Not so easy peasy...

          This week's 'Letter from China' comes from the simple but comfortable confines of Pappa Gourmet, a tiny café cum tea bar in one of the slightly more salubrious side streets of Chang An. The place is only about ten feet wide but nearly makes up for it by having a mezzanine floor. I use the word 'nearly' advisedly, as those of us of slightly more generous height are challenged to do anything other than stoop on the upper floor. Still, it is comfortable, at least once one has levered one's long-legged frame into position.

          Many of the cafés and shops in this area follow the modern trend of naming their shops using the alphabet commonly employed in English. Most times, the premises bear two names, the Chinese and the English, but many dispense with the Chinese altogether and just focus on the more fashionable Anglo-Saxon. This trend has been noticed by the powers that be (and they are considerable powers...) in China and reacted to. Much like the French and their infamous 'Academie  Francaise', there is a feeling that the traditional culture, and the language in particular, is under threat from the modern preponderance of English in the world's of commerce and entertainment.

          For my part, the adoption of more and more English cannot come too soon. For the second time, before the start of this latest venture to South China, I dedicated myself, quite earnestly and with a fair degree of determination, to the study of Mandarin, both spoken and written. It seems though, that for the second time this most complex of linguistic systems has defeated me utterly. After some eight weeks of dedicated practice, averaging about an hour and a half a day, and six weeks of actual exposure to China and the spoken language, I feel I have barely scratched the surface of a scratch on the surface of the language.

          I can manage, at a push, the very basics such as politeness (to a point), asking for items in shops and enquiring after the price but beyond such bargain basement Chinese, I am stumped. Even such simplicities as asking directions, something that would come in handy in these bustling and constantly confusing metropolises, are quite beyond me. I may be able to ask the question but am utterly unable to comprehend the stream of apparently disconnected syllables that is returned to me. My only recourse in such circumstances is to follow the directions of the respondent's hands and nod, murmuring the odd 'hao' (good) and 'haode' (fine) and trying not to look too challenged.

          This is, of course, hugely frustrating. The frustration was so great in fact that I began to doubt my own ability to learn and assimilate. I am no polyglot but can get by in German and have a little French. In the past though, when I have spent some time in a new country, I usually find that I can pick up the basics of what is needed to get by, at least to some extent, within a relatively short time, even if this entails learning a new alphabet as was the case in Thailand and Russia.

          To test my own apparently dwindling abilities I decided to look into another language to see if it would prove as difficult. I chose Spanish as it is likely to come in handy for future flaneurial visits to Spain and South America. I listened to some recordings from the redoubtable Michel Thomas (a fascinating character whose biography is well worth looking up in its own right – he packed an awful lot of living into his 91 years) and found that far from being unresponsive that I was actually picking up the language like a talented teenager. In three days I seem to have learnt the equivalent of two months of Chinese, perhaps more.

          So what is it that is so very difficult about Chinese that it intimidates even the most accomplished of polyglots? I say this having just read about the famous Italian cardinal, Joseph Mezzofanti, who was reported to be able to speak sixty languages fluently. Despite his previous acumen, it was rumoured that he had a nervous breakdown when faced with Mandarin. This event not only thwarted further progress in Chinese but led to him temporarily forgetting many of his other languages.

          The first problem with Mandarin is that it is a tonal language. This implies that the meaning of words is changed by the tone attached to them. As an example we can use the seemingly simple two-letter syllable 'ma'. This can mean a piece of hemp, a horse, to scold someone, a mother or can be used at the end of a sentence to indicate a question is being asked, depending on the tone it is uttered in. This multiplicity of meaning applies to every syllable that Chinese uses. Often, to the European ear, simply picking up the fact that the tone has changed in the first place is something of an achievement – to then add meaning to that is bordering on a minor miracle.

          The actual number of sounds employed by Mandarin is relatively few but this only adds to the confusion. The same syllable can be used multiple times even with the same tone and yet mean something completely different. The syllable 'shi' for example has a grand total of some 32 meanings, depending on tone and context. That is roughly 31 too many for this nomadic flaneur...

          I could say a lot more in regards to the challenges of the spoken language but, unbelievably, that is the easy part. When it comes to the written, Mandarin is saddled with a writing system that is both ancient and unbelievably cumbersome. The learner of English has to accumulate 26 letters which, for the most part, equate fairly consistently with sound. In Russian the task that faces the would be learner is 33 letters and for the Greek a mere 24. To learn even the most basic Chinese reading skills one would have to accumulate at least 2,000 symbols. Even then, it is thought that it would still not be enough to read even basic newspaper articles and nowhere near enough for any kind of literature. There are sinologists who have studied the language for ten years and still cannot read even a simple novel in Mandarin.

          The classic comeback to this observation is that the symbols are made up of only about 200 radicals (or basic building blocks). Again, this is only partly true. There are many words that have no radicals whatsoever. Those that do have them are combined in many strange ways and, just to make matters worse, the radicals often also change form when used in combination - squished, squashed, bent or just completely different!

          Combinations of radicals can be added to the left or the right, above or below, inside or outside the main symbol with no guiding principles whatsoever to predict their behaviour. Some add a degree of phonetic clue but most don't. Some add a degree of semantic (meaning) significance but again, most don't. The whole system, to put it mildly, is a complete mess. So much so that to use the word 'system' seems unjustified in the case of Mandarin.

          Finally, if one has stayed the course and actually manages to recognise the symbols, just to make things interesting they are spaced evenly with no indication if the word involved is made up by one, two or even three of these collections of symbols. In English, we simply use a space to indicate the end of one word and the start of another. In Chinese, one has to work out which of the possible combinations is intended as the spacing itself gives no clue. Oh, nearly forgot, just to add insult to injury, Chinese is sometimes written left to right and sometimes top to bottom...

