Facing solidified history

‘Facing solidified history’ – Pingyao 平遥

11 Sept. 2004

I made a quick escape this week to Pingyao in China, a town in the Shanxi province that has not escaped from the walls built around it over 1200 years ago in the Zhou dynasty (827 B.C. – 782 B.C.). I was in China collecting my things from Beijing and wanted to see a few of the sights that I had missed out on: the hanging temple at Datong and the ancient walled city of Pingyao. Along the way I reflected on some of the opportunities that I am considering, and started to read a book on emotional intelligence.

Shanxi (山西 – west of mountains) province lies to the south west of Beijing and is a mountainous area with a population of 28 million mainly engaged in mining and, since 2001, a growing tourism industry that seeks to capitalize on the Ming dynasty history. Train N205 pulled out of Beijing West station at 23:29 and without announcement, the lights in the carriage were turned out within 5 minutes of leaving the station; leaving me to fumble in the dark and rue not bringing a torch. At 07.00 we pulled into Datong (大同), a mining town of nearly 3 million that offers the familiar welcome of an expanse of dusty tarmac, grimy street vendors, and solicitous cab drivers. The state owned tourist office was located just inside the station, and I booked a trip to the Xuankong Si (悬空寺Hanging Monastery) and Yungang Shiku (云岗石窟Cloud Ridge Caves) for RMB100, and booked a ticket to leave Datong that night.

A minibus took some 20 of us to the two main attractions of Datong. I had met a Swiss couple on the train before the lights went out the night before, Mark and Xena, and they were like most of my traveling companions; taking a year off work in their late twenties before heading home to settle down. Along with a gaggle of English Oxford Univ. graduates, we toured the caves that contain some 50,000 Buddhist statues. The statues in the Cloud Ridge Caves were carved in the sandstone caves over a 64 year period by some 40,000 craftsmen from AD460 onwards. Having grown up under the shadows of Canterbury Cathedral and with a Christian centric culture, I was impacted by the scale, care and history of the carvings. The 15m high Buddha’s is supposedly the largest of its kind in the world.

While studying in Beijing I had really wanted to see the Xuankong Si – the hanging temple. This was another hour’s ride up into the foothill mountains some 65km away from Datong. Apparently the last monk left the 1400-year-old temple in 1996 at the age of 82, unable to navigate the narrow walkways that connect a series of rooms perched on stilts 20 meters above the Jinlong canyon. The river is dammed now, so I could only imagine what the sound and serenity the old monk must have lived with, and reluctantly relinquished. Now hordes of tourists, mainly Chinese, clambered up the steps and peered into the caves housing Buddha sculptures. What people have done in faith – the carvings and the hanging temple really made me aware of the continuity of humanities desire for enlightenment and dedication to places that celebrate that enlightenment.

Datong is not one of the places where much enlightenment can be found, and so I took the night train to Pingyao, arriving at 05.00 to see a completely starlit walled city of one and two story hutong’s, just as it would have looked for the last 1200 years, without cars, street lights or tv aerials. Since earning a Unesco heritage site award in 1997 Pingyao has been at the forefront of the tourism industry. Tourism earned Shanxi province RMB188m from 18.8m tourists in 2004[1] and officially employs 2000 people, and at the Minfeng Binguan the boss was busily renovating the 20 room courtyard he had recently purchased. Once the French SAGA tour group had left the Binguan I put my head down in room 002, appreciating how quiet the old courtyard buildings are with their thick walls and separation from the growing chaos on the main street.

After a nap, I rented a bike and along with an Austrian couple cycled the 7km to Shuanglin Si – yet another Ming dynasty temple. The danger is that temples compete with one another for my attention, and I found the run down Shuanglin notable for the fabulous clay sculptures being made by students from the Xian school of fine art. I asked the students why they were not sculpting their own Xian terracotta warriors, and it seemed that the depictions of Buddha’s in various stages of enlightenment and the frightening scenes of hell made for more interesting artwork. More enlightening for me was cycling out of the temple and through an archway in a 7 metre high mud wall – through which was an clutch of houses that used mud for all surfaces, including the roof, walls and flooring. A young mule stood with a mare tethered with fraying rope to a mud wall – this is part of Pingyao the Shanxi tourism office probably didn’t want us to see.

The tourism office of Pingyao has become rather smart, and now visitors have to pay one ticket for RMB120 (US$15) to gain access to some 20 museums and to walk the 7kms of the city wall. I went to visit the Rishengchang Financial House which at one stage had 57 branches around China before collapsing in 1916 – but this and the next museum had only the odd room name in English and arcanely organized curios that meant even deduction was practically impossible and so I went back to the hotel. Dinner was fun with the Swiss couple and an Irish couple. I used my Chinese to order vegetarian food. The Chinese like to add meat to vegetable dishes without actually saying anything in the menu about it. Having been up since 05.00 I was ready for an early night.

The highlight of the trip was my early morning walk around the abandoned walls the following morning. ‘Facing solidified history, please care of it’ read the plaque on the watch-tower – and I was feeling particularly humbled until I noticed that the bricks underfoot had 1979 imprinted on them; presumably part of an unpublicized attempt to restore the wall for the visit of Premier Zhu Ronggi in 2001. I heard a squawking sound from the other side of the wall and saw a funeral party sitting on the curbside, facing large piles of rubbish and opposite a middle school. At 10.00 music started to play, reminiscent of the music at BLCU, and sure enough the kids came out to play; the sound of the playground music competing with the wake. Looking down at the hutongs, those away from the tourist streets, I noticed how so many looked unfinished and unsafe, even though hundreds of years old; it’s as if the inhabitants live with a perpetual sense of impermanence compounded by a poverty that becomes self perpetuating. Perhaps I noticed it as I have been living an impermanent life for the last 9 months – never quite sure I will be staying month to month.

I became burnt out on temples and museums with signage that made no sense, and decided to have a relaxed afternoon, getting ready for the return journey to Beijing. I created a Business Idea Qualifier (BIQ) – a 10-point evaluation technique for all the new ideas that keep filling my head. I resolved to run my new ideas through this filter. I also started reading a book on Emotional Intelligence[2] that includes the interesting concept that the ‘cognitive unconscious’ processes information at a primordial level with the implication that we are aware of things before we come to know them. This gave rise to some interesting possibilities for the communications training. I read some more of the book on the train back to Beijing, pleased to have taken time to visit and practice my mandarin, but also getting excited about returning to Singapore and to move into my new home, el Centro. Being impermanent has been tiring and I feel it is time to get stuck into some work; to try to create some solidified history even.

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[1] Source: Shanxi Today – Issue 8, 2004

[2] Daniel Goleman ‘Emotional Intelligence.’

Being Driven

Beijing Diary June 13th
Beech Tree Cottage – Gushmere, Kent.

Today is a special anniversary for me, as I sit here on a Sunday morning in a brilliantly fresh summer morning in Kent, with time to reflect on the last nine years. It was on the 13th June 1995 that I first boarded the plane and set off to Singapore to set up EASTWEST. I could never have imagined what an adventure my life would be, and that I would end up living in China contemplating opening an office in Beijing.

