China in Pictures

Prague: From the Windows of Prague

China: Missing You

missing you

if i could paint a wall

i could watch it dry

if i stare at bamboo

long enough i can

see it grow, but if i 

watch

clouds closely

 i can 

see your face

    and hope

the wind never erases

your image

  i’m missing you

China: Sex Massage

Conspiracy Theory and Rejection Reality

The first time I travelled to Shanghai now seems an eternity away, but by the Gregorian calendar on my desk it was only on the last National Chinese holiday. Then as now I was impressed with the fast trains and although it is about 350 km from Jinhua to Shanghai it still takes about three hours to make the trip because of the five stops along the way, including Yiwu and the capital city of Hongzhou.  That makes for an unimpressive average speed although the read out above each car door tells the passengers the top speeds and on this trip we were humming along at 238 km/hr about fifty feet above the landscape on a massive concrete causeway that stretched almost the entire distance from point of origin to my destination city. 

The Chinese made the Great Wall, which by the way can not be seen from space any better than our highway 401; they also built the Great “Firewall” which blocks all internet contact with the outside world, truly another marvel of modern technology and they have built an elaborate infrastructure for their fast train network.  Did I also mention they have already orbited astronauts around the planet that we share, will circle the moon and soon land on it.  How does one say “One small step for mankind...” in Chinese. My how “the times they are a changing”.

On this trip I had made reservations in the Seventh Heaven Hotel on the Nanging Road in central Shanghai.  This according to my google map, the Lonely Planet and Agoda my hotel booking site tells me that it is in the hub of the action in this cosmopolitan world class city.  I figured if “Cloud Nine” was a good mental place to be then a hotel called “Seventh Heaven” should be right up there, excuse the pun.  

It wasn’t. 

It is a Chinese hotel, but it did have western toilets for which I was forever grateful.  I was on the 16th floor and looking down on the busy street far below people looked like a swarm of ants.  I packed my back pack to join the swarm.  

Being tall, white, single, and western I stand out as a target. Immediately I was approached by a man who flashed me a card picturing various electronics and asked me in Ginglish if I wanted to buy anything.  Not being in the market for an  i-pod, cell phone, laptop, or GPS, I passed up on his offer. 

Quickly seeing that I was not interested he asked, “Massage?”  He took out another card that did not feature any electronic items what-so-ever.  Pictured were what appeared to be professional, licensed and well trained masseuses. Not being born yesterday, and given my wide range of experience when it comes to massage and things of this nature I immediately declined his offer of a massage, as I knew at a glance that these girls in the pictures were not certified by any North American standard, and that any massage they had to offer would clearly be sub standard and of a non-therapeutic value. I was not so easily fooled! 

As the young Chinese man held the card with the pictures of the women and noting my hesitancy, he added, as if for encouragement or emphasis, “Sex Massage.”  My mind raced, Oh I get it and I bet all those electronic devices were also pirated clones of the originals.  This guy was clearly not as advertised.  My spider senses were on full alert. This situation reminded me of that lovely girl I met on the streets of Honolulu who said she only wanted a coffee and a chat, or that blond in Buffalo with the mini skirt, wasn’t even real leather, or that redhead during spring vacation in Fort Lauderdale who said she needed to get out of the sun would I join her, well you get the idea.  

Fortunately, growing up Mennonite has prepared me for these situations and I proceeded to walk along Nanging Road toward the South Bund, but before getting there a distance of about a km I had been offered a range of electronics and women enough to stock my own store and fulfill a life time of fantasies.  

Out in the streets I was jostled by the teaming millions, or at least they teamed by the hundreds of thousands.  I read that about 18 million people had left the city for the holiday but about the same number arrived, but concentrated around the core of the city making for an explosion of population thereby making Shanghai one of the most densely populated places on Earth, at least for the week I was there.

I sought solace and refuge at a sidewalk bar which kept most people away by virtue of its high prices.  I ordered a Corona.  It came with a lemon not a lime, but I didn’t really care.  I sat there and nursed my drink and watched as the crowds streamed by thousands in both directions.  I felt a stirring on my foot and was abruptly brought to my senses.  A shoeshine guy with his box of trade kneeled at my feet ready to attend me.  I wanted to be left alone.  I was wearing suede shoes.  Who shines suede shoes? Apparently this guy did and he started right in.  

“No, don’t worry, I no charge you.  I have five children and I can’t find another job, but you not pay me for the shine.”

I could see where this line of rhetoric was going.  I tried to pull my foot back but he was too quick for me and held my ankle in a vise like grip as he looked up at me and smiled.  “You pay only what you want.  I have no job.  I shine shoes.  I have five kids.”

