Aleen's Travel Log tag:typepad.com,2003:weblog-1263256 2007-05-09T19:05:17-07:00 My Travel Journal TypePad Postscript to China trip 2007 tag:typepad.com,2003:post-33881236 2007-05-09T19:05:17-07:00 2007-05-09T19:05:17-07:00 Since returning from China, fatigue has seized me, coloring my days and nights, amplifying jetlag. Usually, my life is so filled with travel that jetlag doesn’t loom large after trips, affecting me only for a day or so. But analyzing... Aleen <div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>Since returning from China, fatigue has seized me, coloring my days and nights, amplifying jetlag. Usually, my life is so filled with travel that jetlag doesn’t loom large after trips, affecting me only for a day or so. But analyzing it, I think the mad pace of change in China, the hordes of people, the loud buzz of life, exhausts one more than travel elsewhere.&nbsp; Recovery is slower. <br />WHY is China careening down the highway of change so fast? Many would say it’s to make up for lost time, when participation&nbsp; in the global marketplace was closed to them. But something in the Chinese culture/mindset also militates against complacency, laziness. Of course, plenty of individual exceptions must exist, but if national culture as a collective&nbsp; concept makes any sense at all, the Chinese culture encompasses industriousness, hard work. Laying back, taking it easy, going with the flow doesn’t describe most Chinese I know or know about. Perhaps a factor in becoming the “workshop of the world,” which I heard expressed by several Chinese on the trip, it has deep roots in Chinese history, and in the Chinese diaspora. </p> <p>Another strain from Chinese culture, the hereditary privilege and class divisions based on family and ancestors, may have had monstrous repercussions in why China’s revolution “failed,” as many people think it did. The Cultural Revolution was, for many people,&nbsp; a cataclysm which divides the “golden time of the revolution”, when it was the beacon of hope for an end of class divisions and poverty, from where it turned down the wrong path. Its principle goal, promulgated by Mao Zedong, was based on rooting out “old ideas”, vestiges in the culture from the old feudal society, which prevented becoming a truly equal society without vast differences in personal privilege and access to education, security and comfort. Yet this was perverted to focus on one’s “class background,” whereby generally was meant the class of one’s father, mother and other ancestors, to decide whether one was “for” or “against” revolution (equality). This ignored the basic revolutionary principle that people could make a choice, stand with the “masses” and turn their backs on class divisions and inequality. The very old Chinese idea that one’s ancestors determine who one is, was used to punish the ancestors of the former privileged classes, strip people of their dignity and possessions no matter what their personal contributions and ideology—the enduring measure of their lives being their “class background,” i.e., the economic class to which their ancestors belonged. In trying to effect change FOR equality, “old ideas” reared their ugly heads in twisted ways. <br />Chinese people today are a bit reluctant to talk about that firestorm which swept China. Most people under 40 claim they were “too young” to know anything about it, in spite of the fact that most of their parents or neighbors must have been profoundly affected by it. Many of the independent films coming out of China now deal with it in direct or indirect ways. One older guy, at dinner, dismissed it as a “lot of foolishness” even though his wife, with us at dinner, had suffered profoundly from the misuse of that doctrine. Her “overseas Chinese” (immigrant) husband abandoned her at its beginning and she reared her daughter alone without much support either from her family or the society. <br />Many people in power never supported the Chinese revolution, and even did their best to defeat it or undermine it. But many who DID support it have turned against it now, citing the Cultural Revolution (or the famines triggered by the Great Leap Forward) as reasons. They can’t understand my continuing analysis of it as a great advance for China, including Mao’s original ideas BEHIND the Cultural Revolution. Many factors you can still discern from the underlying, ancient Chinese culture determined that they would turn toward the global capitalist system, adopting certain key aspects, and away from true equality as a goal. I don’t blame Mao for not achieving it—any more than I blame the democratic American leadership for Bush’s victories. China is so vast it’s amazing they DID have a revolution. How was that monumental change accomplished? It boggles the mind. I have been struggling my whole life to make sense of the Chinese reality, my personal obsession, and feel no closer now than ever to truly understanding it. </p> <p>Like everything in China, changes in the art world are on steroids. Dozens of galleries and museums have opened in the past couple of years. Artists don’t have to only reference their own tradition or political system’s dictates anymore, and join myriad trends from around the world, sampling and experimenting. Collecting Chinese art, especially modern art, seems to be a fad among many wealthy circles in the world, so a Chinese artist who gets “discovered” can have a meteoric rise, traveling around the world and enjoying fabulous (by home standards) wealth. How long this will last is unclear. Just staying on top of the galleries and museums challenges the guidebooks—we discovered several which weren’t in any books. The traditional art: scroll paintings, cloisonné, jade carving, inlaid wood, porcelein, jewelry, embroidery, etc., has gotten a huge shot in the arm from the tourist trade, but seems to be in a different world from the modern art circles. Film, too, is exploding, and draws its themes from Chinese history, both recent and ancient, but also from current situations and themes. The traditional companies, owned and controlled by the Communist Party, no longer have a lock on sources of funding or themes, nor control distribution. But these companies still exist, and have to change at lightning speed like the rest of the country. </p></div> Suzhou tag:typepad.com,2003:post-32649328 2007-04-08T20:01:56-07:00 2007-04-08T20:01:56-07:00 April 8, 2007 Sunday Train to Suzhou. Ever the cautious ones, we got up at 5:30 a.m. (the hotel wake up call malfunctioned, calling me 6 times! Beginning at 5:15), left in a taxi at 6:30 and was at the... Aleen

April 8, 2007 Sunday Train to Suzhou. Ever the cautious ones, we got up at 5:30 a.m. (the hotel wake up call malfunctioned, calling me 6 times! Beginning at 5:15), left in a taxi at 6:30 and was at the gate by 6:56 for an 8:05 departure. Thousands of people mobbed the Shanghai trainstation, but it was quite orderly, everyone filed through the checkpoint to make sure we had tickets, and then found our gate. The train number is flashed on the screen above directing you to the correct gate with the time of departure. Simple. So many people had flowers in hand, and Linda told me it was the festival for visiting one's ancestor's graves (including one's mother and father), sort of like our Memorial Day. As Shanghai originally didn't have graveyards in it, many Shanghaiese must visit graves in Suzhou on this day, which explains some of the congestion. Linda and Dawei opted to sit in the seats (they had the first two, and saved me one), but I wandered around at the various shops buying little snacks for the trip: a sesame cookie filled with bean paste (great! And only 1 yuan each), two big cookies I thought were peanut butter ones (another 1 yuan each, they looked like peanut butter cookies do at home—but more like the "almond" cookies you get in Chinese restaurants at home, Dawei ended up with them because I didn't like them), peanuts of course (from the supermarket—only 5 yuan), green tea in a plastic bottle (my new favorite drink, 5 yuan), and a package of chocolate wafer cookies, 4 yuan. 13 yuan total, about $1.90. By the end of the day, we were glad to have the wafer cookies, which we fed ourselves and the koi (or are they just huge goldfish?) at Panmen Park. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We had assigned seats, a bit small for those of us who should lose weight, but comfortable enough for the 45-minute ride. Linda and I snapped pictures the whole way, I sat in the window seat, she in the middle. Dawei dozed, his eyes have been bothering him. After such a peaceful and orderly trip so far, the chaos at Suzhou train station burst upon us like a bombshell. Linda was quickly freaked out by it, and we parked her at a spot amidst the mass of people while Dawei and I went to buy tickets for the return trip (they didn't let us buy those in Shanghai—you have to buy in the city of departure, we were told). We followed the signs, but couldn't figure out where it was until Dawei noticed a van parked on the sidewalk, with people lined up at its windows (although the river of people also flowed past it). How could this be the official ticket office? Yet a sign completely in Chinese proclaimed that to be the case. Turned out the cab driver on the way back told us they're tearing down the old station and building an entirely new one, probably the ticket office was the first section to go (but again I jump ahead). English-speaking people are still a rare commodity here, unless you count "take a look", "cheap" or "you say" (meaning your counter offer on negotiation of a price). Triumphant hunters return to Linda, and the next crisis is that we've been waylaid by numerous people offering tours, including one Dawei wants to accept, 100 yuan for a car service "take you where you want all day". Linda asks me, I say, let's just ask a cab driver (actually, not a practical plan, since they're all on meters), we debate for awhile, but Linda couldn't decide even though I said, if you really want it, ok. Miscommunication—she did want it, and it I had realized how much she would regret that decision, I would have easily agreed. I hate to be herded about by "guides" all day, but overestimate her physical stamina, also. How easy it is to miscommunicate when you travel together—it started the day on a sour note, and colored the day with regret she was still expressing the next morning. First destination was the Master of the Nets Garden, one of a network of gardens Suzhou is famous for, World Heritage sites. Marred a bit by hordes of foreigners, the garden's tranquility tried to seep through nonetheless. Beautifully landscaped with peaked buildings (which had traditional furniture roped off inside and lovely paintings), the Wuxi-sourced rocks (the water-sculpted huge rocks of fantastic shapes), willows swaying in the breeze, azaleas and other flowers blooming in beautiful pots, cherry and magnolia and other blossomed trees, birds chittering and trilling. Of course, a tea house (with outrageously priced coffee and tea, which I treated us to in order to pick up spirits), high priced paintings, china cups and plates, silk scarves and other trinkets. I've learned not to buy in these stores—the price is usually 2-5 times as much as the small kiosks operated by independents, and the merchandise usually isn't better. We exited through small lane of these kiosks, but didn't buy much. One vendor gave Linda (no charge! But she felt obligated to buy something else) a big wooden duck which she had to lug around the rest of the day. Then lunch, asking directions, finding a Sichuan restaurant which tortured us (but deliciously) with its Sichuan peppers and peppercorn-flavored chicken, tofu and green beans. We sat next to an American business person (probably from the mid-west) who ate a huge lunch with two Chinese guys (not in suits, although Chinese businessmen usually are) and left enough on the table to feed two or three families. We didn't finish ours, either, we can't seem to order what we actually eat—but this