Haircuts and Peanuts in Fuli Village

Fuli Village: Haircuts, Peanuts, and Paintings

Our crew decided to get up early the next morning and head to Fuli Village. It’s just a 15 minute ride from Yangshuo and this was one of it’s weekly market days. The market was a bustling place.  I especially liked the stalls that sold woven wicker products.

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There was an open-air barber shop and we asked to get Simon’s hair cut. As expected, a crowd gathered round to watch the process and provide their input. One lady was worried that the haircutter was snipping too close to his ears. Someone else was concerned that too much hair was falling into Simon’s shirt collar.   One grandmother wondered if he was a girl and, if not, why we had let his hair get so long anyhow. Another gathered a few locks and held them up to admire the color.   The hairdresser, for her part, was unflappable. When Simon started to shake his head and fuss, she distracted him by giving him……… a pair of scissors. Because, hey, if you’re worried about a toddler squirming too much and getting cut, why WOULDN’T you give him a pair of scissors?

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Keep the snacks comin’ and no one gets hurt.
Post-haircut playtime.
Post-haircut playtime.

From the market, we wandered into the old town and shopped at a painting and calligraphy studio run by the Peng family. The shopkeeper’s whole family are artists.   She showed us the different styles made by her grandfather, father, uncle, mother, and herself.

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Simon wasn’t interested in the artwork. He played in the water bucket outside instead.
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Assembling a fan.

While walking around, we happened to see a market stall where people were making peanut oil. The peanut shells fuel the fire which runs the equipment.

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The peanuts themselves go into this hopper to be smooshed (technical term). The “waste” product that is extruded out of the green machine looks like flat pancakes of peanut butter.   They let it fall onto the floor and then swept it up, so I don’t think it gets eaten by humans.

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The oil that has been separated from the peanuts goes through the last machine, {some sort of magic happens}, and oil pours into the plastic carboys seen by the door.

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I was disturbed by how grimy everything was. Joel was horrified that the workers go to bed smelling like peanuts.

Walking around Fuli, I saw some crepe myrtles in bloom!  They are my favorite and most-missed tree from my childhood in Florida and I had read that they were native to China.

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And finally: the recent terrorist attacks have not gone unnoticed here in the Yangshuo area.  We saw several similar pieces of propaganda featuring knife-wielding terrorists and the police who stop them.  I wish I could read what they said.

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