra had arrived for the rehearsal, and I needed to clarify the use of the plunger mutes for the trumpets and trombones.

I asked for Renee Chen to find some plungers -- yes, the toilet bowl plungers -- for the brass players. Daugherty writes well for this mute usage also, and the "Red Cape Tango" is full of plunger mute use. American orchestra members are familiar with the mute and the sound, so there is not much novelty in the U.S. with their presence in the orchestra. After all, Glenn Miller's band, and other big bands, have used them for 60 years.

The brake drum pantomine caused a real belly splitter. But I was unprepared for the uproar that was about to happen when I asked Renee Chen to translate that the brass players would use these plungers for the Daugherty piece. Again, first there was total disbelief, and then merriment was had by all. The entire orchestra began to tell jokes and have a grand time discussing the brass section's use of the plunger. Well, I did want to introduce the orchestra to something new!

When calm was restored, we read the Daugherty piece, and I was amazed at how well the Chinese musicians wrapped themselves around this new music and this new experience. The percussion section was using lots of new techniques, the wind players were playing with flutter-tonguing and other new aspects of playing, the brass players were learning all about new mutes and closed and open sounds, and the strings were perfecting their techinique of sliding up and down the strings. I believe this piece will be a big success.

We also read the Dvorak "Romance" for the first time, and also the Duke Ellingtone pieces. The orchestra played OK for the Dvorak -- there were many intonation problems in the winds, many or most due to the poor quality of the instruments, and there were also issues of poor ensemble -- but these are issues that can be fixed -- mostly.

The Ellington pieces were another challenge for the musicians. I spoke a little about Duke Ellington and American jazz, but nothing could have been better than simply singing the music for them. Describing "swing" music is simply not effective -- musicians must hear the style and the rhythm to ascertain any difference from just playing the notes on the page. I sang, and sang, and sang. Even with my voice this was an effective exercise! The orchestra gave it their all, and I was very pleased at their willingness to embrace this music.

Following rehearsal, I have an interview with one of the local television stations. There were questions about my first visit to China and to Nanning, and also many questions about the American music I would perform with the orchestra. The interview will show each day in Nanning until the concert.

Lunch was plain by recent standards -- rice porridge with eggs and pork, and fried beef and peppers. The peppers looked like red bell peppers, so I chomped into one. Six hours later, I still feel the burn!

The afternoon rehearsal was good -- more Daugherty, Dvorak, and some Bernstein "Candide Overture." The orchestra is opening up personally and trying to say a few English words to me, while I am trying to avoid butchering any Chinese words and phrases. Yesterday, when we were rehearsing the Copland "Rodeo," there were quite a few "solos" where there should be none. I told the orchestra that whoever played in a rest would have to buy me a beer. When I came to the rehearsal hall today, there were a couple of beers placed on my chair. I smiled and looked up and saw that one of the bass players was grinning. He came to the podium and had Renee Chen translate that these beers were for any mistakes that he might make today! I thank him and assured him I would make a sacrificial offering of the beers to myself later.

Dinner back at the hotel -- nothing crazy -- and then to sleep. I requested a heater for my room. In the Chinese hotels, there are air conditioning systems, but no heaters. However, I have been freezing at night, and I think the heater may help me sleep longer! We shall see.

A great day.

The heater helped a great deal, because I slept all the way until 6:45 AM! Delicious breakfast and then off to rehearsal. It bears repeating: there I am sitting with my head halfway out of the window staring at everything and everybody. No dead people under the car -- I don't know how. But, I am happy to be a part of this experience. Everyone returns a smile -- a few wave. I am reminded that only recently are a few Westerners common here.

I spend one and a quarter hours on the first movement of the Copland this morning -- the orchestra needs the drilling for the rhythmic accuracy. At intermission, the Music Director of the Guangxi Symphony Orchestra comes and he is introduced to me. His name is Zhang Xiao Dong, and he is an attractive and friendly man. (His full title is "Chief of Song and Dance Ensemble of Guang Xi and Chief Music Inspector of the Symphony Orchestra of Guang Xi, China.) I can tell that the orchestra likes and respects him very much. He makes a brief speech to the orchestra about my visit, and then I continue rehearsal with the Copland. Only Copland this morning, but the orchestra needs it.

For lunch, Maestro Zhang takes me to a lunch in my honor. Renee Chen and her husband Xie Song, who is the violin soloist for the Dvorak, attend, as well as three orchestra members, and four other officials from the orchestra and the orchestra's booking company.

First there is soup with the black-skinned chicken, then dish after dish after dish after dish is delivered. Just as we sit at the table in out private dining room, one of the ladies brings a bucket with a large live fish for inspection -- this is the Chinese custom to insure that the fish and seafood is fresh and to the liking of the customer. The fish is approved and sent away. About 20 minutes later, the steamed fish, the entire fish, head attached, is on a platter and delivered to our table. It is absolutely delicious.

During lunch, we have red wine with a piece of ice and a lemon slice for toasting. Once again, I lose count of the toasts. My visit is toasted, Xie Song, the soloist, is toasted, the orchestra is toasted, the Music Director is toasted, the orchestra players are toasted, then the orchestra manager and the booking company president, and then finally, I am toasted. (Yes, by now I mean both ways.)

I eat and eat and love everything. I have a wonderful time learning things about Mr. Zhang and the players in the orchestra. Mr. Zhang reminds everyone that I have another rehearsal this afternoon, in about an hour, and that I should be allowed to go a prepare. I bid everyone goodbye and I am off.

At rehearsal this afternoon, we play the Dvorak with the soloist for the first time. Xie Song plays beautifully and the orchestra plays relatively well -- there are things that I will have to address before the concert on Saturday. I rehearse some of the Daugherty again, and complete the rehearsal with the "Candide Overture." The rehearsal is only two hours this afternoon because the orchestra has to travel to Guilin, about 5 hours northeast of Nanning, for a concert on Thursday.

Following rehearsal, Xie Song and I are taken to the Guangxi Arts College to meet the faculty and administration. We are driven by the college's Instructor of Cello, who is also a composer. On the way to the college, she plays a recording of one of her compositions. It is very good, and I tell her that it may be a good choice to consider for the Guangxi Symphony's visit to the U.S. in September. I ask for a score. At the school, I have a brief tour of the campus, and Xie Song looks around the school he attended as a boy and then later was Instructor of Violin before moving to the United States. I meet two composers, a teacher of ear training, and a voice professor. After some tea and chatting we are whisked away to dinner.

We go to dinner at Mr. Hua's restaurant, the Bamboo Garden. Another private room, and after the presentation of another fish in a bucket, the cavalcade of dishes begins. Some very spicy things tonight, as well as the return of ox intestine. There is a plate of fried duck feet, and also Nanning duck, similar to Peking duck. I request beer, so the entire table has beer for toasting. (There are many things to love about the Chinese, and this festive manner of respect through toasting is certainly one of them.) There are some new friends who join us, and many friends of Xie Song who come in to greet their old student and friend. The table tries to teach me a few Chinese phrases, which they enjoy immensely when I try to repeat. The ear training teacher explains the different tones of the Chinese language and how a different tone with the same syllable can have a much different meaning. The beer has numbed me just a bit, but I continue to try and learn Chinese while entertaining the table. The dinner is wonderful and the company is even better.

After dinner, we go back to the Guangxi Arts College to speak to the students. They have some inetersting questions about orchestral playing and auditions, and also about chamber music. We have been joined by the conductor of the Arts College orchestra, who is also the Chief Conductor of the orchestra in Xian, China. He talks about ensemble playing and chamber music also, and later offers for me to return to China. We agree to speak about it later.

I have experienced a deep and geniune love of life in all of the Chinese people I have met. They are respectful, loving, caring, and inheritors of a tremendous and beautiful culture. I am honored to be here.

Today was free of rehearsal with the Guangxi Symphony Orchestra. (The orchestra has an out of town concert in Guilin, about 4.5 hours northeast of Nanning -- I will visit there next week.)