being an earlier issue of strife on our little tour group, I let it go now. Perhaps there is a system of recycling this "waste" (foreigners who order more than they can eat), as recycling seems to be one of the things China does so much better than we do (EVERYTHING is recycled). In Suzhou we came across a family group (complete with split-pants baby circling them) breaking down boxes and other cardboard and plastic, and every city has its recycling carts and bicyclers traversing every neighborhood, hawking for trash. We came across one public container of overflowing, rotting trash that was notable for its rarity—not sure what the story behind that is. After lunch began the trek for finding the "supposedly" next-door garden Canglangting, which we followed directions for instead of figuring out on the map (people don't say they don't know, they may sound knowledgeable, but send you in very round-about ways). Serendipitously, we stumbled on the computer hardware and software main drag, where no one hounded us to buy something. Despite being a Sunday, all the shops were open, and unlike most shops in China, all manned by men rather than women. Actually, in Beijing, women salespeople predominated even in the software sections of the large multi-story computer center we visited. But in Suzhou it's man's work, apparently. Finally hitting paydirt with finding Canglangting garden, we wander down a street of that name alongside one of Suzhou's famous canals, a delightful find. Across a small bridge into the entrance, paying another entrance fee (only 20 yuan compared to 30 yuan at the last—no foreigners because no water, Dawei proclaims). Actually, it does contain a small lovely pond, along with lots of swaying willows, peaked roofed and lattice windowed stand-alone rooms, small "mountains" built of rocks with feet-smoothed surfaces, the standard fantastic shaped water sculpted rocks, gorgeous vistas. Without the foreigners (except us), peace did prevail, despite the handful of romancing couples, frolicking Chinese boys and girls with their parents in tow (photographing each other), and occasional solitary Chinese man or woman traveler, backpack signalling his/her tourist status. Friendly greetings gave way in the tallest pavilion to a friendly conversation with three women, each with their solitary child, including one boy's "pengyou" (friend). Housewives who stay home while their husbands work (child care is an option if one has higher income, either an ahmah—au pair, but no one mentions child care centers. Are the old communist-era ones gone?). Their interest is in politics—what do we think about Bush's policies, expressing disapproval themselves. How can we disclaim responsibility when we elected him? Linda explains that he lied in order to get elected, and that many people were very worried after 9-11. Engrossed in the discussion, she didn't translate all of it, but it didn't heat up much. Brief as it was, the real contact was exhilarating, and we left energized. Hunting for a taxi was a challenge, since they didn't come down the small lane, and the large street was set up with four lanes on each side—two for fast-moving cars and trucks, one for buses, and the outside one for bicycles, motorbikes and the pedicabs (including motorized ones). Taxis didn't seem to be able to stop in any of them, so we walked a ways, past a temple, and finally got one at the cross street, busy as it was. Once in, however, the driver claimed not to know where the Art Museum was (the next destination Linda wanted), and anyway, it would take him two hours to get there with congestion in that district as it was (a lie as we concluded later), so he dumped us at the Panmen park, claiming Beijing had its Tienanmen, Suzhou has Panmen. So we decided to rest for a moment under the peaked-roof archway entrance and consider. A Chinese woman and her husband were arguing loudly about the 25-yuan per person entrance fee. One of China's army of maintenance people (they're everywhere—sweeping, watering, cleaning) watered the flowers in pots by our feet. We decided to investigate—we're here, after all. What transpired was the most delightful of the three parks—this one renovated courtesy of Philips (yes, the Dutch company!) sported waterfalls, sweeping vistas, a red wooden-and-brick pagoda from 247 A.D. (which cost extra to climb—we all declined), and the land-and-water gates to the original city, partially renovated but looking quite authentically old nonetheless. In the actual courtyard where the ancients lured enemies and then annihilated them (plaques in English explained everything), a concession offered a target game at which you shot arrows with bows ancient design. Looked like fun but we didn't go down. We had tea and water and my cookies from the morning atop the water gate (which is next to the land gate—same structure, refers to the method of stopping invaders from coming by land or sea into the walled city). Then we descended, sat by the lake in the pavilion and fed the koi. If any of you get to go to China, you should include include Suzhou. A lovely city, friendly people, full of gardens. On the train coming back, the fourth in our seats-round-the-table was a 45-year-old security guard, Shanghaiese native returning with his 17-year-old daughter and his wife (who sat across the aisle) and chatted the whole way. Linda was kind enough to translate some of it: they live in Shanghai proper, NE area, were visiting his mother's grave. His daughter, in high school, doesn't know what she wants to do, (only, "make money", he laughs) but will take the exam for university next year. Her score will determine how much choice she has. Shanghai residents are given priority to university (like state residents to state colleges in the US). His job dangerous? No, few people rob anything in Shanghai, because the traffic is so bad they wouldn't get away! Even if they do it elsewhere, they come here and see how bad it is, they don't do it. We all laugh, you can't be here for a day and not be appalled by the traffic. Dawei and he discuss the high cost of real estate in Shanghai (and L.A.), his family has no hope to buy a place, and property values have increased many-fold in the last few years. Is homelessness a problem (Linda shares that LA has 80,000 homeless, some sleeping on the streets, under bridges)? Probably there is some, but no one is allowed to sleep under bridges or on the street—they would be arrested and sent home (to where there residency is)—everyone who has a resident card (born here or who moved here legally) has a home, they couldn't be evicted. If their place is demolished, they would be given another place, although, possibly in the suburbs. Linda spoke about the problem of mortgage defaults—he said that couldn't happen here, no one would be evicted for that. I didn't learn what happens if you default on a loan, though. Drug addiction came up in relation to the homeless discussion—he said it is a problem, but drug dealers are executed, and high school students don't have the money to buy drugs, possibly it's not as prevalent. We arrived and joined the mighty river of passengers flowing down the platform, the stairs, the underground corrider, up the incline and out, down to the taxi. The driver was NOT happy about taking us to our hotel, whether it was because he wanted a longer distance or to a different district was a matter of discussion between Linda and Dawei. I, having no information on it, didn't venture an opinion. Too tired to do more than go straight to our rooms, I didn't write this till the next morning. We're all pooped, but going out shortly, probably to a temple. If the first visit was marked by seeing workplaces and schools, this one predominates with temples, churches, pagodas, parks and shopping streets. Quite a contrast.

 Aleen in China: April 2, 2007 tag:typepad.com,2003:post-32477602 2007-04-03T15:24:09-07:00 2007-04-03T15:24:09-07:00 Monday. A very full day. We had an 11-yuan breakfast (about $1.50, and that's for all three of us), more than we could eat, at our favorite local place, then climbed into a car rented through the hotel for the... Aleen <div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>Monday.</p> <p>A very full day. We had an 11-yuan breakfast (about $1.50, and that's for all three of us), more than we could eat, at our favorite local place, then climbed into a car rented through the hotel for the day: the Eastern tour (400 yuan). First, the Neolithic village, occupied 6,000+ years ago, really an archeological site discovered in 1953, covered by a huge closed, vaulted room complete with railings around the site, plaques and looped video on various tv's set around the vast space (everything is big—it dwarfs Texas), movie theater and model under glass. And paintings and bas reliefs how the archeologists imagine it was. But they make very few assumptions about the social structure based on their findings (unlike most other archeologists), except to say that the position of women was very high and probably matriarchal (other archeologists insist it was patriarchal.) </p> <p>Children were cared for by grandmothers in a central place, and men and women were&nbsp; housed separate from each other, even after marriage. They farmed (!, not hunter-gatherers) millet, the staple food (not rice, they didn't grow that), and their village had a huge ditch (moat without water?)&nbsp; around it to protect them from animals. They didn't seem to have domestic animals. Tools were fashioned from bone and stone, but pottery was quite developed, including sophisticated kilns and artistic designs, and woven baskets and cloth. Even writing was already evident, with 22 different symbols. </p> <p>Art, including jewelry,&nbsp; decorated their lives, and they buried their dead with ceremony and sacrifice (grains and objects, not animals). House-building evolved from semi-underground, squarish (teepee-like) houses with a dug-out entrance (like an igloo) to round thatched houses (like African ones we saw in Zambia) to square ones much like you see in China today—all utilizing the abundant clay, baked glazed and later bricked, with tree poles as support and thatched roofs. Banpo, named for the river it was near, existed in a much warmer, wetter climate than Xi'an enjoys now (you must put the ' between the syllables so people know they are separate, not Xian! One thing I learned today, from Linda, a fount of information.) The communal kilns, storage areas, child care, pottery-making and public graveyard were cited as examples of their &quot;primitive communism.&quot;</p> <p>Of course, the area had the usual tourist shops, including one of peasant paintings (thousands), silk and jade. I was drawn to the peasant paintings, which this area is famous for—untrained peasants draw and paint in their spare time, using as the subject their daily lives. Heavily touted when we were there in 1974, it's great to see this tradition has survived. The very ubiquitousness of art objects, in cloth, in jade, in silk, paintings (an entrepreneurial painter whipped out his portfolio in front of the hotel, offering beautiful paintings for a pittance, such events are everywhere.)</p> <p>Hot springs. After lunch in an overpriced restaurant with so-so food, but our own private room, we walked across the street to a private reserve, the hot springs resort which was the playground of an emperor, his concubine and a whole simpering court 2300 years ago, and a mere 50 years ago the site of a famous incident nearly ending Chiang Kai Shek's life, who was using the resort as his &quot;field office&quot; (pretty posh for that). Beautiful grounds with flowering trees, freshly painted (new?) old-style buildings, loveliness everywhere you look. </p> <p>One &quot;museum&quot; featured a model of the Tang dynasty layout, a diorama of full-sized characters showed the king and his court, and another &quot;living&quot; (real women lounging) diorama portrayed the women's harem. A famous love story between the emperor and his famous beauty concubine (one often sees paintings of a half-naked woman, it is usually her), wherein he was so smitten he paid no attention to state affairs, ending in being kidnapped by foreign intruders (Turks). The ransom paid for him weakened the empire so much its downfall came shortly afterward (a century?). I call him the playboy to keep him straight in my panoply of emperors. </p> <p>Several sources of hot springs still flow through fountains (wash your hands in it for only 5 yuan), open pools, and even a bathhouse (for 100 yuan, take a bath in a private room,) but the old famous pools were mostly dry—although covered by substantial buildings with railings restraining you from going down to them. Workmen feverishly prepared the stage and bleachers for a major performance of dancers, fireworks, musicians (we saw pictures of it on the board outside.)