          Back in the cosy confines of Papa Gourmet, I stare uncomprehendingly at the menu which, after several weeks of trying, is just as opaque to me as on the first day. One could, with sufficient dedication, application and time master this language to the extent that one could 'get by'  (about 25 years should do it) but... is it worth that much effort for such meagre returns? Unless there is a pressing necessity to do so for business or personal reasons, I would suggest that one's time might be more gainfully employed doing... almost anything other than learning Mandarin!

          Apparently, the Chinese Premier Xi Jingping himself believes that rather than the Chinese learning English, the rest of the World should now be learning Chinese. In response to this notion, I think I should utilise a commonly used phrase from Spanglish...

           No Way, José!

Just to show that sometimes the confusion goes both ways....

Baby Booming

On a beautifully sunny, even if somewhat breezy, morning in mid-December my nomadic and flaneurial duties have led me to spend some very pleasant time in a branch of Taste Zone, a newly created but very comfortable chain of restaurants in Southern China. This particular outlet has only been open for a few weeks in the town of Chang An (which, as I discovered recently, roughly translates to 'Everlasting Peace') but I have found myself frequenting it on several occasions now. The restaurant /café has rather deep and sumptuous chairs, a relatively good internet connection and a seductively tempting range of breakfast delights at outrageously reasonable prices. Added to this, they allow endless refills of coffee or dou nai (a soya bean based drink), whichever refreshing beverage happens to be more to the customer's tastes. This particular nomadic flaneur feels that he could scarcely wish for more!

          This has become a preferred place for writing as the nearby Cafe de Coral seems to attract a few too many mums who sometimes pop in for a cheap and cheerful breakfast before taking their offspring off to the nearby school. The children are almost invariably well behaved but very energetic, something that I have found throughout my travels in China. Oft times, even the youngest of them seem to enjoy attempting to practice their few words of English on me. Usually this consists of 'Hello' and 'How are you?” followed by a look of total incomprehension when I reply. After that, the normal reaction seems to be to break out in fits of giggles before running back to their smiling mothers.

          This is one feature of Chinese life that is very clear: they love and cherish their children. This may be because of the one child policy followed here, or maybe simply because of the underlying Confucian culture which puts great emphasis on the value of family and relationship. As is usual with so many of these things, the reality probably lies somewhere between the two. The culture values children anyway but the realisation that a family may only ever have one or two children puts even greater value on the children themselves.

          Babies in particular are valued to an extent that is almost fetishistic by European or American standards. Chang An itself has whole streets that seem to be mainly dedicated to baby shops. Whereas the larger main streets of Western cities may have one or, in very exceptional cases, two such outlets, here in China you may see three or four such shops within just a few metres of each other, each apparently doing a roaring trade.

          The one child policy has been much criticised, particularly by those in the West who feel it is a great imposition on personal freedom. To be fair to China though, they are perhaps the only country in the World that has reacted meaningfully to the ominous and looming problems of overpopulation that we all face. At the time it was imposed, once again mainly due to the insight of that most far-sighted and shrewd of politicians, Deng Xiaoping, China's population has already reached a billion. Twenty five years later the population seems to be peaking at around 1.4 billion and to be achieving the levels of stability that were first envisioned all those years ago. It is believed that without Deng's measures there would now have been something like three hundred million additional citizens living in the People's Republic.

          In contrast to this, India's politicians have singularly failed to even address the issue and their population has nearly doubled over the same period of time. If projections are to be believed, India will surpass China as the World's most populace country within the next few years. Given the relative sizes of the two countries, one feels that a sorry fate awaits the Indian sub-continent.

          An interesting graph to look at is that of the planet's population over the last two thousand years. It is remarkably steady at around half a billion all the way up to the industrial revolution. After that it begins to take off, the line of the graph growing ever steeper and steeper as we move into the 21^st century. At the time of writing, the World's population presently exceeds seven billion. Clearly, if the numbers go on increasing at such a rate (and it is hard to see how that could be avoided) we will reach unsustainable levels in the not very distant future.

          Given that, great credit must go to China in this. Most of the brighter folk around the World seem all too well aware of the imminent threat of global warming, even if those given to consuming their information from less reliable sources will be forever in denial. With regards to the population problem though, there is an almost deafening silence.

          China is still a very overcrowded country but they do seem to have a grip on the problem now. Socially the restrictions of the one child policy are likely to have many unforeseen effects but, in the short term at least, one cannot help but be impressed by the individual attitudes of the parents to their children and by the children themselves. They seem to intuit, even the youngest of them, that they are loved, that they are appreciated, that they are cherished. Like children everywhere, the youngest will still throw the occasional tantrum, tears will occasionally flow, but here such unhappiness seems to be short lived and the child will quickly be comforted by their parents, safe and secure in the knowledge that they are wanted, that they are loved. The smiles soon return.

          Back in the café, two hours have passed very pleasantly, apart from the slightly annoying repetitive playing of Christmas carols; I had fervently hoped that I had escaped that particular fate when I left the West in November. Oh well, at least it is not John Lennon, Kirsty McColl and the like; I guess I should be grateful for such small mercies. I consume yet another cup of dou nai, a little too sweet for my tastes but the Chinese seem to like their drinks so.  The sun is shining brightly outside and the day is wearing on. Time to leave now methinks; pleasant as this place is, there is much to do today and I think I may have indulged in the seductive pleasures of blogging a tad too  much for one day already.

A Dangerous Exercise ...

Today my flaneurial duties find me gently lapping at a bowl of 'dou nai', which roughly translates to, warm soya milk (with a little added sugar). It is a great favourite in these parts and is often given away free with meals. In this particular café, they charge the exorbitant sum of 1 Yuan (10p or 16 cents) if you take some with your morning meal. I hesitate to say breakfast as it is already 10.30 in the morning;  another late night due to the demands of my friend's addiction to tai chi, demands which sometimes mean that I get dragged into taking exercises of various sorts very late in the evening.      

