To the list of ways in which China continues to surprise, I can now add this: the Macarena.
Foreigners are a relatively rare sight on the streets of Beijing, unless those streets happen to be in Sanlitun, a bar district which I'm sure means something in Chinese. In English, it means "expat heaven." It's where you'll find restaurants serving hand-tossed pizzas, bars crammed with pin-striped Scandinavians and bearded hippies and clubs where a woman in a red dress and black leotards clambers up onto the bar counter and gyrates drunkenly, unopposed by the bartenders trying to serve drinks through her leotarded legs.
And yes, you'll also find the Macarena. And Offspring. And any other number of songs that went out of circulation in North America long ago, all blaring into the throngs. Whether the expat crowd happened to all arrive a decade ago -- and brought their music with them -- or whether some numbers just never get old, it doesn't seem to matter: the '90s are alive and well in Sanlitun, and no one's complaining. Because, after all, the music is familiar and so are the faces: a sea of Caucasians lapping at the shores of the Far East, all of us here because no matter how hard you try to discover and uncover and adapt to a new land, you never really succeed.
Are ex-pat hangouts ghettos or refuges? I don't know. I do know that I haven't been in China long enough to reasonably feel homesick, but I have still welcomed the past few days, when I have met up with a few old acquaintances at a Canadian-owned sports bar -- burgers, juicy and delicious, on the menu! -- and, last night, Sanlitun. Because who wouldn't enjoy a place where the people know the latest Canucks score, but the beer costs $2?
Friday, November 21, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Shopping for (not so) crappy swag
I made the obligatory trip to a massive knock-off mall tonight. First thing to know: the most popular items by far are bags. I don't even know what brands they're knocking off (presumably Prada, Coach, LZ) because I'm not in the market. But the bags are everywhere. And they look _good_. Unlike Thailand, where everything was complete crap, a lot of the stuff here is made with real leather, etc. Even the cheapo DVDs are the real thing -- complete with menus, special features, cases, the works. All for $2 each, at rip-off white dude prices.
Second thing to know: haggling is a lot more fun when people don't look like they're starving. This is what made everything so high stakes in Africa: the guilt of trying to negotiate somebody down. China's poor, but people are well-dressed and don't look like they're on the brink. Plus, I always find myself in the classic westerner position of feeling like I've ripped the poor sellers off. I'm sure they feel the same way, although I don't doubt they feel a bit more celebratory about it.
Third thing to know: the underground stuff is the most fun. In what I'm sure is a very token gesture to the MPAA, the DVDs are no longer on display. But 20-something guys roam around, looking for people who look exactly like me. They tap on the shoulder, ask if you're after DVDs, and then usher you to a computer, where they have scanned copies of thousands of DVD covers. You scroll through, tell them which ones you want, and then wait. A few minutes later, another 20-something emerges from who-knows-where with a mitt-full of DVDs in his hand. Same thing with North Face stuff. You have to ask the clothing vendors whether they have any. The ones that do have it hidden. Once you ask, they literally pull back one of the shelves of clothes to reveal a hidden area jammed with "Gore-Tex." The beauty of fakes that aspire to be non-fakes is the bargaining power they give to vendors. They set a sky-high price, then make the argument that "well, it's Gore-Tex. Of course it's expensive." Only, in all likelihood it's not. Sure, some of the factories around here do the third-shift thing and sell the same goods for crazy low prices. But something tells me the makers of Gore-Tex aren't that way. That being said, without the real thing to compare to the fakes are amazingly convincing. They've got everything from the font on the tags to the rubberized zippers down to a refined art. Kudos to China's clone artists.
Travel update: I'm in Guangzhou tonight, heading back to Beijing tomorrow. I'll be there for the next few days, getting a few interviews out of the way and also trying to get my visa sorted out. I've got two fairly solid stories already mostly reported, and I'm hoping to get things done on a third one, and hopefully a fourth, in Beijing.