</p> <p>Linda and Dawei were disgusted at its commercialization, how built up it had become, and that at every turn we were asked for more money (including the cart to ride from place to place). We didn't opt for the gondolas which took one to the top of the mountain—no time, and Dawei gets vertigo. But we did pay the 15 yuan for the go-cart ticket which let you ride from place to place.</p> <p>Next stop was the prize destination: the terra cotta soldiers that protected the tomb of the First Qin dynasty emperor, which we saw on the way: a mound of earth rising in the middle of flat farmlands, undisturbed except for the huge stone fence around it, guards and stone steps to the top (we didn't stop.)</p> <p>It's rumored (and written) that he booby-trapped his tomb in Raider's of the Lost Ark fashion, but the government has not tested it yet, preferring to wait till their &quot;technology&quot; is advanced enough, to preserve the findings. Parking in the lot to see the terra cotta soldiers, we had no idea that we would spend the next half hour walking through a virtual outdoor mall, still under construction (isn't everything in China?) selling souvenirs, before reaching the gate. The 90 yuan entrance fee outraged Dawei, who felt they were gouging, but it's really only about $12. </p> <p>The museum around the archeological site has bloomed into six or seven buildings for the museum itself, huge buildings enclosing each pit, with a balcony around each. Several actual excavated soldiers and horses (and two chariots), enclosed in glass, lined the side of one pit, for close inspection. Throngs of tourists, not only foreigners but Chinese, were dwarfed by the immense size and scale of the venue—and it rivaled in sophistication the best museums I've attended anywhere. Elegant, beautiful, functional. And ready for the hordes whom they hope will attend next year. </p> <p>We decided today that China is doing a huge &quot;spring cleaning&quot; (for the past few years) preparing for the &quot;guests&quot; who will come next year: Olympics attendees. I do hope they aren't disappointed, but the effect has been to telescope 50 years of development into 5.</p> <p>I loved the soldiers, the whole visit there, the weather was great, and the walk good exercise. Especially running from building to building to make the deadline to get back out in time (Dawei didn't want to pay the 90 yuan, feeling he had seen it all already, so waited on the outside). Amazing and dramatic. I took another 300 or so pictures—that's about my average per day. Many aren't great, but they are easily discarded, and we have the process down for transferring to the computer, backing up, erasing and going at it again. </p> <p>The first amazing feat was the creation of the soldiers—so many thousands, so individualized, such a vast army for a man who accomplished what no man had ever done before: united the vast middle Kingdom into one for the first time, and wanted to defeat death itself! He only ruled over this united kingdom for 20 years, although the Tang and then the Han dynasties which came later ruled for 300+ years each. Twenty-five Chinese dynasties have ruled, some short and some long, but more than half of them made Xi'an (&quot;West Peace,&quot; formerly Chang'an, &quot;Everlasting Peace&quot;) their capitol. I'm so glad we came here. A very different feel from Beijing, now the capitol, the head of China. </p> <p>Xi'an is in the center of a wide flood plain valley between two mountain ranges, an older city by 1,000 years than Beijing (from the Zhou period, compared to Beijing's Ming).&nbsp; I share these details not to show off, because I can barely remember these details, but to show the complexity that learning even a little about it requires.</p> <p>After riding back through rush hour traffic, very tired, we opted&nbsp; for the local &quot;Hong Kong&quot; style restaurant, a glitzy café at the entrance to the underpass. One song serenaded us throughout dinner, which we were glad to escape. The food was ok, nothing special, and about 10 times &quot;our&quot; restaurant, where Dawei gets his mo (Chinese hamburger, or chopped up meat in a bun) and Linda and I get our noodles and wonton. I rebelled against eating there again even though it was good (and virtually free) because part of the experience here is culinary experimentation!</p> <p>But we did have breakfast there this morning again, a mere 7 yuan today (less than $1 for the three of us.) Today we had two destinations, beginning with the National Museum, which has artifacts beginning with Lantian Man, who lived here more than 1,500,000 years ago. Tools, clay pots, money (shells and then metal discs with square holes), weapons, bronze vessels, Tang clay horses and men and other grave offerings marched through the ages and dynasties in a bewildering progression. </p> <p>A young Chinese tour guide led an English group through all of it, holding forth in a sweet, bright voice. But when one listened closely, much of what she said contradicted not only what we learned at the Banpo Museum about the early peoples (patriarchal, hierarchical, she said, not matriarchal, communal), but what Linda, my resident expert, told me. I decided to not listen to the guide, and only pay attention to the signs and what Linda said. What misinformation is perpetrated every day by poorly trained &quot;guides.&quot; Just because they are Chinese doesn't make them experts on history! </p> <p>The main wing, closed for renovation, may contain even more lovely exhibits when the REAL (Olympic) guests arrive, next year. We, being the early arrivals, had to contend with jackhammers and loud motors, tools of the massive renovation.</p> <p>Then we proceeded via taxi to the Famen Temple (Goose Temple), set on stately, gorgeous grounds. Would have been peaceful if the electric saw cutting marble weren't shattering it, drowning out the birds. Later, we went on the back side of the grounds, where it WAS peaceful and even not under renovation! Although the back corner was where several monks were working on endless logs, de-barking them and smoothing them for the work going on in the front. </p> <p>Nonetheless, we had a wonderful time, climbing the steps to the seventh (top!) floor, taking pictures, wandering around. Balmy weather, lovely sunshine, pleasant people. Lots of other tourists, even one family from NY. Linda said it was her BEST day of the trip so far. I would have lots of contenders, but it's up there. Dinner at the dumpling restaurant in the guidebook, it was not a disappointment. </p> <p>Walking back, looking across at the lit Bell Tower, Drum Tower, shopping centers, the flying kite (the product of the day, it seems, we bought four for 10 yuan, together), we agreed, a beautiful city. In 1974, we didn't see any religious places, they hardly seemed to exist. Now they are among the most beautiful spots in the city, prosperous, thriving.</p> <p>Tomorrow: The 8th Route Army museum! (revolutionary army).</p></div> Aleen in China: April 1, 2007 tag:typepad.com,2003:post-32476572 2007-04-03T14:50:25-07:00 2007-04-03T14:50:25-07:00 Xian. I woke up 20 minutes before the alarm, my usual trick, but that made it 4:40, and necessitated a nap when we got here. I couldn't get on email before I left because Google was down. How could it... Aleen <div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>Xian.</p> <p>I woke up 20 minutes before the alarm, my usual trick, but that made it 4:40, and necessitated a nap when we got here. I couldn't get on email before I left because Google was down. How could it be down? But Yahoo was up, and CNN had a story on it about Google &quot;airbrushing&quot; history by replacing pre-Katrina images of New Orleans with post-K images. Probably everyone and their cousin is on Google. But the trip to airport, checking in, taking off, the usual, was all routine, except for Linda having to sort out a problem with the luggage—the cloisonné gift seventh sister gave triggered the security's concern. But they let us go with the overweight baggage without charging us. Linda is more stressed and nervous flying than Dawei and I, who were very happy to be coming to Xian. Turned out the airport bus, which came within a block of our hotel, was the best option, only 25 yuan each (about 7.65 yuan to the dollar, it was 8 last year.)</p> <p>Tomorrow we go see the famous terra cotta soldiers, taking a limo for the whole day (cheaper than it sounds, and the only practical way to do it, with Linda's walking limitations). Today we walked around, climbed the Bell Tower (they weren't happy to give L &amp; D the senior discount, but did), where we took loads of great pictures—the tower is the center of a roundabout, like the Arc d'Triomph, with many roads coming into it. Lively city!</p> <p>In the Bell Tower we stumbled on a music and dance performance, Ming instruments and costumes, although some of the tunes were modern (Aud Lang Syne). Droves of young people, couples, young families, sprinkled by older people, many of whom plied maps to tourists, or offered shoe shines. An underground passageway, wide, reminding me of the passage by the London Museums, winds its way under the Bell Tower (and actually one of the underground shops housed the exact service we searched for: fixing Dawei's glasses that broke at lunch. And he bought new sunglasses to replace those he lost, as well.) But I get ahead of myself.</p> <p>For lunch, we walked to a narrow street behind the dajie (big street), and settled on a Sichuan hole-in-the-wall, which had great food (except for the chicken and potato dish, which we hardly touched—can't win them all). They were all delighted with us as customers, and we bought Buddhist gold little plaques (protection from bad luck—sort of like the Turkish blue glass &quot;evil-eye&quot; protectors) from two tiny nuns in headgear. Strictly vegetarian, they ate their bok choy, rice and egg dishes but chatted with Dawei and Linda—they're journeying around China, making their way by selling the little gold plaques. Cheerful. Xian's feeling on the street is more boisterous, joyful, lively than Beijing (if the latter's possible).</p> <p>I thought construction would be less evident, but that proved wrong. Not as extreme as Beijing, but still ubiquitous. Ming architectural style is prevalent, and I love the look and feel of it. A young, beautiful population, well-dressed (mostly, although a few beggars and old people show that not everyone is taken care of) and happy. Linda said it is so different than 1985 when she was here, dusty, dirty, hot (it was summer), full of farmers pulling their loads and no couples or children she remembered. Prosperity is palpable here.</p> <p>Dinner was at another hole-in-the-wall full of locals eating noodles (a different style, freshly made, with tiny pressed tofu cubes, various savories, in a delicious broth) and a kind of chopped meat in a bun (you would not believe how fatty! I have a picture of her chopping boiled meat up on a huge concave block, fat and all), and bean soup. Dawei had the latter two dishes, I stuck with my noodles, and Linda had wonton soup (also a different style, local). Total dinner was 15 yuan! But of course Dawei and I had to stop at the dessert shop on the way home—me for delicious sunflower cookies, and he for sweetened fruit (like ice cream topping, but on ice instead of on ice cream).