          My friend is a great devotee of Tai Chi itself whereas I only tend to indulge in some of the more esoteric offshoots such as 'Qigong' (energy work) and 'Pai Da' , a form of exercise therapy that involves slapping various strategic points on the body. The latter I find particularly enjoyable although it does tend to border on the masochistic at times. In the version we practice, one slaps five different locations; the inside of the elbows, the armpits, the groin (carefully!), the backs of the knees and the insteps of the feet. When I say slap, I don't mean a gentle tap but a full-blooded, vigourous slap, the effect of which feels as if the skin is being stung, hard and continuously. This is repeated a large number of times until the blood raises to the surface and the area thus treated has turned quite red. At least, that is the hoped for result. Other colours, in theory at least, indicate an imbalance in the body's energy that will necessitate drawing out with yet more slapping. The exact imbalance is indicated by the precise colour that comes to the surface of the skin.

          Many of these practices, like Tai Chi itself, go back centuries and are deeply rooted in the Chinese psyche. One sees them everywhere in the squares and parks of Chinese cities, sometimes even 'en masse' as hundreds of people will be practising a given sequence together. There are numerous sequences advocated by the various different schools of Tai Chi, passed down partly through the written word but mostly from Shifu (master) to pupil. Some pupils then go on to becomes Shifus themselves and so it goes on down through the years. Some masters even claim direct lines of descent, Shifu to pupil, going back to the origins of Tai Chi itself.

          There was a brief stage though, a decade or so in length, when this sequence was very nearly broken and Tai Chi itself nearly became merely an historical artefact rather than the living, growing cultural phenomenon that it is today. This period was known as the 'Cultural Revolution' and lasted from the mid sixties to the early seventies. Tai Chi was deemed by the advocates of the Cultural Revolution to be reactionary and hence unworthy of being followed by the Chinese populace. Practitioners were persecuted, some even ended up in prison where not a few were unable to survive the extremely harsh conditions imposed by the Chinese penal system of the time.

          The Shifu of the person who teaches my friend is now a venerable old man in his mid eighties, though it is difficult to tell from his upright posture and the smooth and beautifully co-ordinated movements he makes when he goes through a sequence. He lives in a large city in Sichuan province which today is enjoying the benefits of a booming economy and a good standard of living. It was not always thus though. Back in the sixties it was caught up in the storm that was the Cultural Revolution and he himself came very close to being imprisoned for his 'counter-revolutionary' activities.

          He had to promise to not only stop only teaching Tai Chi but to give up personally practising it himself. He found the latter promise impossible to keep though. At this stage of his life he had already been practising for many years and he was aware of the enormous benefits that such continuous practise had bought him. He chose to continue but to be very quiet about it. Sometimes he would practise in the dead of night at home when he thought all his neighbours must be asleep. Sometimes he slunk off in the middle of the night and practised in the local forest or in the cemetery. On one of these sojourns to the graveyard he even came across the man who had been his Shifu beforehand, the tow men practising an exercise known as 'push hands' together.

          The Cultural Revolution was, in one sense, an event unique to China but in another just a repetition of a sequence that has gone on for centuries. The leaders of revolutions, and generally those who seize power through violence, seem to suffer an enormous fear, a paranoia if you will, that that power so taken will be taken away from them, and maybe in a similarly violent way to which they had acquired it in the first place. In reaction to this there is often an attempt to almost start history anew, as if they could re-invent the whole of society in exactly the way they wish it to be, usually with themselves held up as the supreme leader. Even calenders may be reset to year zero (as was the case with French Revolution and with the Khmer Rouge). Perhaps this could be thought of as the ultimate in control-freakery.

          The French Revolution could be thought of as one example, although in that particular case the violent and irrational forces unleashed by the revolutionaries rebounded on themselves (Robespiere being one of many who suffered this particular fate).  Pol Pot's Cambodia would be another, perhaps even more extreme case. Mao's China a third, although the cultural revolution came some years after the original revolution when Mao could see that his grip on power was waning following the disaster of his economic policy known, somewhat ironically it would seem now, as 'The Great Leap Forward' (perhaps more aptly termed 'The Great Fall Backwards!'). Mao is often called 'The Great Helmsman' in China and that would be true, if you think that a great helmsman is someone who steers his ship onto the rocks! He is often treated almost like a deity, the disaster of his policies ignored in a strangely enduring cult of personality. The man actually responsible for much of the economic and social progress in China today, Deng Xiaoping, is barely ever mentioned.

          Indeed, it was Deng Xiaoping who as leader deemed that there was, after all, nothing wrong with Tai Chi. After years of being fearful to practise their art, people started to emerge into the light once again and Tai Chi once more resumed the cultural role that it had played in China over many hundreds of years. Unfortunately, it was too late for some. The Shifu of the man who practised in the cemetery was apprehended one day soon after and, after a perfunctory trial, sent to a labour camp. He never returned. Now his pupil is a great Shifu in his own right and held in great respect across China. How times change...

          My friend is not only a great devotee of these arts but is, in truth, a very skilful practitioner too. I, for my part, am a mere dilettante as far as these things go. I must admit though, despite its sometimes painfully masochistic quality, there is something very energising about Pai Da. Fifteen minutes of such exercises leaves one literally buzzing with energy in a way that conventional exercise never does. One may be feeling a little tired or jaded at the start but by the time the short session is finished you feel like you could take on the planet! I am not sure that I buy into ideas of Chi as a universal energy source but... I have to admit the affects of the practices. They are very direct and very difficult to ignore. Also, when one sees men in their mid eighties prancing around like teenagers it does tend to give one pause for thought. I am not sure how or why it works, but it is clear that something very significant is triggered by these strange but somehow very effective forms of exercise.