Bullshit had this guy not heard of the one child policy.  Who the hell has five kids in China?  “Listen I have 6 kids and I don’t want by shoes shined, now let me get back to my Corona. You get back to your five kids and leave me alone.” 

I gave him 15 yuan for doing nothing and he insisted on 100 (about 16 Cnd) his English suddenly improving as we faced off.  I looked him in the eye and calmly said, “There is no fucking way I am giving you 100 yuan for not shining my shoes, take this and go shine your own fucking shoes.”

He went.

I know, language Marty, what were you thinking, but it was hot, I was annoyed, okay it wasn’t justified.  I get it. I have my regrets.

I drank my beer, now warm, in mouldering, festering anger.  Five kids my ass.  But now I was really in the “holiday mood” so I moved on.

The same scam was tried on me about a dozen times between the shoe shine show down and the Bund.  It was either electronics or sex massage, or both maybe some enterpriser was selling electronic sex toys, but I never found out.  It was hot.  My nerves were frayed being jostled around in the crowds.  It took over a hundred soldiers to regulate the crowds crossing the streets at each intersection.  The place was insane.

I felt a tug at my elbow.  My kids may get away with pulling my elbow, but no one else pulls my elbow.  “I heard the words that threw me over the edge and into the black abyss. I heard the phrase, “Sex Massage mister”. 

I turned with my full force ready to look eye to eye with my solicitor only to realize he was about a foot and half shorter; so I had to look down.  I practically yelled at the little guy. “Sex massage, do I look like I want a fucking sex massage...no, NO, NO.  A thousand times NO!”

I guess it wasn’t a case of practically yelling.  I yelled and the crowd looked in my direction ... the crazy Westerner in their midst and while I couldn’t actually read their thought bubbles above their heads because I was not in a cartoon, but something felt surreal about the situation, I knew what they might be thinking.

I was so pissed.  The little guy fled the scene and I walked on through the crowd seeking oblivion not really watching where I was going.  I finally reached the Bund and stood in front of a massive statue of Chairman Mao wearing a great coat and smiling at the crowds.  He looked content like he had just had a sex massage, in fact, and I was beginning to think that maybe I needed one too, or at least a shoe shine.  It might calm me down.

“Chairman Mao,” I said talking to the statue trying not to move my lips so no one could tell that I was going mad.  “What happened to the Revolution?” Is this where it all stops?  Is this what it all about...” I could have gone on but I thought I should stage my existential break down at a more suitable location and perhaps with a different icon.

The sun was intense and with the crowds I felt a little dizzy.  I was drowning in a sea of Chinese. I spotted a tour group of Westerners.  I craved their company. I approached them from the side and merged with them, only to discover that not all westerners speak English.  The Spanish for example do not.  I looked for another group.  I found one and struck up a conversation with a farmer from Scotland.  Not exactly English, but it would do.

He was retired and he and his wife were on a cruise with a stop in Shanghai and yes they were enjoying it and they had western food onboard but in the end the tour moved on and we said our good byes.  I felt such a strong connection in such a brief time.  it seemed like only minutes. He looked at me funny when I asked him to take me with him on board away from all of this and I pointed to the crowd.  He grabbed his wife and quickly walked away as if something had frightened him.

On the second day I was determined to see more of the city, stay in a good frame of mind despite the millions of tourists and just be in the moment.  You now “zen is as zen does”.  I don’t know if that is an actual quote, maybe Forest Gump might have said that, or I may have just made that up.  I walked in the opposite direction to The Peoples’ Park.  Okay, between the Seventh Heaven and the Park  I received 7 massage offers.  I stayed calm.  I did not lash out. (refer to my earlier article, Sept 2012, entitled “Anger Management and the Zen of Chinese Foot Massage”).   I crossed the street with the aid of the military.  Saw the beacon of life of all that is pure and holy in the western world and hopped into Starbucks for a latte. 

I was in good spirits. I walked up the stairs to the park. A young Chinese couple approached me.  “Could you please take our picture.  We are on our honeymoon and would like to have some memories.”

I was in a good zen frame of mind.  I took a moment and posed the couple, framed the picture beautifully and took a couple of shots.   

“How’s that for memories?”

“Where are you from?”

“Canada”

“Oh Canada, very cold.”

“More polite stereotypical conversation.”

“Would you like to join us for tea”?

RED FLAG

My staff had warned me that there was a scam afloat in Shanghai involving tea invitations and never accept one no matter what because you will end up paying for a very expensive tab at the end or worse.  I didn’t know what that meant and I didn’t want to find out.

I was still holding my Starbucks latte and said, “No, I’m good, not really a tea person, but thanks.”