</p> <p>The vendors on the street were more playful, less strident, smiled and called out to us rather than in our face. I got a great reaction when I said, &quot;mingtian&quot; (tomorrow) in response to a shoe shine offer--here, if you try to speak, they're very happy, thumbs up!). The hotel is sweet, beautiful&nbsp; and only US$68 per night, a good deal. Full of foreigners, even lots of Americans, some with their children.</p></div> Aleen in China: March 31, 2007 tag:typepad.com,2003:post-32474370 2007-04-03T13:43:34-07:00 2007-04-03T13:43:34-07:00 Tomorrow we go to Xian. Last day in Beijing: Very windy today, the kind of weather that March is famous for here. Cold and blustery, enough to change the plan to go on Fragrant Mountain (in gondola cars to the... Aleen <div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>Tomorrow we go to Xian.</p> <p>Last day in Beijing: Very windy today, the kind of weather that March is famous for here. Cold and blustery, enough to change the plan to go on Fragrant Mountain (in gondola cars to the top), which Kandy had planned for us. Instead we'll have lunch at a nice place near her. I'm taking a cab to Shangri-La Hotel, and then we'll go from there. If you're not on a breakfast plan (which we were last time but aren't this trip), where to have it is the first decision of the day. Usually Hou's Wonton, a lively place on the corner of Jinyu Hutong (our street—not really a hutong anymore, but still retains the name) and Wang Fujing dajie. This morning we opted for a local noodle place, where Linda and Dawei had a soy-milk drink (can be sweet or savory), and a long fried dough (like donuts, although different shape, and not sweet). I had noodles of course—my favorite, with pickled vegetables. The fried egg on top I gave to Dawei—a few days ago I had what was called &quot;tea egg&quot;, a boiled egg cracked and soaked in tea, so it is a dark green color inside. Not appetizing, but good.</p> <p>In the afternoon, Linda and I searched for insoles for her. Not in the pharmacy, they suggested the department store. Inside Beijing Department Store (notable for its statue of the founder in front) we were directed past the usual Western branded makeup sections (looked just like Macy's, but prices were even more!) to a small section on the side in which prices were very reasonable. We got several items for 14.50 rmb. Every morning we also debate how to escape the street vendors lie in wait for us, especially one guy who has a different bag of merchandise every day and gets quite angry at the other vendors if they succeed in selling us something. We've bought hats, Mao pins, small purses, etc. from various ones—he also keeps giving Dawei little gifts, insisting, even though Dawei doesn't want them, and resists mightily. At least one is assured of a few big smiles for the day. The doormen and desk clerks also are free with smiles.</p> <p>The hotel we stay at here (Novotel Peace Hotel) is French-owned, and very gracious. Quite a good deal for this area, only US$88 per night, although probably you could pay less in another area. Curious about the rest of the guests, I usually ask and so far got French, Australian, Russian, Filipino in about that order. The only American family lives in Shenzhen and is only visiting Beijing from there. You often see Chinese-looking children (but obviously culturally American)&nbsp; as part of a family group of foreigners. At least I assume they are American, they look it.</p> <p>I was to climb Fragrant Mountain with Kandy today, that was the plan. But the wind was intense this morning, and we decided to just have lunch, and make it an hour later. She directed me to the Shangri-La Hotel, which I went to by taxi, and then she picked me up there and took me to a Ching Dynasty-themed hotel, with a lovely old garden. Everyone was in costume, and canary yellow was the dominant color. A bit over the top, but delightful. The canary-yellow tofu soup wasn't really that great tasting (although delightful to see), nor was the chicken nor pine-nut corn. I guess people don't come for the food. It was the first time in many meals that I didn't overeat. But the conversation was delightful. She brought her friend, a writer for a CCTV program, a host with guests, who was quite opinionated (good!) and up for a lively and heated discussion for the next three hours.</p> <p>Kandy was very tolerant, freely giving her own opinions also, and an excellent translator (although he didn't think she was expressing him that well. He frequently struggled to do it directly, even though his English skills weren't up to the task). We discussed their personal lives, opinions about China's problems, future, and past. Much too free-wheeling and long to detail here.</p> <p>A couple of highlights: my question about whether women are equal (citing the &quot;women hold up half the sky&quot; slogan we heard in 1974). No, of course we are not, Kandy said, although she went on to equate it more or less with the desire to have a career outside the home or not (women don't necessarily want to be equal, they want to stay home and take care of their children). She herself would like to do that for a couple of years, but did express frustration (or perhaps it was just the fact) that she, a vice president in her company, can never be president.</p> <p>Only if a woman starts her own company can she be its head. But she seemed to think it was more natural that men are the new millionaires, not women, i.e., her example of those in the online game world. She couldn't think of another example, or one in which a woman might succeed. She said most women think the main way to get rich, or succeed, is to marry a rich man, and their &quot;job&quot; in that case is to catch and keep him.</p> <p>Reminds me of the pre-women's lib American movie, &quot;How to Marry a Millionaire.&quot; Of course, plenty of American women want to and do make their &quot;fortune&quot; that way, but the difference seems to be in the differential respect each country now accords the goal, compared to achieving success through one's own efforts.</p> <p>Kandy's friend refused to offer an opinion about whether he would respect a woman more who achieved it through marriage or through her own efforts. Equality between the sexes doesn't seem to be a goal either in public slogans or private conversation—the&nbsp; latter&nbsp; saying either&nbsp; women ARE equal, or to the extent they're not, it's because they don't want it (they're lazy, they want to focus on their families, they're not competitive by nature, etc.).</p> <p>Everyone concedes that the Chinese government is run by men largely, and even most companies are, but this doesn't indicate any opportunity bias, although women do reluctantly admit it is there. With such a small sample, I could hardly draw serious conclusions, but despite people's impressions that it is improving, the trend seems to be the other direction. Trophy wives and girlfriends seem to be acceptable as a concept. The cab driver who had a girl said &quot;girls are better&quot; because they are easier (to handle, to educate?). Little boys here are clearly indulged tremendously, girls do not seem to be as much.</p> <p>Impressions. We also discussed at length whether religion is necessary for a strong moral code, which Wang felt one needed. Coming from the heart of a country which had set a world standard for many of us for a moral code WITHOUT and above that followed by at least most religions, this seemed strange to me.</p> <p>The rules which they all learned to live by falling by the wayside, which said, for example, unique in Chinese history (and maybe the world) the &quot;red army shall take not one needle from the masses,&quot; and not rape or pillage nor decimate the population which they lived among, a demand for equality and renouncing corruption. Now reputedly corruption was common. Certainly, several generations had grown up under a moral, ethical system that no longer held, or at least was no longer the official exhortation. How to conduct their lives?</p> <p>He was also excited that we traveled in China during the Cultural Revolution, and took pictures, even super 8 film. Very little film or candid pictures, except that for official purposes, of that time now exists. Don't I think we should consider pulling together an exhibition of photos from visitors who came during that time? Yes, a great idea.</p> <p>I'm calling it a night, since we get up at 5 a.m. to make an early plane to Xian. Last entry from Beijing, although later I may transcribe some of the interviews and try to make sense of them. </p></div> Aleen in China: March 28-30, 2007 tag:typepad.com,2003:post-32472590 2007-04-03T12:57:30-07:00 2007-04-03T12:57:30-07:00 Next installment: Wednesday. I've lost track of the date. Crazy how that eventually happens. We rushed home from the antiques market excursion because Linda began having intense stomach pain (I've now started with either sympathetic pain or it's hitting me... Aleen <div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>Next installment: Wednesday. </p> <p>I've lost track of the date. Crazy how that eventually happens. We rushed home from the antiques market excursion because Linda began having intense stomach pain (I've now started with either sympathetic pain or it's hitting me too but not so bad), and took nearly an hour in the taxi, even though it looked on the map as though that's near where I walked yesterday and took only 40 minutes to walk it! Beijing traffic is sooooo bad. Much worse than LA or NY, but Brett is right that there is no road rage here—everyone is so cheerful about it. Honking horns, but in good spirits. Not that smiles are common in Beijing, they are rare birds. The singing club yesterday surprised us with that. Linda is ok, though, I think. Dawei went to pharmacy downstairs and got the equivalent of Pepto-Bismo. We had lunch at a Sichuan restaurant, also Yunnan food. One dish of radish sprouts (not what we thought we ordered—Linda thought it was pea shoots from the picture—she could read it but thought she just didn't pay close enough attention) was very, very spicy.</p> <p>This morning was another temple, White Cloud Temple. Taoist. The god of wealth had its worshipers, and then the same people walked across the way to the god of good luck, of official rank, of long life, and of good health, of heaven, of water, of earth, etc. One god for each thing, and many others, too. When you think about it, they ARE all different. We began discussing which we would rather have, if we could only have one or two. We rubbed the monkey (supposed to be good luck), also. The question is whether the religions follow the culture, or vice versa. How could one decide? Beautiful architecture, colorful paint everywhere. Little&nbsp; muted or drab. Definitely Chinese. Shiny gold leaf, bright blue, deep green, flashy red. Intricately painted in historical patterns. A whole country undergoing renovation all at once.</p> <p>True to her word, Anna (Brett's wife and my new friend) arranged for me to meet with a journalist friend of hers, Lee Chin**. She came to the hotel with him and we sat over tea and juices while chatting for hours. She had to do translation duty because Linda was still not up to joining us, but Anna did very well. Amazing considering she only spent a couple of years in the US. Joining in with her own opinions and experiences as well, Anna turned out to be a great &quot;informant&quot; (in the social anthropological sense) also, so I got the yin and yang. In the course of the delightful conversation, so open and unguarded, I warmed to them both and took copious notes. Actually transcribing this may have to wait till I have more leisure, but some highlights, and I may have misinterpreted them in some areas because my notes on re-reading are incomplete and confusing at times:</p> <p>Lee, although only 36, is a senior editor with a newspaper that is a Communist Party organ. He's never been abroad, but has many friends who have (mostly the US), and he would love to travel—to Germany, France, Russia, Japan. Not the US? No, he feels that he knows it too well already, from his friends and all the information about it, whereas the other places are still a mystery. He would like to live abroad, but has &quot;given up.