So this is Christmas (and what have you done...)

As I start this latest set of meandering musings I find myself back, if only just, in a very wet England. This, as yet, is second-hand knowledge rather than directly experienced. For now, my first act on entering this literally benighted land was to head over to the Caffe Nero in Terminal 2 at Heathrow and treat myself to a large and thoroughly pleasant Americano. I have a soft spot for Nero's, the coffee is excellent and the décor much to my taste – old, tatty, sunken armchairs and sofas, ideal for cogitating whilst one waits, flaneur style, for the hubbub of the evening rush hour to die down before embracing the delights of London's antiquated underground system.
After this particular flight, it is with some relief that I take my seat and sip my coffee. Not only was it an incredibly long eleven hour flight (mostly spent reading and chatting as there was not an offering of note on the 'entertainment' system), but it finished in fine style with the aircraft being heavily buffeted by some very strong winds on the descent followed by visits to both sides of the runway as it slewed and skidded quite alarmingly on landing. Far too much excitement for me, I prefer my landings to be barely noticeable.
In my bag, folded up very carefully, I bring back a gift created by one of the guys at the martial arts club. Jun and I had shared many a conversation in the past few weeks, from politics to policing, wandering to wushu, communism to Confucius. Jun was both a devotee and a well read student of Confucianism. Something of a gentle giant of a man, he expressed himself powerfully through his martial skills, but also rather more subtly through calligraphy, the latter being something of an art form in China. Before I left he had presented me with a piece he himself had created on fine tissue paper, about two foot by four foot, of a saying from Confucius: Ching Xian Wei Fu – which roughly translates as 'Leisure is Happiness' (Jun had come to know me well during my stay in China…).

Would that more of the Chinese people could reconnect with such ancient wisdom. Instead, the words that one hears all the time is 'Ying Gai' which can be translated as 'should' or 'ought to'. Modern Chinese life, much like modern life in the West, seems to consist of rather a lot of Ying Gai; a huge long list of social and civic duties that one should do in order to be acceptable in Chinese society. Formal law in China is nowhere nearly as strongly enforced as it is in the West, but informal law, those pressures and constraints imposed by peers, familial expectations and those from the surrounding culture are very strong indeed. From cradle to grave, Chinese life seems to consist of a long and daunting list of Ying Gai's.
Of course, such societal and cultural constraints and strictures are by no means the exclusive preserve of Chinese society. We all live lives that are an endless reflection of having to conform with so many 'shoulds' and 'ought tos'. A lengthy list of our duties and responsibilities, of what is expected of us to earn at least a modicum of acceptance within our given cultures. This time of year perhaps, such pressures are felt even more strongly as we churn through, yet again, all the rather onerous demands that make up Christmas, often fearful that some aspect will go horribly wrong and we will be exposed for the miscreants that we are! The right cards need to be sent, the right presents should be bought, the requisite amounts of money splashed out, the right people should be seen, the right food prepared. Many at this time of year find themselves feeling pressured, fearful of making some dreadful social faux pas, of creating some dreadful cock-up of a meal or of not including all the people we 'ought to' include, but really, what if a present remains unopened, the food uneaten, the parents unseen, the dishes unwashed, the napkins unfolded, the gifts unwrapped, the crackers unpulled, the bottles unopened, the turkey unstuffed, mince pies unfilled, words unsaid or the wine unmulled? Somehow, I am not sure quite how, but somehow the world seems to manage to go on much the same at it ever did…

'Don't sweat the small staff', a modern day apophthegm appropriately assures us. Without apology, I would go a step further and urge the non-sweating of the big stuff too. Remarkable as it may seem, despite all the dramas, big and small, personal and impersonal, urgent and non-urgent, somehow the world keeps on spinning, the sun comes up, the sun goes down (or, if you are currently in the UK, it just keeps on raining...). People work themselves up into apoplectic states of annoyance and vexation, indeed, some seem to specialize in such posturing, spending much of their time in such a state of mind. Scarcely, perhaps never, does all this sound and fury, whether it be externally expressed or internally withheld, result in anything positive, useful or even significant.
Back in Caffe Nero's, I take a sip of coffee and realize that with all this cogitation my Americano is now completely cold, although still surprisingly tasty. Tis a problem I commonly face when working on these blogs (if one can call it 'work' – it often feels like an indulgence to yours truly). I find myself looking forward to a few weeks of clean, fresh air after the challenges of the Chinese environment, but I am guessing that pretty soon the inclination to resume my travels will have me yearning for other places, other climes. The UK is a very beautiful country … from May to September; the rest of the year has me dreaming of other realms, other shores. We shall see...

