Crash weight gain/harmonised

Hi blogwatchers,

As some of you may know, I’m currently back in Britain on the crash weight-gaining course that some folks call ‘Christmas’, and it’s nice to be home and to see everyone again.  As some of you are also aware (and have vociferously pointed out!), the always sporadic postings on this site completely dried up in December.  This is because some time earlier this month chengdon’t was ‘harmonised’ in mainland China, and despite my best efforts to find a way around the bl0ck it remains in place.  As I’m able to access it here I’ve made a few changes that might help sneak it past, but to be honest I’ve had a look through the whole site and am baffled as to what I could have written that has triggered this in the first place.

So, if everyone could bear with me during this difficult time I’d be very grateful, and if any loyal blogwatchers have any suggestions for the circumnavigation of the GFW that don’t involve my credit card I’d be delighted to hear them!

Until then my friends, have an enjoyable festive season and an unrepentant new year.  Good luck and good tasty, zaijian!

 

Yak-attack!

The beast stopped abruptly in its tracks – it had spotted our rather feeble hiding place in the undergrowth. It eyed us suspiciously, snorted and then began to scrape the ground with its enormous hoof.  I couldn’t help noticing how sharp the tips of its horns were as they glinted in the dappled sunlight.  We were halfway up a hill in the middle of nowhere, cowering in the bushes on the side of a dirt-track just yards away from a huge, hairy and extremely disgruntled yak.

It had all started so well.  My girlfriend Isabel and I had arrived at Zhuo Ma’s T1betan home stay in the beautiful Shang Si Zhai valley the day before.  Nestled about 20 minutes drive from increasingly popular tourist destination Jiuzhaigou National Park in northern Sichuan, the valley boasts stunning views and some of the friendliest people you’re ever likely to meet.

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(Jiuzhaigou National Park in winter, courtesy of Kieran Fitzgerald)

The morning had begun in peculiar but intriguing fashion when we were awoken by chanting monks, who were apparently blessing the newly re-opened home stay.  A mobile phone suddenly cut through the rhythmical recital, and the chanting stopped while one of the monks chatted away for a few minutes.  The call ended and the chanting resumed again.

After a breakfast of fresh flatbread and homemade honey, Zhuo Ma, the delightful owner of the home stay walked us up to the foot of the valley, and pointing a finger towards a set of prayer flags in the middle distance told us we should walk up to the circle of flags to get the best views of the surrounding area.  Then, as it was our first day, it was probably best to head back and get some lunch, as the climb up to the top of the valley was quite tricky and she didn’t advise it for people who were new to the area.

It was shortly after passing the prayer flags (and the breathtaking views) that we made our first mistake.  It was a lovely day, and as we’d made such good progress why not go on for a bit?  Surely at the top of the heavily forested nearby peak the views would be even better? However, the path soon changed from a well-trodden thoroughfare to a muddy single-track trail and the trees and undergrowth seemed to condense and move a triffid-like two steps forward.

Out of the blue the sound of thundering hooves filled the air, and from around the corner two enormous yaks came barrelling down the hill.  “Get off the track!” I shouted, and jumped up the bank.  My girlfriend jumped down, twisting her ankle in the process, and once the yaks had past I hopped down to make sure everything was alright.  It was at that point that the biggest, hairiest yak I’d ever seen came trotting leisurely along, coming to an abrupt halt right next to us.

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It looked at us and we looked at it, and for a few seconds man, woman and beast stood stock-still, contemplating each other.  It ran through my mind to take a picture – after all it’s not every day you’re just metres away from half a tonne of hairy livestock, but then knowing my luck the flash would have gone off and all hell would have broken loose, so I decided against it.  After what seemed like a lifetime, the yak suddenly tossed its head into the air, snorted and then trotted disdainfully off down the hill.

A lucky escape and one that we’ll have hopefully learn a few lessons from.  Firstly that nature, however beautiful, should be admired but also treated with respect.  Secondly, listening to local guides is a good idea – they tend to know a little bit more about their area than you do!  Despite the unfortunate incident with the yak in the daytime we had a wonderful time pottering round the valley and surrounding parks, and would thoroughly recommend both the area and the home stay to anyone with a little sense of adventure!