I turned and disappeared into the park where another nice couple, actually a group of three asked if I would take their picture...they too invited me for tea.  Between Starbucks and the National Museum I had seven tea invitations.  I determined if I go south its electronics and sex, north is tea and over billing.  What lay east and west I did not know. 

In the park I passed the many rows of match makers.  I saw table after table with pictures of young men and women and intense negotiations taking place, no doubt over the marital future of the young people in the pictures.  Oddly there were only parents and match makers present.  No young people.  Conspiracy?

I walked on and reached the two hour line into the gallery where many of the nations historic art treasures were housed.

Instead of joining the line I thought I would sit in the shade with my book, one of the Bourne novels not actually written by Robert Ludlum.  I sat in the shade under the Banyan tree wondering if Robert Ludlum still lived and whether or not I should join the line in the blistering afternoon sun or just wait. 

 I waited. 

A street person came by, one of many in Shanghai, ironically I thought all people are equal in a socialist state but some are more equal than others.  He gestured with his hand placing it to his mouth indicating he was hungry.  I could have given him money, instead I opened my backpack and gave him the three bananas I had bought from a street vendor the day before.  I guess they had been a little bruised while riding in my pack. The beggar examined them closely and then by whatever standard, he rejected them out right and handed them back to me and moved on.  

“What the...I muttered under my breath in bewilderment.  What manner of beggar is this who refuses my sustenance.  I get all olde English Shakespearean when I am confused.  Just a thing I do. Rejected.

As I left the museum I was approached by a nice couple asking if I would take their picture.  Politely I replied, “How many pictures do you need today? 

I walked towards a huge water fountain at the center of the park outside the museum where children ran in the water as they flew kites with long red tails that drifted in the breeze. I was transfixed by the beautiful site of the colourful kites and the laughing children when I was approached yet again.

“Hi, could you please take our picture.”  The well dressed young couple eagerly held their camera out to me. 

I smiled.

I had a moment to decide would the camera go into the fountain, or would I do the morally right thing.  I chose the high road.

“No I can’t and won’t take your picture, but since this is your honeymoon no doubt, I can tell you where to get a great sex massage.”

I smiled and walked away fervently hoping they actually were part of the greater Chinese tea conspiracy.

Marty

China

Britney Spears on Religion and Patriotism

Recently Cheryl and I went to a New Years celebration put on by the Jinhua High School presented in their massive gym.  I think the venue is large enough to seat about 3000 students.  The Chinese have a propensity to build in monolithic proportions.  It was a cold night and the thing about buildings in China is that they lack heat.  Think of a hockey arena in Canada.  They are heated, so bad comparison, maybe think root cellar.  

We took our seats and two third year students appeared as our translators to guide us through the performance.  The gym was darkened, except for the neon like plastic lights that all students were holding and throwing around the gym.  We didn’t really need a translator for many of the numbers because many were English songs.  This is a wet climate (monsoon) and everyone owns several umbrellas, even when it snows, so to have the song, “Singing in the Rain” preformed in English was no big surprise.  There was a song originally done by an obscure American singer, Britney Spears.  Other classes did themes relating to traditional Chinese opera meeting modern dance.  There was a range of talent  and although we sat in the cold, dark gym we were enjoying ourselves.

What we enjoyed most was the presentation by the Chinese teachers.  The students went wild.  The teachers teamed as couples, each dressed in formal wear and couple by couple male to female in turn sang romantic songs and in a scandalous show of affection held hands.  Our student translators told us this would be great cause for gossip.  What I appreciated about this was the fact that the student response was overwhelming and innocent.  They were thrilled at the sight of their teachers showing affection.  Our translators added that Chinese love romance.   I thought how this same act in Canada would not resonant well with the masses in the same way.  Our teen agers might expect a pole-dance.  I’m thankful that these Chinese kids are still back in the fifties.  I guess I am of a regressive nature.

One theme that the school likes to beat into the kids here is patriotism.  I can remember a day when I sang, with hand over heart, “God Save the Queen” and in later years “Oh Canada”.  We would even do a rendition of something we liked to call the “Lord’s Prayer”. Political correctness had not yet been coined. Here, in China, there is no God, but love of country is important, like Marx said, “Religion is the opiate of the people.”  Many slogans are written on bright red banners around the school concerning themes of love of country, “Love is in the heart and that is where you find country...loose translation.

Many of the songs presented that night spoke to patriotism and so Cheryl and I asked our youthful translators how they felt about that.  With some thought and hesitation they said that they get too much of it.  They hear it ever day and while they believe it to be true they don’t have to hear it all the time.  I said, “You should come to Canada”.

I only see the tip of a very large iceberg here.  We live in a small city, Jinhua, of only a million in an insignificant region of merely 6 million...a Toronto.  This tiny sample doesn’t really reflect the greater China I am sure, considering students here are the elite.  They may just be “Singing in the Rain.”