Second thing to know: haggling is a lot more fun when people don't look like they're starving. This is what made everything so high stakes in Africa: the guilt of trying to negotiate somebody down. China's poor, but people are well-dressed and don't look like they're on the brink. Plus, I always find myself in the classic westerner position of feeling like I've ripped the poor sellers off. I'm sure they feel the same way, although I don't doubt they feel a bit more celebratory about it.
Third thing to know: the underground stuff is the most fun. In what I'm sure is a very token gesture to the MPAA, the DVDs are no longer on display. But 20-something guys roam around, looking for people who look exactly like me. They tap on the shoulder, ask if you're after DVDs, and then usher you to a computer, where they have scanned copies of thousands of DVD covers. You scroll through, tell them which ones you want, and then wait. A few minutes later, another 20-something emerges from who-knows-where with a mitt-full of DVDs in his hand. Same thing with North Face stuff. You have to ask the clothing vendors whether they have any. The ones that do have it hidden. Once you ask, they literally pull back one of the shelves of clothes to reveal a hidden area jammed with "Gore-Tex." The beauty of fakes that aspire to be non-fakes is the bargaining power they give to vendors. They set a sky-high price, then make the argument that "well, it's Gore-Tex. Of course it's expensive." Only, in all likelihood it's not. Sure, some of the factories around here do the third-shift thing and sell the same goods for crazy low prices. But something tells me the makers of Gore-Tex aren't that way. That being said, without the real thing to compare to the fakes are amazingly convincing. They've got everything from the font on the tags to the rubberized zippers down to a refined art. Kudos to China's clone artists.
Travel update: I'm in Guangzhou tonight, heading back to Beijing tomorrow. I'll be there for the next few days, getting a few interviews out of the way and also trying to get my visa sorted out. I've got two fairly solid stories already mostly reported, and I'm hoping to get things done on a third one, and hopefully a fourth, in Beijing.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Still living free
I have not been detained by the Chinese or locked up. I have, however, been busy. The last few days were dominated by a full schedule set up by the B.C. delegation of forestry executives and government officials who toured China shaking hands and looking for opportunities to sell lumber here. The emphasis was on the former, since no one was really selling anything while they were here. In fact, no one is selling a whole lot of lumber at any time into China, although they are honestly optimistic that they will see greater success sometime in the future.
Anyways. That will be fodder for many words in a newspaper near you sometime soon. What's more interesting is where we went: to the heart of the area devastated by the Sichuan earthquake this May. The reason, somewhat morbidly, is that Canada thinks the earthquake provides an opportunity to sell wood to Chinese who have watched their concrete homes and schools crumble. Wood is more seismically stable, therefore it makes sense that they would build out of wood, or at least so goes the argument. Either way, it led to the rather uncomfortable scene of the lions of Canada's lumber industry -- on a trip looking for markets -- lined up on a bluff overlooking Beichuan, where of 20,000 people only 10,000 survived, and 5,000 remain buried. Pat Bell, the B.C. forest minister, was only too happy to line up right at the front to deliver a speech and lay some flowers. The bigshot CEOs -- one of whom later admitted to me that he found the experience "creepy" -- stayed well back. To be fair, it was a respectful ceremony, and probably a good one, given that Canada has donated money to help with reconstruction, and it makes sense that a Canadian government representative attend to express personal condolences, etc. etc. etc. But the line between seeking opportunity and being opportunistic is a fine one in the best of times -- in this case, it seemed especially narrow.
That being said, given that I was there as well, some observations are probably in order. The scale of the disaster is extraordinary. We visited four separate sites that had been affected by the earthquake. Each of them took a bus ride of multiple hours to reach, each in different directions. Beichuan was obviously the most notable: this pretty little town nestled in a mountain valley was just demolished. A number of medium-rise buildings were canted at frightening angles; others were missing an entire storey, after one floor collapsed; others had fallen down altogether. The high school was no longer visible. Some 1,500 teachers and students had attended the school, but you would never know it from looking out over the valley today because the entire structure has been buried by a massive landslide. There was literally no trace that the high school ever existed, at least not from our vantage point.
