Today was Saturday (the Johnson family’s blessed day of rest) so we ventured out to a "park" some friends had told us about located on our "end of town".  I put the word park in quotation marks because in typical Chinese fashion it resembled something more akin to a "square" or "plaza" than an American-style park.  Basically, just picture long sidewalks, closely-cropped lawns, benches, and a few large stones or patches of trees–that’s your basic Xining park.  This was no exception to the rule.

It was a warm day and the girls were thrilled to just be outside.  They are still at the age where the lack of playground equipment is barely noticed as long as there are plenty of sticks, grass, worms, ants, dirt, and rocks available.  This park had a few of those items so the girls were in their element.

My highlight from our time at the park was when Christa was encouraging the girls to roll down the one and only grassy hill in this park.  Hill is probably not the right word.  It was more like a speed bump in the grassy plain, but it got the job done for tykes their size.

One thing you should know about (many, but not all) parks here in Xining is that the grass is primarily used as backdrop scenery…you aren’t actually supposed to walk (or God forbid, SIT!) on the grass.  In fact, many of these park-type areas have signs telling you not to walk on the grass.  This particular park had no such signs, but most patrons seemed to be following the protocol anyway.  As with many "rules" here in China, they were made to be broken–by incredibly cute little foreigner girls anyway.  In fact, our little empresses are often encouraged by the locals to do WHATEVER their little hearts desire.  (Yeah, parenting here is "fun".)

So they were just a-rolling in the crisp pristine green grass, giggling, propelling themselves down only to stand up, take the three steps to the top again, and start the process all over.  They were loving it.  Christa was on the rise coaching them on the proper technique.  I was on the sidelines wondering what magnitude this crime would be considered by the Chinese if our girls weren’t so darn adorable.  And then things got infectious…

A Chinese lady suddenly appeared in the vicinity with her toddler-aged son.  As she got closer she began waving her son off of the safety of the sidewalk and over to the grassy knoll.  The mother didn’t actually walk on the grass herself, but she was smiling and pointing her son towards the new rolling zone our girls had just created.  The poor little guy was somewhat confused as he looked from our girls and back to his mother. 

We were messing with his worldview. 

Not only was he now treading on "that place which is forbidden" but he was also being encouraged (by his own flesh and blood) to make bodily contact with "that place which is forbidden".  The typical penalty for such a violation would be a thorough dusting (whacking) of the boy– from the top of his head to the bottom of his split-pants (and back again) followed by a thorough lecture on the inherent qualities of the ground, i.e. its dirtiness.  And yet now, he was being encouraged to partake in the forbidden pleasures of the grass with seeming impunity.

I just loved watching the mom, now 10 yards from her son, flipping her outstretched palm in an effort to mime what his body must do in order to roll down the hill.  Just do this…it’s like flipping a pancake…only with your whole body.  She was beaming and flipping as our girls continued to giggle and roll.

The small boy never got it.  It was just too much of a stretch for him I suppose.  In true toddler cluelessness, he stared at our girls for a moment and then wandered off, arms raised zombie-like, back to his mom or just away from "that place which is forbidden".  I couldn’t tell you exactly what course he took because I don’t know; I got lost in the sunshine.

So that was my highlight from the park.  My highlight for the day was another story.  If you’ve got the time, this story BELOW is a little shorter…

After the park, we hopped on a bus to come back home.  Since we were the first passengers on this particular bus the girls got to pick their seats.   Anna picked a window seat.  The window was wide open and she was delighted by this.  As the bus picked up speed Anna decided it was time to start practicing her Mandarin with passing pedestrians.  (Speaking more Chinese is a recent trend of hers that we have really enjoyed for many obvious reasons!)

Every few seconds (i.e. whenever she would see an unsuspecting person on the roadside) Anna would yell out, "LAOSHI, HAO!"

Over and over again she would do this, "LAOSHI, HAO! LAOSHI HAO! LAOSHI HAO!"

It echoed over the entire bus, on the passing streets, in the minds of all who were hearing it.

With each, "LAOSHI, HAO" she belted out she would smile, drinking in the excitement of the surprise and attentive reaction for those who heard her little mantra. Heads would turn.

But the true humor in this situation is only possible when you are able to fully contextualize it.  I did so this way:

Picture you are in Seattle, Washington or Springfield, Illinois or London, England and you are sitting at a bus stop.  You see a bus cruising by you and in one of the windows sits this small little squirt from some exotic location (like Micronesia, the Fuji Islands, or northern Greenland).  You recognize that this person is "not from around here" immediately, but then you are surprised to hear them yelling at you, with wild-eyes and a big grin, in your own language:

"TEACHER, HELLO!  TEACHER, HELLO!  TEACHER, HELLO!"

It’s a beautiful picture, isn’t it?  We thought it was great.  For us it didn’t really matter much if Anna was addressing people with the appropriate title (everyone can be a teacher, right?) What was important was that she was addressing them and enjoying it!  That’s a great start. 

As for me, today had two words that truly defined it:  "LAOSHI, HAO!"