How you gonna keep them down on the farm…(after they’ve seen gay Paris)

This week I am indulging in the pleasure of returning to an old haunt, although it seems largely unchanged from a year ago. The Café de Coral in Chang An is one of the few places where the theoretical ban on smoking in restaurants in China is actually observed and enforced, thereby rendering it one of the more salubrious places to relax, think and write. Not all is quite as I would wish it, at this time of the year they do insist on playing endless Christmas songs in the background, usually conversions of Western songs performed by prepubescent children with screechingly high-pitched voices, the Chinese ideal of cuteness (my idea of annoying...). The PRC very definitely celebrate Xmas and not Christmas – all references to Christ himself are expunged from the celebrations and what remains is yet another excuse to justify yet more consumerism (as if there were a shortage of excuses for such splurges already...)

It is somewhat early in the morning, around half past eight or so, a little too early by normal standards to find oneself committed to composing a blog, but the air quality outside is 160+ for PM 2.5s, those nasty little particles which are so small that the body has no defence whatsoever to and allows them to filter down deep within the respiratory system. A mask would need to be about as thick as a brick to stop the inhaling of these pesky particles. Once inside the lungs they tend to sink to the bottom where they are absorbed into the bloodstream and thence into the arteries, causing tiny lacerations to the walls of the blood vessels as they make their way around the circulatory system. Such lacerations then attract plaques which, if unchecked, eventually lead to the blockage of arteries, heart attacks and strokes, and even, not to put too fine a point on it, death.

Chang An is an outlier suburb of Dongguan, a second-tier city in the south of China. It used to be the base for much manufacturing, but in recent years has undergone something of a transformation to become a centre for finance and banking, with very few factories and no coal fired power stations in the vicinity. Nevertheless, on some days here the air quality is bordering on the unbreathable. Some of this is due to windblown pollution from the numerous other conurbations along China’s east coast, but far more emanates from the presence of so many motor vehicles, particularly diesels, belching out huge amounts of particulates, day in and day out.

On a personal level, I like to indulge in at least a little exercise each day; of late that has meant tai chi, qigong or twirling nunchucks. None of these activities is particularly strenuous, but in the current conditions I tend to avoid even such minor exertions, my slightly paranoid suspicion being that one probably does far more harm through the inhalation of the PM10s and PM2.5s than any good that the body could potentially gain through the exercise.

The news in China in the last couple of weeks has frequently referred to the problems in the North of the country where measurements for these pollutants have either been very high or, quite simply, off the scale. This comes at quite a sensitive time for those steadfast guardians of environmental virtue, the Chinese government, as they are trying to run an intense PR campaign to demonstrate just how positive they have been in addressing the problems of global warming and pollution whilst engaged at the Climate Change Conference in Paris this week. If their ever reliable, totally immune from propaganda, manipulation or statistical fixing reports are to be believed, they are the ‘good guys’ who are spending far more than their Western counterparts in the battle to stabilize the climate.

Unfortunately for these protectors of truth and integrity, the facts are pretty stark. Whilst most Western governments are reducing their emissions from levels already below China's, the Chinese wish to go on increasing theirs until the year 2030. The justification often cited for this somewhat dubious policy (given that hundreds of thousands of Chinese citizens are dying of pollution related illnesses every year) is that China is a ‘developing’ country, as opposed to the developed nations of the West. From my experience, China is not only developed, it is possibly even over-developed (although often badly developed, as pointed out in a previous blog). Many Chinese people remain very poor not because of lack of development but because of an uneven distribution of wealth. The wealthy are exorbitantly, outrageously, beyond the dreams of avarice wealthy, whilst the poor are abysmally, hopelessly, desperately so. This state of affairs is unlikely to change significantly in the next 15 years, so the rather feeble excuse that China needs to develop in order to care for its people is, effectively, a smokescreen in a country of smokescreens (smogscreens?), both physically and metaphorically. 

Over the years, the Chinese government have lived in mortal fear of threats to ‘social stability’. To remain in power they feel it is necessary to forever go on increasing living standards. As they understand it, this means such things as more consumerism, flats, cars and all the other paraphernalia of Western style ‘developed’ countries. Their belief is that if they can maintain growth at the kinds of levels they have seen in the last 25 years, then all will be well. But even the densest of observers is beginning to comprehend that endless material growth at the cost of the environment does not lead to a better lifestyle. To slightly amend some words of wisdom form the Bible: what profiteth a man if he gaineth the whole world but cannot breathe!?

Chinese citizens themselves are becoming increasingly restive in recent times because of the air pollution problem and the increasingly obvious effects it is having on the health of the nation. Last year, a Chinese journalist Chai Jing, worried about the effects of pollution on her baby girl, created a short documentary on the subject entitled ‘Under the Dome’. This production was originally backed by the Environment Ministry here, but when it was noticed that over a hundred million downloads of it had been made in the first couple of days alone, they were overruled by an even higher authority leading to the film being banned for fear of being too great a threat to ‘social stability’.