In other cities, the damage was less pronounced but no less devastating. We drove through one area where kilometres of six-storey apartments -- the standard urban living accommodations -- stood on both sides of the road, empty. The reason was obvious: the facades were completely cracked through. The buildings were no longer safe. Most of those who once lived there had been moved into temporary shelters built by the Chinese government, whose response was swift, effective and made the U.S. post-Katrina look like a real third-world country. In one of the more heart-wrenching realities, however, the businesses on the ground floor of many of these buildings remained open, literally operating beneath impending doom. Not only are these buildings already structurally unsound, the earthquakes continue, raising even higher the possibility that they will tumble on those trying to carry out work below. We experienced a 5.1-scale aftershock on one of the mornings we were there, although I didn't feel it myself.
It was all a lot to take in. Perhaps the most striking thing for me was the people, who remained quick with a smile despite their circumstances. I did not speak with many of them, and can't say whether or not they are carrying on with optimism or are genuinely defeated by what they have been through. Certainly, virtually everyone alive in those areas has lost someone very close to them. Others have been further impoverished by the temporary habitations, which were built over farmer's fields with little regard for the livelihood of those farmers. But to a white guy who doesn't speak Mandarin, but can see a smile when it's smiling at him, the apparent ability to remain upbeat seemed striking.
As for me, I'm now in Shanghai, but only for a few more hours. I leave on a flight tonight for Guangzhou, where I am meeting another Canadian company working here and planting trees. It's interesting stuff. I am getting a little forested out, but I guess that's what I came here to do. Personally, I feel like I am entering the most challenging part of this trip. While the forestry entourage definitely glossed over China, having travel and meals arranged made everything simple. Now it falls to me to figure out how to order food in Chinese, and how to convince a cabbie to get me to the correct destination. I've been cramming with my Mandarin phrase book, but not making much progress so far. At least I now have reason to learn, which should speed up the process. I'll consider myself wildly successful if I can learn to make even the most basic of requests understood. I can't say I'm optimistic about getting there, though.
Anyways. That will be fodder for many words in a newspaper near you sometime soon. What's more interesting is where we went: to the heart of the area devastated by the Sichuan earthquake this May. The reason, somewhat morbidly, is that Canada thinks the earthquake provides an opportunity to sell wood to Chinese who have watched their concrete homes and schools crumble. Wood is more seismically stable, therefore it makes sense that they would build out of wood, or at least so goes the argument. Either way, it led to the rather uncomfortable scene of the lions of Canada's lumber industry -- on a trip looking for markets -- lined up on a bluff overlooking Beichuan, where of 20,000 people only 10,000 survived, and 5,000 remain buried. Pat Bell, the B.C. forest minister, was only too happy to line up right at the front to deliver a speech and lay some flowers. The bigshot CEOs -- one of whom later admitted to me that he found the experience "creepy" -- stayed well back. To be fair, it was a respectful ceremony, and probably a good one, given that Canada has donated money to help with reconstruction, and it makes sense that a Canadian government representative attend to express personal condolences, etc. etc. etc. But the line between seeking opportunity and being opportunistic is a fine one in the best of times -- in this case, it seemed especially narrow.
That being said, given that I was there as well, some observations are probably in order. The scale of the disaster is extraordinary. We visited four separate sites that had been affected by the earthquake. Each of them took a bus ride of multiple hours to reach, each in different directions. Beichuan was obviously the most notable: this pretty little town nestled in a mountain valley was just demolished. A number of medium-rise buildings were canted at frightening angles; others were missing an entire storey, after one floor collapsed; others had fallen down altogether. The high school was no longer visible. Some 1,500 teachers and students had attended the school, but you would never know it from looking out over the valley today because the entire structure has been buried by a massive landslide. There was literally no trace that the high school ever existed, at least not from our vantage point.