Breakfast in the Yong Jiang Hotel dining room, and then off to one of Nanning's most beautiful parks, the "Green Hills" Park for some sightseeing. Situated just west of town, this park is past one of the new developing residential parts of Nanning. The houses there are large and beautiful and extremely expensive by Chinese standards: about $300,000-400,000 U.S.

Now this brings to mind many of the questions I had thought or pondered before I came to China, such as: are the cars all Chinese?, what are the bathrooms like?, will I sleep on a western-style bed?, will clothes and household items be expensive or cheap?, what is the price of a small meal at one of the many street food stalls?, how much does gasoline cost?, how much does a house cost?, etc., etc.

Today, I was able to answer most of these questions. But I digress.

The "Green Hills" Park was stunning. I am sure that mnay of you have seen the Chinese movie "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon." There is a section in the movie where two people are fighting in the treetops of a bamboo forest. What was so striking to me in this scene was not the fighting between two warriors, but the sound of the wind blowing through the bamboo trees and leaves. This was the state of my visit to the Green Hills. A gentle hibiscus-like fragrance accompanied a gentle breeze and the light rustling of leaves.

In the middle of the park, there is a lake with thousands of giant goldfish. We fed the fish -- looked like they were fat from the constant feeding by the visitors and had never had to work very hard in their lives, except to fight the other thousand fish fighting to get the same bite of food. I took pictures of the surroundings and I was almost embarrassed to disturb the quiet with the soft click of my digital camera.

Just around the corner was a woman who I thought was selling traditional Chinese clothing. Actually, she had costumes that people could wear and have their picture taken. Urged by Renee and Xie Song, I dressed as the Emperor (what else?!). Patti (one of the orchestra's cellists who had studied in the U.S. at the Indiana University School of Music, and a friend of Renee's dressed as one of the Emperor's wives, and another woman who was there posed as another wife. I'll share these pictures sparingly when I return!

Just past one of the pagoda-like buildings, there was a set of stairs about a quarter mile long up to a nine-story temple/tower on a hilltop. We (Renee Chen and her husband Xie Song, me, and Patti), climbed the stairs and looked out over the Yong River plain. I wanted to climb the stairs of the tower and take some pictures, so the others reluctantly agreed.

The views were spectacular. The day was a bit hazy, but I could see for miles and miles all around. For the first time, I got a sense of the immense size of Nanning. It looks a lot like the Chicago skyline. New architecture everywhere, and many skyscrapers, most of them new, in all parts of the city. What is startling is the dramatic contrast between the city and the farms and fields. On all sides, the city suddenly stops, and then there are farms and gardens and the river, just like anywhere in rural China. Beautiful.

There is a Malaysian temple across to the other side of the park that we visited also. Further on was a Pagoda-style temple on another hilltop that I insisted on climbing. I could see the first temple/tower about a mile away. After I came down from the top of the temple, we all had some Chinese pickles: papaya, taro, and daikon that have been pickled in a strong Chinese vinegar. These giant jars of pickles are everywhere in Nanning, but this was my first chance to try them. They were so good that my mouth is watering just thinking about them!

After pickles, it began to rain, so we headed back to the city for some shopping. We met one of Renee's friends from Nanning who owns a computer store. Renee wanted to purchase a hand-held Chinese-English dictionary, so he took us to the appropriate store. I must mention that in China, you must NEVER pay the price that is being asked at the stores -- you can usually get 30-50% of everything, so bargaining is a must. So, it was a good thing that Renee's friend was with us. He negotiated 50% off for her. The other stores were very crowded, so we decided to go back to the hotel for some rest. (Sightseeing can be tiring!)

Back at the hotel, I read that it was possible to get a massage. I asked at the front desk about a massage, and the attendant said that I would have to go down the street about half a mile. Xie Song and I both wanted to get a massage, so I asked if it would be possible to have the service at the hotel. The attendant said to please wait, and he would investigate. He came back and said yes, but to my great surprise, a problem of translation had taken place. He handed me a Nanning City brochure that described something much different than I intended. (You connect the dots...)

Renee called her friend, the earlier computer store owner, and asked if he could help. He said yes and made appointments for us at the Chinese Traditional Medicine Clinic, Specializing in Traditional Zhuang Practices. (Don't you just love these official Chinese titles?!) So, we were scheduled for a two-hour massage in the evening.

We arrived at the Chinese Traditional Medicine Clinic at 8:30 PM. We were sent to a room with plush chairs with ottomans. In marched men with buckets filled with hot, fragrant, and sudsy liquid. The ottomans were pulled back, and there were large wooden buckets underneath the ottomans with faucets for water. The hot liquid was poured in each, and then our shoes and socks were taken off for us, and we soaked our feet, sitting on the ottomans. While our feet were soaking, the men began massaging our backs, necks, arms, and heads, After soaking for about 30 minutes, and having a great "beginning" massage, we turned around and sat in the chair for a foot and leg massage.

30 minutes later (an hour by now), I thought we were finished. (Time was now suspended.) But now we were asked to go to another room with massage tables. The tables are solid, with very thick padding, and there is a hole cut out for your face, and another hole for your stomach (when you are face down on the table). We were asked to change clothes into traditional Chinese "lounge-wear." The men came back into the room and a full body massage began. Underneath the hole in the table for our stomach was placed a warm hot-pot with herbs and oils. 30 minutes later, we turned onto our backs and had another 30 minutes for the other side of our body -- the hot-pot now releasing warmth onto out lower back.

Two hours after we began, we changed back into our clothes and paid 120 Chinese Yuan, about $15. Yes, only $15. No tipping allowed. In almost liquid form, I made it back to the car to go to the hotel. Now this was a day to remember!

Today was a day to get back to gastronomic challenges. I met Renee and Xie Song in the dining room for breakfast, and I started with boiled quail eggs and snails. The quail eggs are good -- small and bite-size. The snails, well, they were bite-size too, but I had some difficulty starting the day with them. They are not prepared and cooked like French escargot. They are still in their shells (the dining room calls the snails "spiral shells"), but they have not been removed and had the tail removed. You must pull the snail out of the shell -- a trick in itself with a pair of long chopsticks -- and either sever the small tail with the chopsticks, or do what the Chinese do -- bite the part you want and let the remainder drop to the plate. Alternatively, you can just spit it out. The spices used in cooking the snails are very good, but again, snails first thing in the morning was a bit of a challenge for me.

A word about the chopsticks and spitting (from above): the Chinese use long chopsticks that are considerably longer than the Japanese variety. They are actually much easier to use than the shorter versions. All of my Chinese friends are astounded that I can use chopsticks. They always ask for a fork and knife for me, but I always decline and do as the Chinese. Now, eating noodle soup, which is a regional specialty, with chopsticks is another matter. I have caused noodles to suddenly become airborn, splattering everything within a 2-foot radius. I finally got a lesson on eating the noodles: either place your face right over the bowl, or bring the bowl to your face. Pick up some noodles just out of the soup, cram them into your mouth, bite off as much as you like, and slurp and smack until the bowl is empty. I have been assured that this is proper and preferable. When I went to a noodle soup restaurant, it sounded like 20 giant Hoover vacuums sucking up water.

The Nanning rice noodle soup is really wonderful -- with beef, pork, chicken, or lamb.

After my interesting breakfast, we went shopping. I have been trying to find a black silk shirt/jacket that I could wear as an alternate to my tuxedo or tails. For a long time, I have wanted such a shirt with a Mandarin collar that would be slightly formal, but infinitely more comfortable than a tuxedo or tails to use for conducting, especially during the summer when I conduct so many performances at the Ohio Light Opera. So, since I am in the home of silk and the mandarin fashion, you would assume that I could find such a shirt. Well, my luck has not been good. There are many shirts with designs, or lots of colors, or strange heavy fabrics. So we continue to look, but no luck.

