Here’s a advertisement that was featured on Shanghaiist a while back for Chinese trading website alibaba. I’ve only just my act together to put it on, but it’s worth the wait!
Since Chengdu’s tragic bus fire earlier this month, sights like these have become more prevalent (although not usually this extreme…)
(apologies for the quality)
We reach the 3rd floor and the lift doors slide open. Leaning casually in the doorway to the nightclub is a man with a magnificent beer-gut. He’s stripped to the waist, sweating profusely and judging from his general demeanour has probably been drinking heavily. He appears momentarily stunned at the sight of four foreigners approaching, but quickly regains his composure. “Helloooo!” He roars, “Welcome to Chinaaaaa!” Behind him four slightly younger (and slimmer) but equally topless (and equally drunken) men shuffle slowly by, each with their hands placed on the man in front’s shoulders in a kind of sedated conga-line. We slip past, through the metal-detector and into the dark, booming inferno beyond…
To be honest, when it comes to nightclubs I’m with liberal hero Charlie Brooker: “I hated them when I was 19 and I hate them today. I just don’t have to pretend any more”. Personally, they’re just not places I’ve ever felt comfortable in. When the idea was raised at the magazine’s content meeting that I should write about a Chinese nightclub I must admit my initial reaction was to suggest that I save everyone’s time and money and simply pour beer all over my office desk, upload some eardrum-splitting house music onto my mp3 player then sit there for 4 hours drinking warm lager and playing dice. However, this time I’ve been promised an entirely different experience to the overpriced preening houses I’d previously frequented in Beijing and Shanghai – a more real and, (dare I say it?), more ‘Chinese’ experience. How could I refuse?
Once inside the club, the first thing I notice (apart from the thundering music) is the floor: it’s so sticky that after taking a step forward I’m struggling to lift my foot up again; I feel like I’m part of a moon-landing expedition. My bearings finally regained I start to look around, and there are people absolutely everywhere. The dance floor is a gigantic mass of humanity; it’s sometimes hard to say where one person starts and another finishes. There are police, security guard and army uniforms present, but all of them have finished work, had (quite) a few drinks and now have their shirts unbuttoned down to the naval and are waving, gyrating or just jumping up and down to the music. It’s a proper spit-and-sawdust place, and all the more enjoyable for it as pretensions and egos seem to have been left at the door.
We sit down and order a round of piping hot beers, but the deafening music makes conversation impossible so I decide to go for a wander and attract a fair bit of attention, some passive and some not so. One chap gives my arm hair a tug, another slaps my belly “you must be a big boss!” As this is a family magazine I won’t go into too much detail about the antics of my fellow bathroom patrons, but needless to say if I’d have sold viewing tickets at the urinals I could have made a fortune.
Back on the dance floor the DJ gives the dodgy Euro-house a break and slips on Gloria Gaynor’s camp classic ‘I will survive’ – the crowd go absolutely bananas, the MC whipping them up into a state of frenzied, screaming excitement. We order another round of warm beers and watch the chaos unfold.
As an anthropological study I’d say the evening was a success. Despite being the only foreigners there it wasn’t a particularly Chinese evening, in fact it reminded me a lot of drunken nights out I had when I was 16 or 17 in cheesy British seaside resort towns – but with Chinese characteristics! It was also nice to see ‘normal’, not-so beautiful people cutting loose and enjoying themselves with no inhibitions or pretensions. However, and with no offence intended to the Chinese nightclub experience, my still-ringing eardrums will be pleased to know it might be a while until I return.
Below is a Nokia ad featuring legendary Kung-fu master Bruce Lee
It’s fair to say that from being virtually non-existent 15 years ago, the Chinese ad market has come a long way.
