I have taken refuge in an internet cafe in the basement of an office building, but the vibrations from above can still be felt. Today is officially the last day of Spring Festival (the 15th day of the lunar caledar) and to mark the ocassion, the city is lighting every firecracker and firework they can get their hands on. In a way, tonight is more surreal than the actual Chinese New Year considering that the city is working at full capacity, the streets are packed once again, the buses and subways are full, and overcrowed sidewalks spill onto the streets and into cracks between moving cars and bicycles (from above, a massive ant colony comes to my mind, especially since everyone has black hair) - yet colorful and LOUD explosives are going off in every direction.
As I stand in a crowd at a crosswalk in Wudaokou, I take a moment to observe the chaos of Beijing intersect with the chaos of Spring Festival. To my right, next to hundreds of communters flooding out of the subway station, a few men wearing dirty wife beaters set off a series of cherry bombs. To my left, a cop slowly chases a man with a few dozen rainbow-colored balloons attached to the back of his bike (clearly an unathorized vendor). And in front of me, three buses coming from three different directions find them selves stuck in the middle of the intersection, causing dozens of bikes and pedestrians to storm the pavement as the bus drivers try to resolve their pedicament. Beijing is back.
Today is traditionally called Yuanxiao Festival named after the ball-like food eaten on this holiday. A yuanxiao is made of sticky rice flour filled with sweet stuffing and round in shape, symbolizing family unity and completeness. Personally, I do not think they are exceptionally tasty, however, the ones filled will chocolate are quite good.
The cease fire starts tomorrow as I was told in a text message from the government (they are worse tham most teenage girls) - in other words, I must remind myself to use an alarm clock tomorrow morning since a can no longer rely on 7 am wake up calls from the local firecracker junkies.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Spring Festival - Part 3
The last few days of the first week of Spring festival were less chaotic yet still enjoyable. One Spring festival tradition that takes place outside the home is the maiohui, or temple festival. In Beijing, the most famous miaohui takes place at the Lama Temple and the neighboring Ditan Gongyuan, Temple of Earth. For those who practice Buddhism or for those accustomed to giving an annual prayer (not much different that my yearly church visit on Christmas eve), the Lama Temple has always been a popular destination. Thousands of Chinese (after purchasing a ticket, sometimes from scalpers) come her to partake in the ritual of lighting sticks on fire to pay homage to Buddha to ensure good fortune coming into the new year. With hundreds of people playing with fire and hot wax, I am surprised I haven't seen anybody go up in flames yet.
Across the street, the park holds a fair that includes performances, carnival style games, street food unique to the holiday, and of course hundreds of vendors selling Chinese trinkets (mostly crap). I was amazed to see the massive crowds cater to such a commercialized and seemingly uneventful event at a venue that transcends deep Chinese culture. If you ignore the culture completely, fine, but at least scale up the entertainment value at bit. It was like going to a carnival and discovering that there are no rides, just people who take your money in exchange for cotton candy or three beanbags that you can use to knock down a pyramid of soda bottles. And the stuffed animal prizes were far from cute, so forget about showing off in front of your girlfriend. On the up side, it was nice to see the crowds again after a week of walking around a ghost city.
Another activity of the week worth talking about was our visit to Dashanzi 798, a contemporary art district located in the northeast corner of Beijing. This expansive area had served as a large factory of sorts during the industrial movement implemented during Mao's reign. As large skyscrapers and residential neighborhoods began to blanket its surroundings, the art community decided to purchase the land and its old industrial facilities once used to manufacture electronics. Beginning in 2002, artists and cultural organizations began to divide, rent out, and re-make the factory spaces, gradually developing them into galleries, art centers, artists' studios, design companies, restaurants, and bars. It became a "Soho-esque" area of international character, replete with "loft living," attracting attention from all around. Bringing together contemporary art, architecture, and culture with a historically interesting location and an urban lifestyle, 798 has become an important addition to Beijing as well as the world as China's contemporary art develops and continues to attract investors from all over the world.
.....
I am officially done with the series "Spring Festival". From now on, I hope to scale down the length of each entry and hope to add more links and current events to this blog. Even though I think my mom and girlfriend are the only ones that read this, I also invite others to comment on stuff. I''ll see if I can juice things up a bit and refrain from too much storytelling.