China News

China: In the news today...March 30/31/2013

I try to stay up with Chinese news through reading the China Daily an English language newspaper.  It naturally has a very pro Chinese bias, but it doesn’t overtly bash the United States either.  This is what came to my attention and what I  thought was unique, bizarre, or just amusing...the themes show that China is still corrupt, backward, and on the cusp of great changes...

Bizarre:  Municipal officials in Beijing have taken a pro active stance and  installed 20 000 safety nets and 1000 warning alarms on all uncovered manholes in the city after a woman just disappeared during a storm.  My thought was why not just put the manhole covers on the manholes so men or women don’t fall down the holes!!!!

Today the autonomous region of Tibet celebrated the 54th anniversary of the abolition of the feudal system and the freedom of all smurfs, as quoted by Papa Smurf...sorry that should read serfs, as 95% of the population was either a slave or a serf in my life time and maybe yours.

In a joint effort the governments of China, Laos, Myanmar and Thailand consolidated resources on their war against drugs and drug lords on the Mekong River.  Apparently we are not alone in this fight against drugs.

With a population of 1.3 billion people there seems to be a shortage of non-profit cemeteries in urban areas...keep in mind the country is now half urban.

Personal Background: I have always had an unreasonable fear of escalators and horizontal moving sidewalks, like those in airports.  For example, my worst fear... what would happen if an escalator, or a horizontal moving sidewalk would fail and just stop...I know it boggles the imagination.  Do you call for help? No there is no emergency phone as in an elevator...you are helpless and trapped.  My fears were confirmed because in Xian, home of the Terra-cotta Warriors (and look what happened to them) an escalator failed causing a stampede in which 16 elementary children were injured.  I rest my case.  So don’t be so smug, next time you are on an escalator, think, what would you do if it stopped.

Tragic/Negligent and Stupid: Fire leaves five dead in Guangdong Province...five adults on the 4th and fifth floors of a building suffocated...there are no smoke detectors in China...I have a couple in my house and guess where they were made?  This headline is repeated all over China on a daily basis, that and miners trapped in coal mines.  Fires, mines and escalators is nothing safe...oh don’t go on a elevator in Beijing 40 deaths per year.

The new president of China Xi Jinping visits the Congo.  China owns Africa now.  Xi said, while there, “Rapid development of bilateral ties has witnessed fruitful pragmatic cooperation in various dimensions and brought tangible benefits to people of both nations.”  Maybe I didn’t translate that well from the original but did he actually say anything, or is he like all politicians who just like to say the word “bilateral?”  In response the President of the Congo, Nguesso, said, This visit is historic and our bilateral cooperation is longstanding.”  He didn’t say bilateral did he?

This headline actually touched my life like a drop of water touching the wing of a butterfly...”Flights delayed as storm slams Guangzhou airport.”  That day 92 flights were delayed.  I was in the same airport the next day and my flight from Bangkok sat on the runway for 4 hours. I had dinner and watched a movie and a half before take off.  I thought it was just a long quiet flight at really low altitude.

Senseless Violence: 11 still in hospital after knife attack in suburban Shanghai.  This guy had asked his sister-in-law and mother-in-law for a loan to buy an apartment but they turned him down, so off course he had no choice but to kill them and then went out and slashed several kids at an elementary school.  There are nut cases in every country...but in China, unlike the United States, they don’t have guns!!!  China needs knife control because this is a theme in China.

How Supply and Demand works: When President (bilateral) Xi was elected he called for frugality in state events before going off on a five country tour.  Before elected Knife fish found in the lower and middle Yangtze River sold for $2573 a kg that’s about 16000 yuan.  After election government officials are afraid to dine out on the government tab, knife-fish is down in cost by 50%...that is supply and demand in a communist country.

You know flu shots in Canada are based on what flu conditions are like in China, especially in the pig population and now we should worry about birds, or the avian “flew” because it is in Shanghai where 3 people died.  People have been told to wash their hands more often...(my editorial comment) and maybe they should stop pissing in the streets, and horking in buildings and start using actual soap and disinfectants in the toilets and on the floors and any horizontal or vertical surface that people come into contact with because this place is filthy...wash your hands...get a life because that’s what it comes down to!  That felt better.

Okay only two more, but these are good...