Below is a screen-shot of a skype conversation between myself and one of the girls in the office who kindly checks the Chinese media for local news we could include in the magazine. However, the other day when I asked her about the news situation, the reply I received was a little unexpected…
The ancient art of Chinese ear cleaning
“Twaaaaaaaang! Twaaaaaaaang! The metallic clanging that you find reverberating around any touristic area in Sichuan worth its salt is not the sound of blacksmiths, cleaners or toy makers hard at work, but is actually the sound of ‘ear doctors’ who make a living clearing the canals of strangers, and advertise their services with a quick flick of the large metal tongs that form part of their formidable looking ear-cleaning kit.
To the outside world, the ancient art of ear-cleaning appears intrusive, even a little aggressive, and few foreign tourists are brave enough to give this most ‘Sichuan’ of pastimes a whirl. However, there are those who feel that in the scheme of things ear-cleaning has got a raw deal, and that it is one of those ‘lost in translation’ activities that given time and experience people learn to love – an acquired taste, as it were.
Even the translation of its name is a little misleading, as most customers who regularly consult with the ear doctors don’t seem overly fussed about their aural hygiene. Ear-scraping makes it sound even worse, but judging by the look of peaceful serenity on the faces of those undergoing treatment from the doctors, ‘ear massage’ seems to be the best way to describe it and many residents here, both foreign and Chinese, extol the relaxing, almost addictive qualities of a good ear massage.
Many of the ear-cleaners in the city are rural migrants, who have come to Chengdu since the government relaxed their previously strict controls on places of residence in the 1980s. On a recent outing to Jin Li Street I met Mr Li, who has been working for 7 years in Chengdu’s parks and public spaces. Since training under a master in his native town of Nanchong in North East Sichuan, he has been able to pull in around 2000rmb a month from his profession and, in one particularly memorable sitting, pull a large bug from a customer’s inner ear.
Having done so much reading and research on the subject, there was only one option left to me, and I decided to make the ultimate journalistic sacrifice and took the plunge. The first 30 seconds were a combination of mild anxiety and discomfort, especially when Mr. Li produced his goose-down tickling brush, but after that this feeling were replaced by an odd, calming sensation and an overwhelming desire to fall asleep. Although slightly disconcerting at first, it did seem to work as a method of relaxation, and one I’d definitely try again.
Sadly the once prevalent ear doctors who roved the streets of Chengdu searching for business are now largely confined to parks, teahouses or tourist areas, partially due to the city’s crackdown on hawkers in the early part of this decade. However, in ‘old-new’ ancient towns around the city like Huanglongxi or Luodai, other cities in Sichuan Province, or even in the more outlying counties of Chengdu you can find any number of ear doctors clanging to their hearts content, keeping their customer’s ears spotless and the art of ear cleaning alive!
The above video documents a ‘graduation ceremony’ at Hantai High School in China’s Shanxi Province. After finishing the gruelling ‘gao kao‘ university entrance exams the students tore up their books and revision notes and threw them into sky.
A fine piece of ad work from China’s answer to the Land Rover
Ah etiquette! This subtle ballet of general politeness has plagued mankind since the first caveman wondered if he should first catch supper for his date before clubbing her over the head and dragging her back to his cave. When applied around the modern workplace, these rules of good behaviour become even more complex, and doubly so in a foreign country such as China where the potential for cross-cultural misunderstanding is rife. Many books and articles have been written on this very subject, but one aspect that has so far been criminally under-investigated is how to behave while doing something we all do at least twice a day – riding the elevator. However, help is at hand! With this handy guide to taking the lift during the morning and evening ‘rush hours’, you now have one less culture faux-pas to worry about, and you need never feel shafted again…
And that’s it! You’re riding Chinese-style! That wasn’t so hard was it…?
Fortunately the h0tmail, fl1ckr, tw1tter and podcast blocks that have been prevalent on the Ch1nese information super highway over the last few days haven’t affected Chengdon’t (fingers crossed!). Apart from straight-out blocking of sites, there have been more subtle (and some might say sinister) things going on on the net. One of the strangest things I’ve noticed is that the most read page on the guardian’s website (you might have to click on the image to get a good view) hasn’t changed in 4 days. I wonder why…