Across the street, the park holds a fair that includes performances, carnival style games, street food unique to the holiday, and of course hundreds of vendors selling Chinese trinkets (mostly crap). I was amazed to see the massive crowds cater to such a commercialized and seemingly uneventful event at a venue that transcends deep Chinese culture. If you ignore the culture completely, fine, but at least scale up the entertainment value at bit. It was like going to a carnival and discovering that there are no rides, just people who take your money in exchange for cotton candy or three beanbags that you can use to knock down a pyramid of soda bottles. And the stuffed animal prizes were far from cute, so forget about showing off in front of your girlfriend. On the up side, it was nice to see the crowds again after a week of walking around a ghost city.
Another activity of the week worth talking about was our visit to Dashanzi 798, a contemporary art district located in the northeast corner of Beijing. This expansive area had served as a large factory of sorts during the industrial movement implemented during Mao's reign. As large skyscrapers and residential neighborhoods began to blanket its surroundings, the art community decided to purchase the land and its old industrial facilities once used to manufacture electronics. Beginning in 2002, artists and cultural organizations began to divide, rent out, and re-make the factory spaces, gradually developing them into galleries, art centers, artists' studios, design companies, restaurants, and bars. It became a "Soho-esque" area of international character, replete with "loft living," attracting attention from all around. Bringing together contemporary art, architecture, and culture with a historically interesting location and an urban lifestyle, 798 has become an important addition to Beijing as well as the world as China's contemporary art develops and continues to attract investors from all over the world.
.....
I am officially done with the series "Spring Festival". From now on, I hope to scale down the length of each entry and hope to add more links and current events to this blog. Even though I think my mom and girlfriend are the only ones that read this, I also invite others to comment on stuff. I''ll see if I can juice things up a bit and refrain from too much storytelling.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Spring Festival - Part 2
February 7
Much of Chinese New Years Day was spent revisiting the past. My friend and I spent the afternoon exploring our old campus while reminiscing. We were both disappointed but not suprised to see that the university was in the midst of a major facelift. The dining complex (a once noisy construction project that kept use awake many nights during our stay) had been completed, many dorms including ours were being renovated, and all the small shops including our beloved boazi (stemmed bun with meat inside) shack had disappearred to make way for an impressive athletic center. Beijing Foreign Language University has always been renowned for its language studies, but clearly it intends to compete on many other levels. Our classrooms were gutted, our favorite bar and restuarant destroyed, and young newbie Americans had taken up residence in our newly refurbished rooms - nothing is sacred in this city.
With no specific plans and a clear sky (an empty city translates into a week of blue skies) we headed north through Zhonguancun, the electronics center of Beijing. None of the resturants were open that day except for a few chains - luckily we happened upon a Japanese fast-food restuarant attached to a DQ. Although my ear was still out of whack, my hangover seemed to have resided at this point. The next leg of our journey brought us through Beida, Peking University. Although the typical swarms of students I was accustommed to while studying there were home for holiday, many families had come to ice skate on the university's Weiming Hu, No Name Lake. Actually, only a hand full could actually skate, many basically walking on their skates, while most had brought home made sleds with chairs on top and would use ski poles to push themselves along the rough ice (similar to what I had experienced in Harbin). Ice skaters in Central Park or at the Rockafeller Ice Rink look like Olympic skaters compared to these Chinese, but I must say this had no baring on their enjoyment (if the ice wasn't all messed up from the ski poles, I would have certainly loved to join them).
Chinese New Year this year happened to also be my girlfriend's birthday. We celebrated with a large Chinese meal with some friends at one of the more popular Chinese restuarant's in the area. We ate well although we were being pressured to leave early since many employees wanted to get home to see their families on this very important night. We continued the festivities at her bar which including multiple bottles of whiskey and a slew of drinking games, many falling under the realm of scandalous. If any of these photos resurface lets just say I will have a hard time running for political office - and I'll leave it at that.
On a side note, in 20 to 30 years, as my generation(a generation of facebook, digital cameras, and blogs) enters the the world of congressmen, judges, and even presidents, the skeletons should be interesting. And if they have no skeletons, that should raise some questions too.