          Back in the café I finish off my second bowl of dou nai by picking it up and sipping directly from the bowl. The longer I am in China the more I seem to be picking up the local habits. It may be a good idea to be a little conscious of this if and when I eventually return to the West, slurping from bowls is generally not 'de rigeur' in those parts. I am also sorely tempted to have another portion of chang fen, a very pleasant and very filling dish that is not dissimilar to lasagne, but without the cheese. At the princely sum of 3.5 Yuan (35p or 50 cents) it is hard to resist but I growing increasingly aware of my ever increasing waistline – it has been doing so steadily  since I arrived in China, despite the amount of exercise I have done. Better to resist for now methinks and leave it for another day.

          The sun is out, it is around 20C and I sit here in shirt sleeves watching the world go by enjoying the last of my drink and another completed blog. Life could be a lot worse...

          

Text mad...

          Today my flaneurial duties have drawn me to the luxurious and highly impressive surrounds of a brand new Mall of four floors standing on the edge of the main junction into Chang An. It seems very salubrious and swanky, decorated tastefully with hanging sculptures dangling from the type of roof one that would have made Frank Lloyd Wright proud. Indeed, the whole design of the mall reminds one of the Guggenheim Museum in New York. No doubt this particular architect owes much of his inspiration to the genius of Mr Wright. So close are the features to Wright's design that one could be excused for imagining that the designer in question simply copied the ideas...perish the thought!

          Circumstances dictate a limited choice of watering holes in this monument to commerce, so I find myself taking an Americano and a glass of water in a franchise of a particularly global, tax-dodging American enterprise. Oddly, when I asked for 'yi bai shui' (a cup of water) the waitress proceeded, as per normal, to put ice cubes in the cup, followed, as is usual here, with hot water (the Chinese rarely drink their water cold). Very strange....

          Fortunately, this particular shopping mall seems to be equipped with a very efficient air cleaning system as normally, on this particular junction, one does well if one can refrain from coughing for more than three minutes. I have had the misfortune of having had to wait for buses on several occasions at this particular environmental black-spot. It could not be defined as a pleasant experience.

          Getting to the bus stop in the first place is a life threatening experience in itself involving, as it does, the crossing of eight lanes of traffic. The traffic is 'controlled', and I use the word in the loosest possible sense, by traffic lights. For many drivers the prohibition of the red light seems to be merely optional, for taxi drivers it is like a red rag to a bull. They are more likely to accelerate than slow down in response to such a provocation. Added to this, it would seem that no law at all applies to the bicyclists (many electric powered these days, silent assassins ...) and motorised rickshaw wallahs who quite happily proceed in the opposite direction to the main stream of traffic – quite comical at times... if it wasn't quite so terrifying. This trepidatious pedestrian feels himself in mortal peril each and every time he has the misfortune to have to cross that particular road.

          Inside the café, I sit and chat with a friend whilst observing a group of five youngsters, probably around 15 years of age, sitting around a table together. None of them though is actually talking to another but all are absorbed in the process of texting on their smart phones. This is a very common sight in China and, to be fair, almost everywhere else one goes in the World these days where these devices are readily available and affordable. By the look of things, these youngsters seem to be involved in earnest text conversations with friends not currently present. I often wonder in such circumstances if, when they finally meet up with the friend they are texting, they will then spend that time texting the friends they are currently with!?

          Apparently a whole new form of etiquette has formed around the question of the answering of text messages,  American youngsters in particular being prone to its demands. It seems to receive one and not to respond is considered the height of rudeness. The fear of being accused of such a social faux pas has lead youngsters to going to bed with their phones next to the pillows, ever ready to answer such profound enquiries as 'Are you  still awake?'

          Once more, it seems that the thing we think we own somehow ends up owning us...

          It is a decidedly odd paradox in modern life that seems to occur with alarming regularity: devices described as 'labour saving' or 'time saving' commonly have the opposite effect. Mobile phones were touted as saving us time and the need to be near a static phone – the reality has been that there is now nowhere to escape to if you have such a device (I often leave mine turned off ...).
 The wealthiest societies around the world are equipped with many such 'time saving' devices and yet the more they own the less time people actually seem to have. The opposite is also true, if you look at the 'poorer' societies in the World, the lack of such devices as phones, cars, computers, washing up machines, etc., etc., actually seems to magically leave them with more time. A very curious state of affairs.

          This paradox also applies to town and country. The places where most time saving devices are concentrated, i.e. cities, are at one and the same time the most frenetic and often least pleasant places, where people seem to be in a headlong rush to get ... where exactly?

          I take another sip of coffee and observe one of the youngsters now staring at the screen of his device whilst swishing his thumbs back and forth across the surface as it makes little beeps and whistles. He is strangely absorbed and yet at the same time agitated, gradually getting more and more animated in his reactions, his lips curling into agonised grimaces, limbs occasionally jerking to one side or the other in an attempt to control some process or another. One feels like telling him, if my Mandarin were good enough (which it is not) that he is looking at flashing lights on a tiny screen which is making rather silly little noises ... it really doesn't matter that much. I would guess the reaction would not be a pleasant one!

Wiser to keep my counsel methinks...

          This coffee shop is quietly efficient but could be located anywhere on the planet. Indeed, much the same could be said of the shopping centre itself. A mall, is a mall, is a mall – this one a particularly fine example of the flattening effect of the globalisation. It is clean, anonymous and ... completely without character, other than at the most banal and superficial level.  The idea of 'Globalisation' itself has become one of the sacred cows, much like such erroneous and socially damaging ideas as subjecting every aspect of life to 'market forces'. Its effects have created a world wherein, once one finds oneself in such a mall, one could be anywhere on the planet.