15 000 dead pigs were found floating in the Huangpu River which is also the source of drinking water for Shanghai.  The general public became aware of the problem when individual bloggers reported the sightings as the pigs made their way along the river from the interior to the coast.  The government made an official statement only after David Letterman started joking about it on his talk show and then government officials denied a cover up.  Transparency.  Officials are not sure if the market for dead pigs has dried up and farmers did not know what to do with so many corpses, or was it just the plague? so many questions, so few answers...

and finally in 2008 there was a baby formula scandal in China during which manufacturers put melamine into the formula as a result many Chinese families switched to European formulas.  A swiss company in cooperation with a Chinese firm was hit with scandal when those on the Chinese side faked batch codes and made fake formula under the Swiss brand name (Hero) which contained no protein, lots of bacteria and apparently worms.  Chinese officials did not remove or recall the formula until there were a few baby deaths.  So beware your partners.

...so what’s happening where you are?

China:Washrooms

A Cautionary Tale

One of the funny things, or highly bizarre and unusual in a very disquieting sense, about China of course has to be the state of public washrooms, in the women's’ washrooms, at least those in which there might be western style toilets, one might see a little warning sign above the toilet that looks something like a no smoking sign, the difference is the warning sign shows a picture of a toilet with an image of a woman squatting on it, and over all of that exquisite imagery is a red circle with a thick red line through it indicating-do not squat on a western toilet.  Never the less women of the non-squatting persuasion will still find footprints on the toilet seat where Chinese women have ignored the warning and gone about their habitual squatting ways.  They find that having contact with a toilet seat is not hygienic. Leaving footprints on the seat for the next woman does show some sort of disdain for the greater good, womanhood in general and hygiene in particular.

Meanwhile in the mens’ washrooms, where few men wash, as there is rarely any soap, there are often pools of pee on the floor beneath the urinals.  Here the warning signs often ask men to step forward one more step (one small step for mankind...) with the supposed objective of increasing aim and accuracy for low pressure users and thereby avoiding spillage and the formation of urinary pools on public washroom floors.  In both cases, male or female, the washrooms come with a cautionary tale.

Christmas

‘Tis the Season and Christmas Paranoia

It is now November and the stores have for many weeks now been decorated with Christmas paraphernalia while pumping out Bing Crosby’s White Christmas and other Christmas tunes.  I’m hoping beyond hope that Justin Bieber  is not at the stage in his career in which he has released a Christmas album yet. Just as I resent seeing school supplies on store shelves in July, or Halloween candies stocked in early September generally I do not recognize Christmas, or the range of preparations necessary to gear up for this annual festive extravaganza until November 31st at midnight at the earliest. 

Nor do I truly recognize that December 25th is the actually birth date of our christ and savior, but likely a convenient residual date grandfathered in from pagan days to make sure all the lost tribes had the correct number of statutory holidays.  In order not to put a negative spin on this wonderful family time during which dysfunctional families from across the continent are brought together in order to sip eggnog and share family memories before an electric fireplace where all of the stockings have been hung with care, and despite my statements, I personally think Christmas is an up-lifting time which explains why I was out on a balmy plus 12 celsius the other night watching the Santa Claus parade in downtown W_________ .

Actually, I was curious would they role out yet another fake shopping mall Santa or would the real one finally make an appearance.  Cheryl was in the parade this year marching along side the Zonta float which was decked out in celebratory seasonal orange.  Everyone was wearing orange scarves or sweaters, even the Jeep Cherokee that pulled their trailer was orange as this was the colour selected by the United Nations to symbolize the fight for women’s rights in under developed countries around the world, a cause progressed by the Zonta organization.

After getting a coffee at Tim’s Cheryl walked over to the fair grounds a short distance away which served as the marshaling area for the myriad of floats. I on the other hand went to Home Depot, also decorated in orange, and bought some painting supplies. I then parked near the end of the parade route at Urban Burger where I would rendezvous with Cheryl at parade’s end.  By the time I assumed my position street-side families had gathered in great anticipation for Santa and the beginning of the parade. They were there with lawn chairs, blankets, strollers and drinking free hot chocolate from the enterprising shop owners who were allowed to stay open late this night to capitalize on the warm good cheer and spending power of the gathered throngs.

Cheryl texted informing me that the parade was late. 

“Not out of the fair grounds yet.”

 I got comfortable with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head.

I woke from my reverie, as the parade arrived I could hear police sirens  

I texted back..

“Good thing you got the coffee.  There are lots and lots of people along the route so don’t forget to use the royal wave just like we practiced.”

I decided to get in the Christmas spirit and give Cheryl, located at the very end of the parade a play by play of the parade as it proceeded by my vantage point.  I texted back in rapid succession as the parade proceeded passed me.  The following is my narration to the best of my ability and memory as I witnessed the Santa Claus parade.  I swear my hallucinations are real...

“So is the real Santa there this year or some mall impostor?”

“The police are at the front of the parade.  It appears they are using billy sticks and pepper spray to make sure Santa can get through to all the patiently waiting boys and girls.”

...