I enrolled at the Beijing Language and Culture University with the principal aim of learning Mandarin, and I would have to give myself an ‘F’. I can now get myself around Beijing without having to hand the taxi driver a piece of paper or my hand phone to get instructions. I can order food and drink, but don’t understand all of the varieties of vegetables or preparation the waitress sometimes offers me. I definitely get the pricing, and can bargain a bit, even being given lower prices because of my Mandarin. What I can’t do is understand all that the upright news presenters say, nor the lyrics of the selection of Chinese music I loaded onto my laptop. Frustratingly I recognize some 60% of the characters in the newspaper, but can’t make any sense of the sentences, as I always seem to lack the key noun or verb. Can I write? Only using the computer software, and my handwritten characters evoke a wince or titter from a Chinese person that might be watching. So after four months I am ‘F’ for Functional.

On the last Thursday in Beijing I organised a leaving party, and was touched by how many people came out. The anxiety of organising any event is the fear of sitting alone at a table booked for a crowd, but we had 26 of us and nearly as many nationalities. Those of us that had skipped classes for the last month were a bit embarrassed to see teachers Dan Jiang and Wang at the Bla Bla Bar waiting for us, but it felt good to leave the BLCU on good terms with them. We went to the Two Pigs restaurant. Nicole came, along with Daisy who coached Sabine, and Eleven and Jodie – the girls who had come to nurse me in my first month, came bearing gifts – I was so touched. The excellent dinner at cost RMB500 – the princely sum of US$2.40 each. China really is insanely cheap for the quality that one enjoys. Conversation was a mixture of English and Chinese, topics about what each of us would do next: The Argentian lads will travel overland to Europe, Megan will take her gall stones back to America, Sabine will open a restaurant in Hong Kong, David is trying to get a job with Venture Capital company in Beijing. For three months we embraced the challenge of learning Mandarin together, now we will all scatter to the four points of the globe.

For me, the four months have been a real tonic. I have so enjoyed a respite from the competition of work, feeling the stimulation of the selfish pursuit of knowledge. Of course not everything in China is wonderful, and on Friday 4th it was the 15th Anniversary of Tiananmen Square. I remember that I was in a small town in Mexico on the 4th June 1989, and was trying to translate the Spanish article that showed a young man facing a tank. Although there were apparently some protesters at the Square on Friday, it was not covered in the papers. The move for democracy is being overrun by the chase for wealth, and the Government is criticized in private, but as long as the economy brings benefits for a sufficient number, factions demonstrating against the leadership will not be tolerated.

By contemplating returning to China, and opening an office, I am tacitly endorsing the system, and hoping to benefit from it. The time that I have spent in China so far has been enriching, and I have enjoyed the selfish pursuit of knowledge, although I do wish that I had not elected to juggle study with work, always concerned that I was neglecting the team and clients, while frustrated that I haven’t learnt more Mandarin. As I sit here overlooking my recently completed barn, reflecting on the costs and rewards of my choices, it with a mixture of excitement and fear that I contemplate the second chapter – being driven to start EASTWEST PR in China.

I won’t write another diary until I go back to Beijing, which should be in the first week of August.

With love.

Week of Work

Beijing Diary 30 May 2004

This was a week when I started to feel the stress of ending my time as a student; starting work in earnest and wondering how I might preserve the creative freedom I have enjoyed so much.

Monday 24^th Hong Kong

I went to work with a client in Discovery Bay, a 20-minute boat ride away on Lantau Island and appears to be modelled on the TV show ‘Fantasy Island.’ Working through media interview techniques while overlooking the 18^th Tee with Alex Chelleri, the newly promoted Head of Sales for Quantel, life seemed excellent. Somehow the anxieties of that had kept me awake the night before faded in the sunshine, as Alex made progress I felt confidence at being a good trainer return.

Tuesday 25^th Macao

Jon de Rule and I went to Macao, a short ride from Hong Kong, to check out some venues for a client. Jon is one of the most talented events men in Asia, and a survivor. There is a unique camaraderie among fellow entrepreneurs; we share the excitement of trying to realise a vision, the anxiety of insecurity, and the fear that we will find ourselves late in life without the rewards of stability and too old to start again.

Back in Hong Kong we went to the Gecko bar, and saw how the expatriate community reconstitutes itself. Hong Kong is changing, and according the English language press, it is for the worse. Police rejected claims that three popular radio show hosts have been intimidated by Beijing-connected heavies into resigning their slots called ‘Teacup in a Storm’ and ‘Close Encounter of the Political Kind.’ In practical terms the ‘One Country- two systems’ is being seen as a sham, with the radio hosts being the latest flickering flames of opposition to be snuffed out. In the club we could have been in Ronnie Scotts as Alexia Gardner[1] sang jazz – it was hard to believe Alexia was from Birmingham; just one of the many contradictions that make Hong Kong a stimulating place to spend time, but for me not a place to live.

Wednesday 26^th Hong Kong to Beijing

Hong Kong is becoming more like another mainland city, while Beijing is trying to become a pre-eminent global city. It is like a pageant queen not wanting to be outshone by her offspring. The Hong Kong issue of the China Daily had a photo of D. Wolfensohn in Shanghai opening the Global Conference on Scaling Up Poverty Reduction. The Beijing issue of the China Daily had a photo of a proud farmer in blue Mao suit proudly showing off his prize winter melon, Wolfensohn and the conference a second story. The editors appear to recognize the different levels of sophistication of those watching the pageant.

Thursday 27^th

Time becomes increasingly pressured. Megan was in the Beijing United Family Hospital[2] with what would be diagnosed as kidney stones. The Hospital is considered to be the most expensive in Beijing at US$1600 per night. The room was ultra modern and while Megan said there were some hiccups in co-ordinating her tests, the doctor had called her physician in the USA and Megan felt reassured. There is no real middle ground in medical care in Beijing, unlike in Singapore where patients can enjoy professional care with variable levels of personal comfort and concomitant expense. I wolfed down a Starbucks sandwich and headed to town.

The Quantel offices are in a shiny new tower block, and I had arranged for the publishers of State Administration for Radio Film and Television magazine to come to the offices with one goal, but they had two it seemed. The interviews went well, and I am pleased that after 3 months in China I have started to open up an entirely new range of publications for the client. Over dinner, without Quantel there, Frank Yao of SARFT brought up the topic of investing in EASTWEST PR. Reading the sentiment in Hong Kong I am aware of the potential pitfalls. I left it that Frank should talk with his management, and then we can take it further.

Friday 28^th

Maria, an Argentian class mate, arranged for a group of us to sing at the PartyWorld Karaoke. Karaoke was first started by the Japanese, and may go down in history as one more of their atrocities. PartyWorld is the size of a mid sized hotel, with each room centred on a massive 30 inch TV, variable lighting, and computerized jukebox that contains mainstream and obscure classics. Maria and Laura sang like songbirds, while David and I belted out the ‘House of the Rising Sun.’

Saturday 29^th

With an eye on my trip to Helsinki next weekend, I went shopping. As a student I have been living in jeans and unpolished shoes, changing occasionally for the trips to the Quantel office. It is wonderfully stress free. In the mall at China World Hotel I found myself faced with the world of fashion, and realised I was starting out again, acquiring things and worrying if they match with each other and with my personality.