&quot; While he was a student in Beijing University, he had a chance to go abroad, but didn't, because he &quot;just wanted to know more about China itself.&quot; But he'd like to go now. &quot;When I was younger, I didn't understand that I should go outside.&quot;</p> <p>His opinion about the changes in China, all around him? External change is great, even extreme, but internally, it is very slow, too slow. Buildings are demolished, chaos reigns physically, but attitudes and policies have not kept pace. Most Chinese are morbidly anxious all the time, about their lives, what will happen, survival, their children's education, their houses. Three mountains loomed before them to be surmounted: education, housing, medical care. Worry is constant, and no one feels secure. I was amazed they even (in their 30s) worry about retirement—with the world changing so much, why worry about something decades from now? But symbolic, perhaps, of their state of mind. He quoted a popular saying, roughly translated as &quot;Don't let children fail at the starting line.&quot; When children are barely born, maybe even in the womb, education is paramount in their parent's worry. With all this anxiety, worry, stress is a constant companion. Brett had mentioned stress as being a huge factor in his life, so even for business people, it must be true. Anna pitched in that her overriding impression of people's mindset differences between Chinese and Americans is that Americans enjoy life more (and yet many Americans I know feel very stressed). Chinese think you must be successful, then you can be happy, both Lee and Anna said, yet both of them personally felt happiness was more important, if you felt confident and did what you wanted, success would come. </p> <p>Formerly a senator in the local congress, Lee talked about his experiences with that, and with feeling stifled editorially about what he could say or not. Better than &quot;before&quot;, yet still not acceptable, he felt, freedom of speech was paramount on his wish-list. What is first on his wife's wish-list, I asked (he has a wife who teaches Chinese to foreigners and a 7-year-old son). &quot;Money.&quot; Mainly money for education—the special education extras that mean their son will excel in the intense competition with all the other children: art lessons, Olympic math, music, sports, etc. Apparently one must collect &quot;points&quot; beyond excellent grades to get into the prestigious high schools and colleges (sound familiar to you American parents?). Nominally free, primary education (9 years) costs parents plenty for the special lessons (and kindergarten and high school is not free). Not entirely mythology, Chinese millionaires are also not as prevalent as the myth. When ordinary citizens, such as Lee buys a house (he has one), they incur a big mortgage. His bank, for example,&nbsp; must be paid 2,000 rmb per month. Not much of a stretch, but it locks him into his current job. Dreams of going free-lance to write his novels, his science articles, his book reviews are shelved. Yet, of course, the value of his apartment is increasing all the time—I think perhaps he can later sell his house and do as he likes in a smaller city (he says things are easier outside Beijing). He's the oldest of four children, including a younger brother, a doctor in a smaller city where the pressure and stress is not as great.</p> <p>Doctors, it turns out, do not enjoy a high salary, being government employees. If medical care is free, why the universal worry about medical care and lack of insurance?&nbsp; Apparently a &quot;tip&quot; system not only greases the palms of all doctors but ensures that (if they participate—who admits to such an illegal practice),&nbsp; the costs of &quot;free&quot; medical care are skyrocketing. To get the &quot;attention&quot; of the doctor, one needs to &quot;tip&quot; them. What if people complain, what is the penalty? Extreme, if anyone ever did, but who would risk alienating the very person who could save your life or your loved one's when you need it most? The &quot;iron rice bowl&quot; of the past, if it truly did exist for the ordinary citizen, is broken now. How to protect the rights of workers, of children to education? All children are special, unique, he says, but the educational system has one standard, one program, which everyone is taught. Teaching to pass the tests is the main goal, and nothing out of the ordinary is included. Anna cited her friend's hyperactive, super-intelligent&nbsp; son as an example: his teachers asked him to stay out of the school because of his unruly behavior. Anna, with the help of Brett's company games, decided that he was just bored, and could actually excel if taught properly to his strengths. She suggested her friend send him to a private school, but even finding one that doesn't do the same curriculum is tough. Even if you want to teach your own children is not so easy, you encounter a lot of resistance from others, who are critical of your way. Anna strikes me as able to buck criticism and find her own path.</p> <p>What is the way forward for China? Lee says, &quot;it is hard to say. China will be special in the world, unique. Special does not mean good or bad, but just different, he cannot see exactly the nature, and if he can't, perhaps no one else can imagine what it will really be, either.&quot; When it is crushed, you have to rebuild, which will be a good way for China in the future. He's optimistic about this future, because Chinese people are adept at many things. I told him some people are saying China is the only country which may be challenging the U.S.'s hegemony in the world. Interpreting this militarily, he disagreed. But when I clarified that these people meant economically, he considered. Anna asked whether the U.S. isn't the one benefiting from the cheap Chinese labor, but I'm not sure I agree with that, since much cash is flowing to China from the trade imbalance. Together they told me: &quot;One Chinese is a dragon but a group of Chinese is a worm,&quot; a rough translation of a current favorite Chinese saying, basically meaning that one Chinese is very smart, but they don't work well in a team. But my own observation is the contrary—Chinese teamwork , possibly because of their collective past, is unparalleled. Maybe it is poor compared to the past, but not if you look at other countries. We had a long discussion about this which I'm not sure I can do justice to, but clearly they are making sense of this and adjusting to a new reality, critical of both. Is selfishness human nature, or trained?</p> <blockquote><p>Anna: In the past, many people were selfish, but that part of their motive was hidden beneath the opposite rhetoric. If each person does his best, then China will be greater. Are men and women equal in China? (Everyone is familiar with Women Hold Up Half the Sky and the attempt to make women equal).</p> <p>Lee: yes, I believe they are equal, and some women are treated very well, even spoiled, treated nicer than men.</p> <p>Anna: I don't think so, but in my life, I try to ask for equal opportunity, even though sometimes I am refused the chance. When I graduated [from college], I went to the government, and said I do not want to do just &quot;female&quot; jobs, I can do many things better than men. Although sometimes I was not treated fairly, I insisted I can do it. Maybe journalists get paid equal.</p></blockquote> <p>Lee admitted that all leaders of the newspaper are male, and many more in government and at the upper echelons, entirely male. Maybe women don't like politics. Some don't want to be aggressive, and are softer, more humble, but not because of policy. He did admit that members of each gender may see things differently, and we moved on. The imbalance of boys and girls: a terrible thing, and both said the population policy should change (I was the only one who brought up the problem of too many people—with an expanding economy, overpopulation isn't so obviously problematic). Lee said the solution might be that men would have to steal other men's wives. I'm still not sure if this was a joke or a mistranslation. He would like to have a girl, to keep the balance. Anna was curious about whether this imbalance might be true everywhere in the world, but skeptically accepted that the opposite is true. Both agreed that the rich aren't limited to one child, especially business people who wouldn't lose their jobs over it—a fine of about 50,000 rmb and being fired are the sanctions for having a second child (in the city—country people can have more under certain circumstances).</p> <p>The biggest problem is how to cope with [the extreme, constant] change. Lee shared that college classmates of his who went to America and returned, said they can't accept China. America is more stable, while everything here is changing too fast, a bit crazy, makes them crazy.</p> <blockquote><p>Anna: China has a lot of opportunity, but I'd like to stay more quiet. </p></blockquote><p>Lee's parents are peasants, in jiangxi province. They own land, but are waiting for him for everything. They are &quot;old and can't do anything anymore&quot; (could they be older than me?—he's younger than my two older children). Both Anna and Lee were born in 1970. Lee's younger brother is a medical doctor in a medium-sized city, and his income is low (defined as less than 3000 rmb per month). Anna's parents work for the electric company, and have good medical insurance. She says they give money to her brother, but not to her, although she gives money to them. Both agreed girls have no &quot;duty&quot; to support or help their parents, however. Lee's parents want to live with Lee, but his wife doesn't want it.</p> <p><em>(I'll try to add more from the notes from this conversation later.)</em></p> <p>Two long taxi rides today through a giant's forest of massive, gargantuan buildings. They are so many, and so big! Mile after mile of them, most of them different, although occasionally there are a dozen or so by the same pattern clustered together. First we went to the north part of Beijing to a 6-story building filled with all kinds of electronic and electrical media: computers, cellphones, ipods, dvds, software, TV's, etc. Dawei got his Chinese programs (Vista, Photoshop, etc.), we wandered around awhile amid the forest of beckoning salespeople and brands, and gratefully left the blaring noise behind. At one point I couldn't contain my mirth at the image of us walking down a row of animatronic robots which come to life as we walk by, spouting their sales messages, and go dark as we continue past. It's so like that! You can't look at anything without two or three salespeople dogging your every step, suggesting this and that. Navigating the street amidst the crowd of people, cars, motorcycles, wheeled carts, we finally reached&nbsp; the Mongolian restaurant, merely across the street and up to the third floor. But it felt like a journey! </p> <p>The food was worth it: Mongolian hot pot, which is a dish of simmering on a stove in the middle of the table&nbsp; (even sometimes boiling) broth (flavored with ginger, ginseng, garlic, leeks, and sometimes peppers) into which you drop whatever&nbsp; things you ordered: thin, thin slices of meat, cabbage, mushrooms, tofu, tofu skins, etc. Delicious, but overate again! Our eyes are always bigger than our stomachs, an apt expression my mom used to say.