“Wow, with the the tear gas spreading over the crowd its beginning to look a lot like Christmas!”

...

“I can hear bagpipes in the distance, so I think reinforcements are closing in...this is turning out to be a Christmas like no other.  I’ll keep you posted from my vantage point.”

...

“Are you safe?”

...

“The crowd is beginning to clap they may be finding  some perverse pleasure in this mayhem or its a way to taunt the police with passive aggressive behaviour.”

...

“I may have to seek the high ground or find shelter in Urban Burger.”

...

“Really bad turn of events, numerous army vehicles are now moving down the street, but wait I think they are ours...”

“There’s a post office truck followed by the mayor in a convertible.  I think he may be on crack.”

...

“Its very confusing there are many emergency vehicles, fire trucks and ambulances. There must be many casualties further up the parade route.  I fear the worst.”

...

“Is this really a tradition?”

...

“Another emergency medical services vehicle with Christmas lights on the roof.  I’m getting mixed messages here. What can this really mean?”

...

“Its followed by a hook and ladder truck moving so slowly it couldn’t possibly help either side.  This battle lacks decisive organization.”

...

“I fear only Zonta or a super hero in orange leotards can save us now.”

...

“This is so random a float advertises our sister city in Sylvania.  Isn’t that a light bulb?”

...

“We are doomed there is a marching quasi military group armed only with wooden rifles, swords and musical instruments.”

...

“Our MPP has now arrived, a bad sign, maybe order will be restored or ratch this up to a new political level and cite that the violence is for the greater good and eventually establish democracy when oil prices stabilize.”

...

Several huge transport vehicles loaded with people, likely prisoners.  They are singing Christmas songs keeping up appearance, so morale seems high.”

...

“Yet another army has marched by, this one called Salvation.  I suspect a trick.”

...

“The next truck is designed for simply taking food from the crowd.  Ruthless.”

...

“Oh my God a truck full of kids, a gymnastic group.  God only knows where they are taking them.  This is turning really ugly.”

...

“Its getting colder.  I must find shelter.  God be with you. Merry Christmas.  Let’s buy a really big turkey this year. No matter what happens here tonight know that I love you...”

God bless you one and all and to all a good night or words to that effect...

“I see a motorcycle gang approaching on choppers...”

Living in China

“Wow, you live in China?”

I have often been asked, “You live in China, wow, how do you like it?”  This of course is a very open ended question and the response therefore varies like atmospheric pressure with the approach of a front, warm or cold.  I am not a negative person.  In fact I think I have been exposed to a myriad of cultural and geographic experience by this point in my life that I can give a fairly insightful and succinct answer to the question. Its just my preambles that seem to drag on forever, now why is that I wonder.  It is a rhetorical question which needs to be addressed.  Is it simply a cultural normative and quantifiable feature of my writing, or simply a failure to launch?  

I usual begin by stating, “You know I really like the Chinese...but then there is something that causes me to elaborate.  I can’t just leave it alone.  I have to qualify and add another level of complexity, insight or confusion...so I say, “But not in a crowd and my God there are 1.3 billion of them”. Of course then intuitively that statement by its very nature implies that I hate all Chinese because there are so many of them, they must perpetually be in crowds, therefore I hate them.  Don’t judge me...put those stones down and just listen.  

And by this point I start to look like a racist, but I’m really not.  I do like these little people. I just wish they could learn to form a line. I mean really is that asking too much just one straight damn fucking line. Okay, that sounds negative and that may just be the teacher in me.  I have been at it for three and a half decades and still have a slightly obsessive compulsive need for order and precision in my environment, but not necessarily in my personal life.  I still am not capable of filing my papers and usually stack them in piles, but since paper files are now obsolete I am equally useless at organizing computer files. 

But as for the Chinese why do they have to push shove, elbow and high stick their way through a crowd at every opportunity.  Why are they so rude!!  Okay there I said it and I’m sorry, but maybe it needs to be said.  Perhaps, since there are so many of them it has become a natural and instinctual process for survival. There is no common good.  There is no greater good.  In this socialist state there only seems to be the“me” which is a totally ironic statement.

According to Dr Suess, in a statement which I fully endorse, they (Chinese) will push you in a room, in a hall, in a park, in a bar, in a doctor’s office, in a cafeteria. They will push you in a class, in an office, in a store, at Starbucks, or where ever two or more are gathered in His name.  Coming off or on a train they will push in front, run their suitcase over your toes, trample you in order to get on a plane as if it is going to fly without them. They will not say “excuse me” in any language, in fact I’m not certain if those symbols even exist in Mandarin or in any of its dialects.  

