Hutcheon: About a year ago, a survey found many city folk regard climbing the stairs or shopping as a sufficient work out. So China launched a nationwide fitness campaign. And it’s starting to pay off. Many Chinese are now taking up a sport. But it’s not the type of activity you might expect.
Drums
Hutcheon: Every morning and evening the streets of Beijing shudder to the beat of the yangko drum. Right across the city, people are learning to dance.
Yangko music
Hutcheon: The routine is based on a folk dance to celebrate the harvest, and these people aren’t just here to limber up the old joints. For many, this is the highlight of their day.
And everyone is welcome, be they Martha or Arthur.
Madam Li: Now you’re too bunched up! We won’t be able to move freely — wait a minute over there.
Hutcheon: Li Xiuying founded the Beijing Medical Massage Yangko Dance Team.
Once crippled by a debilitating stroke, she says yangko dancing helped her recovery.
Madam Li: After my stroke, my mouth and eyes were crooked and I was walking like this — so I researched the produced this massage and walking style of Yangko.
Hutcheon: I’m made to feel very welcome and there’s clearly a great sense of community here. But it’s not quite the sort of dancing I was hoping for.
Maybe it’s the noise, and is it really necessary to get dressed up this early in the morning. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have more luck.
Birds
Hutcheon: Beijing people love the morning. They make an industry of it.
Next to Breakfast Street, the market sets up to net the early risers.
Hutcheon: I’m told they dance outside the Workers’ Stadium each morning. I’m just in time to catch the warm-up.
Music
Hutcheon: The regulars pay 50 cents a month for the latest in portable sound. It’s the same routine every day, starting off with the basics and gradually gaining in speed and momentum.
Then the steps start to get fancy. And they’ve lost me!
Music
Hutcheon: But then I spot them, the couple twinkling across the concrete, cutting a path across the icy morning.
Music
Hutcheon: The Shi’s work at the car factory. During the Cultural Revolution, Mrs Shi performed in the factory’s propaganda troupe. She took up ballroom dancing just five years ago.
Madam Shi: I started ballroom dancing in 1990. I have skills I learnt from the stage, so it’s easier to pick it up.
Hutcheon: The Shi’s take their dancing very seriously.
They record every dance contest and after work, study the tapes, re-creating the steps ready for their morning session.
Mr Shi: Dancing takes up one-third of my life.
Mrs Shi: Now after work, he watches the video. In the morning he dances, as his daily exercise. In the evenings, sometimes he goes to the dance halls. He dances to enrich his life.
Hutcheon: To the Shi’s, ballroom dancing is the magic in a lifetime spent amongst decaying conveyor belts.
Music
Hutcheon: For the Chinese government it’s a way to keep the masses healthy, and for hundreds and thousands of Chinese, it’s much more than that.
Mr Shi: Sometimes life is too short — it passes by too quickly. There’s sadness and happiness — separation and reunion. Everybody has this. Sometimes you’re bothered by something — but by making friends, by dancing, by listening to music and talking to friends, your sorrow is turned to joy.
Drums
Hutcheon: Every morning and evening the streets of Beijing shudder to the beat of the yangko drum. Right across the city, people are learning to dance.
Yangko music
Hutcheon: The routine is based on a folk dance to celebrate the harvest, and these people aren’t just here to limber up the old joints. For many, this is the highlight of their day.
And everyone is welcome, be they Martha or Arthur.
Madam Li: Now you’re too bunched up! We won’t be able to move freely — wait a minute over there.
Hutcheon: Li Xiuying founded the Beijing Medical Massage Yangko Dance Team.
Once crippled by a debilitating stroke, she says yangko dancing helped her recovery.
Madam Li: After my stroke, my mouth and eyes were crooked and I was walking like this — so I researched the produced this massage and walking style of Yangko.
Hutcheon: I’m made to feel very welcome and there’s clearly a great sense of community here. But it’s not quite the sort of dancing I was hoping for.
Maybe it’s the noise, and is it really necessary to get dressed up this early in the morning. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have more luck.
Birds
Hutcheon: Beijing people love the morning. They make an industry of it.
Next to Breakfast Street, the market sets up to net the early risers.
Hutcheon: I’m told they dance outside the Workers’ Stadium each morning. I’m just in time to catch the warm-up.
Music
Hutcheon: The regulars pay 50 cents a month for the latest in portable sound. It’s the same routine every day, starting off with the basics and gradually gaining in speed and momentum.
Then the steps start to get fancy. And they’ve lost me!
Music
Hutcheon: But then I spot them, the couple twinkling across the concrete, cutting a path across the icy morning.
Music
Hutcheon: The Shi’s work at the car factory. During the Cultural Revolution, Mrs Shi performed in the factory’s propaganda troupe. She took up ballroom dancing just five years ago.
Madam Shi: I started ballroom dancing in 1990. I have skills I learnt from the stage, so it’s easier to pick it up.
Hutcheon: The Shi’s take their dancing very seriously.
They record every dance contest and after work, study the tapes, re-creating the steps ready for their morning session.
Mr Shi: Dancing takes up one-third of my life.
Mrs Shi: Now after work, he watches the video. In the morning he dances, as his daily exercise. In the evenings, sometimes he goes to the dance halls. He dances to enrich his life.
Hutcheon: To the Shi’s, ballroom dancing is the magic in a lifetime spent amongst decaying conveyor belts.
Music
Hutcheon: For the Chinese government it’s a way to keep the masses healthy, and for hundreds and thousands of Chinese, it’s much more than that.
Mr Shi: Sometimes life is too short — it passes by too quickly. There’s sadness and happiness — separation and reunion. Everybody has this. Sometimes you’re bothered by something — but by making friends, by dancing, by listening to music and talking to friends, your sorrow is turned to joy.