It was fun to visit the Chinese department stores. Almost all of the department stores are many floors with a large atrium, similar to the Water Tower in Chicago. The clothes are unbelievably cheap -- I mean ridiculously cheap. And, if you are willing to go to what the Chinese call clothes markets, they are even cheaper. For example, a brand new designer suit which is 80% wool, sometimes 100% wool is about $40-50, which includes tailoring while you wait. Shoes and dress shirts are routinely about $4-5. Etc. Oh my God if my wife was with me...

So, a few hours of shopping -- I did buy a few things, but no mandarin shirt -- and then back to the hotel for lunch. I ordered a bowl of the rice porridge that I like so much, and Xie Song and Renee ordered the rest. I had fried camel meat, taken from the camel's hump in what I would call an oyster sauce (typical in U.S. Chinese restaurants), and I shared a dish of sauteed duck feet with braised chestnuts. The duck feet were a little fatty and chewy, but very good, and the camel meat was terrific! It is such a treat to try all of these new foods -- some challenging and some surprising.

This evening I had another rehearsal with the orchestra. Many of the players had traveled to Guilin for a concert yesterday and just returned this afternoon. The players sounded tired and the momentum of polishing the music that I had achieved on Wednesday was mostly gone. So, we drilled all of the music until things began to sound reasonable.

I mentioned earlier that the musicians had begun to open up personally after a few rehearsals. Now they were forthrightly sharing their enthusiasm about this new music they were performing, and they were also expressing their disappointment in their performance because the music was so challenging. It is heartening to know that they genuinely want to play these new pieces well. I am still amazed that the orchestra sounds the best on Michael Daugherty's "Red Cape Tango." This piece has demanding parts for all of the instruments, and some of the parts, like the first bassoon, the principal strings, and the entire percussion section are very difficult. However, the orchestra loves this piece and they have thrown themselves into it and their enthusiasm and enjoyment in performing it is something wonderful.

I end the three hour rehearsal hoping that the fervor about the Daugherty will seep into the other pieces. No matter what happens in our concert, the musicians of the Guangxi Symphony Orchestra have been introduced to exciting new music, a new style of rehearsing and performing, and a new world of collaboration. It is pure magic to me that I can communicate with these Chinese musicians through this great music. My heart and my soul are full.

Breakfast early this morning, and then off to the final rehearsal with the Guangxi Symphony before our concert this evening. Today we are finally in the Guangxi Theatre where we perform the concert. The hall is cavernous, but there is no need for amplification (like the concert of the Beijing orchestra last Sunday).

I begin the rehearsal with Dvorak so that Xie Song can leave rehearsal and get some rest. The Dvorak goes well, so on to the Daugherty so that some of the players who are students at the Guangxi Arts College can leave for a performance there. Daugherty goes well -- I have to stop and work on many sections. The orchestra asks to play the piece through again without stopping, so we do. "Candide Overture" is OK, providing that I can keep the brass from blasting every passage that is marked forte. (Much of what I have done this week is practice the generation of beautiful sounds for the brass -- they often just let fly with enormous decibel levels without regard for balance, intonation, proper attacks, or good tone quality.) It is a bit like holding back a pack of horses, but always exciting!

The Copland is a mess, so I decide that Aaron Copland will not turn in his grave if I take a much slower tempo for the "Buckaroo Holiday." Much better to play together rather than have a performance that sounds like Charles Ives. Still, the Copland is a rhythmic blur, and the intonation on the slow movements is as exotic as the food I have been eating. We will work and do our best to remain hopeful. The Ellington pieces go relatively well, considering that I am introducing the orchestra to a swing style of music. And of course, the orchestra plays the Chinese work, "Lu Sanjie" (Third Sister -- a piece from the Song dynasty) with great verve and passion.

Overall the dress rehearsal is bumpy and worries me a bit, but we musicians always know that a poor dress rehearsal means a great performance -- right? Again, and for my mentor Louis Lane, I will remain hopeful.

After rehearsal, which last 3.5 hours, I go shopping again for a Mandarin shirt. One of the second violinists, named Ping, is a tailor, and knows a few shops that sell traditional Chinese clothes. The first two shops do not have what I need, but I did have a chance to go to a couple of clothes markets and see some new sights.

Of particular fascination to me was a street market down a long "alley" where you could buy food and knick-knacks of every description. There were many food booths selling noodle soup, sandpots (small earthenware pots filled with rice, meats, and fresh vegetables -- all for about 2 Yuan, about 25 cents), and roasted chicken, beef, and other meats on sticks -- all made for eating while walking. And of course there were many stalls selling the now-famous-with-me Chinese pickles. What was so exotic were the meats and animals for cooking you could buy. There were the requisite chickens and ducks, some dead, some alive, but there were also slabs of cut, indistinguishable meats, and some exotica like turles, lizards, snakes, and rats -- yes rats. I started to take a picture, but one of the stall sellers screamed at me --I was told that he did not want his picture taken, so I quickly put the camera away. After we left the alley, I was told that he was probably selling some illegal game. I could believe it after the spread I saw!

We leave the area by cab to another part of town and go to another traditional clothing store. At last, I find something close to what I want. It has some patterns, and just a bit og gold in some places, but it is made of the finest silk, and is beautiful. The asking price was 1230 Yuan (about $150), but Ping negitiates a price of 650 Yuan (about $80). I express some concern about the tightness of the fabric under the sleeves when I raise my arms as I would when I conduct.

Without any words or instruction, the owner of the shop takes us all outside and down the street to an alley where we go to a stall with three women who are sewing. He instructs the women that I need to have the sleeves (gussets, actually) let out a bit to accommodate my conducting arm movements. They exchange a few words, and he bids us goodbye. Ping chats with one of the women for a moment, (she never looks up from her sewing machine and her work), and then Ping tells Renee, who translates for me, that my jacket will be ready in two hours, and it will cost me about 10 Yuan ($1.25). I am a little worried about what this woman will do with the jacket and ask if I should try it on or discuss it with her. Ping assures me this woman is one of the best in this part of town and that all will be OK. I say thank you, in Chinese, to the woman and we go. Still just a little worried about the alterations, I just shrug and assume all will indeed be OK. I have slowly learned that all does work out here in China -- not with the same type of exactitude and early planning to which I am accustomed at home -- but it does work out somehow.

We now go to a noodle soup restaurant and have some of the delicious local rice noodle soup. I dive in with aplomb and abandon. Ping comments that it is good that I am open-minded about trying new things. I thank her in between slurps and continue feasting on my soup. I have no napkins -- only the best dining establishment have napkins -- you are supposed to bring your own. Renee saves me from wearing my soup home.

I stop at another of the street shoe shiners that are literally in the thousands everywhere in Nanning. I pay my 1 Yuan (12 cents) for a stunning shine and then give another Yuan for a tip. The woman tries desparately to give it back to me, but I try to say it is for a good job. She finally accepts, but I think I offended her! Back to the hotel for some rest and later some dinner before the concert.

A safe dinner tonight at the hotel: my favorite rice porridge with some pork dim sum and some jasmine tea.

I leave for the concert hall at 7:15 and arrive to a great deal of activity. There is a steady stream of musicians visiting my dressing room to give my best wishes, thanks, and gifts. I see them all until it is just 10 minutes before the concert is scheduled to start. There are some announcements, and then the Guangxi Symphony Orchestra official announcer speaks. This is a woman dressed in a formal gown and done up in the most magnificent manner. She says something asbout me, and then she speaks a little about each of the pieces we play. (I sent program notes to the orchestra that were translated just for this purpose.)

The "Candide Overture" goes well, and the audience is appreciative. The Dvorak goes well, and Xie Song is given an enormous bouquet of flowers. Next is the Daugherty "Red Cape Tango" which goes quite well. At the end of the piece, there are two measures of a desceding glissando in the strings accompanied by the two cymbal players, who when combined, create a tango rhythm. The piece ends with a short, loud chord by the full orchestra. I conducted a flambuoyant gesture, but when we finished there was a couple of seconds of silence from the audience. Just when I thought I would have turn around and signal that the piece was over, the audience erupted in applause -- I believe that the audience was simply stunned by the sonic experience of this work. Some shouts of approval for the solo bows, and then some unison rhythmic clapping for the work! Congratulations to Michael Daugherty and his music -- they have been successfully planted in China!