Sunday 30^th

David, Sabine and I cycled to Yuánmíng Yuán Yízhĭ (old summer palace) on our bikes. Established in the 12^th Century and remodelled on European designs by Emperor Qianlong, ironically it was sacked by Anglo French troops in 1860 (Opium war) and so if full of ruins. The lakes, pagoda’s, acres of trees and flowers make it restful place to study Mandarin. As we unlocked our bicycles a group of kids giggled excitedly, fumbling with their cameras. At 11&12 they have been learning English for 2 years in a class of 46 students at the Sha cheng liu xiao school; they answered our Chinese questions in enthusiastic English. In sequence they pronounced their English names: Sally, Lilly, Ann. As we cycled away, I thought that some of them may be working during the Olympics – China is preparing the welcoming committee early.

In the evening David and I went to the Shaolin Warriors performance at the Haidian Theatre. It opens with a boy asking a monk “What is Shaolin Kungfu,” and the monk replying, “It is something which you will not only see with your eyes, but you will also feel with your heart.” In 527 Emperor Wei built the Shaolin Temple for the senior monk Bodhi Dharma to teach Bhuddism. The monks are amazing acrobats and weapons masters practicing the “72 Arts.” Behind us a boy the age of the one on stage chattered and cooed the whole time. His father, Zhang Sheng Li, is the founder of the Beijing Mu Lu School of Kung Fu and 3 new styles of the art. His son had been to Shaolin already, or so David and I interpreted, which accounted for his excitement.

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[1] (http://www.alexiajazz.com)[2] Http://www.unitedfamilyhospitals.com

A week in the life of Dong Wang Zhuang

Hong Kong
Sunday, 23 May 2004

Here I am sitting in Hong Kong away on business, at the end of a week in which I was enjoying being a student and resident of the Dong Wang Zhuang community in Beijing.

Beijing
Monday 17th

There are large signs around the zhuang aimed at encouraging civic pride, payment of taxes on-line and even welcoming foreigners like me. A 1.5m x 4m wide sign on the side of a block of flats reads, ‘The emerge of nonative population added vigour to the economic development of Haidian District. At the same time they should enjoy equal service. To provide the same public, service and management for them is one of the principles we stick to. Therefore, whenever you came from, you have the night to our reproductive & health service.’ This is encouragement indeed to become part of the community, even if only for the night. It is perhaps unfair to be critical of the translations, for the spirit is what is important – and the fact that there are even signs in English. Interestingly the signage is not in Korean or Japanese in spite of their large numbers.

My confidence for the postal service was dented by news that a company was suing the Postal Service because several million direct mail flyers had been found not in the homes of the addressees, but rather at a paper recycling plant. The enterprising postal officer had subcontracted delivery to a friend who no doubt realized the environmental benefits of saving the intended recipients the task of finding a recycle bin. Chinese law says that a plaintiff cannot sue a publicly owned entity and as the Post Office is not allowed to subcontract delivery, technically the delivery did not take place; in spite of the large sums of money paid by the company for the distribution.

Tuesday 18th

The zhuang, ‘village’, is a self-contained world and I have decided that it makes a better university than the campus. I have taken to buying things that I don’t really need just to practice my vocabulary, including a variety of fruits. There are about 30 blocks, each 8 storeys high with two apartments at each level. Wang Wei Xin, a 32 year old who ferries passengers in his Santana on the weekend, is buying his 3 bedroom place for RMB300,000.

Wednesday 19th
I spent a quiet day studying and enjoyed a relaxed evening in the zhuang for almost the first time since moving here in March. I bought a batch of DVDs’ for RMB8 (US$1) each, including ‘The Last Boy Scout’ starring Bruce Willis. Almost all the American movies in the neon lit box like shop were action packed, with gun toting heroes and innocent people becoming victims. What kind of impression of America does this give to people in the zhuang? I have lived in America and even I have started to believe everyone carries guns and might have a head on collision with a drug-crazed teenager. Tenley, one of my American classmates, said that after 911 and the Washington DC sniper shootings, she felt it would be safer to live in China.

Michael Jordan arrived in Beijing, and the police had to cancel his first appearance because of the huge crowds who pulled down fences and crushed a car. All things American still hold such a dual fascination.

Thursday 20th
While learning Chinese may be less and less useful to talk to the young, it is helping people to connect to their family and their roots. Winnie, a German/Hong Kong mix, shared that she had spoken to Chinese Mum in Mandarin for the first time. They both cried with joy, and I nearly did too. For many Eurasians who have grown up in western language homes, one of their parents has lived in linguistic isolation, and I was so happy for Winnie that she could dissolve that barrier with her Mum.

An official in Changchun was found guilty of embezzling US$988,000 over 4 years, and received the death sentence. Justice, if it is that, is quick and intolerant.

Friday 21st
On Friday night Rebecca and I made it to the China Philharmonic Orchestra performance of Carmen. The performance was sponsored by American Express, which can’t be used to book nor to pay for tickets. First opened in 1991, The Poly Theatre has 1,338 seats, this show selling at RMB680 to RMB 80. Kirsten Chavez of America sang Carmen with great bravura and Jianyi Zhang, who didn’t have the charisma to match Chavez, played Don Jose. I was interested that a Chinese female opera singer was not chosen to play the morally loose Spanish Gypsy girl. The Opera by French composer George Bizet (1838-1875) is set in Spain and is a tale of the pursuit of freedom and unrequited love, in the end the disloyal Carmen is slain by her spurned lover – was there a coded message for the increasingly liberated Chinese women in the audience I asked myself. I was distracted by the English subtitles as Carmen sang, “If you love me, you spurm me.”

I was caught short at the theatre by having to use cash, and realized how little I use my credit card in China. Apparently there are some 560 million bankcards, mostly deposit cards, and only 1% as credit cards. Rebecca told me that when she makes purchases on Amazon.com, she has to pay a surcharge for using a China bank credit card. One reason for the lack of cards issued is because there is no unified credit risk appraisal system. Britain’s Standard Chartered Bank has said rules and regulations covering credit cards in China are still too vague for them to consider entering the field. The rumoured reason for the sluggish redress of the credit system is that China is worried about issuing RMB denominated credit cards, as people will be able to take the currency out of the country.
Hong Kong
Saturday 22nd
I flew to Hong Kong for a business trip, leaving the comfort of the zhuang. I first came to Hong Kong in 1992, 160 years after it was ceded to the British, and most years since 1997 when the residents have been fighting a losing battle with their new parents in Beijing. The newspapers are all writing about the disappointment at Tung Chee Hwa and his role as lip servant to Beijing mandarins, the disastrous Harbour fest that cost US$10m, and the pollution coming down from the mainland. In 1841 the British occupied the Chinese island of Hongkong after the Opium wars, and the Treaty of Nanking formally ceded it in 1842. I am convinced that lingering distrust and dislike over the Opium wars and Hong Kong has hampered British business interests in mainland China ever since.

Sunday 23rd
On Sunday I went to Lama Island, and passed by places that I used to know, where friends of mine used to live. I undressed to swim, and nearly blinded myself with the whiteness of my own skin after 4 months in Beijing. I quickly nipped into the South China Sea, safely behind the shark nets, and I thought of all the people that I used to know here, and who have moved on. Hong Kong was always a cosmopolitan but transient place, and today I feel that it is me who has moved on, while also feeling comfortable being in a place that I used to know, or perhaps just more comfortable in myself.