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Singles’ Day

Chinese Singles’ Day    光根节 – Match-making in the middle kingdom

You could say that romantics in China are spoilt for choice.  Not only do young Chinese celebrate the western festival of romance that is Valentine’s Day, but the Chinese also have their own day traditionally devoted to love.  Qi Xi (七夕), or the seventh eve, is often referred to as Chinese Valentine’s Day, but is also known as the Seven Sisters Festival or the Festival of the Double Sevens.  It is celebrated on the seventh day of the seventh month in the Chinese lunar calendar (August 26th this year), and while the annual gift-buying frenzy synonymous with February the 14th does not take place, there are many customs associated with this day of romance that lovers can partake in.

However, if the prospect of a second Valentine’s Day fills you with dread then November in China has just the thing.  For groups of young western (and increasingly large numbers of Chinese) singles, it has also become customary to organise a sort of “anti-Valentine’s” get-together on the day itself fourteenth, but here the Chinese go one better and have a dedicated singles’ day on November the eleventh.  Also known as bachelors’ day, in Chinese the day is called 光棍节 (guāng gùn jié or ‘single stick festival’).

singles day3

The idea originated from the early 1990s, when college students in Nanjing first put forward the idea of choosing the day as a festival for single people and began organizing match-making parties on campus.  The date was chosen because the date “11/11″ consists of four 1’s, and first became a hit on university campuses in the area then spread throughout the whole country.

As it is no longer such a huge taboo for an adult to be single in Chinese society, singles’ day is seen as a chance for young people to shake off parental pressure to marry.  They go out to clubs and karaoke bars to have a good time or attend organised matchmaking events, and at these events ‘guang-guangs’ and ‘ming-mings’ (internet slang for single men and women respectively) are paired up in order of suitability through pre-prepared internet questionnaires to try and find their Mr. or Miss. Right.  Some universities hold masked balls to help Chinese singles overcome their initial shyness, and ‘blind date’ parties where singles are introduced through mutual friends are also quite common.

In Shanghai’s People’s Park a huge crowd of people gather every Sunday morning to search for love, but the difference here is that these are not generally single people themselves, but rather worried parents or grandparents who come along to try and speed up their errant offspring’s marital timeline.  The done thing appears to be to write your vital statistics on a piece of paper (age, height, weight, telephone number, place of employment and income), attach a photo and peg it to a line for other match-makers to investigate.  If you’re so inclined there’s even a foreigner section!

singles day4

Other customs that have evolved around singles’ day include breakfasting on four youtiao (deep-fried dough sticks) which represent the four ones in 11.11 and one baozi (steamed stuffed bun) to symbolize the middle dot in the date.  This practice is supposed to bring the breakfaster good luck in their love life for the coming year.

With statistics showing that among Chinese in the 22-49 age bracket, males outnumber females by over 20 million, events organized on singles’ day are rising every year and will surely only continue to increase in number as millions of young, single Chinese go looking for love in an increasingly competitive and crowded marketplace.

 

Weighty issues

Now, if I may I’d like to to talk about a rather sensitive subject, (or should I say a rather sensitive subject in the West) – the thorny issue of weight.  I’ll be the first to admit that since taking over the editorship I have put on a few pounds.  The late nights and early starts, the lunches with contributors and clients and the lack of any regular life structure to fit an exercise regime around have all taken their toll on my waistband elastic.

On a recent visit back home friends and family were kind enough not to comment on my new-found girth (well, to my face anyway!), but this doesn’t seem to be the way to go for the straight-shooting Chinese.  They prefer to call a fatty a fatty and get it out in the open, even though according to a few of my friends here most Chinese realise that their doing so probably would offend most westerners.

My colleague Xiao He was the first to succumb to temptation when I bumped into him in the corridor last month.  “Hey!” he said cheerfully, stopping to jab a finger into my belly, “you’ve got really fat lately!”

Our new marketing girl also decided to chip in with her two jiao’s worth, and in the middle of our first full conversation she casually dropped in  “by the way, I think you should lose some weight.”  “Why?  I’m perfectly happy the way I am” I lied though gritted teeth. “Why not!” was her earnest but nonetheless irritating reply.