Much of Chinese New Years Day was spent revisiting the past. My friend and I spent the afternoon exploring our old campus while reminiscing. We were both disappointed but not suprised to see that the university was in the midst of a major facelift. The dining complex (a once noisy construction project that kept use awake many nights during our stay) had been completed, many dorms including ours were being renovated, and all the small shops including our beloved boazi (stemmed bun with meat inside) shack had disappearred to make way for an impressive athletic center. Beijing Foreign Language University has always been renowned for its language studies, but clearly it intends to compete on many other levels. Our classrooms were gutted, our favorite bar and restuarant destroyed, and young newbie Americans had taken up residence in our newly refurbished rooms - nothing is sacred in this city.
With no specific plans and a clear sky (an empty city translates into a week of blue skies) we headed north through Zhonguancun, the electronics center of Beijing. None of the resturants were open that day except for a few chains - luckily we happened upon a Japanese fast-food restuarant attached to a DQ. Although my ear was still out of whack, my hangover seemed to have resided at this point. The next leg of our journey brought us through Beida, Peking University. Although the typical swarms of students I was accustommed to while studying there were home for holiday, many families had come to ice skate on the university's Weiming Hu, No Name Lake. Actually, only a hand full could actually skate, many basically walking on their skates, while most had brought home made sleds with chairs on top and would use ski poles to push themselves along the rough ice (similar to what I had experienced in Harbin). Ice skaters in Central Park or at the Rockafeller Ice Rink look like Olympic skaters compared to these Chinese, but I must say this had no baring on their enjoyment (if the ice wasn't all messed up from the ski poles, I would have certainly loved to join them).
Chinese New Year this year happened to also be my girlfriend's birthday. We celebrated with a large Chinese meal with some friends at one of the more popular Chinese restuarant's in the area. We ate well although we were being pressured to leave early since many employees wanted to get home to see their families on this very important night. We continued the festivities at her bar which including multiple bottles of whiskey and a slew of drinking games, many falling under the realm of scandalous. If any of these photos resurface lets just say I will have a hard time running for political office - and I'll leave it at that.
On a side note, in 20 to 30 years, as my generation(a generation of facebook, digital cameras, and blogs) enters the the world of congressmen, judges, and even presidents, the skeletons should be interesting. And if they have no skeletons, that should raise some questions too.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Spring Festival - Part 1
I've never done this before, but I will try to divide last week's experiences and revelations into a three part series. Besides documenting the Spring Festival for my own personal records, I also hope to share some interesting stories and insides on Chinese culture.
The enjoyment of this spring festival was compounded by the visitation of a great friend of mine and fellow Beiwai classmate of Fall '04. Studying at Beijing Foreign Language University during our semesters abroad, we discovered the city together while maintaining a sacred lifestyle of Chinese class, baozi, and 5 kuai beers. And after three long years, including a year of teaching English in Korea, we reunited in Beijing for another go at it (accompanied by 4 other teachers from Seoul). I'm not gotta lie, it was a most joyous occasion.
February 6
This day is deemed equivalent to our New Year's Eve. However, the festivities involved are somewhat different. First of all, the Spring Festival is a family oriented holiday, and therefore more wholesome in nature. You have children eating dumplings around the TV, only a few people on the streets, and practically every means of business including restuarants, bars, and even taxis comes to a halt. No champagne, no silly hats, no singing, no jumping up a screaming in a crowd of millions - but by no means is the city silent. If their is one think the Chinese New Year is best known for, it's the absurd amount of fireworks.
Before I get ahead of myself, our New Year's Eve began at a Hakka restuarant on the Houhai lake in the middle of Beijing. Hakka cuisine, although from Fujian Province, is considered an ethnic food in China since it is the food of one of China's ethnic minorities. I've lived in China for quite a while and to distinguish between and classify all the many varieties of Chinese cuisine is still a vexing conquest that I hope to one day overcome - I'll let you know when I do. After eating a great deal, the Thanksgiving aspect of Spring Festival, we strolled along the frozen lake as fireworks had already started to appear in every direction.
