I’m in Lijiang, Yunnan, China in this story.

“Those people, you see, those people. They are farmers. Farmers. They have been told to dance by an amazing director. This director has taught these people— five hundred farmers— how to dance.”

My mom continued, “Now, see the mountain behind the performance? That’s the so-called Snowy Mountain. Funny name, huh?

My mom continued, “Now, according to this brochure, this place is said to be enchanted, and we’ll see if that’s true or fal—”

Suddenly, strong music began to push my mother’s words away. The moves of the dancing men and women were beginning to change.

The man on stage began to talk.

“This is an enchanted place,” he said, “It has been enchanted by the generations of the people who have lived here.” He waved his arms as if doing magic (it may sound stupid, but it was really heroic-looking), “You call for it to rain, and it shall rain. You call for clouds, and come they do.”

And amazingly, it began to rain (I promise).

The rest of the show was in rain. Yet the five hundred men still danced quite valiantly if you ask me.

Isn’t that just enchanting?