However, the icing on the double-chocolate black forest gateaux came from a rather unlikely source – our estate agent ‘Scott’.  My girlfriend and I recently moved apartments, and after the formalities and squabbles over minor items of furniture with the landlord everyone was preparing to head home.  Suddenly Scott reached into his shiny faux-leather bag and pulled out a Kodak photograph wallet, from which he extracted a series of ‘before’ and ‘after’ shots of chubby Chinese who had attained Bruce Lee-like physiques by taking ‘special’ herbal supplements.  “I think Chinese medicine can help you with your problem”, he whispered.

Needless to say I gave Scott’s remedies a wide birth, instead grudgingly forking out the money for gym membership and dreading the months of treadmill toil that lay ahead of me.  And this got me thinking – maybe in a really strange way the Chinese method of dieting does work?  Playing the shame-game forced me back to gym to stop the comments – perhaps that’s why the Chinese are so thin?  Hmm… on second thoughts probably not! Also in some situations being fat is a sign of wealth and prosperity, so perhaps they were paying me a compliment…?

It’s interesting though to see the change in body shape through the generations here.  Go to any of the numerous fast food outlets in Chinese city centres and it’s not uncommon to see a doting, stick-thing granny or grandpa, a slightly pudgy parent and a rosy, chubby-cheeked child stuffing chips like there’s no tomorrow.  So is this the beginning of the end for the traditional Chinese physique, or will global advances in food education and health mean that China will skip the fatty-food stage and move straight onto the next level?  I guess only time will tell.

 

Windy Eyes and Hairy Babies

All two my regular readers may remember from last year that the local shop in our compound was staffed by old Mr. He, who liked his Christmas decorations so much that he kept them up all year round and sported a Sichuanese accent so thick you needed a chainsaw to get through it. Sadly when our little store reopened after the Spring Festival break, it turned out that Mr. He had been gracefully retired by the powers that be and he was replaced by a friendly young couple from out of town, Xiao Feng and Xiao Ke.

Xiao Ke was already sporting the Chinese symbol of maternity that is the fetching blue dinner-lady’s tabard which all pregnant Chinese women seem to wear, partly to show off their status and partly to avoid being shoved over while ‘queuing’ for the bus.  Over the coming months she blossomed and grew until earlier this month she finally gave birth to a baby girl.  Naturally (well, naturally for me anyway) I asked Xiao Feng if she would be bringing the baby into the shop any time soon.  He looked at me as if I’d gone completely insane.

He patiently explained to me that if Xiao Ke left the house in the next month she would develop a condition I could roughly translate as ‘windy eyes’.  This mystified me at first, but with a little internet research I found that the windy eye condition is more commonly know as a ‘sitting month’ in other parts Asia.  During this month the new mother must stay in doors for at least thirty days, but this period of time can actually be as long as three months depending on how her mother-in-law (who acts as a kind of bodyguard during the pregnancy and the child’s early infancy) thinks she’s doing.

This in turn got me thinking; in a country that must rank among the most superstitious in the world, were they any other seemingly random quirks that needed to be observed during the child-bearing period in the middle kingdom?  Here are a few collected from Chinese friends and colleagues in a completely random, unscientific survey:

  • According to the laws of Chinese traditional medicine, pregnancy and childbirth are considered ‘hot’ conditions. To prevent complications and to avoid upsetting the balance of ‘hot and cold’ after giving birth the woman must avoid showering, washing her hair or exposing herself to potentially cold conditions such as open windows, drafts, air conditioning or doorways for the entire sitting month.
  • Women who are with child should also try to always think happy thoughts so their babies will grow up being happy, and expectant mothers must avoid any praise about the unborn child during the pregnancy as this will attract the attention of evil spirits. They must not criticize others, or the baby will resemble the person they criticize.  It’s also a good idea to hang posters of cute babies around the house, as the constant sight of these perfect little specimens will mean that their children will also be pretty or handsome.
  • In terms of food and general nutrition, it’s generally not a good idea to eat rabbit, as it’s believed in some parts of Sichuan that this will cause the baby to be overly hairy and/or come out albino.  Pregnant women should also avoid eating rooster, as this means the child will be born prematurely.
  • For the birth itself, squatting is ideal position; if you lie down on your back the baby will have no energy to come out, and will thereafter be listless and lazy.
  • 3 months before and after the child is born, the mother should not sit on a bench next to other pregnant women, as this will mean that she will not have enough milk to feed to the baby.
  • One month after the child is born a special ceremony takes place where several objects are placed before the infant such as money, a book or a farm tool.  Whichever object the baby grasps first acts as an omen for the child’s future – perhaps they will make bundles of cash, study hard or work the fields?  The answer is all in the ritual!