In other cities, the damage was less pronounced but no less devastating. We drove through one area where kilometres of six-storey apartments -- the standard urban living accommodations -- stood on both sides of the road, empty. The reason was obvious: the facades were completely cracked through. The buildings were no longer safe. Most of those who once lived there had been moved into temporary shelters built by the Chinese government, whose response was swift, effective and made the U.S. post-Katrina look like a real third-world country. In one of the more heart-wrenching realities, however, the businesses on the ground floor of many of these buildings remained open, literally operating beneath impending doom. Not only are these buildings already structurally unsound, the earthquakes continue, raising even higher the possibility that they will tumble on those trying to carry out work below. We experienced a 5.1-scale aftershock on one of the mornings we were there, although I didn't feel it myself.
It was all a lot to take in. Perhaps the most striking thing for me was the people, who remained quick with a smile despite their circumstances. I did not speak with many of them, and can't say whether or not they are carrying on with optimism or are genuinely defeated by what they have been through. Certainly, virtually everyone alive in those areas has lost someone very close to them. Others have been further impoverished by the temporary habitations, which were built over farmer's fields with little regard for the livelihood of those farmers. But to a white guy who doesn't speak Mandarin, but can see a smile when it's smiling at him, the apparent ability to remain upbeat seemed striking.
As for me, I'm now in Shanghai, but only for a few more hours. I leave on a flight tonight for Guangzhou, where I am meeting another Canadian company working here and planting trees. It's interesting stuff. I am getting a little forested out, but I guess that's what I came here to do. Personally, I feel like I am entering the most challenging part of this trip. While the forestry entourage definitely glossed over China, having travel and meals arranged made everything simple. Now it falls to me to figure out how to order food in Chinese, and how to convince a cabbie to get me to the correct destination. I've been cramming with my Mandarin phrase book, but not making much progress so far. At least I now have reason to learn, which should speed up the process. I'll consider myself wildly successful if I can learn to make even the most basic of requests understood. I can't say I'm optimistic about getting there, though.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Landing on a different planet, and finding it feels like home
So here is China from the perspective of someone on a business delegation: touch down in Beijing. Be greeted by English-speakers, who lead you onto a bus, which brings you to a fancy hotel where the staff speak English and the breakfast includes Rice Krispies and omelettes. Spend the next day driving around the bus speaking to people from B.C. about things in B.C. Overhear someone talking about his booking for a date with his girlfriend in Tofino, and his time on the West Coast trail. Keep your BlackBerry close at hand, because the e-mails still demand a response. Do a few meet-and-greets with Chinese people who speak English, or have interpreters. Smile for pictures. Get back on the bus and head to the airport. Check in, with people who speak English. Grab a Heineken in the lobby, then board the plane. Eat airplane food -- beef and rice -- then nap before touchdown again, another bus, another trip to a fancy hotel. Don't bother checking in, because that's been done for you. Grab your room key from your English-speaking logistics person, then head out to an Irish pub -- the Shamrock, which happens to have a Vegas theme that includes a little white wedding chapel replica -- and drink Heineken and order spicy pizza. Head back to the hotel, get on the Internet and check e-mail, the news, plus your stocks. Glance out the window and see a bunch of tall buildings with signs in English.
Wonder, at the end of the day, whether you're in China, or maybe just Richmond.
Wonder, at the end of the day, whether you're in China, or maybe just Richmond.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The veneer
I'm in a gorgeous hotel, the Kuntai Royal. Marble floors, gilded elevator interiors, beautiful room and, strangely enough, amazing lighting. You can light this baby up to match any possible mood. They even have a little soft light beneath the bedside table to light up the floor in case of night-time emergency.
It's a nice place. But then you get to the bathroom and see the sign behind the faucet: "DO NOT DRINK THE WATER WITHOUT BOILING IT FIRST." Guess the first-world amenities only go so far here.
It's a nice place. But then you get to the bathroom and see the sign behind the faucet: "DO NOT DRINK THE WATER WITHOUT BOILING IT FIRST." Guess the first-world amenities only go so far here.
Touchdown
Made it, safe and sound. Smooth 11.5-hour flight. Read as much as I could about China on the way -- nice to have a place free of distraction to actually sit down and work through a book. Reading about doing business here makes me glad I don't have to do it myself. It seems like the kind of place where a lot of smart people have come to fail.