</p> <p>Last night we went to Lee Chin's house in the north of the city. More than an hour in the cab past gargantuan buildings, thousands of them marching along the road, and away from us in every direction. Beautiful ones, neon-lit ones, elegant ones, ugly ones, old ones, new ones: ten New York cities have been added since I was here before, it seems. When we arrived, seemingly at the end of the city (but no end in sight), 30 or 40 buildings (possibly as many as 100) obviously by the same architect, built at the same time, rose majestically from streets and paved courtyards. Small vendors sold food from carts, small shops housing seamstresses or convenient stores occupied the first floors, two or three restaurants anchored the main streets. Lee met us at the bus stop (the cab driver missed it and overshot) and led us through a maze to his building, his 17th floor, his door. He told me three years ago this area was a small village, he bought his apartment a bit more than two years ago. Two bedrooms, a study, kitchen, bathroom, and a large Ping-Pong table dominating the main living room,which also held a couch, their dining table, chairs, the walls lined with shelves and closets, and capped with an alcove of windows hanging over 17 floors above the street, which doubled as their clothes drying area. Cozy and beautiful, but still very compact, with the shower, sink, toilet for example in a 5x5 square. </p> <p>His wife was gracious, petite and pretty, his son handsome and boisterous, delighted with the attention of five adults. She spoke English well, but most of conversation drifted to Chinese. My understanding is improving, but too slowly—Linda graciously continues as my main translator, for which I am very grateful. Over tea and cookies, we chatted awhile about their lives and ours, filling in the gaps.</p> <p>Lee's wife teaches Chinese to foreign students at the #1 institute for that in Beijing. More than an hour's travel, by bus and then subway, from their respective jobs, they take turns coming home by 4:30 for their son. He attends school five days a week from 7:30 a.m. to 4:30, usually attending after-school (art, special tutoring, etc.) only on Fridays. Lee often works from home, writing in his study and sending in his stories over high-speed internet. Lee has a way with words even in English, which is improving even over two days I've known him. I was deeply touched when he referred to our conversation of the previous evening, saying that he could tell I loved Chinese people and culture. The poetic ring he gave it I cannot recreate . Despite his criticism of his country, he said, he wanted to make clear that he was proud to be Chinese and loved his country also. It is his business, his livelihood, to be critical,&nbsp; an idea which his wife reinforced. Perhaps they discussed it a bit, and his comments to me, worrying that I would misunderstand. I don't think I did, but the language barrier is strong. </p> <p>Lee's son is only seven, but reads very well (at 5th level even though he is only first level, they said), reading aloud Peter Pan (in Chinese) to us before we left. From the living room, we proceeded to the nearby restaurant, simple, with pictures of the food above the ordering counter, no tablecloths but with waitress, not self-serve. The food was also simple, northern style with noodles (zha zha mein and beef noodles), zhou (rice soup, mung bean soup), a fried sesame bun with sweet bean paste inside, steamed wrapped meat and mushroom. So much they took four containers home. The little boy read the characters on a small sign on the table, trying to teach me to say them, but I was a poor student, never quite getting the tones or sounds right (in the noisy restaurant), and despite his saying them louder and louder, I would never quite succeed to his satisfaction. He was bold and confident, and probably had trouble understanding why this grownup couldn't even read as well as he could. He walked (or ran) home alone after dinner, something American parents like them (middle class) probably wouldn't allow, but it was the suburbs, not the city, perhaps some at home would. We returned to the apartment briefly to play a bit of ping-pong and a bit more conversation before catching another cab home. The four hour-long cabs we took that day hovered around 45 rmb, about $8, not much money, but a lot of time in small, seat-belt-less cars. We didn't mind so much, though, despite the harrowing traffic, because each driver took a different route, giving us extensive views of Beijing.</p> <p>Yesterday rain finally hit while we were at breakfast in Hou's Wonton, today we awoke to grey skies and bone-wearied bodies. Taking off the morning, we're still deciding what to do with the rest of the day, but a break feels good. Overwhelmed with information and experiences. I look down from the hotel window at the street-sweepers and the pedestrians. A different approach to cleaning, Beijing's army of street-sweepers, brooms and ashcans in hand, roam tirelessly all day into the evening, sweeping in all weather. Mechanical street-sweeping vehicles, smaller than the US but bigger than France's miniatures,&nbsp; wend their way through traffic and parked cars, without apparent schedules or alternative-side parking restrictions.&nbsp; The result is that Beijing is very clean, despite its loess-laden winds and armies of tourists and residents. Red banners strung between trees or on buildings urge residents to treat the city like their own home and keep it clean. Occasionally these banners also remind people to watch their bikes and other belongings, or to consider the army the people's friend. Trash collectors on bicycles or motored bikes with flat-bed backs or bins call for various varieties of trash as they ply the hutongs or cross traffic on the dajie's (large streets). Apparently pretty much everything is recycled. </p> <p>I ended up taking a couple of hours' walk through the neighborhood—the luxury hotels (the Peninsula, the Regent, the Park Plaza), the Waveform (designed by a New York architect) which is a many-floored &quot;restaurant and rooms for resting, but not a hotel&quot; (according to the young woman who &quot;helped me [barred my way]&quot; in the lobby, the hutongs just behind the hotels, with their small restaurants, beauty shops, public toilets, shabby local residences. Here, one block will resemble the most upscale NY places, and just behind, Africa at its shabbiest. The contradiction is sharp.</p> <p><em>**Note, I've changed some people's names to protect their identities.</em></p></div> Aleen in China: March 27, 2007 tag:typepad.com,2003:post-32249610 2007-03-28T20:58:54-07:00 2007-03-28T20:58:54-07:00 Brett picked me up in his company limousine (with driver) and brought me to his company. Lavish but tasteful furnishings and decorations, Digital Bamboo (digitalbamboo.com) occupies an entire floor in Beijing's Soho district (doesn't mean south of Houston or whatever... Aleen <div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>Brett picked me up in his company limousine (with driver) and brought me to his company. Lavish but tasteful furnishings and decorations, Digital Bamboo (<a title="http://digitalbamboo.com/" href="http://digitalbamboo.com/">digitalbamboo.com</a>) occupies an entire floor in Beijing's Soho district (doesn't mean south of Houston or whatever London's means, either, something about home office, mixed use). They lease an entire floor in a huge building (at a few cents per square foot, but still adding up to about US$10,000 per month), where about 85 employees work in cubicles designing a new Chinese style 3-D graphic immersive game with dragons, wolves and hulking guys and shapely women. I loved the tracks in the snow the hulk left as he walked. Amazing looking, with fluid animations, beautiful dragons, good game-play. The economics of China production must be transforming the gaming world, I say to him. Not so much yet, he replies, because the creativity just isn't there yet. All 85 need to be micro-managed, and there isn't enough management to go around, nor is creative&nbsp; management cheap because it is so in demand. He thought he would kick back and take it easier when he got here, lose weight and be less stressed. The opposite has been true, which is a bit ironic given that one set of games they develop and sell works like beta-blockers, helps you to train the way your brain works, reduce stress and increase concentration naturally. But he probably doesn't have time to use them. Great games, judging from the demo. Hopefully I can help him make connections, although he's pretty connected from his many years at Warner Bros. Interactive.&nbsp; He was very gracious, including a fabulous lunch at The Deluxe Restaurant, a local Cantonese restaurant. His wife, and a friend/colleague of theirs, Mr. Wang (not sure my sp is right), joined us for lunch. We took the limo, which isn't a stretch, but more like Morgan's BMW, and navigated the incredible Beijing traffic while he told me about what it's like to live here. Most of the drivers are people who a few years ago were riding bikes, and tend to drive their cars the same way, even though an accident in a car can be much more serious, and cars just aren't as navigatible. Getting around Beijing is so hard that they seldom go anywhere, and didn't even know any places to recommend. They're mostly working. Even Anna (his wife) works at home. She has a nine-year-old boy, who mostly plays games at home with his friends to relax, and otherwise is studying. Brett says kids don't play games here because they have to study all the time, and their parents keep a close eye on them (although Anna said fathers work all the time, and mothers usually do also—who is keeping the eye on them?). College students are the online gamers (very few people have their own computers, it's mostly in the internet cafes, or played on mobiles). Most of the games up to this point have been Korean, and a Chinese-made game with high budget and quality is almost a sure success (although mid-level, ordinary game developers are all going out of business). </p> <p>Anna of course has her own business (what educated&nbsp; Chinese person doesn't?). She's an agent for the Colorado company which makes the heart games, and helps Brett's company make deals (most recently with the Red Cross here). Because of her responsibilities for her son, she wants a flexible schedule—she worked for the Tienanmen recreation park in Southern China (which cost 8 billion rmb, which is about a billion dollars), mostly marketing for it. She went to the U.S. hoping to work for Disneyland, but met and married Brett instead. She's not so happy to be back here, especially in Beijing, mostly because of the pollution and traffic. But here they are. Brett said he sent 15 of his people to Chengdu recently to set up a new unit to work with Microsoft's new XBOX development group there, but despite the costs here, it must be still necessary to base yourself in the capitol. </p> <p>In the car we talked a bit about the one-child policy. Anna has two brothers, but Mr. Wang is young enough that his family was shaped by it. But finding a mate wasn't difficult (he's married and has a son), he said, men have&nbsp; all the younger women&nbsp; from which to choose. </p> <p>I shared with them my observation of the two cab drivers Dawei &quot;interviewed&quot;: the older one had the sense that he would never get rich, that you had to be connected to get anywhere, and because he wasn't born in the right family, he'd never have those connections. A certain bitterness and sense that that wasn't right—growing up (he was a middle school student during the Cultural Revolution) in a society that taught equality even if it didn't always practice it, that &quot;back door&quot; connections were punished sometimes even by death (red guard justice). The rules had changed, and the un-virtuous in the old system were rewarded in the new. </p> <p>The younger one had the optimistic attitude that all things were possible—maybe he wouldn't get rich, maybe he didn't need to, but he COULD if he chose to. He had a wife and baby, and a happy enough life, a good job, and an expanding society around him.