So, congratulations to the proud parents, and plenty to ponder on as I wait for Xiao Ke to arrive at the shop with her new little bundle of joy.  No offence intended, but I hope she’s taken a shower before she gets here…

 

Mid-Autumn Festival

The legend of Chang’e – the bunny-girl in the moon

As those of you in China will probably be well aware from the enormous quantities of moon-cakes stacked from floor to ceiling in all supermarkets, mid-autumn festival is almost upon us.  Although a certain 60th anniversary has slightly overshadowed it this year, the ‘full-moon’ festival will still be celebrated up and down the middle kingdom in various different ways, including the eating of ‘moon cakes’ and the worshipping of the moon god ‘Chang’e.  The tale of Chang’e and her husband Houyi is an ancient eastern classic, and like most other Chinese fairytales there are many versions.  One of the most commonly told is as follows:

Chang’e was a beautiful young girl working up in heaven where immortals and other good folk lived, ruled over by the all-powerful Jade Emperor. One day, she accidentally broke a precious porcelain jar. Angered, the Jade Emperor banished her to live on earth, and Chang’e was transformed into the daughter of a poor farming family. When she was 18, she met a young hunter from another village called Houyi, and they became lovers.

mid-autumn-festival

One day, a strange phenomenon occurred – 10 suns arose in the sky instead of one, scorching the planet and everyone on it.  Houyi, an expert archer, stepped forward to try and save the earth.  He successfully shot down nine of the suns, becoming an instant hero and eventually becoming a King and marrying Chang’e.  However, King Houyi grew to become a tyrant.  Seeking immortality, he ordered an elixir be created to prolong his life. This elixir was in the form of a single pill given to him by the Earth Mother of the West, who warned him that to gain immortality he should only take half the pill.

King Houyi stored the pill in a case, and one day Chang’e happened to come across this mysterious box.  Much like Pandora in Greek mythology she opened it, and (depending on the version) deliberately or accidentally swallowed the pill. This angered King Houyi, who went after his wife. Trying to flee she jumped out a window at the top of palace, and because of the pill’s effects instead of falling she floated into the sky and all the way to the moon.  Although Chang’e was lonely on the moon, she did have a rabbit to keep her company, who according to legend spends all of eternity mixing the elixir of eternal youth.

On mid-autumn festival day (this year falling on the 3rd of October), an altar is set up in the open air facing the moon to worship the beauty of Chang’e, and most Chinese eat Moon Cakes to celebrate.  Moon Cakes symbolize the full moon, and are intrinsically linked with the mid-autumn festival and Chang’e.  Traditional moon cakes have an imprint on top consisting of the Chinese characters for “longevity” or “harmony” as well as the name of the bakery and the cake filling.

This legend is deeply etched into the hearts and minds of the Chinese, and China’s first moon probe was named Chang’e 1 in honour of the goddess.  However, the story of Chang’e is not just limited to Chinese space travel; before America’s first moon landing in 1969, this conversation between the shuttle Apollo’s mission control in Houston and astronaut Michael Collins on board the ship took place:

Houston: “Among the headlines concerning Apollo this morning there’s one asking that you watch for a lovely girl with a big rabbit. An ancient legend says a beautiful Chinese girl called Chang-o has been living there for 4000 years. It seems she was banished to the moon because she stole the pill for immortality from her husband. You might also look for her companion, a large Chinese rabbit.  The name of the rabbit is not recorded”.

Collins: “Okay, we’ll keep a close eye for the bunny girl”.

bunny girl

 

Wang Anting’s Little Exhibition/Chengdu’s Mao Museum

Even as a young blog circulating the streets of South West England, Chengdon’t was always an inquisitive publication and, despite the felicidal warnings about curiosity taught to us by old Grandma Chengdon’t remains so to this day.  Therefore it should come as no surprise to regular readers that after receiving a tip-off from a friend about a man in Chengdu running a Chairman Mao memorial museum from his house, dashed over there as recklessly as a local taxi driver needing to get home quickly after too much green tea.