After intermission, the orchestra played beautifully on the "Lu Sanjie." The Copland had some bumps, and the audience had become restless during the two slow inner movements, but all was redeemed when the orchestra played the "Hoe Down" so well.

The Ellington was acceptable -- the audience liked the music very much. The announcer came out and asked for me to say a few words. Renee Chen accompanied me onstage to translate, and I thank the people of Nanning for having me in their lovely city, I thanked the orchestra's Music Director and Manager, and asked the audience to join me in thanking the orchestra for their work. I spoke a little practiced Chinese and wished the audience a Happy New Year. For an encore, we played Strauss' "Radetsky March," complete with the New Year's clapping. I was given two giant bouquets of flowers and then met the well wishers from the audience.

I had what seemed like 100 pictures taken with orchestra members and some of the audience. Many of my new friends from the Arts College came to the concert, which was of special importance to Mr. Teng and the orchestra officials. The local television station was there to have a "wrap-up" imterview, so we chatted briefly. We then went back to the Yong Jiang Hotel for a reception.

I met a number of the orchestra officials and orchestra members at the hotel. We had some wonderful food, and of course, the required toasting beverage of choice, local rice wine. I toasted and toasted and toasted and was thanked for my visit and work. The musicians were extraordinarily kind, and also in a festive mood. In particular were three musicians from Guilin who love to drink and who were most gracious about my visit. (The third trombonist, a cellist, and the second flutist.) They were overly pleased that I liked the rice wine and were generous with it this evening. Mr. Teng officially invited me to return to Nanning next season, and I accepted. Eventually, I made it up yo my room, blissful and full of joy and happiness about my role in the new collaboration between Nanning, China and Tupelo, Mississippi.

I awoke this morning with the mother of all hangovers -- no, make that the "most-honorable-matriach-and-beautiful-grandmother-of-our-honorable-and-most-highly-respected-family" of all hangovers.

I went to bed around 1:30 AM following the festive celebration of my concert last evening. At 7:50 AM, I receive a call from Renee Chen that the Concertmaster and Principal Trombonist have arrived at the hotel to have breakfast with us. I remind her that we are supposed to have breakfast at 9:30, but here they are and we must go and meet them now. From the first step out of bed, I realize that the rice wine could be used as an alternate fuel for space travel. Oh boy, here we go.

I make it downstairs by 8:30, hoping that breakfast will help, which it does -- slightly. The orchestra players comment that I looked tired, and I simply say that I am. They have already heard of my heroic toasting last evening, (news travels fast in this Nanning musical community), and they inform me that rice wine is 180-190% alcohol. Now they tell me...

We have a nice chat (as much as is possible when I am seeing Chinese dragons dance before me) about the orchestra, and the players ask me to make suggestions about the orchestra and its rehearsals, procedures, etc. Knowing that everything I say will have great weight, I answer carefully, and the players are very grateful. I bid them goodbye, and they say that they will urge the orchestra to have me return sooner rather than later.

After breakfast, I pack one suitcase for travel to Guilin, and check my other luggage at the hotel until I return to Nanning.

NOTE: I was scheduled to travel to Hanoi, Viet Nam, as a guest of the National Conservatory of Music, but I have been urged to postpone my travel because of a mysterious "chicken flu" that is spreading in the areas of Hanoi, Korea, and Japan. (I am assuming that the news in the U.S. has covered this.) I have agreed, and I am traveling instead to Guilin for sightseeing.

We go the bus sation in Nanning -- Renee, Xie Song, and their son David -- which is a beautiful new structure, and catch our bus to Guilin (pronouned "gway-lin") at noon. It is fascinating to me that in China the busses are much faster, reliable, and more comfortable than the trains. The trains have to deal with poor tracks, significant overcrowding, and sometimes, in the rare case that a train is not full, the trip will be cancelled! There are hundreds of people at the shiny new bus station -- the activity there is exciting.

When we get onto the bus, I see that this trip is like taking an airplane trip: all seats are assigned, you must wear seat belts at all times, there is a bus attendant in a spiffy, pressed uniform, and you are served snacks. There is one stop for leg-stretching, bathroom, and rest midway on the 4.5 hour journey to Guilin. (There is no toilet on the bus.) At the rest stop, I have a sausage on a stick to try and settle my rice wine tummy. I think it helps. After we are underway again, I have my bus snacks: a sweet bun, a round doughnut-like cake, some dried orange peel, and some water -- somehow better than peanuts. I sleep lightly for the remainder of the trip.

When we arrive in Guilin, we are met by a violinist named Zhou (his "American" name is "Joe"), and my translator, named Chen Haiyan. We are taken to our hotel and we check in. Joe, as a citizen of Guilin, has negotiated a half-price room rate for us at the Hotel Universal Guilin. Thank you, Joe. We rest a while, then we go to dinner before taking a night-time boat tour of the city.

For dinner, we go to a restaurant which translates: Fish Head Chaffy Restaurant. It is a "hot-pot" restaurant. When you enter the restaurant, you are seated at a table with a large hole in the middle, under which is a burner. The staff brings a very large bowl, into which is placed another smaller bowl in the center.

Someone else enters with a giant kettle and fills both bowls with fish and chicken stock. The large, outer bowl already had some thick paste in it, and I am told that it is Sichuan (Szechuan) spices, very spicy, and the small inner bowl is non-spicy. Now comes the parade of platters of food which will be placed into the bowls for cooking when the liquid boils.

First there are two large platters of fish, both of which have fish heads carved up -- this is the main ingredient for both bowls. Then there are platters of beef, chicken, pork, three kinds of mushrooms, huge overflowing bowls of green vegetables (watercress, napa cabbage, and lettuce), and platters of meatballs made of chicken, beef, and fish. The meatballs are sliced so that when they cook, they open up and spread like a flower!

Each person at the table now receives a small bowl into which is placed fresh sliced cilantro, garlic, peanuts, and Sichuan spices. I am told that when the liquid boils, some of it will be placed into this small spice bowl, and that I will take cooked food from the hot-pot and dip it into this bowl before eating. Very simply, this was a feast that was extraordinary. The food was so fresh, and so flavorful, that I didn't want to stop eating. Joe insisted I have some Guilin beer for toasting (I forbade any rice wine), which I had. Later, I had a Coke, which became the great panacea for my hangover.

After dinner, we took a boat tour of the city. Guilin is surrounded by four lakes and many rivers and estuaries. Guilin has a population of only 60,000, and the city is vibrant and beautiful. The lights and sights we were able to see were beautiful. There were locks into which we had to transfer to lakes of different levels, which was fun. There were many ornately carved bridges, including a bridge made of glass (!). I took many, many pictures. It was extremely cold on the water, about 28 degrees, but the boat was enclosed and heated.

A great tour of the city. Back to the hotel for rest.

Today, I slept late. I think I am over the "Rice Wine Affair." After a shower, I go with the Chens out of the hotel into an alley nearby. People are selling chickens and geese from large bamboo cages on the backs of their bicycles, and there are many fruit, vegetable, and black sugar cane (very popular here) sellers on the street, as well as many shops selling calligraphy brushes, massage, and other wares and services. We find a tiny booth that is selling rice noodle soup, and we go in for breakfast. The price is 2 Yuans (about 25 cents) for a large bowl, so I have beef. There are always 6-8 bowls of condiments for the soups, so I have some fresh garlic, green onions, and some sliced daikon radish pickles. This place is very rustic -- there is never any heat in these street stalls, except from the large soup pot and kettles that are over fires. There are four wooden tables, and a few small, short stools. We sit, slurp, smack, and enjoy! This noodle soup is different than in Nanning -- in fact, every locale has its own version. But today, I try flat rice noodles instead of round. Voila!, they are easier to handle(than round noodles) with the chopsticks. Discovery!