</p> <p>Probably the two attitudes reflect somewhat&nbsp; their different prospects: this new society is mainly for the young. The cities are sucking up all the young talent from all over China, using them to build these massive projects, and all the new ventures are hiring them. But there is little retraining going on, and even very little training at all except for the very young. </p> <p>Brett said even the art training is quite different from other societies—it has a very narrow focus, training technicians and draftsmen, etc., instead of broadly educated people, i.e., in art, painters and sculptures and &quot;artists.&quot; You're not born creative, you learn it, and the educational system is &quot;rote learning,&quot; he says. Probably he knows more about the educational system than I do, but this rings true to what the people said who offered Risa a job teaching &quot;creativity.&quot; I'm sure as China develops creativity, it will be a uniquely Chinese brand of it. My sense is that China is drinking in world experiences through a fire hose, and synthesizing its own hybrid: neither wholly traditional Chinese nor a hybrid of only one culture (American) and theirs. </p> <p>I discovered this morning that one of my friends, Hal Josephson, is here with a China Access tour group including the &quot;Happy Feet&quot; filmmaker who won the Oscar, but too late to actually do more than a hotel-to-hotel quick phone call before he heads back to SF. 44 hours in Shanghai and then Beijing. What can one know in that time? More than not coming, I'm sure. </p> <p>Linda and I had a somewhat heated discussion about our different approaches to information gathering here—she has access to family and overhearing Dawei's &quot;interviews&quot; with cab drivers, but I don't, and find myself hungry to talk to people on more than a superficial tourist level. She sums up our differences that she knows so much more than I about China. Surely that's true, but irrelevant. Could one ever know enough about anything to be satisfied?&nbsp; I think I just like to meet strangers, hear their story, what they think about the world, more than others do. </p> <p>Anna (Brett's wife) has arranged an meeting with a journalist later this week, I can't wait. Dawei doesn't want anything to do with meeting anyone other than his sisters and casual strangers. He turned down meeting his brother-in-law's nephew,&nbsp; a China historian. I was disappointed, but look forward to seeing Kandy (a publishing contact through my previous work at Scholastic) later this week. <br />I took a short walk before dinner yesterday, so many people coming home from work, catching fast-food (not generally chains, just small vendors making food at hole-in-the-walls or from carts). So like New York, and yet so different. An old man chased me away from photographing an old set of buildings with the plaque identifying it as museum of classical drama. He was adamant and nasty, reminding me of the unpleasantness of our first trip around photographing anything not shiny and new, shades of the anti-Antonioni campaign that haunted us through that trip. For those of you who don't know of it, Antonioni, a famous Italian filmmaker, was invited to China in the late sixties to make a documentary, but &quot;betrayed&quot; that trust by focusing on a lot of the problems and underdevelopment.&nbsp; At every turn in 1974, we were admonished not to repeat his mistake, and to give a good report on China. </p> <p>Speaking of that trip, I noticed the All-China Women's Federation building is nearby, but know that the language would be a challenge if I went on my own. I tried to interest Linda in contacting them, but couldn't get her to bite. Would be really interesting to see if anyone there knew anything about our 1974 delegation. Maybe I'll just go on my own later in the week. </p> <p>Today is a walk in the park, which will be great. Lots of people-watching, beautiful scenery. Back from the day in the park, walking along the lake with the bars and restaurants along it. Beautiful. I had never been to that part of Beijing, it's really a night event they say, although beautiful by day. We had lunch in the famous barbecue Muslim restaurant, although we had beef and chicken, not &quot;mutton&quot;. Delicious and a beautiful decor, it deserves its reputation, but a bit pricier than we've been doing. 160 yuan total for more food than we could eat. </p> <p>We took two pedicabs to save Linda's stamina (her back was bothering her), but she held up for the walk around the lake and through the tunnel to Beihai itself, and all the way back to the front entrance. I had an event with a street seller who made children's cloth shoes by hand, she seemed to be spelling out a 5, and said wu, but then wouldn't take the money. I think she meant US$5, but then denied it when Dawei came back with me to straighten out the misunderstanding. Perhaps she estimated what the currency exchange was, and then was embarrassed not to have it right. Of course, I could have been mistaken, but since we went through it three times, my inclination is not to think so. One can get around language barriers so often that it becomes frustrating on those occasions that sign language doesn't work. Even my Chinese, poor as it is, is less likely to be understood by someone who doesn't believe I could speak the language than those who know I know a little. Like a badly pronouncing Japanese person on the streets of LA, I guess. </p> <p>In the Beihai pavilion, where previously we found a miscellany of Chinese relaxing, this time an informal singing club of retired men and women were singing from a songbook. Greeting us with wide smiles and huanying, huanying, its apparent leader scooted over and motioned to the perch on the railing beside her. In our honor, the next song was &quot;The Red River Valley,&quot; sung entirely in tune and correctly. The warm welcome and greeting was quite at odds to either the rather suspicious stares we usually elicit, or the swoop to sell us something. </p> <p>The paving-stone replacement work&nbsp; we saw in progress last year was finished, the white pagoda without its sheath of scaffolding. Teams of workers trimmed trees, planted new ones (huge ones with their bowl of roots), landscaped the hillsides and painted and scraped the pagoda tiles. Spring housekeeping for an entire city, the scale of it mind-boggling. All for the Olympics next year—I do hope they aren't disappointed with the turnout. I suppose if even a small fraction of all the world's overseas Chinese return for it (not to mention others from everywhere), they will reach their numbers. Today we saw the tourists which we didn't see before, but not in Soong Chingling's residence, our first stop this morning, which was nearly empty. An amazing life she had—focal point for sympathetic foreigners' support of China in the face of world disapproval and abandonment. Few countries in the history of the world have faced such isolation, clearly now reversed into perhaps the MOST sought-after, looked-to. How to understand such a turnaround? Epitomized by Dawei's struggle to understand how the ruthless application of the very egalitarian ideals which made his life so difficult during the Cultural Revolution have been so thoroughly repudiated, and so quickly! Did he regret leaving? Yes, except for his unhappy personal life, he would have liked to stay. Such a reversal is so hard for returning Chinese to understand. A street vendor who plies his various products (hats, commemorative pins, etc.) has adopted us, tries to scare off (scolding, etc.) others who sell to us. I asked if he had Mao pins, and he brought them back today, zhende, real ones. Old ones from the Cultural Revolution. They have the mark of each group that made them. This morning we also visited the jewelry store we saw last night, first waiting for the entire group of them to finish their calesthenics and pep talk on the sidewalk in front of the store (a common story here), and then picking out a few pieces and brought them home. We had breakfast in a new place, steamed small buns with millet soup on the side, in Wang Fujing. I didn't care for the soup, but the buns were great. A bit more than our usual place, 80 yuan total (about $10). </p></div> Aleen in China: March 26, 2007 tag:typepad.com,2003:post-32249360 2007-03-28T20:46:43-07:00 2007-03-28T20:46:43-07:00 Breakfast at 7:30 at our favorite wonton restaurant with the strident waitresses. It is packed in the early morning with people on their way to work, about US$2 each for all we can stuff in. This whole block has been... Aleen <div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>Breakfast at 7:30 at our favorite wonton restaurant with the strident waitresses. It is packed in the early morning with people on their way to work, about US$2 each for all we can stuff in. This whole block has been marked for demolition, with most of the stores we visited last year just a hulk, and the vast area behind already mostly cleared. Huge buildings (based on the huge billboard sign with the pictures) will replace these, and the area is quickly transforming. China is like those time-lapse, speeded up stills-turned-to-video (Koyanaaskotsi) (sp?), morphing from a third world place to a first-world one in double-quick time. An altercation broke out between&nbsp; a guy (who looked like he lived on the streets) selling a local newspaper in the restaurant and the waitress-in-charge (Dawei said with authority that there is no manager on duty, the owner only occasionally comes to collect money). She shouted at him and chased him out, but he was back within minutes for an even louder assisted exit complete with flying plastic dishes and chopsticks. Unflappable, he stood on the side outside and accosted people as they came in to buy the papers. We decided there must be a history to this, no chance this was the first time he had come in. With the rules changing so rapidly, what people’s rights are, on both sides, some people getting very rich and others eeking out a bare existence, conflict is inevitable. Security guards are even more prevalent than in paranoid post-9-11 America. </p> <p> On the way home Dawei was drawn into bargaining for another watch, and then Linda bought the pashmina she had been looking for. Of course, that flagged us for other roving street vendors to ply their wares, these are actually the best deals one gets, so we dropped a few more yuan. You have to have great resistance or you end up with a lot of useless stuff, albeit beautiful bargains. We talked about L&amp;D renting an apartment in the area, for about US$200 a month, in a three-month contract, you get a pretty nice three-bedroom (not luxurious). That foreigners are tempted to do this puts a crunch on rental rates for the residents, who earn so little. It IS a bit far to come for a second residence, of course. </p> </div> Aleen in China: March 25, 2007 tag:typepad.com,2003:post-32248812 2007-03-28T20:18:25-07:00 2007-03-28T20:18:25-07:00 (Sunday) Now it’s 5 a.m. and I’m too excited to sleep longer. Even though I always sought a life of travel—journalist, anthropologist, international business—when I’m here, even where I’ve been before, I can’t believe it. I “pinch myself” to think... Aleen

(Sunday)

Now it’s 5 a.m. and I’m too excited to sleep longer. Even though I always sought a life of travel—journalist, anthropologist, international business—when I’m here, even where I’ve been before, I can’t believe it. I “pinch myself” to think I’m really here. At times like this I think of my mother, now dead a year and a half, who secretly relished my vagabond life, even though she insisted she didn’t understand why I didn’t just live near her and stay home—her dream. All her life she lived near her mother, although each moved often, an invisible rubber band connected them, never far for long. That would have been worse than death for me, leading straight to it. Surely all these travelers mixing up the world, a part of “globalization”, is good for the world. But not sure why it hasn’t resulted in fewer wars, genocides. Why not? How can you come to another society, mix with other ways of living, and not be more tolerant?