(Oddly, readers can easily view the film...as long as they don’t live in China. It is readily available on youtube.com, and very worthy of viewing if one wishes to understand the nature of China and its government as well as the air quality problems here. As a small aside, this week a Chinese minister stated at an internet conference in Northern China that there was ‘no web censorship in China, merely sites that are blocked’. George Orwell would, I imagine, have been amused by such a blatant example of ‘double speak’.)

Criticism of the government in these areas is becoming stronger and stronger of late. One knows that something is amiss when even the official news organs, such as the Global Times, start to criticize the government and their inability to effectively address the problem. The government's reaction to criticism is often to threaten to jail critics for making ‘socially irresponsible’ comments on blogging sites and suchlike. The sheer amount of comments and discontent is becoming a problem now though, and given that the problem is likely to get worse in the next few years, then clearly the Chinese government needs to amend its ideas as to which is the greater threat to social order.

Back in the café, people are going about their business in much the same way as ever, kids run around playing, adults indulge in conversation or stare, blank-faced, into their mobile phones.  One cannot help but notice now though, how many Chinese people are getting into the habit of wearing masks. Previously, here in South China, one saw these on the faces of a few cyclists only. This year, they are far more common and many pedestrians also resort to what limited protection, more apparent then real, they offer. This will probably be my last post from China for some time. Although there are reasons to come back in the not too distant future, part of me is really quite reluctant to do so until they get a grip on this particular challenge.

At the Paris conference, Xi Jingping, the Chinese Premier, made an opening speech during which he lectured Western countries on their responsibilities towards remedying global warming. One cannot help but think that perhaps now is the time that such people should resist the temptation to lecture others and start to put their own house in order.

Wanna Fight ?

Another evening spent in the enjoyable, if somewhat controversial, company of martial arts practitioners at the local Jeet Kun Do School. For this particular group of Wushu experts, the training itself is often interrupted by long interludes of sipping tea from tiny cups seated around the heavy wooden trunk alluded to last week. The conversation is mostly related to technique, exactly how to inflict the most damage possible with a given punch or kick, or everyday life in China. As such, it is a source for much material for this blog, although the conversations can get a tad surrealistic at times.

The Chinese seem to love a fight. So much of the culture here is related to, or directly involves, martial arts. In matters on the macro scale, the Chinese military have not shown themselves to be particular competent in any area, their greatest victories coming when they are fighting each other, as in the Chinese Revolution. The modern day People’s Liberation Army seem to be in the business of liberating people in much the same way as the Americans liberated Iraq in 2003 or the Russians liberated Poland in 1940. Their most notable victory in the last fifty years came when they briefly entered Vietnam in 1979 whilst the main Vietnamese forces were away in Cambodia. When these threatened to return, the PLA quickly changed strategy and advanced in a generally backward direction to the safety of China. For all their historical limitations militarily, on the smaller scale, as in hand-to-hand combat, the Chinese fighting man represents a formidable foe.

 The attitudes contained within the Wushu (martial arts) lifestyle are, in a sense, almost a national metaphor. The ways to success are often seen in militaristic, martial or very directly competitive terms within this society. Far from being a particularly co-operative or socialist society, the underlying culture is one of constant struggle against others who are seen in terms of being fellow competitors.

Even a short trip down a metropolitan Chinese road will aptly demonstrate this point. Co-operation is the very last notion to cross the mind of the average driver here. It is very much dog-eat-dog and too bad if you cannot keep up. An interesting statistic will serve to illustrate this point. A person in charge of a motor vehicle in China has, per capita, something like eight times the likelihood of becoming a fatality on these roads as on the roads in the US (which, in itself, is hardly the least competitive society on the planet). Of course, there are many other factors involved in that statistic, but the vast majority of the accidents here are down to ‘driver error’, a pleasant enough euphemism for ‘driving like a lunatic’.

During this current stay in China, I have had many fascinating interaction with some very interesting, and even occasionally charismatic, martial arts practitioners, from those practicing the gentler skills of tai chi to the representatives of the local school whose skills are far more practical in nature. Personally, I am getting a tad long in the tooth (and carrying a few too many injuries) to train too seriously with these folk, but I have enjoyed learning to use nunchucks, a strangely fascinating and absorbing activity the learning of which requires a great deal of concentration, perseverance and the willingness to take the odd bruise here and there as the fast flailing handles forever shoot-off in random directions each time I lose control of a sequence.

The sheer variety of skills and techniques studied and employed here in China is enough to boggle the mind of the Western observer. In my short time here, I have seen people training with swords, short-swords, long-swords, cutlasses, daggers, spears, both short and long, staffs, sticks, nunchucks, flails and fans and observed them using various techniques to stab, jab, slash, cut, skewer, pin, impale, flail, smash and generally do untold amounts of damage to their opponent. Happily, all the violence I have witnessed using implements has been of the practice variety, although I have seen several injuries even within that context (I have my own bruises from the nunchucks to illustrate my point all too painfully….).