Tucked away on a side-street a few blocks North West of Chengdu’s central Tianfu square you’ll find Wang Anting’s Little Exhibition.  And little it certainly is, as the whole museum takes up the entirety of Mr. Wang’s cluttered and dusty one-room house, with most of the ‘exhibits’ piled high on top of each other.  Mr. Wang, 75, has been running his exhibition for over 20 years, although recently due to ill health he hasn’t had too much time to devote to cleaning and organising his collection.  He shuffles out on two walking sticks to greet us, his hearing aid crackling loudly and echoing every time he speaks.  Despite his ailments he still seems full of beans and answers our questions in a broad Sichuan dialect.

Mao pottery resize

As a youngster in China in the early 50s Mr. Wang was desperate to join up with his friends and fight in the Korean War, but in his own words “I wasn’t a good enough soldier – you need to be really good to fight for your country abroad you know!”  Instead he was one of the first workers from the People’s Republic of China to enter T1bet as a lumberjack.

After returning to Chengdu he began his own personal homage to Mao Zedong, the then leader of the newly formed People’s Republic of China, which now boasts an incredible 50,000 badges, posters, portraits and busts of his beloved Chairman displayed in his home and sustained by patrons offering voluntary contributions to enter if they could afford it.  Looking at the guest book there seemed to have been a stream of both Chinese and foreign visitors, with one American admirer so enamoured by the exhibition that he sent a special Chairman Mao T-shirt over from the US as he thought Mr. Wang might like it.

Posters and t-shirts resize

Now, sadly, it seems as though time and tide has caught up with Mr. Wang and his collection, both of which are looking a little ragged around the edges, and the curator is looking at handing the care of his collection to a new custodian. “I’d be happy to let someone else have the museum – for the right price!” he quips.  “I don’t want to just give my collection away to children, they have no idea what Chairman Mao represents, and would just throw my badges away.  I need someone who can appreciate them and keep his memory alive”.

Mao badges resize

After finally leaving Mr. Wang to his thoughts and his badges, one would imagine that most visitors probably go through a range of mixed emotions.  What should one be feeling now?  Fascination at having seen possibly one of the largest collections of contemporary Chinese historical items known to man?  Guilt at having only handed over a voluntary donation to see it?  Pity for the old custodian and his exhibits slowly decaying in decrepit surroundings?  For this magazine at least, all of the above and more were true, but one thing is certain, if you feel the inclination to visit you won’t leave Wang Anting’s Little Exhibition unmoved.

Wanganting's little exhibition

The Exhibition is open on weekdays and Saturdays from 10am to 6pm.  There is no formal entrance charge, but if you wish to take photos of the exhibits or curators expect to be asked for a small donation.

Wang Anting’s Small Exhibition (王安廷小小展览馆)

Address: 23 Wufu Street (地址: 成都市五福街23号)

 

One motorbike – Eight people

Photo(s) of the week

Found this a while back, it surely must be the holy grail of China-bike photography – can anyone beat this?  Is it even possible?

china-motorcycle-8-people-01

china-motorcycle-8-people-02

 

Globalisation and Green Hats

Let’s go back in time to the early ‘80s, and Deng Xiao Ping, leader of the Chinese Communist Party, veteran of the Long March and seen by many as the founding father of modern China was touring the United States.  Part of the state visit saw Deng and his entourage pay a visit to the east coast seat of learning Boston.  After the business of the day was complete, Mr. Deng’s diplomatic counterparts decided to take him to see that most American of institutions, a basketball game at the team founded in tribute to the city’s Irish community, the Boston Celtics.