The main fanfare would naturally take place around midnight and with a few hours to kill, we headed to a popular but quiet hutong bar. I truly love Beijing's hutongs - while being unique to this ancient capital it also supplys new and enchanting suprises around every corner. Because the hutongs are so low, I usually get lost for hours using the sun as my guide, but in the dark, luck and a bit of intuition is all you can ask for (I'm not good with stars). At a hidden trendy expat bar called Bed Bar, we took off our shoes, played cards, and drank a bottle of Jameson, or two?
When we reemerged to join in on the public celebration between the Bell Tower and Drum Tower (originally built during the Han dynasty to help keep time - today they stand merely as historical monuments), we immediately put our firecrackers and fireworks into use. As I had expected, experiencing last years chaos, hundreds of small and beautiful explosions had engulfed the area and all senses were temporarily disabled. I made the unfortunate mistake of helpping a gang of men set off a number of firecrackers at once. Because of a faulty lighter and foolish perserverance, I endured a hundred or so cracks two feet away from my ear drums before jumping to safety. I still have a serious ring in my ear, and although no blood has come out, I'm still a bit concerned - I'll give it another week before seeking medical attention. My eyes and ears and nose (form the excess sulfur) were so out of whack, I insisted on moving the night along.
After waiting endlessly for a taxi, we made our way to a house party hosted by an American friend of mine (who also part-took in that disgraceful Body Slendor infomercial). It was a perfectly chill party with copious amounts alcoholic beverages and great view of the middle of Beijing. I was done rocking hard while trying to nurse my ear, but one of our mates from Seoul, a Korean American with a eat anything drink anything attitude, unexpectedely downs a half a bottle of baijiu (Chinese rice wine and possibly one of the strongest and most putrid drinks in the world). Clearly, he had to be nursed for the rest of the night.
All in all, we ate well, we played with fire, and since none of us could celebrate Spring Festival in a traditional family setting, we had no choice but celebrate Chinese New Years in typical Western way.... party!!!
The enjoyment of this spring festival was compounded by the visitation of a great friend of mine and fellow Beiwai classmate of Fall '04. Studying at Beijing Foreign Language University during our semesters abroad, we discovered the city together while maintaining a sacred lifestyle of Chinese class, baozi, and 5 kuai beers. And after three long years, including a year of teaching English in Korea, we reunited in Beijing for another go at it (accompanied by 4 other teachers from Seoul). I'm not gotta lie, it was a most joyous occasion.
February 6
This day is deemed equivalent to our New Year's Eve. However, the festivities involved are somewhat different. First of all, the Spring Festival is a family oriented holiday, and therefore more wholesome in nature. You have children eating dumplings around the TV, only a few people on the streets, and practically every means of business including restuarants, bars, and even taxis comes to a halt. No champagne, no silly hats, no singing, no jumping up a screaming in a crowd of millions - but by no means is the city silent. If their is one think the Chinese New Year is best known for, it's the absurd amount of fireworks.
Before I get ahead of myself, our New Year's Eve began at a Hakka restuarant on the Houhai lake in the middle of Beijing. Hakka cuisine, although from Fujian Province, is considered an ethnic food in China since it is the food of one of China's ethnic minorities. I've lived in China for quite a while and to distinguish between and classify all the many varieties of Chinese cuisine is still a vexing conquest that I hope to one day overcome - I'll let you know when I do. After eating a great deal, the Thanksgiving aspect of Spring Festival, we strolled along the frozen lake as fireworks had already started to appear in every direction.
The main fanfare would naturally take place around midnight and with a few hours to kill, we headed to a popular but quiet hutong bar. I truly love Beijing's hutongs - while being unique to this ancient capital it also supplys new and enchanting suprises around every corner. Because the hutongs are so low, I usually get lost for hours using the sun as my guide, but in the dark, luck and a bit of intuition is all you can ask for (I'm not good with stars). At a hidden trendy expat bar called Bed Bar, we took off our shoes, played cards, and drank a bottle of Jameson, or two?