          As someone who considers himself something of a nomad, I tend to treasure the differences between places, peoples and cultures. In this way, it is sad to see the world getting smaller and smaller and less and less diverse. The whole planet appears to be settling into a globalised culture that is increasingly fast but equally, increasingly shallow and terribly anonymising. People reduced to being mere consumers, forever rushing around, whipped into a frenzy by manipulative and ruthless advertising, fearful that they will lose out on the latest 'bargain'. There seems (fortunately, only seems ... ) to be but one game in town, and much like the computer game that is obsessing my fellow customer, it is a pretty superficial and banal game at best.

          My young fellow customer has finally finished swishing away at his screen and now has returned to his texting duties. I have been writing for quite some time now but scarcely have any words have passed between the group of youngsters sitting at the nearby table.

          Ah, the joys of the dizzy social world of modern youth...

Come into my web

This weeks blog copes not from the comfortably cosy confines of a cafe but from the copiously cavernous capacity of Chang An library, a sprawling public building over five floors in the administrative centre of the town. Reliable internet connections are not the easiest things to come by in the People's Republic of China but this place is better than most.

          Frustratingly, even simple communications seem to take an age in the PRC. Because of rumours about the 'Great Firewall of China' and notions of intense supervision of each and every web search, one is never sure whether the laboriously slow speed of the internet here is more due to the nefarious activities of those given the role of surveillance or is simply a technical problem that one could put down to an inefficient infrastructure. In many ways, most of the infrastructure here would be the envy of the West, so it comes as something of a surprise that the internet is habitually so preternaturally slow.

         To be fair in this, one should not criticise China alone when Western governments such as those in the UK and the US have shown a similar weakness in regards to the temptations to pry into people's online communications or other activities. These two countries managed to come to a rather neat arrangement to get around the fact that US agencies spying on US citizens is illegal, and likewise in the UK. The two countries simply arranged to swap their data when each spied on the other's citizens - GCHQ spied on American citizens whilst the NSA spied on the British, thereby making their activities legal(ish!).

         Whenever challenged, the governments of these two countries trot out the usual excuses of terrorism, paedophiles and organised crime, thereby ensuring that many of the more naïve citizens will support the latest clampdown, but the reality is that those in power tend to love power and want to keep a firm grip on it. People communicating freely online is seen as a threat to that vice-like grip so the temptation to take more and more control over the means of communication becomes irresistible for such folk. In this way, one could at least say that the Chinese are being (relatively!) honest in their repression, unlike the other two mentioned.

Another aspect that makes using the internet in China a frustrating experience is the sheer ubiquity of the advertising. If you, dear reader, are anything  like myself, and yearn to simply use the internet without having to undergo a visual, or even verbal assault, each and every time you try to visit a site, then China is no place for you. One needs a degree of patience verging on the superhuman to endure the constant bombardment that one suffers each and every time one puts fingers to keyboard.

Of course, advertising is at the very heart of the capitalist process, an attempt to persuade the viewer/listener that he/she need lots and lots of things that, in reality, they don't ('because your worth it' as one particularly insidious offering puts it). It is everywhere here in China – from the internet to hoardings, from smiling greeters at shop doorways to incessantly repeated slogans from loudspeakers. This last technique is very common here, one might think that the originator of this particular method of advertising learnt his trade on the Korean Peninsula in the 1950s...

         In the West the techniques are somewhat subtler. On Youtube one has to endure a few seconds of trailer for a game or film before one can assign it to the oblivion it so richly deserves whereas in China one is forced to endure a minute of such assaults with no option to abort. If, having finally reached your video, you dare to pause it you will find that even that gap is felt to be an available opportunity for advertising and some intrusive sales pitch attempting to tell me that I need to spruce up my wardrobe for the coming spring, or some other such nonsense, will tend to fill it.

         To some extent, this mirrors life in China. For a theoretically communist society they are perhaps the most natural capitalists on the planet. Everything is for sale, no stone left unturned if there is an opportunity to make some money, no avenue left untraversed. Oddly, in the West, I think we envision factories and endless production lines. The reality is often far more mundane. One sees old ladies sitting on kerb stones outside shops manually inserting some  item into tiny plastic bags or fiddling with some  trinket, often in this town it will be cheap jewellery, the results to be displayed in the supermarkets and stores of the West a few weeks later. Such people are often piece workers, working their fingers to the bone for a pittance.  One can see them staring myopically at their work, their eyesight and their fingers failing. Chang An is a relatively well-to-do area but their presence is an ever present for all to see.

         So it would seem that capitalism won the argument that raged throughout the twentieth century but... appearances can be deceptive. Capitalism, whether it be the American variety or the Chinese (not much of a difference, I grant you) needs to persuade the 'consumer' (for we are all consumers now apparently, not people any more) that they have wants and needs that have to be fulfilled (by them of course) in order to be happy. Of course it is true, people do have wants and needs but often those needs are far, far less than the advertisers would have you believe, and often for things that money can't actually buy.

         As Samuel Alexander said: 'Simplicity is the new spectre haunting capitalism' – the fear that people will realise that to live well they don't actually need so much endless acquisition. After the crash of 2008 many people, particularly in America, began to question some of the fundamental assumptions behind the advertising and came to realise that the endless chase after ever more 'stuff' and the need to buy ever bigger houses to house said 'stuff' was a very limiting and, in many ways, a deeply inhuman way to structure a society.

         In this sense, I would have to disagree with the odious Gordon Gecko (as played by Michael Douglas in Wall Street), when he said that 'Greed is good.' Greed is not good, greed is simply greed – one of the least attractive traits that human-kind possesses, at best unpleasant and at worse deeply destructive.

         Never before have so many people chosen to start the process of casting off the chains of consumer culture, stepping out of the rat race, and living in opposition to the existing order of things. What they have come to realise is that life gets pleasanter and more meaningful when you value experiences over things, relationships over acquisition, personal growth over greed.