End note:
The excitement of business is pulling me back, as much as I enjoy the seclusion of Dong Wang Zhuang. Tim Charlton urged me to continue studying, and I agree, even though I see an ever-growing number of Chinese speaking English – it is almost a race to learn enough Mandarin before they won’t have the patience for me to stutter along in Putonghua. As I have only two weeks before I go back to Europe, this business trip to HK is perhaps the beginning of the end of my 4-month study break. Reality calls.

My Dad’s parcel arrived in the UK. Less than one week after it was sent. Confidence restored.

Thoughtful days

Beijing Diary May 16, 2004

This week has not felt like one separated by days, but more by a series of decisions that I have to take: To stay on at the BLCU classes, how much Chinese I believe I can learn and what is the right path for me over the coming six months to three years.

To BLCU or not to BLCU, that is the question

The language lessons continued to fail me, or me the lessons, and the remnants of enthusiasm I had were destroyed by a test that Dan Jiang gave to a diminished class on Wednesday. I decided that I am not going to making conversation and reading and writing emails in my impatient timeframe, and while writing characters is nice, it is not a priority. Instead I bought an MP3 based learning kit for RMB128 (US$16). As the audio files contain no English translations as implied on the packaging, the next day I had to purchase the companion book for a further RMB28. This is a crafty rouse that I come across often – sell a customer 85% of what they need the first time, and they have to come back for the next product to make the first one complete.

Deciding not to attend class is at once liberating and alarming. I had relied on BLCU to guide me through my linguistic ignorance to a level of competence, which I am disappointed to believe is no nearer today than 2 months ago. At EASTWEST I have done a fair amount of coaching and training for clients, and this experience as a ‘customer’ has made me acutely aware of my own shortcomings. I am resolved to find ways to experience being a customer on a regular basis, and encouraging the rest of the team to do so too. In this way we might achieve greater objectivity about our own service.

Service matters

Service, and understanding how to offer it is not a strong point at BCLU, but it is a proposition that they will need to offer once the government starts to allow liberalization of the education market. Having walked around the department store in Changchun looking at consumer electronics, I was interested to read research that shows consumer preferences are experiencing a seachange. The Research Institute of Market Economy[1] says that in 2000 83.4% of respondents said that low price was the number one purchase requirement, yet in 2003 85.1% regarded good quality and performance as being more important than price. What amazes me is the pace of this shift away from meeting essential needs to consumption of premium products. I think I am witnessing the establishment of a new discerning middle class in Beijing, as consumers start to become segmented by their earning power in a way that hasn’t been seen before. I say Beijing, and one could probably include other urban areas, but as I saw in Jilin province, for many Chinese price is still the one condition of purchase.

Timing is everything

I was given some advice by a good friend of mine from China, Cherry Cheung, whow told me that I must choose the right time to start a business in China, and not to make the mistake of entering too early. As the infrastructure is developing and the market is becoming more sophisticated, I am asking myself if now the time is right for a professional services company like EASTWEST PR. News that Sino-UK trade is at last taking some of Mr Blair’s time with a visit by Premier Wen Jiabao to London and the signing of US$1.5bn of contracts is welcome. With the Olympics, World Expo and frequent news of trade agreements, my daily thoughts are ‘Is this the right time?’ Too early and the market won’t support my costs, too late and the competition will already be intense. After 9 years of wrestling to keep EASTWEST alive in Singapore, I feel as though taking the decision to open an office here will the biggest one I have made since I left England in 1995.

The task in China may be the same, i.e. find ways to add value for customers, but the challenges feel quite different. Now the challenges are emotional ones, as I have learnt that relationships are the real source of wealth, and moving to China threatens the bonds that I have with my family in Europe and my great friends in Singapore. News that my Dad is having a minor operation has made me feel the anxiety of physical separation, and I question my need for the thrill of always starting risky ventures along way from England. However, when I read the papers of Europe’s sluggish economy and America’s roller coaster ride and the latest revelations of mutual abuse in Iraq, I feel that the next few years of opportunity for me are here in Asia.

News that one couple have moved their 75 year old mother, Mary Eudy, from the USA to an old peoples home in Chengdu at a cost of US$81 per month, casts a new light on the term filial piety. I don’t think my parents would agree to share dorms rooms with three Chinese pensioners, but it is certainly the case that the rewards of living away from my family are counterweighed by my sense of not fulfilling my own filial duty. After nearly a decade, it is perhaps inevitable that I have become slightly ‘Asianised.’

Staying in touch

This is my 13^th Beijing diary, and now after 3 months staying in touch with people seems easier and easier. This week I posted my Dad a copy of ‘The Last Emperor’s diary’ that I bought for him from the Palace in Changchun, along with ‘teach yourself Taiji’ VCD’s. The package cost RMB140 (US$17) including the padded envelope, and should arrive in 7-10 days. This is comparable to Singapore prices and timings; interestingly sending a card to Singapore costs the same amount as to Europe – RMB4.20. Last week I was amazed to receive a post card in my Dongwangzhuang post box from my aunt on holiday in France, not because she never writes, but as the address was naturally written in English. The postmark said it took 8 days to arrive. I wonder how many letters with addresses in Chinese would find a letterbox in the suburbs of London or leafy lanes of Kent. In the careful translation of my aunt’s post card I saw the commitment of China to embracing English and the foreigners that speak it. It is the small strokes that transform the canvas of my experience in Beijing, and trusting that I can send and receive physical things is adding another colour to the palette.

End note:

It’s funny how some days are memorable, and some seem to have just come and gone without instance. I try to make every day count, and in doing so resist the temptation for routine that can make the hours fall into a thoughtless sequence. Ironically in order to learn Chinese, fulfill my duties to family and company, I have to plan and be predictable. This week I lived more in my head, without a sense that I have accomplished a great deal, laying the framework for what I might try to accomplish, and weighing up the scale and price of my ambition.

Currency rates:

RMB8.33:US$1:GBP14.5

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[1] Source; China Daily, Tuesday 11^th May.

Heavenly Pool to Urban Development

Beijing Diary 9th May 2004

Monday 3rd – Jilin city (population 4.31m) Jilin province
It was still raining in Jilin when we woke up at 06.00, and we were pleased to be setting off for Er Dao Baihe at the base of the Changbai Shan national park. We nipped across the road to look at the Songhua river, twice the width of the Thames at Westminster, embroidered on either side with young trees, newly planted flowers and elegantly laid paving stones. Nearby was the one and only Catholic Church in Jilin built in 1917 and the victim of ransacking in the Cultural Revolution (1966-‘70), now emblazoned with overlarge golden lettering. I was reminded of my conversation in Beijing with Shelley , who told me that the Chinese don’t have religion; at least here they had a place to try.

Rob and I were the object of some fascination and confusion on the train to Dunhua, some 150 km and 4 hours train ride, and the place where we could get a bus to Baihe. No seats were allocated on this train, and we were almost too polite to get seats. We inserted ourselves on seats at the end of the carriage, next to the toilets, as usual the last place available. Curious passengers watched me study, one taking the book without asking, giving me an impromptu lesson. As foreigners we are somehow public property, our things open for review, men want to smoke and drink beer with us, and mothers push their teenage children forward to practice their English. Our average speed was just over 30km per hour, and the hard upright seats made the journey tiring.

