Sunset

      Even though the sun was still towering in the sky, the evening reds and purples were already upon us. Despite the fact that the heavy sun had already began sinking into its inevitable conclusion, the dusty, empty lanes, of the Dai Village, Menglun, continued to radiate the heat of the waning day. It was dinnertime.

      Our host mother brought out the first dish. Her bright pink and purple dyed clothing gave off the same warmth as the sun had earlier than day. Proudly, she set down the steaming plate of fried meat and vegetables. Her slim yet tall frame reminded me of my own mother, worlds away in rainy, dreary Seattle. Her quick movements, intense eyes, and friendly manner all seemed just like my mom’s. But, the part which most reminded of my tiny Norwegian mother, was the sense of home, the sense of belonging, that seemed to hang as easily in the house, as the palm fronds above us did, now noisily rustling on the evening breeze.

      The sun sank a few notches lower as a dish of fried vegetables and another of pineapple arrived. But this was not your ordinary pineapple; this was pineapple that tasted straight out of Eden. Its juicy, sweet, deep yellow flesh melted into our mouths and the plate was soon empty, all to my host mother’s humored approval. She seemed to never cease moving back and forth between the kitchen and our table, bringing dishes, taking empty plates, all while scolding us on how little we ate.

      The sky had changed from its clear turquoise canvas, unblemished by clouds, to a deep purple and red masterpiece. Yet the dinner continued. From where we sat on the porch of our house, we could see down the lonely lane to the main road. In the opposite direction, we could see the distant mountains bathed in a fiery red glow of the quickly fading sun.

      The far-off slopes triggered memories of home, vacations, and warm, humid summer afternoons. The mugginess, the sun, and the clear and beautiful sky could all have been from Minnesota, San Diego, or Seattle- home. Admittedly, Seattle is not known for its pineapples, tropical weather, or even clear skies, but something here felt so familiar. Whether it was my host mother’s constant smile, her ceaseless effort to make us feel at home and comfortable, or maybe just the edible food, something made this tropical oasis feel just as natural as my real home at 6827 20th Northeast. While it seemed sacrilegious to be thinking of home while surrounded by friends, good food, and a wonderful hostess, for better or for worse, the feeling pervaded.

      The sun was hanging on its last copper sliver by the time we finished eating. Six stomachs had been stuffed full this evening, and we lay back on our still warm cement porch to stare up at the slowly emerging stars above. Yet before any of us dozed off, the sounds of familiar voices rousted us from our lazy, heat-induced slumber, and we glanced down to see a group of SYA girls in the lane below. They trucked up our rickety wooden staircase, across the creaky timber floorboards, and out onto the porch. What could be better, I thought, than a group of friends watching an exquisite sunset, our host family next to us, and good food in our stomachs.

      Moments later, someone suggested playing a game of Mafia. As the black and purple twilight streaked across the open heavens, Posie began to accuse Charlotte of murdering Janet. Janet, smiling, laughed away at the horrendous accusations flying between the participants. Our host family sat just behind us, laughing almost as much as us. The flickering candlelight reflected on our eyes as we rolled with high allegations and low rumbles of laughter.

      Charlotte was Mafia! When all eyes turned to Charlotte, the lonely sun finally dropped behind the edge of the mountains far in the distance. As we howled away like savages, the warm Yunnan sky reverted to its blackened, sleeping state. Down, far below the now bright heavens, our group screamed with laughter, and our host family chuckled incredulously at us crazy foreigners. The candle burned lower and lower, dimmer and dimmer, until the dancing flames and shadows flickered to a close, and the airy darkness enveloped our laughing faces.

      Just hours later, we would leave this incredible place, and with us, we would only take the memories of the hospitality and the tropical beauty. But I knew that after an evening like this, in a place that oddly felt so much like home, memories, though impossibly incomparable to the real thing, would keep this evening, this sunset, this night, alive for me forever.