Don't try this at hime - party at my place

Trip Start Jan 30, 2007

816

Trip End Dec 31, 2011

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Flag of China Lijiang, China
Sunday, April 27, 2008

It was like an unexpected party at my place. For two-going-on-three days there was a lot of noise, drinking, smoking and cross-cultural merriment. My landlord, in a way, was the chief instigator. In the end, there were folk from five or six different nationalities. And lots of things were smashed on my courtyard. So many things that for two days every so often there would be the sound of yet another fragile thing breaking and shattering on the concrete courtyard. Like a Greek wedding. Without Greeks.
I'd contributed to the mess, too. What was I thinking, buying bottles of liquor?
When I decided to rent this old house in the old town of Lijiang, some local friends, asked why I wanted to rent an old (60-80 year old) house, instead of a modern apartment. It had no toilet - unless you count a hole in the concrete for pigs to clean up. There was only one source of water - a tap in the courtyard that dripped. The wiring was such a jumble and in such a state, live wires hung from the ceiling and other wires were dangerously hot.
While I got some builders in to make a bathroom with a flush Western toilet and a hot shower with solar heated water, much of the cosmetic stuff around the place I've had to do myself.
The roof on the house was made of grey rounded tiles, capped with smaller half pipes. When I inspected the roof I could see through into the blue sky above. This did not augur well for a roof which may be subjected to heavy rain in the middle of the year, when the Indian monsoon came up to the mountains of Yunnan.

clean up

On the upstairs room there were ominous signs: drip marks along the timber beams onto the wooden floor. Even on the downstairs rooms, the ceilings sported water stain marks that had formed once the rainwater had seeped through the floorboards.
I had asked my builder for a quote to put up metal sheeting on the underside of the tiles to stop any water coming through - it was going to cost nearly $1000US - as the price of metal has recently increased. Another alternative was to put up building paper - you know, that black tar stuff used to line buildings. I'd still need to channel out the water out the end of the buildings, not an easy thing with all the timber and solid walls.
So when a friend of my landlord said that soon the local government might come and fix the roof, things sounded promising. Well, they haven't turned up yet.
Instead, the landlord arranged for three men to come to turn the roof tiles. This involves gettingup on the rooves, and turning each and every tile. Any broken ones are uncerimoniously thrown down into the courtyard below. While these guys arrived reasonably early the first day, they sat around drinking tea and smoking before actually starting work. Then after an hour or two they headed off for a lunch. A long, long lunch. Possibly siting the blaring hot sun, they returned several hours later, their stomachs full not just of food but of alcohol. Given their condition, they had to sit and smoke and talk for another hour until they were sufficiently sober to be able to climb back onto the roof.

kitchen roof

Along with the damaged tiles came moss, grit, rumble and dust. Soon the upstairs floor, the courtyard and the balconies were covered in this debris.
Day two the men - all from the Bai minority - were back at it. Do you know the program on TV 'The Last of the Summer Wine'? They were a bit like the old fellas from that program. Chattering away, occasionally arguing. Preferring to sit and de-shell sunflower seeds. Or to comment on the actions of the foreigner.
In a bizarre coincidence on the second day I brought them a bottle of alcoholic spirit as a thank you to them. That morning the headman turned up with the same bottle of 39% spirit, made from wheat. Called Da Mei Jui, I choose it because it wasn't the other local fire water bai jui. This seemed a little more sophisticated, though was nicely priced at under US$1 a bottle.
Second day, the pattern established, the workers went off for a long lunch, and once they sobered up and completed the roof, they sat around, polishing off the bottles of spirit, before tottering off to their homes and wives, full of conviviality.
Now, I don't know about your country, but in mine, usually the workers clean up the mess they've made. Not here it seems. My courtyard was covered in a layer of dirt and glass and tiles and moss. I swept an inch or so of debris from the kitchen floor, trying to ensure no more accumulated rubbish could fall down in rain showers or heavy winds, onto my kitchen and its contents.
So the next day, the landlord arrived and together we gathered and swept, filling several baskets and bags. More came down over the next day or so, as the tiles settled and the wind picked up loose dirt.
And now, one week on, I still owe the landlord US$20 for part payment of those three workers. And I am waiting for a decent rain to see if they've done a good job.
The rain started a few minutes ago, but now has stopped. I have my buckets ready. What do I have to do? Raindance?