The crowding and pushing of which they are so familiar also applies to driving. The rule of the road is that whoever arrives first, or has the biggest vehicle has the right of way.  Pedestrian walkways even though clearly marked on roadways are mere decorative geometric patterns that do not inspire or translate into any meaningful behaviour patterns that in any way would allow an individual to safely cross a street.

“Wow, you live in China.  How do you like it?”  

“Fine, just don’t put me in a crowd, in a car, store, elevator, near or on a cross walk or in any social or group situation that requires queuing.”    

Marty Rempel lives a sheltered, isolated and cloistered life in his Chinese apartment and has not been seen  by his friends, neighbours, staff or associates in public places in the last 73 days.

Communism...Hardly...

Communism...Hardly...

It was a perfect day in the neighbourhood even though the temperature this morning was zero the significant factor was the absence of rain. It had stopped raining, there was no precipitation.  We could come out of our little hole and squint and marvel at the sun.  It was also scooter weather, but first coffee.  we had brought several pounds of black gold, President’s Choice coffee from far off Canada, Zehrs in fact.  Let me get ahead of myself, it is now evening and we are preparing a dinner of Mennonite smoked pork sausages from Detweiller’s.  We packed them frozen in a collapsible freezer poach inside Cheryl’s suitcase and lied to every customs official we could about not carrying any food across international borders.  “No Sir, no food, none, nothing, not a morsel.”  Off course when our tiny reserve of coffee and sausage runs out we may revert to primitive ways.  Have you ever seen that movie about the soccer team whose plane crashes in the Andes.  I’ll say no more. We also brought over spices, dried soup mixes, over the counter drugs, oven mitts, garbage bags, protein bars and protein shakes, DVD movies and much more.  Yes, the DVD pirated movies available also across the counter in China, although of relatively good quality are mainly action adventure movies with aimless chase scenes, gratuitess sex, no dialogue and lots of killing.  We are more into the “Sleepless in Seattle” theme and therefore the numerous downloads, hard drives and DVD’s in our luggage, if nothing else we watch lots of TV.  Okay so we had our coffee now when Matt, a teacher at CTC and his wife Van, ask us to meet them downtown in front of Walmart to go to a Japanese restaurant for lunch.  We quickly check our social calendar and see that it is blank for March and so quickly agree.  The sun is still shining and it is therefore still not raining.  This is after all a semi-tropical monsoon climate.  We bring our back pack, with reusable shopping bags, grab our yellow and orange helmets which are not CSA approved and head for the parking area below the building where our mighty SNOW brand electric scooter as been patiently waiting for the past month.  I fire up the engine and the many highly polluting lead batteries make not a sound, even in motion the scooter is like a stealth bomber.  As a pedestrian I tend to hate scooters because they can silently come up behind you and scare the hell out of you.  As a driver I love scooters because you can silently drive up behind pedestrians and scare the hell out of them. I have written about the zen of scooting before, but my ying and yang is out of sync with the universe because I have not driven for a month, none the less I soon learn to warp and weave and flow with the motion.  I am a molecule in turbulent waters and I feel free.  Best of all we did not have to have my secretary call a taxi for us to get down town.  the scooter is our freedom machine in china.  Unlike chinese I adhere to basic courtesy, random rules of the road and signal lights when in my favour.  We meet Van and Matt and they escort us over to the Japanese restaurant staffed by chinese and full of Chinese.  We are the only westerners and people briefly look up and stare.  Van is actually Chinese and she helps us order.  I go for the picture menu with Matt, who like me does not like fish, raw fish, the smell of fish, fish bones, or the sea.  food is placed on an assembly line and travels the oblong counter.  Van and Cheryl dig in and have squid, sea weed, octopus, eel, prawns, dumplings made with tofu and numerous other things I could not identify.  Matt and I wanted to sneak out to Pizza Hut but we had beef over fried rice and vegetables with onions.  It was a great meal after we went to and I am ashamed to admit that we shop with regularity at Wal Mart but we do, where we bought some groceries.  today we scored big and found cheese.  Yes, Jinhua, our city has no cheese, there are few cows in China, most of them defected or died on the long March with Mao.  We quickly phoned Mat and Van and told them to come to the dairy section to get some mild cheddar cheese as it was going fast, mainly because we were buying it all and if they didn’t come we would have it all.  The meat department at Wal Mart looks like a pet store mainly because everything for sale is still alive: eels, turtles, fish, frogs and other of God’s creatures that I have not as yet identified but may originated from the Galapagos Islands.  Cheryl got some fruit and it all has to be weighed.  Sadly this is a culture that does not know how to queue.  It is basically every man for himself.  I would have thought communism would have taught certain lessons concerning the greater good, but apparently this is but another urban myth, so Cheryl taught them lessons in Q etiquette. One man she noted had been waiting a long time to have his produce weighed while others pushed in front.  There was a pack of people with Cheryl in the middle. Like a traffic cop with white gloves she raised both arms effectively blocking the crowd and in particular a pushy Chinese women with water chestnuts and lotus root.  Cheryl pushed her bags aside allowing the first this lone outlier and his vegetables and cheryl to get her things weighed.  After followed a flurry of what may have been vindictive Chinese as the pack fell upon itself in a self destructive fury.  We paid for our groceries at cashier 12.  I always have to mime that I want bags and Cheryl always has to prevent them from over fillings the bags.  It takes two. It really does.  Walmart is a subterranean cavernous structure literally build underground and we take the escalator to the surface.  I often have a panic anxiety attack thinking what would ever happen to us if the escalator just stopped.  Think about it.  We got to our bike parked in an area with 400 similar looking bikes.  Here we reposition our groceries into the various compartments on the bike i.e. under the seat and the little truck behind the passenger, there is a bag holder and some things fit on the floor between my legs. 