After our street breakfast, we are met my Chen Haiyan, who accompanies us to the famous Reed Flute Cave just west of town. As we are driving, I have my first glimpse of why Guilin is so famous -- the karst rock formations all around the region. They jut out of the ground in the most otherworldly fashion, creating grotesque, yet stunning sights. Again, another city in China, where I have my face pressed to the window of the car soaking in all of the sights.

The Reed Flute Cave is about three million years old, and has many spectacular stalagtite and stalagmite formations. There is also a giant cavern with a reflecting pool further into the cave. There is a lot of crude colored lighting, with signs describing the scenes created by the rocks. (You must use your imagination to see the scenes suggested.)

I am happy to have a translator with me, but the sights would be equally impressive even if I didn't know that the rock formations are known by such descriptions as "Beautiful Bird Overlooking The Glorious Meadow" and "Comtemplating Grandfather with Grandsons Playful On The Hillside." It is a good experience seeing the cave, especially with the pictures I have taken for my beautiful non-reed flute-playing wife.

After the cave, we go to an Ethnic Minority Village. Here, there are groups from the Dong, Zhuang, Miao, and Yow ethnicities. We are 90 minutes before the first presentation, so we explore the area for a small bite to eat. We are particularly interested in more rice noodle soup to warm our bones. It is even colder today. Renee Chen's father had loaned me a long coat to use during my trip to Guilin, but I still become a Yankee-cicle in this cold.

We walk down a small alley, through some very interesting sights (I am a shutterbug, of course), and we come to another alley were tere is a booth with no sign, but the tell-tale large pot outside with lots of steam and a fragrant aroma coming out - noodle soup! Renee asks if we can have some soup, and the owner, and old man asks us to sit. While we sit, the old man's wife has invited eveyone who lives nearby to come and see the Westerner -- I smile at all of the curious and sweet people who smile and wave. The old man asks what we want in the soup, and I say pork. Good thing, because he says he has some fresh dog. Let me explain:

China grows a certain type of dog for eating, similar to chickens or turkeys in the U.S. Nevertheless, I graciously decline the dog and stick to pork. The man smiles, acknowledging, I believe, my squeamishness about the dog. He is a very sweet old man, and his soup is wonderful -- it warms me back to 32 degrees!

We go back to the ethnic minority village and we are greeted by four women singing, and four men playing reed flutes. The music is pentatonic and folksy.

We are directed to a "folk theatre," which is a large open space with a multi-layered roof shaped like a pagoda and made of palm fronds, bamboo, and stone tiles. It is fascinating to me that the entire structure, as well as all of those in this village, are made by connecting the materials with grooves and wire -- there are no nails used anywhere!. The theatre is an open area, so it is cold! While we are waiting for the introduction performance, Renee's son David rides a white pony around the theatre a few times. All four of the ethnic minority groups appear and perform a welcome celebration for us -- they sing, dance, and play the reed flutes again. They invite us to dance in a large circle dance, which is a good idea to be jumping and moving aroud in the cold!

The Dong group now has a demonstration of cockfighting. These roosters have not been trained in anger management, and they are ferocious. You can place bets on the chickens, which are numbered, if you wish. After the chicken fights, we are sent to an arena where another type of fighting-sport is presented: horse fighting. This is, to me, and unsavory and unpleasant event, but apparently it is still a regular event with many of the minority groups in China. Into the small arena comes a small female horse. Then, two large male horses are brought in separately to meet and smell the female. When the two males horses see each other, they become electrified, territorial, and begin to fight for the female. (Apparently, the "winning" horse is allowed to spend some supervised time with the female follwing these daily bouts.) The male horses are tethered by a long rope to their "handlers." They snort, whinny, bite, kick, and trounce each other until one horse "concedes." Not as elegant and formal as bullfighting, but apparently essential and important to these cultures. Following the horse fighting, we watch dog races -- there are four German Shepherd-type dogs. I don't think that P.E.T.A. has an office in Guilin.

We now go to see some bare-footed men climb a tall tower of swords and knives (about 35 feet tall), and when they get to the top, they are spun around while balancing themselves on top of three spears. It is impressive, but I am focused on the fact that I am in 5 layers of cloting and am freezing, and these men are bare-footed and wearing practically nothing. Just beside the sword tower is the event that intrigues me the most.

I love birds, especially falconry and larger birds, and just beside the sword tower is a pond with a fisherwoman balanced atop a 10-feet long by two-feet wide bamboo raft. She is balanced in the middle and a large cormorant bird sits at one end. The cormorant is trained from a young age to swim beneath the water and catch fish. The woman make a discreet gesture, and the cormorant dives into the water. Up the bird comes with a large golden fish in its beak. The bird has one foot tethered to a long line which is held by the fisherwoman, and around the cormorant's neck is placed a ring band to prevent the bird from swallowing the fish it catches. I am told that the bird is given a fish to eat for about every seven it catches, just so the bird will continue to do the work. Kind of like a salesman on commission...

Finally, we are sent to a theatre where each of the four minority groups presents a type of costume/fashion show. The native costumes are colorful and beautiful. They also do a lot of dancing with resonant clicking sticks, like large claves, and some dances where they jump between two long colorful bamboo sticks. Some of the costumes are extremely ornate, and all are lovely.

After the minority village, we are supposed to visit Elephant Trunk Hill, but since it is another outside park, we opt for some thawing in the hotel instead.

We are scheduled tonight to have dinner with three musicians from the Guangxi Sympgony Orchestra who live in Guilin.

We make our way to a very nice restaurant and are sent to a private room where the musicians are waiting for us. These are the three musicians who were the "Rice Wine Kings" at the post-concert reception in Nanning. And in the center of our beautiful table -- two large bottles of rice wine.

Not wanting to seem ungrateful, I assure the men that I LOVE the rice wine, but that I had not realized its noble strength. I assure them that the Guilin beer known as "Li Qian" is fabulous, and that I will make toasts with that. Accompnying the musicians for dinner is the president of the Guilin Folk and Dance Company. He insists that I have at least two rice wine toasts for good luck, in the Chinese tradition, and so I cannot refuse. By now, I have severely truncated the conditioning period of my reaction to rice wine; I would skew all of Pavlov's research. I have the two toasts, and quickly switch to much water and beer, and I eat and eat. Many delicious dishes, including whole steamed fish (always extremely fresh and good), and whole steamed prawns.

After 45 minutes, Renee, Xie Song, and David must leave to get the bus back to Nanning. It has been quite a few years since Xie Song has returned to Nanning, and he wishes to spend time with his mother. I bid them goodbye, and assure them I will be OK alone in Guilin, assuming I can manage my new friends!

After dinner, the muscians insist that I go to a local "jazz" club to hear Guilin's best saxophone player. I agree, and we go to a very posh and chic club. We are expected and we are ushered to a table just beside the musicians.

This is not American jazz -- yet. There was the saxophonist, accompanied by a bass and piano. The sax player was pretty good, and so was the bass player. The pianist though, well, she was obviously classically trained and did not fulfill the role of jazz pianist -- she simply doubled most everything the sax player was playing. The musicians knew that I was a jazz saxophonist, and they were keen to know my opinions about the trio. I gingerly mentioned that the pianist was not exactly fulfilling a "jazz pianist's" role, so immediately two of the musicians whipped out cell phones, and in less than 10 minutes appears a young 23 year-old pianist that had studied for a year in the U.S.

I was told that this pianist was the best jazz player in town and that he would replace the previous player so I could hear the best in Guilin. How the pianist appeared so quickly, I don't know. I was impressed, and happy to hear another pianist. He was quite good, and later explained that he listened a lot to the great jazz pianist Oscar Peterson. The saxophonist asked my opinion about his playing, so we chatted a while. He told me that all of the music he had was written by dictation from the recordings he owned. He asked if it was possible to get books of music in the U.S., and I asked he had ever seen a "fake book," which is a collection of about 1000+ songs. He said no, and was incredibly excited about the prospect. I took his address and I will later send him one of these books of musical gold.