The climb into the mountain region that lies on the border with North Korea is a slow and arduous one, much like the lives of the people that live there. The disposable income in urban areas in Jilin Province in 2002 was US$756, and in the rural ones US$285 per year and it didn’t look as though that has changed. I noticed that houses didn’t have TV aerials, and I didn’t see any animals, domestic or working, except one bullock used to pull a cart of farm goods.. After 6 uncomfortable hours (did you want to put a number of hours or leave it as ‘uncomfortable hours’?) we had covered 75km, arriving in Baihe. We had traveled a total of 10 hours for a wholesome 225km – rural travel isn’t quick.

Tuesday 4th – Baihe
This was the day that I had been waiting for; a visit to China’s largest nature reserve, covering 210,000 hectares of virgin forest and home of Tian Chi which lies at 2194m, and the border of North Korea. Our driver had bought his ‘Chinese built’ Cherokee jeep for US$15,000, and for RMB400 took us to the base of Tian Chi – Heaven Pool. Entrance to the park was RMB60, then we had to pay to climb to a waterfall, and then again to get to the lake. We were feeling ripped off. We ascended by the side of the waterfall inside a concrete drainpipe made slippery with frozen water, and saw one of the most stunning sights I have seen. A huge volcanic crater thick with ice, and half way across, the north Korean border.

We wondered if hiking outdoors is a new phenomenon in China, or if people simply don’t have the money to buy special clothing, or uncharitably if they just lack common sense. We couldn’t believe it as Chinese women were clambering up in high heels and men in office shoes wearing little more than office suits – it was 5ºC. As another complete stranger asked if her sister could be photographed with us, I wondered who these people would say we are when they show their friends – they didn’t even ask our names.

There are apparently only 450 Manchurian Tigers in the world, and at Dong Bei Hu Lin Yuan we saw 12 of them. For RMB60 we could watch a live chicken be given a chance to outrun a tiger, and for RMB1000 a goat would have a race for its life.. Never an opportunity missed. No carnage was available that day however, and instead we were left unattended by the unlocked cages, where we mustered up courage to poke at a cubs paw protruding through the fence.

The rest of the day was an anticlimax really, apart from traveling in a tiny bubble car on the way to buy train tickets for the next day, waiting for the office to open while drinking beer in the bar of the station controller. Rob really wanted to ask the old man with a leathery face that stared at us continuously, “What did you do in the cultural revolution?” It was a recurring question for Rob, but luckily he didn’t pluck up courage to ask.

Wednesday 5th Baihe to Dandong, nearly
Our plan had been to travel to Dandong, to see the North Korean border, but the length of all the journeys changed our minds. We took the 08.10 ‘fast’ train #4242 to Tonghua, which covered 200km at an alarming average speed of 50km/hr. Tongua was wet, like Jilin, with absolutely no redeeming features except for the buses and trains that take one away from it. How depressing a place can be, with rain filled potholes, ramshackle flat roofed buildings, and no colour except for the pink middle school that tried to overshadow the massive disused warehouse next to the cinder running track. I thought of the book I read as a child, ‘One day in the life of Ivan Denisovich’ by Russian author Solzhenitsyn, and how it described the damaging effects of a lack of beauty – and here was a near living example. We just wanted to leave.

The 250km journey to Dandong would take 9 hours, having nearly walked to North Korea, and become less adventurous, we opted to travel to Dalian on an overnight train.

Thursday 6th Dalian (population 5.4m) – Liaoning province
I was at once pleased and disappointed to have returned to civilization. We lost our celebrity appeal (although 4 youngsters still wanted to be photographed with us), and people spoke more English. The shops brimmed with western goods, especially in the glass fronted department stores, where cars were being raffled and a shrill voiced girl promoting Whirlpool washing machines entertained the crowd by embarrassing men who couldn’t pronounce the ‘Wh’ sound quickly enough – progress is coming, and it is women who are cajoling the men to get with the future. That night at the Mutual Bar, two men joined our table, uninvited, and proceeded to tell us how much they hated the Japanese and asked on our views of Taiwan, Northern Ireland and Iraq. “Why are there so many Japanese cars?” asked Rob, at which Max brought out the Wan Wover (Land Rover) keys – the other issues required more diplomacy.

Friday 7th

Dalian is 100 years old with 1906km of coastline, much of which has been ruined by concrete and attempts to harvest money from holiday makers. ‘The world great landscapes are all created for you’ reads the brochure of the grandly named ‘Xinghai national treasure’ condominiums – where a 3-bedroom apartment costs US$300,000. On the hillside ruining their view was a medieval castle to rival Camelot, the dream of Zhang Yi, President and Party Secretary of Liaoning Ocean Fishery Group and housing a lonely 20,000 seashells and opened in 2003. Having earlier seen the ‘Love Coast’ marriage chapel and hotel along the coast, and several disused hotels, we wondered whom, if anyone is managing urban planning. The legacy of this ‘get-rich quick’ era will be a series of follies and environmental nightmares that future generations may or may not be able to repair.

Saturday 8th & Sunday 9th
People live strange lives, none more so than some of the expatriates that we met in Dalian. While chef Pablo from Argentina wistfully told us of being stranded in the town’s sole Tapas bar, upstairs Malcolm of Newcastle was plying his offshore oil team with the 37th bottle of champagne. At Sphinx bar, where Malcolm said we should go, Big Tony and Gerry were also Newcastle refugees, having spent 14 years in Korea. At Sphinx, Gerry told us, the girls aren’t working and would go with a customer if they liked them, but at Alice’s they pay Alice for the opportunity to pick up a westerner who might give them between RMB400 and RMB1000 for the night. Opposite Alice’s bar is Russian sailor’s hotel. Gerry handed over RMB400 (US$50) to the waitress in return for a bottle of Sambuca (pronounced sanbookka); the same amount she will earn for the month, if she can resist the Russian sailors.

End note:
As the Chinese travel overseas more and become wealthier, more sophisticated, I wonder how each of these places will change. It takes one hour to fly the 450 km from Dalian to Beijing, and costs the average monthly salary of an inhabitant of the province.

Changchun, Jilin showed me the sheer scale of these second tier cities, dynamos in their own right. Er Dao Bai He embodies a nascent tourist industry, one that has yet to develop a service culture and to defend the environment from the side effects of the tourism industry itself. Dalian wants to be Shanghai by the sea, the Brighton of China, but with signage I doubt the Sussex council would allow such as on the ‘lugaes tnaruatser’ that failed to give us the confidence to eat there. As the changes inevitably take place, I hope that the selfish traits of the last emperor Puyi, whom by his own accounts betrayed the lives of countless Chinese to save his own are not embedded in the Chinese psyche, and that people will make decisions in the interest of the community and the environment, not just themselves.

Journey to Jilin Province

This week I started to get excited about the prospects of setting up a business in China, was getting impatient with my teacher at BLCU,and set off to the Jilin province in north east China for my first proper road trip in China.

Baihe, N.E. China
Monday 25 April
On Monday I sat in the language class and decided that if teacher DAN Jiang was a member of my staff, I would have to sack her. She is useless. I stayed at DongwangZhuang in the apartment and thought about how to study more effectively. I realised that part of the challenge has been going back to pen and paper, with a stack of messy and unstructured notes on my desk. When computers are turned off, they look neat and tidy no matter the mess on the desktop.

I opened up the laptop and started to create animated presentations that enlarge the characters and simultaneously test me on the meanings. Later I showed these to Megan, Sophie and Sabine who all liked them – we resolved to key in all 20 chapters of our text book, and I’m tempted to see if we can sell our multimedia work as on campus almost all the study aids are cassette based.