Beijing itself, from the air, the airport, the freeway and this terrific hotel I'm in, seems awfully nice. Roads are slick and new, the hotel is one of the nicest I've ever stayed in, and the entire city screams modern. Of course, that's just what I've seen, which no doubt happens to be exactly the part that Beijing wanted everyone to see for the Olympics. But so far, no complaints. It doesn't even seem all that smoggy.
Some of the people on this delegation seem to have gotten especially into the spirit of this place. I thought I was supposed to be at a luncheon meeting right now, but apparently I thought wrong. The moment I showed up, a communications dude from the B.C. government came hustling out with a clipboard and told me I was barred from this meeting. I don't ever want to be in communications. Must be stressful to be so paranoid.
Oh, and speaking of paranoid: the Internet here is weird. Gmail, my Canwest e-mail, etc. all work great. But the moment I venture into anything news related -- CBC, Globe and Mail, Toronto Star, National Post -- it slows to a crawl. It's like it's being redacted in real-time. Strangely, Facebook doesn't seem to want to work, either.
Beijing itself, from the air, the airport, the freeway and this terrific hotel I'm in, seems awfully nice. Roads are slick and new, the hotel is one of the nicest I've ever stayed in, and the entire city screams modern. Of course, that's just what I've seen, which no doubt happens to be exactly the part that Beijing wanted everyone to see for the Olympics. But so far, no complaints. It doesn't even seem all that smoggy.
Some of the people on this delegation seem to have gotten especially into the spirit of this place. I thought I was supposed to be at a luncheon meeting right now, but apparently I thought wrong. The moment I showed up, a communications dude from the B.C. government came hustling out with a clipboard and told me I was barred from this meeting. I don't ever want to be in communications. Must be stressful to be so paranoid.
Oh, and speaking of paranoid: the Internet here is weird. Gmail, my Canwest e-mail, etc. all work great. But the moment I venture into anything news related -- CBC, Globe and Mail, Toronto Star, National Post -- it slows to a crawl. It's like it's being redacted in real-time. Strangely, Facebook doesn't seem to want to work, either.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Lounging
I apparently will do anything for a window seat. That includes showing up way earlier than any sane person would show up for a flight. In this case, it means preparing to leave for the airport at 10 a.m. for a flight that doesn't depart until 12:50 -p.m. Yes, it's crazy. But crazier still is sitting on a middle seat for 12 hours. So yeas, I'm in the boarding lounge for an extra hour. But payback comes when I get to stretch out in 35L while everyone else squeezes in between the snot-nosed two-year-olds and the flatulent fat dude.
Past couple of days have been crazy, trying to get the trip planned all the while not knowing if my visa would come through. It is now, finally, here: arrived on Monday. It is an imperfect document -- I need 45 days, my visa says only 15 -- but at least it gets me into the country for now. I'm planning to work out a visa for the remainder of the trip once I get there. No assurances that will happen, though, so there's still a significant element of worry surrounding this whole endeavour. In a way, it's fitting, though. Seems like nothing about this trip has come easily.
At least I will be able to enter the country -- this was very much in doubt last week, after the consulate denied my visa application and demanded an official government invitation to the country; somehow, a guy I called managed to help me get one through a back channel -- it was not looking promising. So I'm going to count my blessings, hunker down over my Mandarin phrase book and pray for the best.
Past couple of days have been crazy, trying to get the trip planned all the while not knowing if my visa would come through. It is now, finally, here: arrived on Monday. It is an imperfect document -- I need 45 days, my visa says only 15 -- but at least it gets me into the country for now. I'm planning to work out a visa for the remainder of the trip once I get there. No assurances that will happen, though, so there's still a significant element of worry surrounding this whole endeavour. In a way, it's fitting, though. Seems like nothing about this trip has come easily.
At least I will be able to enter the country -- this was very much in doubt last week, after the consulate denied my visa application and demanded an official government invitation to the country; somehow, a guy I called managed to help me get one through a back channel -- it was not looking promising. So I'm going to count my blessings, hunker down over my Mandarin phrase book and pray for the best.
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