When we reemerged to join in on the public celebration between the Bell Tower and Drum Tower (originally built during the Han dynasty to help keep time - today they stand merely as historical monuments), we immediately put our firecrackers and fireworks into use. As I had expected, experiencing last years chaos, hundreds of small and beautiful explosions had engulfed the area and all senses were temporarily disabled. I made the unfortunate mistake of helpping a gang of men set off a number of firecrackers at once. Because of a faulty lighter and foolish perserverance, I endured a hundred or so cracks two feet away from my ear drums before jumping to safety. I still have a serious ring in my ear, and although no blood has come out, I'm still a bit concerned - I'll give it another week before seeking medical attention. My eyes and ears and nose (form the excess sulfur) were so out of whack, I insisted on moving the night along.
After waiting endlessly for a taxi, we made our way to a house party hosted by an American friend of mine (who also part-took in that disgraceful Body Slendor infomercial). It was a perfectly chill party with copious amounts alcoholic beverages and great view of the middle of Beijing. I was done rocking hard while trying to nurse my ear, but one of our mates from Seoul, a Korean American with a eat anything drink anything attitude, unexpectedely downs a half a bottle of baijiu (Chinese rice wine and possibly one of the strongest and most putrid drinks in the world). Clearly, he had to be nursed for the rest of the night.
All in all, we ate well, we played with fire, and since none of us could celebrate Spring Festival in a traditional family setting, we had no choice but celebrate Chinese New Years in typical Western way.... party!!!
Super!!!!!!
Last Wednesday China celebrated the New Year and the debauchery that followed will take some to time to type out. Therefore, this post will talk about last week's two super events in the States - the Super Bowl and Super Tuesday.
Actually, I was a little bummed out about missing the Superbowl. My plan was to get up at 5:30 am that Monday morning and hike over to The Goose 'n Duck, a popular Beijing sports bar, to watch the whole game on their illegal satellite system. Satellites in China are illegal but most cops don't seem to mind especially if you are a foreigner or a business that caters to foreigners. My mistake was spending all night explaining the rules of football to my Korean friend while drinking Soju, Korean rice wine. We both passed out at my place and when I finally woke up it was already the 4th quarter. Although I couldn't find a live stream of the game on the internet, I was able to connect to a Detroit radio broadcast from my iTunes. I had seen thousands of football games throughout my life, so my imagination guided by the words of the announcer was just as entertaining (or more). I also relished in the fact that the last ten minutes of the game were by far the most exciting and that the NY Giants, the underdog and my favorite team since I was a boy, triumphed over the show-boaty Patriots and their uncouth Bostonian supporters. I miss football.
Super Tuesday has also made big headlines in Asia. I am a strong Obama supporter and I have been following his campaign and the results of the primaries vigoursly on the internet. I am very informed and often get information faster than my counterparts in the US (mainly because I can read the NY Times morning edition before everyone at home wakes up). I also belong to a group of 30 expats in Beijing that are Obama supporters and are looking for ways to add our bit to the race, besides the obvious donation.
I have clearly been inspired by Barack Obama and his message and with this sudden interest in US politics, I begin to remember why I love my country so much. It may just be a slogan to you and political rhetoric to others, but "Yes, we can" means a lot to me. Living in Beijing, you are conditioned to except the government as a supreme authority. The policies and institutions in place can not be dictates by individuals but rather a small group of Communist officials. The democratic ideals behind "Yes, we can" should not and can not be taken for granted. The US and the democractic system we live under by no means is flawless nor infallible, but we should be proud of how exceptional we live as a united and free people. In Beijing, the slogan might as well be, "No, you can't" or as they like to say Mei Banfa.
I miss the U.S. of A.
Actually, I was a little bummed out about missing the Superbowl. My plan was to get up at 5:30 am that Monday morning and hike over to The Goose 'n Duck, a popular Beijing sports bar, to watch the whole game on their illegal satellite system. Satellites in China are illegal but most cops don't seem to mind especially if you are a foreigner or a business that caters to foreigners. My mistake was spending all night explaining the rules of football to my Korean friend while drinking Soju, Korean rice wine. We both passed out at my place and when I finally woke up it was already the 4th quarter. Although I couldn't find a live stream of the game on the internet, I was able to connect to a Detroit radio broadcast from my iTunes. I had seen thousands of football games throughout my life, so my imagination guided by the words of the announcer was just as entertaining (or more). I also relished in the fact that the last ten minutes of the game were by far the most exciting and that the NY Giants, the underdog and my favorite team since I was a boy, triumphed over the show-boaty Patriots and their uncouth Bostonian supporters. I miss football.