Tues. 26th
I went to the market and bought a Northface backpack. Opening price RMB300, closing price RMB110. Piracy of all things in China is alive, well and very hard to resist.

Wed. 27th
Inmarsat, a satellite communications company and client of ours, held a press and partner conference at the Crown Plaza on the 6th ringroad of Beijing. Sonya flew up from Singapore for the event, and our partners EBA organised some 35 press to attend. As I helped to brief Paul, the Inmarsat spokesman from the UK who resembled Tony Blair, I realised that being a foreigner makes me study the country more keenly than my local counterparts for whom so much must seem the way of life.

At both the conference and the cocktail reception the young staff were keen to practise their English, and I inflicted my Chinese on them, which resulted in me drinking too much red wine, which I was convinced made me more fluent.

Thursday 28th
I studied at home again, and questioned why it is my natural tendency to always create my own ways of doing things; is this intellectual arrogance or the product of an active mind.

Friday 29th April
On Friday my first proper travel adventure in China started, as I set off for Changchun (http://www.travelchinaguide.com/cityguides/jilin/changchun/). My friend Rob Metcalf was coming up on the Saturday to begin our overland journey from Changchun to Jilin, the mountains of Baihe, Dandong on the North Korean border and then flying back from Dalian to Beijing on Sunday 9th May. The much vaunted May holiday crowds were not in existence at the airport, perhaps because the majority of people would be travelling by train.

Changchun is one of the 2nd tier cities in China with 6.8m citizens in what was the old capital of the Manchukuo province, and I was excited to visit Puyi’s palace as I have been slowly reading his autobiography. The Japanese installed Puyi, the last emperor, in Changchun between 1933-1945, after which it was looted by the Russians, then the Kuomintang and finally the Communist troops in 1948. I quickly liked Changchun with its wide tree lined streets, bustling alleys and large parks. I checked into the 3 Star Xin Chuntian (New Spring) hotel which was at the heart of the city on Beijing Dajie, and found myself a coffee bar that overlooked one of the many large parks in the city that lend it a European feel.

I did a quick tour around a shopping centre: A Philips Iron for RMB149 (US$18), Chinese brand top-load washing machines RMB650 (US75), a Samsung front load washing machine RMB4,800 (US$750). Just below the escalator a classical violinist in a fuscia pink Chinese gown serenaded shoppers looking at the Chinese premium brand watches. While some companies are pirating western brands, it is clear that brands like Haier and this watch company were going to build their own brand names, with a competitive price and styling influenced by western designers. China, like Japan before it, is moving steadily and rapidly from a ‘copy country’ to an ‘innovation’ country, providing goods for the emerging middle classes that can’t afford foreign products.

Sat. 1st May
I went to see the old palace of Puyi, the emperor installed by the Japanese in 1932. I hadn’t realised just how much of the North East of China (Manchuria) had been occupied over the last two centuries by the Japanese and the Russians, with brutal consequences. Puyi believed that by siding with the Japanese he could ascend to the throne of the entire nation, and the Japanese used him to pursue their ambition to take the resource rich Manchuria. Chinese history books, and the showreel played in Puyi’s personal cinema, all depict him as a man guilty of siding against his own people for personal ambition. In the brochures, signage and showreel, Puyi is ridiculed and held up as an example of how foreigners have sought to dupe ingenuous Chinese.

Rob called from Beijing to say that he had missed his flight, and that his handphone was broken. I wondered if I would be making this trip alone.

Outside the gates, there was a street market selling old Manchukuo medals, coins, notes and assorted souvenirs, many of which were probably as fake as Puyi’s power. In the end, I thought, Puyi finally gave something back to the people of Changchun – a tourist industry.

The rundown two storey grey building set behind a 30ft high statue of Mao, was the first base for film production established by the Communist Party of China. It was initially named Northeast Film Studio and renamed Changchun Film Studio in February 1955. Apparently some 500 movies have been filmed there, and more than 620 films dubbed, and both the building and the tour guide showed their fatigue. A gaggle of Chinese tourists and I were shown how wind noises used to be made, and a beaming young girl was filmed singing karaoke against a blue screen; technologies that in the West are already 25 years old. At the entrance to the most exciting part of the tour, we were told we required yet another ticket. I decided I had paid and seen enough. I was left standing in a large hallway to find the exit which I did through a graveyard of film props and old vehicles. In front of the crumbling studio, next to the discoloured Mao statue, a young couple posed for a photograph, contrasting the fresh face of China today with the faded and worn reality of the past.

Rob arrived – great to have his company, especially as he is as keen to pore over the dictionary to find Chinese words that we don’t know.

Sunday 2nd May
Rob and I got on train #4255 Changchun to Jilin at lunchtime, ready for the 2.30hr journey (RMB10). Tickets are allocated by seat and everyone sits in their place, with inspectors carrying handheld PDAs to issue tickets for cash (credit cards are hardly seen here). There seems to be a mismatch between the technology being used and the sophistication of the people being served by it. The little boy opposite, with dirty trousers and tousled hair, lay his head next to a bottle of ‘Future Cola,’ and I wondered just what his future would look like. Outside the window, the farmland was littered with smallholdings, plots carefully tended but the single storey buildings run down, fences like broken teeth, irregular and unpleasing to look at.

Jilin was wet, wet and wet. A soulless place where we found ourselves the subject of curiousity at every corner, and for the first time annoyed at the combination of disinformation and misinformation we were being given about travelling to Baihe. The Government CITS travel agency was as much use as a paper bag in the rain, and eventually Rob and I went to the dark, gated bus station. An old man took pity on us and let us into the great waiting hall, where signs were in English but no-one understood them. Speaking in Chinese, Rob and I were both given different information by people who all claimed to know the truth; tired and wet we went to the train station, and I felt for the first time just how hard it can be to travel in a place where foreigners are ‘fair game.’

End note:
I would have to be fair to the teachers at BLCU, including DAN Jiang, because during the week of both meetings and travelling to the further parts of Northern China, I have found that I can get myself understood and understand some of the reply. My challenge is to get both halves of the equation right. Travelling has opened up new parts of China and shown me how more of the 1.4bn people live. As always, there is so little time, so much to see and even more to learn.

Spreading from Beijing

Beijing Diaries April 25, 2004

“We don’t have religion in China, we believe in the Communist Party,” said Shelley, and this week I got to be in a film about a Party legend, reflect on my life in China, and visit Chengde; summer home of the Mongolian Emperors that ruled before the Party took power.

“Religion is the first topic I want to discuss with you,” directed Shelley, a rather imposing finance clerk, studying English here at BLCU. “I believe that the majority of people in your country are Christians – that is right?” My British reserve at discussing this caught me by surprise as much as her question. Israel, my American flat mate, is actively involved in the church and it seems as though western groups are filling the vacuum that exists as Party doctrine gives way to more freedoms. “What is the one priority of all of your people?” she continued, peering at me through her serious spectacles. My attempt to reason that different groups have different life issues was met with a slight impatience; I wondered if individuality is still principally a western concept – rather inefficient and extravagant for a nation of 1.4bn people.

