By Rewa Hodges

“Chin ne eu wau kung wu.” “Please dance with me.” I could tell from his hand and arm motions that the slender, almost 6-foot-tall, young Chinese man was asking me to dance.

A 12-piece orchestra and pretty female singer were playing “Tie a Yellow Ribbon ‘Round the Old Oak Tree.” My feet were already tapping out the song’s rhythm, so I was delighted to accept.

I was staying at the Jinan Hotel in Jinan, China, and had been told by our tour guide that we were cordially invited to attend a dance scheduled that evening from 8-11 p.m. I’m a dance lover, so I changed from my traveling shoes into my “dress-ups.”

The 11th-floor auditorium where the dance was held was very large, with a raised stage at one end where the orchestra played.

The next piece sounded Chinese to my occidental ears, and the music was full of rhythm. Another young Chinese man politely bowed to me and, in halting English, asked me to dance. I accepted.

Forty years ago I would have expected to be “held” in his arms. Today, though partners, we each did our own thing. Separately we copied each others’ steps, waved our arms in rhythm, circled each other, took hands and swung together. He was an excellent dancer.

The room was filled but, unlike American dances, there were many more men than women. How nice for us single ladies. And I noticed one man often danced alone. This was obviously acceptable - all were there to dance and enjoy themselves.

I had been dancing for an hour when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. Turning around I was greeted by Mr. Zhang, his wife and his sister - our hosts at that evening’s banquet.

“Please to dance,” Mr. Zhang asked as the orchestra played a waltz. He proved to be as excellent a dancer as he was a restaurateur.

“Chinese music hard dance?” he asked.

“Not at all,” I replied.

“You good lady,” he said as he twirled me around. I presumed he meant I was a good dancer.

When he returned me to my seat, his wife and sister, smiling, held up their fists with thumbs extended upward. This, Mr. Zhang told me, meant “You are No. 1.”

I was barely seated before my first partner came up to me, said the same Chinese sentence and, motioning to the floor, asked me to dance.

I danced every dance with several different partners. Whether Western or Chinese music, it didn’t matter.

If you like to dance, dancing in China is just as much fun and enjoyable as it is in the United States. Some languages are universal.

Los Altos resident Rewa Hodges is a children’s book author.