         Back in the library I notice that the battery life of my heroically struggling little netbook is coming to a close as the sun is setting once more over Chang An. I have to admit that it has been a pleasant couple of hours spent in these quiet environs. It felt slightly strange to have to produce a passport in order to get an internet connection in a library, but I guess that is not atypical of China. The staff at least were more than helpful and very polite too, displaying a much appreciated level of patience with my hopelessly inadequate attempts to communicate in Mandarin.

         This has generally been my feeling of China and the Chinese. The people are friendly, almost overwhelmingly so at times, and strangely innocent to Western eyes. There is a pleasant and trusting naivete to many of them which is almost touching on occasion. There are, of course, also times when the sheer rudeness of a Chinese motorist staggers belief but the 'behind the wheel' effect has been noted in many a culture (though I have experienced none worse than here, it has to be admitted). 

         The system... that is another matter. When it comes down to it politicians are politicians – the promise of power tends to draw those people who yearn to wield that power over others. As the old cliché has it, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. In this way, China and Chinese politicians are little different from tens of thousands of other politicians around this globe of ours. Some things never change...

PS. Just after I finished this article I came across a piece on the BBC website (which took much patience to access...). It seems that advertisers in the UK have chosen to partake in the particularly unpleasant American custom of 'Black Friday'. This had patently foreseeable results – greed, violence and a very similar unedifying spectacle as people fought over such things as coffee makers with the promise of £20 off the usual price. These particular items are classic 'stuff' – the sort of thing that people buy, use a couple of times, then consign to the garage to gather dust until it is deemed useless enough for the charity shop or the boot sale. Not really worth coming to blows over....

http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-30241459

Loitering without intent

Loitering without intent....

This evening I find myself once again in the delightful surrounds of Cafe do Coral but an altogether different branch of the said concession. This one is in the 'village' of Chang An, a suburb of Dongguan just north of Shenzhen (and that, in turn, just north of Hong Kong, for those who wish to locate the village on a map). I think even the Chinese would struggle to call this place a village in this day and age being, as it is, the home to somewhere in excess of one million souls. On the other hand, the Chinese would not call it a city either. A mere million inhabitants just about makes it to town status in this part of the world. Cities by Chinese standards don't really start until the population of said metropolis is in excess of four to five million. By such a measure, one and only one British 'city' would qualify for that status in modern China - and that is London itself!

Back in the cafe, music tinkers softly in the background which, thankfully, is not of the 'Christmas' variety but rather various strains of what is known as 'easy listening'. To be fair, if I have to listen to such fayre whilst indulging in an Americano, I think this kind of piano base remix of 60's hits is not the least pleasant. Indeed, much as it pains me, I have to admit to quite enjoying some of the renditions, in particular 'The Sounds of Silence' (chance would be a fine thing!) and 'Scarboro' Fair'. It tends to have the effect of allowing me to muse amiably over my flaneurial activities of the day.

 Much of the time was spent sauntering around the streets and parks of this somewhat overcrowded yet still quite pleasant town. Fortunately, the town planners had the foresight to include several generous green spaces which render some relief from the otherwise oppressive constancy of the sun and the traffic. I have to say, Chang An is really quite a pleasant town to saunter around, if one is given to such sauntering activities. There is indeed an art to walking in this way wherein the point of the walk is the walk itself and not the destination. Naturally, this is also the art of the flaneur – slowly walking through town without a sense of purpose or a place to go to but with an omnipresent openness to the experience itself.

According to Thoreau, that great American thinker of the 19^th century, the word 'saunter' owes it derivation to the France of the Middle Ages. There were men who roved around the country and sought charity claiming that it was to enable them to go to the Holy Land, or 'a la Saint Terre'. Over time, when children saw such a person, they would should out 'There goes a Sainte-Terre,' a Saunterer, a Holy-Lander. Those who were merely pretending to extract charity were indeed mere idlers and vagabonds but there are those who are saunterers in the good sense, they literally go to a 'holy land' of sorts. 

Another derivation quoted by Thoreau again comes from the French 'sans terre', meaning without land or home. These days I find myself very much in this latter category but... it has proven to be not entirely disagreeable in itself, although perhaps not for everyone. 'Saunter' in this sense also implies to be able to be equally at home wherever one finds oneself, or to misquote Paul Young: Wherever you lay your hat...that's your home!

Sunday afternoon in Chang An is the end of the week and many hard working Chinese citizens enjoy a stroll through the town's parks on this day. Come on a weekday and you will more or less have the space to yourself and a choice of pleasant places to sit and contemplate, meditate, ruminate or simply sunbathe, whatever takes your fancy. On a Sunday however, places to rest are at a premium so most spend the time slowly sauntering beneath the trees smiling amiably to all and sundry.

It is noticeable how much more relaxed he people are, how much more amiable, when they are not obsessed with getting from A to B but are quite happy with A or, if they happen to find themselves in B, likewise. A stroll without purpose - for truly the purpose of the stroll is contained within the act of strolling itself. I look at them, they look at me, we exchange the odd 'Ni Hao' with each other, everyone smiles and seems content with their lot. This amiability is in stark contrast to the rest of the week when the general populace here seems to be in such a hurry that they will happily risk life and limb, yours as well as theirs, in order to gain a few precious seconds and get ahead in 'the race'.

Ah, the busyness of business! The modern Chinese culture is no different to the West in these ways. We are exhorted on all sides and throughout our lives to work hard, be busy, to go get. Apparently, you must have a purpose and must strive unceasingly to fulfil that purpose. And pray, when one fulfils that purpose, what to do then? Why, take on another, even harder one, of course!