Super Tuesday has also made big headlines in Asia. I am a strong Obama supporter and I have been following his campaign and the results of the primaries vigoursly on the internet. I am very informed and often get information faster than my counterparts in the US (mainly because I can read the NY Times morning edition before everyone at home wakes up). I also belong to a group of 30 expats in Beijing that are Obama supporters and are looking for ways to add our bit to the race, besides the obvious donation.
I have clearly been inspired by Barack Obama and his message and with this sudden interest in US politics, I begin to remember why I love my country so much. It may just be a slogan to you and political rhetoric to others, but "Yes, we can" means a lot to me. Living in Beijing, you are conditioned to except the government as a supreme authority. The policies and institutions in place can not be dictates by individuals but rather a small group of Communist officials. The democratic ideals behind "Yes, we can" should not and can not be taken for granted. The US and the democractic system we live under by no means is flawless nor infallible, but we should be proud of how exceptional we live as a united and free people. In Beijing, the slogan might as well be, "No, you can't" or as they like to say Mei Banfa.
I miss the U.S. of A.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
So Close
An accomplishment worthy of praise in Beijing is the ability to hold onto a single bicycle over the course of one year. With only weeks away from reaching this extraordinary achievement, I discover that my bike had been stolen.
The weeks leading up to the Chinese Festival, many workers try to make that extra bonus to surprise their families with when they return home for the holidays. Some of the more unfortunate, however, do not have much to show for their year of laboring spent on the coast. Petty theft escalates during the month of January, and bikes disappear in the thousands.
What upsets me the most is that my bike was parked near one of the gates of my apartment complex where security guards stand 24-7. The bikes in this makeshift parking lot seemed to have been recently reorganized by someone (obviously a worker, or a resident with obsessive compulsive disorder). My theory was that the baoan (security guards) had stolen my bike – a very common occurrence all across the city. A Chinese woman and Korean man came to my side to help solve the crime by questioning them followed by harsh accusations against these punk teenage baoan.
In the heat of the moment, I made the mistake of calling the local police who did nothing but harass me and accuse me of not locking my bike. When I realized the baoan and the jingcha (cops) were both against me and wanted me to give them my passport information and head down to the station to file a report, I quickly turned of my Chinese and said “So sorry, I must go home now, Bye.”
Later that day, the cab driver, my sagacious daily advisor, told me that there was an 80% chance the baoan stole my bike, and advised me to keep it parked in my building from now on. He comforted me with his portrayal of a developing but incomplete society and said this is just the way things are in China …. Mei Banfa.
The weeks leading up to the Chinese Festival, many workers try to make that extra bonus to surprise their families with when they return home for the holidays. Some of the more unfortunate, however, do not have much to show for their year of laboring spent on the coast. Petty theft escalates during the month of January, and bikes disappear in the thousands.
What upsets me the most is that my bike was parked near one of the gates of my apartment complex where security guards stand 24-7. The bikes in this makeshift parking lot seemed to have been recently reorganized by someone (obviously a worker, or a resident with obsessive compulsive disorder). My theory was that the baoan (security guards) had stolen my bike – a very common occurrence all across the city. A Chinese woman and Korean man came to my side to help solve the crime by questioning them followed by harsh accusations against these punk teenage baoan.
In the heat of the moment, I made the mistake of calling the local police who did nothing but harass me and accuse me of not locking my bike. When I realized the baoan and the jingcha (cops) were both against me and wanted me to give them my passport information and head down to the station to file a report, I quickly turned of my Chinese and said “So sorry, I must go home now, Bye.”
Later that day, the cab driver, my sagacious daily advisor, told me that there was an 80% chance the baoan stole my bike, and advised me to keep it parked in my building from now on. He comforted me with his portrayal of a developing but incomplete society and said this is just the way things are in China …. Mei Banfa.
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