Boston celtics deng xiaoping

All was going well and the Chinese delegation seemed to be enjoying the action when things suddenly and unexpectedly took a turn for the worst.  As a token of friendship to commemorate the occasion, a state official attempted to present the Chinese leader with one of the Celtic’s trademark green hats, but instead of accepting it the usually unflappable Deng looked horrified, not only refusing to accept the hat, but vigorously and repeatedly pushed it away.  Bemused, the hat-giver looked over at the rest of Deng’s group, all of whom were looking as shocked as their illustrious leader.  The reason for such an extreme reaction?  Well, the phrase ‘wearing a green hat’ in Chinese mocks a man’s masculinity, as it implies that his partner is cheating on him.

cheating

In one sense adapting to life in China isn’t the enormous cultural leap that many who have yet to visit this vast and diverse nation imagine.  Globalising influences like television, movies and the internet have narrowed cultural divides, and especially in larger, more economically developed cities such as Shanghai or Beijing the Chinese are so used to dealing with foreigners that one can walk down the street without attracting so much as a solitary ‘hello!’

hallo

In modern China there are no vast religious, political or ideological barriers to adapting to life here that one might find in some parts of South America or the Middle East, and the Chinese themselves are, on the whole, a practical and flexible (if superstitious) race.  This flexibility may well be part of the reason that most Chinese who move abroad adapt and integrate relatively well into whatever society they arrive in.

However, with a country that was cut off from the rest of the world for the best part of the twentieth century there will inevitably be differences in attitudes and outlooks that come into play when people from two different societies meet, with the green hat incident serving as a high profile example of this.  Incidentally, I’m pretty sure that this particular issue has reared its colourful head in a diplomatic setting at least one before.  Sitting proudly in Beijing’s National War museum, presented to the head of the People’s Liberation Army by his counterpart in the Australian forces is a faded slouch or bush hat that makes up part of the antipodean country’s military uniform – in green.  It must have been a brave official who handed a green hat over to the head of the world’s biggest army!

chinese-army

There are countless other little cultural or linguistic faux-pas that an unwary and unprepared visitor can make in China, a selection of which can be found in the side bars, some of which are understandable, others slightly less so.  However, as pointed out above, none of these represent a catastrophic or unforgivable error, as most Chinese understand that their cultural norms are different to most other societies, and don’t generally take offense when these minor indiscretions are committed.  On rare occasions can even be an amusing way to break the ice between strangers from different lands!  Still, it’s probably best to leave that Celtics hat back at home for now, just in case…

  • Never give a clock, as song zhong (the Chinese for give clock) sounds very similar to the phrase for making funeral arrangements, and clocks also represents time running out or slipping away i.e. impending death (strangely giving watches are ok)
  • Scissors and knives symbolize the cutting of ties – not such a good move, especially when trying to forge a relationship with a new Chinese business partner
  • Giving an umbrella (or yu san in Mandarin) is not recommended, as the san can also mean to crumple or disintegrate, and you don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade!
  • Shoes are not a good gift, as xie sounds similar to the mandarin for evil
  • ‘Giving a book’ in the Chinese language sounds the same as ‘delivering defeat’
  • Never wrap your gifts in white or black paper.  Colours are important, red is lucky and used for celebrations, and white and black are bad as they associated with death
  • When at a Chinese banquet, always try to leave a small amount of food left in your bowl when you are full.  Failure to do so symbolizes that your host didn’t serve you enough food – a grave insult in China’s culture of hospitality
  • Also food related – do not stab your chopsticks into your rice bowl and leave them propped up, and this resembles incense sticks burnt at family graves – yet another reminder of death
  • Numbers are also important, and just as the number 13 is an ill omen in the west, so the number 4 is frowned upon as it sounds similar to the Chinese word for death
 

Fishy goings on in Dalian…

Sorry, my childish nature couldn’t resist posting this story from the China Daily’s Society pages:

Fish bite man in wrong place during spa treatment

Fish that are supposed to clear people’s skin by eating off the dead layers bit a man’s private parts after he stepped in the water naked at a hot spring club in Dalian, Liaoning province.

The man, who had visited the spa for a “special water treatment”, sat in the water for half an hour without realizing the special fish were nibbling on his special parts instead of the dead skin.

The manager of the club saw the man bleeding as he stepped out of the water and rushed him to a nearby hospital.

The manager however refused to compensate the man, saying it was mandatory to keep pants on during treatments in the club”

My favourite thing about the whole article is the headline, it’s so no-nonsense Chinese – “fish bite man in wrong place”.  That’s exactly what happened!

*inserts mandatory picture of Kenneth Williams*

Ooh