Tuesday 20^th

‘Although believing the battles against SARS and avian flu have not yet ended, Lee said he was quite impressed by China’s quick control of the two diseases.’ (China Daily)

Jean, whom I met climbing Mount Kinabalu (Xmas day 2000) pressed me for my real feelings about being here. At 37 I no longer feel as though life is timeless; I want to be getting on with something meaningful – a family and a valuable project. The wonderful unaccountability of my young student life has been replaced with a desire to maximize time. I must juggle study with client work, balance financial prudence with fatigue at splitting US$10 restaurant bills 8 ways, and a disappointment at being considered by the girls as an uncle, not a prospect. The wild sow like sound of people clearing their throat still makes me cringe, and I miss the civility of Singapore and the culture of Europe. But I still believe that I am growing and am energized by that growth, and for now that outweighs the frustrations that accompany this journey.

On Wednesday I went to the Beijing Aviation Museum, to take part in the final episode of a 30-part TV drama about Deng Xiaoping. In 1977 Deng came to power as Vice Premier, Vice Chairman of the Party and Chief of Staff of the Peoples Liberation Army. It was Deng who famously proclaimed in 1993 “to get rich is glorious,” twenty years after implementing the ‘Four Modernizations’ programme that included the ‘Responsibility System’ which allowed farms and factories to sell their surpluses; the thin end of the broad wedge of the capitalism today. CCTV was going to air 6 months after commissioning, with filming in China, Japan and America. It didn’t appear to matter that an American woman played Margaret Thatcher, while I sat next to a Frenchman and Russian as advisors to Thatcher; aboard Mao Zedong’ private plane; which was pretty cool. I got the part, without audition, as ‘agents’ roam campus looking for western faces; and after a full day of waiting, and 5 minutes on set, I was paid the princely sum of RMB300 (US$25) – and got a great photo of myself with Deng.

That night at my local takeaway, Xiao Song had his books ready for me, and his homework done. Last week while waiting for my dinner, I asked the 21 year old delivery lad, who lives in the basement bicycle garage, to read the text with me. An hour later we had worked on a short dialogue he could use to greet people in English when they entered the sparsely decorated, neon lit canteen. Sabine came to meet me there; Xiao offered her a menu and a cup of tea, with a beaming smile. Almost every child here has taken English from the age of 11 for six years, and Xiao is one of those that just have no chance to use it; but is delighted to try. My favourite line was when he introduced himself as ‘Barbeque’ instead of ‘Barbara’ – part of a textbook dialogue that had healthy looking Americans sitting outside talking about engineering jobs at IBM – it might as well have been talking about astronauts.

Thursday – word on campus is that there are some confirmed cases of SARS. People are nervously waiting for news.

Friday I put the SARS news aside, and looked forward to an evening at the Forbidden City Concert Hall. I spent several hours in the Quantel office, reconnecting with EASTWEST by signing cheques and reviewing performance. As planned, Derrick and the team are managing the shop excellently. In the evening, Maria, Megan, Marcello (Argentinean, American and Uruguayan) and I went to listen to Irwin Hoffman conduct the Beijing Symphony Orchestra. Hoffman, gray-haired and grandfatherly, inspired the orchestra to play Brahms and Respighi with hypnotic gesticulations and warm encouragement. I noticed he conducted the 3 pieces and 3 encore without a score which Maria and I thought impressive. People talked, moved seats, and even left during the performance, but mercifully no one took a phone call.

Up 06.30 on Saturday to travel to Cheng de by train, 255km north east of Beijing – in Mongol territory. On the train, an American visiting professor showed us the article – four confirmed SARS cases and one death in Beijing. We all read it slowly, anxiously exploring our options. Finding Chengde at the confluence of 4 rivers and surrounded by stunning rocky outcrops, Emperor Kangxi liked it so much that in 1703 he built his summer palace there. His grandson, Qianlong, had a policy of building replicas of architecture from around China, and we went to see the stunning replica of Lhasa Potala palace; with some interesting directions – my favourite sign was for ‘Genitl Emen.’ With so much construction and reconstruction, I felt the monuments were beginning to lack authenticity, if not credibility, and at a hefty RMB50 – RMB90 (US$5-10) to enter each location, Cheng de was becoming more a theme park than a noble retreat. The best memory for me will be when Megan and I rented torches and ascended steep green carpeted steps to view the Guanyin (goddess of mercy) statue; at 28 meters high it is the biggest wooden sculpture of it’s kind in the world!

End-note:

If SARS does rear it’s ugly head again, then we will all need to believe in the Party and it’s ability to contain it. On a personal level I don’t want to leave Beijing before my time. Another outbreak of SARS will be terrible for business. The ‘Meet in Beijing’ music festival is being joined by the ‘International Drama Festival’ – having found this enjoyable element of Beijing, I would be sad to not to be able to go to anything. Most things spread from Beijing to the provinces, I hope this SARS outbreak is not one of them.

Creativity and Heaven

Beijing Diaries Sunday 18 Apr 2004

After nearly two months of living in Beijing, I had what felt like my first routine week, but routine is relative in a city with over 2,000 years of history, and many very present problems. I met a PR professor who teaches at the Humane College, the first HIV Positive patient, and visited the Temple of Heaven.

A couple of readers told me that the diary skips rather, and so I have inserted days to form natural breaks, which I hope will read better.

Tuesday 13th
Study at BLCU hasn’t been going so well. Dwindling class numbers led to the warning that we could not take the final exam if we missed 60 hours, and on Friday young Jiang Dan declared that she really didn’t know how to teach us using the dedicated text – not at all inspiring. When asked about the validity of two classes on family structure, teacher Yuan Jin Chun told us “in England people discuss the weather, in China we talk about family; it is important.” I missed if she had been to the UK. Education at BLCU appears to be based on repetition, memorization and standardization; as Western educated students we just can’t get our heads around this approach, and so we have a hiatus; the college has students that it doesn’t understand, and the students don’t understand the University’s inflexibility and lack of creativity. I am worried that after 3 weeks we have studied no grammar, just a constant stream of new words that we don’t know how to assemble.

Friday 16th
I got to practice my limited business vocabulary on Vice Professor Jing Qing Hong of the Humane College Beijing Forestry University, also a Member of the Academy Committee of Chinese Association of Public Relations, Correspondent and Columnist Specially Invited by “China Sons and Duughters (sic).” Jodie, an earnest young PR student and friend of Nicole, introduced me to him. It seemed impertinent to ask why the Forestry University was home to a PR course, and I spoke with the formal ‘Nin’ (like vous in French) as Jodie sat anxiously waiting for my faltering sentences to cause offence. Jing told me that there are over 1,000 PR firms in Beijing and that the largest, ‘Global,’ is the result of a merger between a government agency and an American firm. Having encountered Jodie and other students unsure of their careers in the new field of PR, I offered to give a presentation on the industry. “I think he is more interested in business with you, than your presentation” confided Jodie. Everyone wants to do business; the issue is with whom to do it.

Saturday 17th
Song Pengfei has the calm presence of a person who is at rest with themselves. Apparently the first Chinese person to publicly declare himself HIV positive, Song and his team run the “Positive Art Workshop” based in the Beijing Youan Hospital (http://www.paw.org.cn) First established by a Spaniard and Ecuadorian in Dec. 2002, the unit has funding from the Ford Foundation (Song was unsure, but we assumed it was founded by former president Gerald Ford not the motor company). “We want to help HIV patients with the psychological problems that they face, spread the word about the disease and raise money by selling their works,” Song told me with the help of a translator.