 We are told that life is a rat race. In order to be successful we must learn to be ratty enough – to strive, to scurry, to ever give the appearance of busy-ness but...who truly wants to live like a rat? Apparently, there are those that do. There are some who relish the tooth and nail competitiveness of it all. Forever chasing after glistening baubles that seem so tempting from afar. Doing down their competitors by fair means or foul, striving forever to climb to the top of the pile. When said baubles are pocketed though, and one finds oneself seated atop such a pile, it often happens that the glistening that tempted one in the first place turns out not to be gold at all, but merely another encumbrance, another complication, another meaningless commitment to pour one's all too finite energies into. Seated atop the pile instead of friends you have competitors, instead of happiness anxiety, instead of satisfaction the ongoing obligation to defend what you have. Is this state of affairs really something we should strive for, really something we should desire?

Many years ago, the then French Prime Minister, Edith Cresson, on a state visit to Japan, was asked if she admired the economic success of the Japanese at that time. She thought for a second, sighed, and then replied: “It's all very well, but who wants to live like an ant!”

It was hugely controversial at the time, causing a huge diplomatic incident between the two countries but one has to admit she had a point. Watching the British in London or the Chinese in Shanghai or the Japanese in Tokyo queueing in their millions to be stuffed into already overcrowded carriages and carried off to places they really don't want to go (and this process sometimes goes on for 30 years or more)  has to give one at least a small pause for thought. Is the carrot of a few material baubles really worth selling one's all too brief time on this planet for? You may indeed end up with a bigger house, a bigger car and lots of 'stuff' to look after but it will  have taken so much of your existence to pay for it. There has to be a better way.

Meanwhile, it is now closing time in the cafe and I risk being the very last customer. The floors are mopped, the kitchen cleaned and even some of the lights have been extinguished. They really are very polite here but I think it is high-time to curtail my verbal saunterings for another week and let the staff return home to their loved ones and to some well-earned rest.

Wan An!

Investing in Divesting...

On this day in the midst of November mists, this nomadic flaneur currently finds himself enjoying the slow process of sipping gently at a cup of gingersnap and peach tea in the somewhat noisy environs of Costas coffee shop in the heart of Loughton. The rain is pouring down outside to such an extent that even a short walk will guarantee a complete soaking. As ever for Costas, the internet connection is somewhat less than reliable and I am struggling to search out flights for my next global gallivant. This time it is likely to start in Hong Kong and go from there, perhaps taking in mainland China, Thailand and Cambodia. If all goes to plan, I am likely to be on the road for quite some time.

The last few months have been spent in the Southern Counties of the UK with a few diversions to the wind swept but rather beautiful Cornish coast. England can be a very beautiful country indeed, but only for about six months of the year. Beyond October it can become dreary beyond belief. If you, dear reader, are anything like me then the joys of struggling against wind and rain pale somewhat with the passing of the years. Not for me the joys of temperatures hovering just above freezing or the encumbrance of having to wear multiple layers of clothing, gloves, hats and scarves. No, I am more your sandals and a T-shirt sort of guy these days, at least that is my preference during what would be the 'winter' months in Europe.

For the sake of my travels, my preferences in clothing have become simpler and simpler these days. This is, of course, something of a necessity if one wishes to follow the life of a nomadic flaneur. Cumbersome backpacks or other forms of luggage soon lose their appeal when one has the onerous duty of lugging them from airport to hotel, or has to attempt to hold on to them as some lunatic of a Thai bus driver cavorts crazily through the streets of Bangkok, gripped with an irrational but passionately felt need to risk all for the sake of the saving of a few seconds (which he will probably then spend watching some banality on TV or playing pool).

Indeed, it is curious to reflect on just how little one really needs in order to live the life of a nomadic flaneur. Of course, this does not merely apply to those of us involved in such activities. Life is often lead best when it is lead simply. When one's 'needs' are few, it is curious indeed how few material goods one actually has a use for. In my case, there is a certain logic to keeping the load light as everything that I have has, at times, to be carried with me. But, notwithstanding the demands of my own lifestyle, does this not equally apply to all of us?

A couple of years ago I moved out of a house that I had owned for several years. Much of my stuff was committed to boxes and sealed with brown tape. In the time since I have, on occasion, had cause to open said boxes but, to be honest, this has been necessary on remarkably few occasions. Indeed, the vast majority of my 'stuff' (mostly books, clothes, cooking equipment and various electronic bric a brac) has lain dormant in its allocated cardboard box, completely useless to man or beast.

Over time, the realisation gradually dawns on one that much of this stuff is not needed and, in all probability, was never needed in the first place. We are seemingly fooled by the illusion that we own stuff when often the reality is that the stuff ends up owning us. Things need to be maintained, cared for, stored and generally looked after, thus using up our precious time. Even for those items where this is not the case, there is the ongoing need to store them. This usually involves taking up space and, for many people, is an ongoing process often necessitating moving to larger and larger premises in order to store this relentless, and largely useless, accumulation of stuff. Another choice, chosen by many, if they cannot afford the ever larger premises, is to have their current premises increasingly packed to the gunwales with things they scarcely ever use until they reach the state where they can barely move in their own homes.

Of course, there is a third choice, a choice that oft times remains unrealised. Curiously, this is often the best and simplest choice of all. Get rid of it!

A good rule of thumb is that if you haven't used it, read it or worn it in the last two years then consign it to the charity shop, or give it as a gift to friends, or even simply consign it to the dustbin. If it is of some value then sell it on Ebay. Whatever choice you make, free your life from it. The penalty for not doing so is either less time or less space. Have few possessions that you own. Have none that own you.

Back in Costas someone has turned on the ubiquitous and ever looping tape of overplayed popular music adding to the general din of the place. Once more I have to hear of the somewhat dated romantic collaboration between 'me and Mrs. Jones' or have my ears inveigled by Midge Ure whining on about the joys of Vienna which, apparently, mean nothing to him, a fact he feels compelled to remind us of on a continuous basis it seems.

One of the joys of leaving the UK at this season is the avoidance of the dreaded Christmas soundtrack. The joys of listening to the self same tracks from Wizard, Slade, John Lennon and Kirsty MacColl played several hundred times before finally reaching the much longed for finishing post on December 25^th faded into a rather irritated boredom many, many moons ago.