China

The Sound of the Crickets

Sports Day is a big event at Jinhua No 1 High School, so much so that the Day is actually an event which stretches over a three day period.  The students have been in active training since early September when they jog past my apartment window at 6 o’clock in the morning in military precision before I have even had my first cup of President’s Choice coffee.  They catch me at a disadvantage even though I hold the high ground. 

In the spirit of camaraderie, brotherhood, solidarity and for the greater good I vow that (one day)I will enter into intensive training and prepare myself for the staff event at sports day.  It is incumbent upon me to bring honour to my country and show these little morning joggers a thing or two about running.  To my horror I discover that some of these students are near world class runners and can do the 100 m in under 12 seconds. I am relieved to know I will be running against only Chinese staff who live on nothing but rice and vegetables and have short legs.  

I cleverly begin my fitness regime after hours when the students are locked into their dorms and I have free and open access to the track and walkways where I can leisurely walk, go by the canteen, pick up an ice cream cone and work out.  I do this for three nights before the big race and am fairly confident of my level of preparedness. As I know I am fated to set a record of sorts on the appointed day.

When Harriet, our office secretary, placed the sign-up list for the race in the staffroom it remained ominously blank for several days.  No one was willing to pick up the gauntlet. Terence, a former high school football player was first to sign and so I quickly signed and encouraged the others to as well.  We had five runners.  The Chinese, as always, had us out numbered.  Terence planned to finish last.  I devised plans of intimidating our rivals through a series of false starts and screaming, “I float like a butterfly, I sting like a bee.”  

On the day of the race the stands were full.  I had on my Canada t-shirt (made in China) my Nikes (made in China) and my nylon super light running shorts (made in China).  Pius was running in bare feet.  He is from Nigeria and he says that’s how he ran as a child in the villages.  Terence had his football jersey from high school on and looked imposing, Melanie had pink tights and had more of a Tinker-bell air about her, like she would fly to the finish. 

I watched the first round, batch, heat, group of runners, whatever they are called, all staff, and I have to say lightening fast would describe them, especially the one who taught Phys Ed.  He travelled at warp speed.  I took an immediate dislike to him.

Our turn came. The anticipation had been intense.  I was well hydrated and confident in my training. My shoe laces were tied with a double knot.  I bent down, placed my feet in the starting blocks and nearly lost my balance.  I calmly looked up and down my row.  I breathed deeply.  As in e-biking, I was in my moment and found my focus.  I was one with my environment.  I could hear crickets chirping on a distant mountain top.  I was ready to rip.  

The starter raised his gun and I took that moment in time to I step forward.  I walked toward the crowd, jumped up and down, raised my arms and they stood and either cheered or jeered, there is a subtle difference, but the sound is very much the same.  I got back in line.  

The starter seemed to aim the pistol at my head this time.  I looked down the pebbled track toward the distant finish-line and imagined myself there.  The gun fired, the adrenaline rushed and I was off like Jack the bear in Disney land on the fourth of July.  It was exhilarating.  I was in the lead.  I could hear the deafening sound of the crowds, there were no crickets.  My mind and body functioned as a well oiled machine until the very moment, despite my training, the ice cream, my walks, when my legs turned to cement.  By sheer will power I forced my legs to keep moving.  Lift damn you.  Lift.  Move.  Move. My body was betraying my iron will.  I crossed the finish line mere strides ahead of barefoot Pius and meters behind every single Chinese teacher.

My heart was racing, but I shook each runners hand.  I checked my time and surely the Gods were with me as I had indeed set a record as the first “over 60’s western administrator” to do the 100 m dash in just over 20 seconds.  I turned my face to the sun.    I basked in the glory. I smiled at the adoring crowds and vomited.