The Government publicly acknowledges 850,000 HIV patients, but the figure is believed to be 5 times higher. Rural people, apparently unaware of their own infection, have sold their blood to middle men, and this enters the health system; and this is how Song became infected. Drug use and prostitution are now the main catalysts, with the Government reportedly cutting down on blood selling, and no mention is made at all of homosexual activities. Song told me that Government officials are involved in virtually all NGO’s, and he was diplomatic about their role; I am learning to listen for what is not said, rather than what I am told. “A lot of people do not know that they have HIV,” Song said, and with the recent history of SARS illustrating the paucity of the health infrastructure in China, I sense that the true scale and future of HIV remains to be seen.

Sunday 18th
Sabina, a classmate and great companion, and I went to see the Temple of Heaven. First built in 1420 and covering an area of 273 hectares, the Cyprus forested area lies south of Tiananmen, and is based on the ‘Theory of Huntian.’ Luo Xiahong (1st & 2nd Century B.C.) developed the theory which ‘holds that the shape of heaven and earth is like a bird’s egg. Heaven wraps around the earth on the outside like an eggshell that wraps a yoke.’ Heaven, therefore, was believed to be round, and earth a square, which is why the Temple is constructed as a circle, with a large square courtyard. I wondered how it must have felt in 1911 when the Republican revolutionaries entered this place and saw the splendor as the people were hungry. The older Chinese tourists would have lived through the Cultural Revolution, and I wished I could speak with them about what, if anything, they were allowed to know about during that time. In the English guidebook it read, ‘the tablets of ancestors and offerings to heaven remind us of the blessing of heaven and benevolence of ancestors – something we should be mindful about.” I wondered if they were on the same page, as they were marched off, wearing identical baseball caps, following their young guides toting yellow flags on car radio aerials.

Endnote:
As I prepare for the next weeks class, I can’t help but think I am not prepared, and that the more I see of China the more fascinating and complex it is. The kind of creativity that is lacking in the education system is of course creating graduates that struggle in the knowledge based jobs like Public Relations. As China comes to grips with socially complex issues like HIV, and allowing a middle class to emerge, it has to change the way things are done. History casts a long shadow, and it seems that balancing loyalty to the past with the needs of the present will demand creativity and some gifts from heaven.

The price of progress

Beijing Diaries 11 Apr 04

Unit #7, Dongwang Zhuang, Haidan District. Beijing

CHEN Hao had written to me in great earnest after reading my Beijing Diary ‘We are both changing,’[1] and so I gladly met the quietly confident young to look at change through his cultural lens, and used that lens to view my week that included: a hutong party, a Beijing Duck feast and tasting the dust of the parched earth north of Beijing.

CHEN Hao, a bespectacled, tidily dressed 27 year-old, has a Masters from Xiamen University, and is one of the first people that I met in the administration department here at BLCU. “There are three faces of change in China, and I want to tell you how I see them,” he told me, “These are political, economic and cultural, but I will not talk about political change.” In itself this told me about the climate of discussion here; it is increasingly tolerated, even encouraged, but it appears to be within a considered framework of organizations, rather than outspoken individuals.

“Ten years ago a good Chinese family had three things: a TV, a refrigerator, a telephone. Today a good family, a wealthy family, has: a car, a computer, and an apartment. This economic progress is changing our lives.”  Chen sees the shift away from the inefficient centrally planned economy to the market driven one, a move initiated by Deng Xiao Peng in 1978, as being good but, “now, not finished, it is in the process.”  While pointing to the near 10% GDP per annum growth of China for the past decade, Chen also worries about the “floating population.” Nearly three times the population of America are rural peasants, 800 millions. In Beijing Chen estimates some four million people are from rural areas, escaping relative poverty and absolute hardship, bringing with them the social problems of a large subculture that is unregistered and scavenging for work on building sites or in restaurants or worse.

For the urban Chinese that are enjoying the results of China’s economic growth, mainly in the eastern seaboard region, values are changing “fast and greatly” according to Chen. For his parent’s generation, and into the 1980’s, Chen says that Confucian values held sway, a central belief being filial piety. “Now the main value is money…like for American people,” he laments, while still also himself within the grip of this rapidly encroaching value system. Chen’s family is a rendition of modern China in itself. His father left the countryside at 16 to study, met his teacher-to-be wife, and became a government official in Hunan province (S.E. China). Both Chen and his sister went to university (the one child policy, which Chen supports, was implemented in 1977) and now both have management jobs. Chen wants to study a Doctorate in Public Administration in America, intending to return to China to contribute to its progress.

“I want to talk about love,” he says. Girls it seems have abandoned the “honest, warm-hearted, and independent” values of his parent’s generation, and instead are driven by three things: “Money first, then appearance and finally that the man loves her.”

“What of the future?” I asked Chen. “Certainly better and better,” he said, referring to the accessibility of the Internet, opportunity to own a car, and China’s growing success in sports and culture. “Once the government have solved the problems of an unbalanced society, higher education, unemployment, security, society becomes very good.” I admired Chen’s commitment to his nation, and realism about many of its problems, but also observed a reliance on the Government to solve so many of them; Chen had been right when he had said change is a “process.”

Kristian Kender is one of a cadre of multilingual expatriates here, speaking fluent Mandarin, a director of a research publishing company, and host of a party at his hutong on Friday. Beijing social life has an entirely different feeling to that of Singapore; it is a harsher urban environment, but also maybe because people here appear to be even further away from where they came from. There is an intensity and to some degree a battle weariness that I don’t encounter in Singapore, where the talk is of convenience, island get-aways and money. In the courtyard of the hutong, a mixture of overseas Chinese, European, North and South American and Indians spoke a bewildering array of languages about how to get things done and how to stay sane in the process.

Saturday night fourteen classmates and our teachers went into town, an experience for us all. We invited our Chinese teachers, Miss Dan and Miss Wang, paying the princely sum of RMB65 (US$8) per head, and afterwards coaxed our 20 something teachers to come to the chic Cloud 9 bar.  It transpired neither of them had been to a nightclub before; it was an effort to convince them to accept bottled water to drink. As they sat perched unnaturally on the deep blue couches, looking at these people drinking and burning their money, it struck me that as foreign students we were potentially initiating a process of change for our Chinese teachers, and wondered where that might lead, praying it would be in a positive direction.

The farmers in the hills on which the Great Wall lie, are praying for a change in the weather, after a four-month drought. Today I went to the Jin Shan Ling section with a coach load of Philippine students, and was automatically accompanied by a Chinese woman in her 50’s with a shammy leather face and hard worked hands. Her husband was a farmer she told me, and as it has been too dry to plant crops, she and the other women were helping tourists along the wall, selling books, T-shirts and post cards; anything to supplement their income of around RMB500 (US$60) per month. Beijing made 23.8m cubic metres of artificial participation last year, and experts say this year the Capital has the worst droughts since 1949. When I first arrived I felt Beijing was like Las Vegas – a city built in the desert growing at such a rapid rate, taking ground water and reservoir flows from the mountains 2 hours drive away – and full of speculation. For the 75-year woman from whom I bought two T-shirts in the withering village of Jin Shan (ironically Gold Mount), rain or tourists can’t come soon enough.

As Chen said, change is happening in China, but I end the week concerned that much of progress is not including many of the people, and that no process can influence nature.

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[1] 29^th Feb.