The next few days will be ones of preparation but, having made a list but an hour ago, I found myself surprised with just how simple this process actually is. When one strips out the unnecessary and avoids the superfluous it is amazing how straightforward, simple and pleasurable life can become.

Cheers!

Coup d'état or coup de grâce?

This week, I find myself frequenting the comfortable, if slightly worn, environs of Caffe Nero in Epping High Road. This particular High Road has the distinction of being the highest High Road in the whole of Essex. Given the leanings towards two-dimensionality of that particular county, being the highest High Road is perhaps not the most exciting of accomplishments. There is a poster on the wall advertising the imminent arrival, on July 7th, of the Tour de France. Having watched a stage in the sunshine of the Dordogne a few years back and subsequently enjoying the pleasure of spectating on a scorching final day as the riders sprinted up and down the Champs Elysee, the attractions of watching a large peleton of shaven-legged young men rolling through Epping for approximately 30 seconds pales in comparison. One must admire though, the creativity, and the financial acumen, of those responsible for the route of La Tour, if not necessarily their geographical accuracy. Pleasant as the roads of Epping and Loughton are, one struggles to see the connection with France. Still, it has to be admitted that a Tour d'Essex would probably attract a lot less commercial interest...

Since my return from the equitable climes of Thailand, I find myself struggling to cope with the inconsistency of the light and weather here in the UK. Days are longer, which I find agreeable, but the weather does tend to be somewhat capricious. One day it feels like spring has sprung and I find myself bathed in the most gentle and agreeable of lights. On another, like today, the leaden skies cast a day long gloom over the proceedings. This state of affairs has not helped my own re-adjustment to British Summer Time. My body seems to be in a state of revolt against this disruption to the regularity that was Thailand, where day and night were democratically divided, more or less twelve hours being allocated to each. Jet lag, according to those who know about such things, is a more deleterious experience for those travelling from West to East. I would beg to differ. It has been a month now since my return yet I still find myself wide awake at 5 a.m. and feeling like I could happily drop off at 5 p.m..

I have been looking forward to my planned return to Thailand but the Thai military seem to have other ideas. A few days ago, in a move that has been mooted for quite some time, the army declared martial law. At first, they were very insistent that this was not a coup d'etat. Oddly, it certainly looked like one. The military were on the streets and took over several of the governmental buildings in Bangkok. They shut down many of the media outlets, in particular, several of the more political minded TV stations.

For two days they insisted that this was not, in fact, a coup. It might have looked like a coup, walked like a coup, talked like a coup but... it wasn't a coup. Finally, after disbanding the government altogether and imposing severe restrictions on the media and use of the internet, they have declared that it is, after all, a coup.

Thailand's fledgling democracy has suffered many such events in recent years, so many in fact that it almost seems to be part of the political process there. The Thais experience a few years of rather chaotic democracy before the army once again seems to feel the need to 'impose order' once more. The 'order' subsequently imposed doesn't last very long though, and soon the same old, hugely corrupt, politics resume their normal day to day activities. And so the cycle continues.

Military coups, in general, do not seem to have a very good record if one's measure of that record is the well being of the general population of the country involved. In neighbouring Myanmar (Burma of old) , the military have been unable to resist the temptation to grab power and hold onto it for all they're worth. This has resulted in one of the most brutal regimes on the planet and almost omnipresent corruption. Few people have benefited from martial law in Myanmar with the possible exception of the generals themselves whose personal fortunes have increased exponentially. In recent times there have been moves towards opening up the country and allowing some democratic rights but... the temptation to hold on to power when that power is producing such benefits for the generals must be strong indeed. Apart from that, of course, there is always the possibility that with a return to democracy their own misdeeds could be investigated. This possibility would not be something that would appeal to the incumbent leaders..

Some coups do start out with the best of intentions but, as the old aSome coups do start out with the best of intentions but, as the old adage has it, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Often they are a reaction to the parlous state of a nation when perfidious and inept politicians have wreaked so much damage that the military feel they have little option but to step in to 'save' their country. Problem is though, in many of these cases, the 'cure' often proves to be far worse than the disease. Once they have their hands on the levers of power it becomes increasingly tempting to exercise it in a more and more draconian manner.

One of the first measures taken is often to limit any expression of opposition. Usually this involves shutting down newspapers and radio and TV stations. This process has, rather worryingly, already started in Thailand. Amongst military men, there seems to be a generalized (no pun intended...) fear of plurality. They live in a world where one guy gives the orders and another guy takes them. The idea that someone might actually dare to question what they are saying seems to be anathema to them.

The situation in Thailand is still developing as I write these words. If this turns out to be another example of a typical Thai coup then a return to a more normal state of affairs may not be too long in coming. The worry is though, that the temptations of wielding power and enjoying the benefits that it brings may prove to be strong to resist. Only time will tell.

Back in the cosy confines of Caffe Nero, I feel thankful that, for all its faults, the country I presently find myself in has not suffered a coup for nigh on half a millennia. For all the frustrations of well established democratic systems like those of the UK, they do at least guarantee a goodly amount of plurality and a tolerance for the expression of a wide range of views. As far as Thailand is concerned, this will have to be a case of watch this space (or perhaps other, better informed spaces). My own plan had been to use Thailand as a base for flaneurial activities throughout SE Asia and beyond, but it seems that, for now at least, those plans may have to be put on hold.

Another short addendum is called for. After penning the above article it emerged that Gen Prayuth Chan-Ocha has declared himself Prime Minister - the result of a general election it seems, in this case the general elected himself. Over the course of four days we have gone from the imposition of martial law but not a coup, to a coup, and now to a General appointing himself Prime Minister. These are challenging times for Thailand. One hopes that the transition back to civilian rule is short and peaceful but...the omens are not good.