I begged out of another round of drinks, and I left the sweet and kind Guilin musicians to go back to the hotel.

This morning I had breakfast in the hotel at the "Universal Pizzeria." The server gave me a western menu, so I asked for a Chinese menu. She brought me a western menu written in Chinese. I said that I wanted dim sum, and she said that they only served western breakfast. So, against my desire, I had two fried eggs with bacon and ham, with some coffee. It is the first morning that I feel bloated. Go figure.

Chen Haiyan met me at the hotel and we took a day-long hired taxi about 1 hour and 20 minutes south of Guilin to take a boat cruise on the Li (Lee) River. The sights during our trip are commonplace to Ms. Chen, but I am tranfixed at all that I see of the villages, rice fields, and of course, the spectacular karst rock mountains. After traveling down a tiny road for about 30 minutes, we arrive at the Li River. As an official tour guide in Guilin, Ms. Chen is usually given free admission to all of the touristy places in the region. However, today, since the cruise boat is not full, the captain says she must pay the 400 Yuans (about $50) for the cruise. She says that instead of having me pay for her, that she will accompany the taxi driver to the location where the boat will land and wait for me. She assures me that the announcer on the boat will speak some English.

I am seated at a table for four with a newly married Japanese couple. They are very sweet but speak no English. Just behind me is seated a woman from Salt Lake City with her 16 year-old daughter, and 22 year-old son, who has been doing work in Hong Kong for two years for the Mormon Church. They have a English translator, so I am saved!

It is even colder today. It only snows in Guilin about once every 10 years, and today was that day for snow. It was raining steadily when I arrived at the river, which created a Impressionist hue to all of the mountains and scenes on the river.

There were two levels to our boat, both enclosed and heated. There was also an open deck upstairs and in the back for viewing. Even though it was raining, I could not make myself go inside. The scenery was like seeing the terrain on another planet. The rock formations create scenes that are truly indescribable -- you will simply have to wait for my pictures. The river banks are lined with flowing, tall bamboo trees, and there are idyllic scenes all along the length of our cruise.

I take pictures everywhere, trying to stay as dry as I can. The rain eventually turns to sleet, an then to a light snow. Except for the hum of the boat, there is a quiet reverence from most of the passengers as we stand in awe of these spectacular and stunning sights. I take pictures of women wasking clothes on rocks along the riverside, and also of people working in their fields along the river. I see a cormorant fisherman pushing his bamboo raft down the river. He is wearing a brightly colored jacket with a triangular pointed hat. At both ends of his raft sit the beautiful cormorant birds.

The river level is very low in winter, so we sometimes scrape the rocky bottom. The water is crystalline, and I cannot believe that we are able to pass through much of the river without beaching this large boat. The captain obviously knows every inch of the river.

We are served lunch of the usual large variety, including chicken, tofu, soup, pork, beef, taro, needle mushrooms, with water and beer. One of the attendants comes around and offers some snake wine -- the entire Chinese cobra is inside the bottle. He assures everyone that this wine will create great strength. I decline and tell him my strength is superb.

After 3.5 hours we arrive at Ping Xing, and I get off the boat and have my picture taken holding a long bamboo pole, on which is perched, at each end, a large cormorant. This cruise was a spectacular experience.

After the tour, we have a 1 hour and 45 minute trip back to Guilin. (The cruise has landed farther down river.) On the trip back, we pass through the city of Yangshuo, which is a small town with a "Western" street called "Western Street!" There are so many tourists that take the Li River cruise in the summer and fall, that this tiny remote town has found a niche of capitalism. I tell Ms. Chen that I am not interested in Western experiences, only Chinese. She laughs, and we drive on.

I ask Ms. Chen tons of questions about her education, the cost of living in Guilin, her desire to travel to the U.S., the cost of cars and apartments, the cutlure and ambition of China, the recent BMW case in northern China, etc., etc. She also tells me about the Osmanthus trees planted throughout the city of Guilin. (I believe we call them Laurel trees in the U.S., but I am uncertain.) In August and September, the trees produce small yellow flowers that are very fragrant and give the entire city a perfumed quality. I tell her that when I return to China, I will try to come in the fall.

When we get back to Guilin, I ask Ms. Chen if she could take me to a music shop where I could look at an Erhu, or a Chinese violin. The instrument rests on the knee, is played in a fashion like a cello, with an underhanded grip, and has no fingerboard. And I thought the European violin was difficult! The instrument I see is lovely, and only 180 Yuan (about $23). However, it is too big for me to carry back to the U.S., so I decide to try and get one back in Nanning and have it shipped to the U.S.

I stop by a supermarket for some snacks on the bus, and I take in all of the foods and exotic animals, and I buy some osmanthus honey. We stop by a western-style coffe shop, and then I am off to the bus station for the trip back to Nanning.

The bus trip back to Nanning was even nicer than the trip up to Guilin. There were only six people on the bus, so we all had lots of room to stretch out and relax. Since it was dark, I could only make out the outlines of the karst rock mountains, much like my arrival into Hong Kong almost two weeks ago. The bus showed two movies made in Hong Kong, one of which had English subtitles. I ate a little, slept a little, had the obligatory sausage on a stick at the rest stop, and slept some more until I arrived in Nanning.

When I arrive in Nanning, I gave to the taxi driver a piece of paper where Renee Chen had written in Chinese: "Please take me to the Yong Jiang Hotel." It works, and I arrive back at my wonderful Nanning hotel and nestle in for some rest before the Chinese New Year's Eve celebration tomorrow.

My final day in Nanning...

I awake and have a leisurely breakfast -- I have my favorite pork dim sum, shrimp dumplings, sesame cake with pureed chestnuts, etc.

After breakfast I answer some email that I have neglected for the past few days in Guilin. Renee Chen has agreed to help me shop this afternoon for an Erhu, the two string Chinese violin. Plus, I will do just a little more shopping for small gifts.

Today is Chinese New Year's Eve, and there is a festive air about -- many people are shopping for the three requisiste dishes they must serve on the New Year: chicken, duck, and fish. Plus, the flower markets are doing a heavy business.

Renee and I go to a music store and find an Erhu. The shop has two kinds: and expensive one with a case, and an inexpensive one made with some plastic parts that comes only in a long cardboard box. The shop owner wants 650 Yuan (about $80) for the "expensive" Erhu with the hard case and cover. Renee thinks this is too much, so we say thank you and tell him we will go to another store. He says he is the only store open today (on the holiday), but we seek other stores anyway. Turns out he was right, so back to his store to bargain!

We arrive back at the music store, and the owner says his price is firm. I tell Renee that I have learned that everything is negotiable in China. So, we begin a process of meticulous inspection of the Erhu, and insist that 650 Yuan is too much. After about 10 minutes, the shop owner drops the price to 500 Yuan (about $60), and I agree. I wish him "Xin Yin Hao," or "Happy New Year."

We now go to the flower market so that I can buy some flowers for Renee's mother and father and for Xie Song's mother. I will take the flowers with me to the New Year's Eve dinner tonight. There are flowers of every description and color, especially many colors of roses from the Yunan province -- all very inexpensive. I buy two bouquets of 18 roses each for 20 Yuans each (about $2.50!).

The flower sellers remove the thorns from the roses with a nifty tool that strips the thorns and leaves, and then the roses are arranged in a beautiful spread with clear platic coverings and colored paper for presentation (no extra charge). I gather the flowers and my new Erhu, along with the gifts I have also purchased, and I head back to the hotel to change for dinner.

Renee has given me the address of the hotel (written in Chinese) where her family will hold it's Chinese New Year's Eve dinner -- I give the address to the taxi driver and off we go. The hotel is very nice, just across the street from the Nanning train station, and Renee is waiting for me in the lobby. We go to the 20th floor, and I am whisked away to a private room in the back. (This has been the mode of arrival for almost all of my restaurant visits while in China!)