The cab driver and Dawei carried on a lively, continuous conversation all the way from the airport to the hotel—loud and beautiful (his Chinese sounded like singing at the top of his voice, gorgeous). I do hate loudness (something about it hurting my head), but here seems to be an exception—in the wonton restaurant, the waitresses and cooks shout at the top of their voices constantly, but it is merely vibrant, not irritating. Even though hotels seem to be not cheap anymore, and the cab fare has doubled since last year, food is still cheap—US$5 for a delicious meal of wonton for the three of us together. The cab driver said some Americans told him America was so democratic that the ordinary person could see their president anytime. With the exception of town meetings when he’s trying to be elected, we told him that was not true. Undoubtedly there ARE differences, but they aren’t so evident. The internet instructions warn you not to download materials from prohibited sites, but neglects to day what the sites are—pornographic? Political?

It’s so beautiful to see Dawei so happy. Many other Chinese who fled for personal or political reasons must feel the same way. Last year, his first trip back after 25 years in exile, his paranoia was extreme. As a college professor from a “bourgeois” background (his ancestors were wealthy, and he grew up in the shadow of the Imperial Palace), he suffered many injustices and horrible experiences in the Cultural Revolution, as well as an unhappy marriage that didn’t survive that time. He worried about seeing some people, but everything has changed. This trip, we’re visiting Xi’an as well, a place he was teaching just before leaving, and he’s looking forward to seeing it again. We see Seventh Sister and her husband today, and they’ll go see Fourth Sister (who suffers from Alzheimer and doesn’t speak English at all) on Monday while I see Brett and his wife. Brett worked for Voyager in Los Angeles, and now is a software developer expat here. Heidi worked with him at Warner Bros. and was still in touch with him, and connected us. I’m looking forward to lunch with him on Monday.

Breakfast at a local fast food place—they said I couldn’t have noodles without the beef because they didn’t serve it that way (Dawei asking), and then I saw a woman with exactly that at her table on the way out. Customer service isn’t a premium here—when we bought strawberries, the clerk picked out poor specimens, and when I wanted her to exchange for the much redder, riper ones in the tray, she complained that she couldn’t sell them if we handled them, yet she picked them out, and all we asked was that she exchange them herself for the redder ones (they were for a gift for 7th sister). But Dawei has little appetite for argument; she clearly didn’t want to agree, so we let it go. We wandered down the main street in Wang Fuching after breakfast, and discovered that a street fair of travel agents, hotels and resorts was just setting up. Although most of the tables were still empty, the posters behind each table shouted adventure, luxury, travel. Clearly aimed at Chinese tourists (all in Chinese, little English), the tourist business is booming. People have money to travel or relax, and other Chinese are busy gearing up to make money from it. We gathered brochures. Yunnan, my dream next destination in China, was very prominent and inviting.

A fabulous Xinjiang banquet after a nice home visit with exchange of gifts (Dawei and Linda gave them a small digital camera and Linda and I showed 7th Sister’s husband how to use it. He seems quite technologically adept, so shouldn’t be a problem). They had gifts for us and a banquet of unusual fruits. The yellow watermelon was so great that I gathered up the seeds to take home to plant! This before we went by taxi to the restaurant and ate in a private room. We had about 20 or 21 courses, really too much but all delicious. The sugared walnuts and a fried sweet bean paste cookie dipped in sesame seeds were my favorites, but other dishes were garlic broccoli, pork crisps in brown sauce, lamb, shrimp with yellow melon, a green vegetable soup, beer, green tea, cat’s ear pasta (not really cats’ ears, just called that), special noodles with two sauces, and more that I’ve already forgotten! But my stomach is still so full we decided to just snack for dinner and not really eat a proper meal.

Later:

However, that turned out to be Linda and my plan, not Dawei’s. He feels we should take advantage of being in Beijing to eat well, although he likes to get a bargain, too. One of the bellhops told him about a dumpling restaurant around the corner, in one of the hutongs (narrow lanes). He led us through a turnstile at the back of the restaurant, past rows of bicycles (forget your mental image of racing bikes: all bicycles here look like they date from 1950 and used every day since then), through a back gate, across the alley into a courtyard restaurant (complete with its “spirit gate”, the baffle wall that prevents bad spirits from going straight into a house). It was shabby and empty, and the food wasn’t great, and definitely quieter and less lively than the wonton place of the previous night, which was right in the heart of Wang Fuching and thus should have been more expensive, but wasn’t. Which just proves that the “local” haunts in a place aren’t necessarily better. I was happy with it except still stuffed from lunch so couldn’t eat my third of the delicious dumplings (although they put shrimp in the “vegetarian” ones), but Dawei was critical of its quality.

7th Sister and her husband insisted on paying for the lavish banquet of which we could only eat a small fraction (although I made a valiant effort—really stuffed), and they are retired on a fixed income, so we all felt a bit bad about. Dawei tried unsuccessfully to wrest the bill from him, but the best we could do was be very, very appreciative, which we were. Before dinner I took a walk on the main Wang Fujing drag, which was thronged with couples and families—out of thousands of people (like Soho NY on its busiest days, or maybe the Champs Elysses on Saturday night), only a tiny handful (maybe 10 total) were westerners. Yet we are one of the main tourist areas, being so close to the Imperial Palace. They expect 3.6 million tourists in Beijing for the summer Olympics in 2008. If there are many tourists here, I don’t see them. This hotel, being French-owned, is full of Australians, French and Russians (as it was last year). But last year did seem to have more tourists on the streets. As we drove by Mao’s Tomb, I noticed the vast plaza was entirely empty. The cab driver confirmed it was closed for special visitors (Bush? Castro? Another head of state?), but didn’t know for whom. We took a walk to see the small jewelry shop we liked last year and bought a few inexpensive pieces, then pictures in front of Dawei’s high school, now just a façade of the old style with a fence around it, the Catholic church with skateboarders and other loungers, a quick stop to the shops for Dawei to look at the latest watches (he can’t walk by a watch place without looking), and back to the hotel. We’re all so tired I’m going to crawl in bed at 8:30.

Having a great time.

Love, aleen

 Aleen in China: March 24, 2007 tag:typepad.com,2003:post-32248758 2007-03-28T20:16:51-07:00 2007-03-28T20:16:51-07:00 And so it begins. We had a grueling day, getting up at 3 a.m. to catch a 6:29 (why not 6:30?) to SF before boarding the 11:15 plane to Beijing, during which I didn't write a word on this. I... Aleen <div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>And so it begins. We had a grueling day, getting up at 3 a.m. to catch a 6:29 (why not 6:30?) to SF before boarding the 11:15 plane to Beijing, during which I didn't write a word on this. I did read an entire book, solved a few Sudoku, and watched&nbsp; a movie, but didn't sleep much. Checking into the hotel now, we realized that it had been a 23-hour journey from door-to-door. A completely, absolutely full airplane, with not great food but no real problems, either. A group of private Bay area high school students on a tour to a Beijing sister school (Chinese students would return and do the same family visitation, etc. next month to their Marin counterparts) surrounded me on the plane, but next to me was a young Chinese businessman, on his monthly jaunt back and forth. </p> <p>The planes now take a northern route, over vast snowy mountains and sheets of frozen water. Flying over that area of China, I was struck by the uniqueness of the land use. Because of its long history, its population pressure, and the half-century of social experimentation on a vast scale, China's countryside and urban landscape doesn't look like any other country I've been over. Other countries may be blessed by breathtaking mountains or scenic anomalies, but the actual civilized&nbsp; part of them just doesn't resemble China much. </p> <p>China is so vibrant! Having lived in or spent time in several of the world's primo tourist locations—Paris, London, New York, LA,--the throngs of tourists and other visitors puts all those locations to shame. Linda and Dawei and I lost each other in the airport for awhile, it was THAT mobbed. But exciting, not exasperating. Everyone happy, shouting, talking, smiling. </p> <p>Construction hasn't abated a bit, and even the massive beautiful shopping center was under construction,&nbsp; across the main road from our hotel, definitely not what&nbsp; I would pick as a candidate for renovation. It was beautiful, glitzy and filled with upscale shops, a rival of NY's Macy's (except for the brand name). And more and more massive housing projects. Where is all this construction money coming from? <br />But it feels glorious to be here. </p> <p>Linda wanted to take a picture in the customs line of the two young women—not Chinese nationals (since they were in a nearby &quot;foreigner&quot; line), probably Japanese, in heels, leg warmers, short-short skirts, midriff tops, outrageous chic costumes, thin as rails. </p></div>