Light punches through the thick canopy of banyan trees in smoky gold shafts, the sharp tang of gunpowder is thick in the air and the steady banging of drums is punctuating my footsteps through this village in the city, toward the bank of the river.
By Simon Haywood
About Author
Simon Haywood is a teacher and composer from the UK now with EF (Education First) Guangzhou as English Environment Coordinator. Currently focused on studying calligraphy, while living in Yorkshire he was composer in residence for an orchestra in Leeds and has written and performed solo pieces on piano, one of which was featured on BBC Radio in 2013.
Simon and his calligraphy work. Click to read more his stories → What makes a foreigner fall in love with calligraphy (Ⅰ)（Ⅱ）
Light punches through the thick canopy of banyan trees in smoky gold shafts, the sharp tang of gunpowder is thick in the air and the steady banging of drums is punctuating my footsteps through this village in the city, toward the bank of the river.
From under the low hanging Banyans. (Photos taken by Simon, in Lijiao Village, Guangzhou 2014)
Reaching the bank I find an excitable crowd trampling a fragrant carpet of spent firework cases and slick river clay. It feels as if the whole village has disgorged with singular purpose, and even my stray foreign face only occasions a momentary startled glance. Finally weaving my way through, I find a spot to squeeze into and am awarded my first glimpse of a long slender hull hunkered low in the water under the weight of a dozen men, either boarding bare chested or rapidly shedding their bright orange polyester in the mid afternoon swelter.
Gunpowder and sunlight. (Photos taken by Simon, in Lijiao Village, Guangzhou 2014)
Craning my neck around the family I'm packed in between I find the second boat, farther down stream, teetering in mid-embarkation, a lean man waist deep in the water of this Pearl River offshoot, eye to eye with the dragon carved into the boat's prow. This team's color is blue, and the crew a generation younger, but I've already decided to root for my 'local' team, the portly oranges.
Finally with brief incendiary accompaniment the boats cast off paddling hard upstream, I realize heading for the 'starting line' where the race will start. Gliding out of sight the steady drumbeats fade, and even the families around me quieten. For a minute, maybe more, all is silent. Then a shout, drumroll, and the dull roaring of an excited crowd tells me the race has started in earnest. Second on second, I feel the excitement swell like the current of the river, down which the boats cut with furious speed. The drummers are pounding furiously and I am momentarily reminded of Ben Hur, 'Ramming speed!
A timeless race. (Photos taken by Simon, in Lijiao Village, Guangzhou 2014)
Intoxicated by the cacophony and smell of firecrackers, from under the low hanging canopy, at last I see the necks of two dragons race back into view, a foot at best between them, flags fluttering, oars slicing and crew straining. Team orange is winning, the grizzled war veterans, thick torsos unglamorous and glistening in the sun.
All too soon it is over, smiling I decide to beat my own retreat through the village, dodging fireworks like grenades.
标签： drumsxd安卓版