Renee's immediate, and most of her extended, family are waiting in our private dining room, which is very large with a sitting area attached. After I meet the elders of the family, I meet all of the aunts, uncles, cousins, and nephews. I present the mothers with the rose bouquets, which they love, and then I stealthily pull the traditional Chinese New Year "red envelope" out of my pocket for Renee and Xie Song's son David. The envelope contains money for the children, and instead of Chinese currency, I have placed new, crisp U.S. dollar bills and one gold dollar coin. (David is 4 and a half years old, so I gave 4 dollar bills, and one dollar coin.) The relatives are tickled that I am aware of this custom, and show great approval when I produce three more envelopes for the three other boys that are attending the dinner.

Just then, Renee's uncle presents me with a gift! Inside a beautiful red box is a bronze reproduction of the enormous Zhuang bronze drums that were so prized among the Zhuang people of 500 to 4000 years ago.

Renee had accompanied me to the Guangxi Museum to see one of the large drums -- it was larger than a house! -- and she remembered how amazed and pleased I was to see and study such an instrument. (To my friends, especially the musicians: the use and history of these drums are truly amazing, and I urge you to research it a bit.) I love the gift, and I thank Renee's uncle profusely for being so thoughtful. He is a startlingly bright man. He dropped out of school in the fifth grade, but then taught himself and eventually obtained multiple university degrees, covering many disparate subjects. His knowledge of history was something astonishing. He could name most all of the U.S. Generals who were prominent in the Second World War, and he could name all of the U.S. Presidents of the 20th century, starting with the current Bush, and going backwards all the way to Theodore Roosevelt. (Lucky I had just studied the Presidents with my daughter Julianna and could confirm that he was indeed correct!) I also met another of Renee's uncles who was the 1966 world weightlifting champion!

Following entertaining and erudite discussion about many subjects, while much of the family spectated, we sat at a large round table for dinner. In the center of the table was a large turntable (a "lazy Susan") that allows access to every dish. Don't know why we don't use this smart device more often in the U.S. The centerpiece of the table was a ravishing sculpture of three swans, carved from three large daikon radishes. The carving was so good that the swans looked as though they were created from porcelain! Around the swans were "palm fronds" carved from cucumbers, and "flowers" made from many different fruits and vegetables. The parade, procession, and introduction of the New Year's Eve dinner dishes commenced. First was a very large platter on which was assembled numerous layers of thinly sliced meats, fish, vegetables, and pickles, all creating a too-beautiful-to-eat picture of a Phoenix.

My words cannot do justice to the beauty of this culinary treasure. As the honored guest, it was my privilege to be the first to partake of every dish. This edible art was so strikingly lovely that I did not want to touch it! Nevertheless, I took some slices of a few different items, but not before I took a photo. (I asked permission, and discovered that I was not the only stunned observer of this masterpiece.)

Out came the Nanning Chicken soup, black-skinned, of course, served to each of us in a gorgeous white bowl on a stand with its own votive candle warmer. Then there was Beijing or Peking duck (made with a Nanning duck), a delicious whole steamed fish, and some roasted and sliced chicken.

There was also some very expensive (I was told) sliced fish which was supposed to promote great health in the men, and some poached snow frog with crab eggs on top that was supposed to promote health in the women. I loved both dishes. There were shrimp, snow pea vines cooked like turnip or mustard greens, and a cavalcade of other sundry dishes, especially some seafood that I can yet not identify -- all of which had striking sculptured decorations and were equally delicious.

Of course, we HAD to have some rice wine toasts. I had two, which was my newly imposed limit, and then all of the other toasts were made with the Chinese red wine, which, as I mentioned earlier, had a lemon slice and an ice cube -- Chinese Sangria I called it.

Lots of sliced fruits for dessert, along with the green glutinous rice balls with some sort of nut puree in the center, and then pictures with most of the family before I left for my hotel to pack.

I was grateful to be a part of this celebration of the lunar new year, and I was especially honored to be welcomed into a family gathering like this. This was an extraordinary manner in which I could punctuate my visit to Nanning. I leave with a sadness since my trip is ending soon, but with a great happiness to discover and experience so many wonderful new friends and things.

Up early this morning to complete my packing. You may remember that I had to pay for excess baggage at the Guangzhou airport when I came to the mainland. Well, now I have many gifts, souvenirs, and the music I sent to the Guangxi Symphony Orchestra. I feared that a Chinese official could retire on the excess baggage charges I would have to pay. I was met in the hotel lobby by Mr. Sung, the President of the Guangxi Symphony Orchestra and Renee Chen. We loaded my two suitcases into the orchestra car, trying not show the possible hernias we had just created. At the airport I feared the worst.

The China Southern agent only charged me for one of the suitcase overages. She said that there were only 12 people on the flight to Guangzhou, so I could carry one of the suitcases on the plane with me and place it in a location appointed by one of the flight attendants. In disbelief, I asked her to repeat this option (Renee translated). I was still bewildered with the possibility, so the ticket agent then coyly, but without any facial expression, said that she would be happy to charge me for the excess baggage if I liked, and she would process the luggage normally. This was the first "dry" sense of humor I have experienced in China. I gleefully decline her offer, and off to security I go with my overstuffed briefcase, a suitcase stuffed to the gills, and my new Erhu thrown over my shoulder. I feel like a pioneer with a overburdened Conestoga wagon -- only without the wagon.


I go through security, and my baggage is not an issue. I, however, undergo my usual "he-looks-like-a-terrorist" seach and questioning. Finally, I make it through to wait for my plane.

After my plane to Guangzhou leaves 45 minutes late, I finally arrive in Guangzhou, a little concerned about the time because of my first experience with this airport. I collect my bags at the Guangzhou airport and go through security on my way to the other building to get my flight to Hong Kong.

Hong Kong has returned to Chinese rule, but the Chinese consider all flights to Hong Kong to be international. Curious, but after two weeks of asking questions, I know to not ask why. I leave my arrival building, go outside, and enter the main terminal where I had such fun (and delays) during my arrival to the mainland two weeks ago. After searching for someone to help me, I find an "Information Agent" that tells me I must go to yet another building. So here I am, luggage cart carrying enough baggage for two families, trying to balance my belongings on a luggage cart with no brakes (unlike the nifty British carts with brakes) down a steep incline while trying to avoid committing homicide by Samsonite. Honestly, this was a scene out of a Jerry Lewis movie: I cannot see very well because of the luggage, and I am having difficulty maintaining control of the luggage cart, all while scattering innocent Chinese travelers in my path, trying to say "excuse me" in Chinese (while probably saying something like "pass the vinegar"). When I made it to the bottom of the small hill, I looked back to apologize, but people were laughing too hard to see me. As I approached the next building, the people in front of me, who had witnessed my avalanche with suitaces and a cart, stepped to the side of the walk so that they would experience the new "Year of the Monkey."

Into the new building, and yet another security check, again with emtying searches of my breifcase and my new Erhu. I go downstairs and wait in line for a boarding pass to Hong Kong. This time, however, the ticket agent does not suggest that I take one of my suitcases onto the plane. he assesses me a hefty $35 excess baggage charge -- which I must pay at another counter with a line before I may receive a boarding pass. OK, OK. I pay the money and go back to the counter and get the pass. I go upstairs to go through Chinese "Customs" and the security check.

After 35 minutes in line, I get to the agent who informs me that I have not completed the exit health questionairre. I ask if this is the same questionairre that I just filled out to come into the airport, and she says, resolutely, "no." I ask where the forms are, and she points to the rear of the hall. Huffing and puffing, I stomp back to the counter at the reat of the hall and collect a form, but only after searching for any sign that instructs me to have this form BEFORE I approach the security check. There is no sign. Hurrrrummmpppphhh.

I fill out the form, stating that I do not have any symtoms of SARS and that I have not been in the company of anyone who has SARS or shows symptoms of SARS. (I realize that the government is doing everything they can to track the SARS infections and stop another epidemic.) I wait in line again, and when I arrive at the same agent, she informs me that I do not have the airport construction tax form. I take a deep breath, realizing that I had to do this two weeks ago, but forgot about it this time. Were there any signs to remind me of this -- no. Did the airline crew from Nanning tell me this -- no. Did this security agent tell me when she sent me packing for the exit health questionairre -- no. Nonetheless, I must go and pay the tax and return. I soon discover that I must leave the passenger area and go to the lobby of the building again. I do so, pay the airport construction tax, and return through the first security check and undergo another extensive search of my briefcase and Erhu. I want to ask if the agent remembers me from 50 minutes ago, since he is the same man, but again, I have learned to ask fewer questions. I look around, there are no others going through a detailed searched -- it must be something about my sneaky conductor look.

I go back into the passenger area, go to a different security agent -- I make it through! -- and then I round the corner to see that there is another metal detector search.

This time, my briefcase and Erhu are not searched, hooray!, but I must take off my jacket, my shoes, my belt, open the top of my pants, and undergo a pat-down by one of the agents. Finally, I make it to the waiting area. There are no announcements that my plane is boarding, so I go and ask about my flight since it is scheduled to leave in 20 minutes. The ticket agent informs me that the plane has boarded and that I must run to the shuttle that will take me out to the plane. She makes a call to inform the plane I am coming, and I run. When I arrive, I discover this plane, like the one this morning, has only a few people traveling (about 18). I could have taken one of my suitcases with me on the plane and avoided paying such a large excess baggage fee, but then it would have taken a couple more years for an official to retire. The plane takes off for the very short flight, I ask for a beer, and I bid a happy goodbye to the Guangzhou airport.

I arrive in the expansive, new, shiny, efficient, and filled-with-English-signage Hong Kong International Airport. I collect my bags and go to the shuttle desk I visited two weeks ago. Everything goes smoothly. I arrive back at the Metropole hotel and I hit the ground walking to discover the New Year's festivities.

At the Hong Kong airport, there were greeters distributing pamphlets about the New Year's activities in Hong Kong. I noticed that tonight was the annual New Year's Day parade in Tsim Sha Tsui ("Chim Sha Choey"). Expecting a parade of Macy's Thanksgiving proportions, I walked down to the Hong Kong harbour to find a place along the road to watch the parade. I was early, about 7:20 PM, and the parade did not start until 8:00 PM -- at least that was the scheduled start time. At 8:40 PM, I hear some commotion one block over. (The parade route goes north from the harbor for about 6 blocks, crosses east for one block, then goes south to return to the harbour -- I am on this southbound street, two blocks from the harbour.

At 9:15, the parade rounds the corner north of me to come south back to the harbour. As the first small Chinese dragon approaches, the crowd, which is approximately 750,000 people spread over a total of 13 small blocks, begins to push forward toward the barricades. Every time a loud drum or cymbal is heard, there is a gasp and another lunge forward takes place. I try to stand my ground, but there is no holding back this pack of thousands. I hold my digital camera as high as I can reach and take a picture of whatever is in front of me (I am about 6 rows of people back from the barricades). I take a picture and it shows a small three-person dragon. After about 5 minutes, a small float approaches. It is sponsored by the airline Cathay Pacific, and carries a Chinese pop star, whom I do not know. The crowd, especially the young crowd, goes crazy and screams, and of course, lunges forward.

I have never experienced claustrophobia -- until now. Fearing that I may be crushed by the throngs, I push, with all my strength, back through the crowd. It takes me quite a while before there is an area with any space between people. I continue pushing very hard until I reach an area where people are moving. A little farther still, I make it to an area where people are walking. I shuffle until I can move around some people and I take a deep breath. How crazy! There was no crowd control, only police to provide emergency response, which I am sure must have been required later in the evening. Not the parade experience I had hoped for!

I walk east for as many blocks as I can until I must go south. Somehow, I end up in a construction area where I must go through the subway to cross the street. When I cross underground, I surface in a chic new shopping center called the "World Centre."

There are stores such as Valentino, Christian Lacroix, Chanel, etc. I wander around for a bit and come to a tailor's shop. I peer through the window at beautiful Brioni suits and other tailored tuxedos and shirts. A man pokes his head out of the shop and says, smiling, "it is fine if you come in to look." So, I walk in, introduce myself, he introduces himself as Elton Ho. I tell him the saga of my search for a suitable alternative to a tuxedo and tails. He explains that he has been a tailor in Hong Kong for 47 years, and that he often travels to the U.S., and indeed all over the world, and has a few days of residence in a hotel where he measures and takes orders for his work. He also says that he knows exactly what I want, and then he whips out a piece of paper and quickly sketches the shirt/jacket with the mandarin collar that I have described. He asks about pockets, cuff, buttons, flap covering the buttons, etc. He continues to sketch, then shows me the drawing -- it is exactly what I have envisioned.

We chat about the Chinese language -- Mandarin versus Cantonese, and also discuss life in Hong Kong now that the region has reverted from a British "colony" back to Chinese control. He, as a British citizen, describes in great detail, much to my delight, specifics about life in Hong Kong before and after 1997.

Eventually, we get back to the garment I want and we talk about fabrics, drape of the garment, whether I perspire much, how much movement I need to conduct, plus a few other questions. After much discussion, I begin to feel very overdue in asking about the price for his services as a master tailor, and also about the price from such an esteemed shop, so I manage to ask: how much will this cost? "It will depend on the fabric" he says. "I like you," he says. If the shirt is made of silk, then I think I could do this for an even $100. If it is made of cotton or linen, a little less."

My American Express card is out of my pocket before he completes his final syllable. Elton, as he insists I call him, says that he prefers to have 2-3 fittings to insure that everything about the fit of the garment is as I desire. However, he says that he knows exactly what I want, including the additional fabric under my arms to allow ample room for conducting. To prove it, he writes down a series of numbers on the paper he used to sketch my shirt. Then he measures me in countless ways, always showing me the measuring tape. He writes down these figures next to the numbers he previously wrote, and after he is finished, he shows the paper to me. The numbers he wrote before he measured were the same as the numbers he got after he measured, with the exception of my chest size -- I was one-half inch larger.

He said that as soon as his Master Cutter is back at work after the holiday, he will personally make the shirt and mail it to me by February 3! I heartily thank Mr. Ho -- Elton -- and I leave with a great relief that I now have a Hong Kong tailor!

The shopping arcade is connected to the Intercontinental Hotel, which is a five star hotel -- known as one of the world's best hotels -- formerly known as the Regent Hotel. It is situated directly on Hong Kong harbour and has commanding and stunning views across the water of the extraordinary skyline on Hong Kong Island. There is a bar on the second floor with a very good jazz quartet. The bar is very large, just past the reception desk, and is surrounded by giant windows to allow full viewing of the magnificent skyline across the harbour. It is late now, about 11:00 PM, and I am hungry. I ask at the reception desk about the hotel's restaurants, and they direct me to the "Coffee Shop" downstairs. I go down the stairs and this is a fine restaurant. Like the bar upstairs, the room has giant windows overlooking the harbour and the incredible Hong Kong skyline.

The restaurant serves a dinner buffet until 1:00 AM. I am saved again. The buffet is not extensive, but it is very good. There is a Cantonese section with dim sum of every variety, and a large pot of rice porridge with several small bowls of ingredients to add to the porridge. There are also many breads, and quite a large variety of sushi and fish dishes. Across the restaurant, there is a extensive array of desserts -- from bread and butter pudding (thanks to the Brits), to lychee tarts, fresh sliced fruit, and other tarts, cheesecakes, and fresh ice creams and sorbets. I partake of many samples from both sides of the dining room...

At 12:30 AM, I decide to walk back to my hotel in north Kowloon -- about 45 minutes walk. I feel wonderful after this great dinner, especially after such a challenging journey through Guangzhou and escaping the crushing parade crowds. The many lights and activities all the way back to the hotel are exciting and energizing. Nevertheless, I make it to the hotel and fall asleep straightaway. Another day to remember.