The more direct weaponless techniques allow for tightly controlled contests to take place. Last weekend, I witnessed my first ever Taekwondo tournament. Originally a Korean martial art form, Taekwondo has been happily adopted by the Chinese who now have hundreds of thousands of active participants in the sport. The contests are conducted mostly with the use of kicks, scoring kicks being made to the central anatomy and the head of the opponent who wears thick pads around his/her ribs and a helmet incorporating some protection for the face and skull. These protective measures are very necessary as the power of the kicks from a properly trained practitioner is impressive indeed. When training with these guys, the sheer weighty thud of a well placed kick into the heavy punch bags is enough to send a shiver down my spine. One would definitely not want to be in the way of such an attack, even if wearing protective pads…

 The wushu specialists at the school I attend are fairly liberal and eclectic in their approach to martial arts – almost any technique is countenanced if it is likely to have the desired effect. At times, one can watch them practicing punches, slaps, backhand slaps, elbows – both horizontal and vertical, knees (usually applied to a particularly vulnerable area..), kicks to the ankles, legs, stomach and head and even butting for street fights.  

Oddly, each and every one of them seems a relatively gentle, even genteel, soul when not fighting. We sit around the intricately worked trunk and consume the tiniest of tiny cups of green tea. The cup is forever replenished as long as you drink it. The host, whoever that is on any particular evening, has the duty of ensuring that your cup is never empty. Each cup is but a couple of sips, but the teas are often delicious, each practitioner taking it in turn to supply his own particular tea. Each of these gentlemen has enough knowledge of martial arts techniques to do considerable damage if they so desire, but each seems to be the perfect gentlemen in such surroundings. It is my good fortune to have met and learnt so much from these gentlemen whilst in China.

Anti Socialism

This week I find myself pondering a conversation that took place around a rather beautifully carved tree trunk of gargantuan proportions that had been made into a very elaborate and very decorative tea table. Such items are not rare in China, but this particular one was one of the most impressive examples of the form I have yet come across. The subtle planes and curves had been carved and created in such a way as to allow any liquids that escaped from the processes of tea making and consumption to flow gently and gracefully down to a drainage point. Within the design there were temples and stairs, elaborate paths and gardens, hints of creatures and men. In an odd way, it reminded one of an M.C.Escher creation – one of those gorgeously illogical illusions wherein the stairs seem to forever lead upward but somehow manage to simultaneously descend in a never ending spiral.

There were several of us gathered around this table in the vestibule of a martial arts school. The son of the shifu, who went by the wonderfully prosaic English name of 'Stan', felt the need to enlighten me as to the fundamental nature of the peoples of the East as opposed to those of the West. According to Stan, those of us from the Western hemisphere are physically much stronger than those from the East. To make up for this perceived lack, those from the Eastern parts, and particular the Chinese, are able to compensate by employing their superior intelligence.

An interesting theory I thought, though perhaps not fully supported by such things as facts or scientific evidence (or even logic, for that matter). Stan seemed quite enamoured of this theory however, and went on to elucidate the finer details of his challenging concept. He pointed out that the Chinese, unlike Westerners, were often 'naturally' very poor at team games, such as football or basketball, but made up for this lack by being very, very good at such individual pursuits sports as ping pong and badminton. The reason for this apparently was that unlike their rather slow-witted Western counterparts, the Chinese were far too bright to be limited by such dull considerations as the good of the team.

The others sharing the delights of both the liquid libations and and the conversation with me, all of whom were of exclusively Chinese decent, could be seen nodding sagely at this point, in full agreement apparently with the underlying gist of Stan's theory. Thus encouraged, our host went on to point out that this was why the Chinese made such poor drivers. Their intelligence quickly determined that there was little to be gained by following the rules of the road when it would be far more advantageous to simply look after one's own needs so, unlike Western drivers, they felt themselves unconstrained by such restrictive notions as giving way, signaling, stopping at red lights or pedestrian crossings, and so forth.

Although much of the conversation was by this stage striking me as almost surrealistically absurd, there was a germ of truth contained within his words (a very small, undeveloped and microscopic creature to be sure, but a germ nevertheless). There does seem to be an individualism to the Chinese people that totally belies the notion of communist automata that they are painted as by some in the West. Indeed, the individuality here is often so pronounced that it spills over into the most extreme of anti-social behaviours. The thinking seems to be that if you or those in your immediate group can gain advantage, then the effects on others is of little or no consequence or concern. This breeds an indifference, even a callousness, that has to be seen to be believed at times.

A few common examples may serve to illustrate my point. Currently I am residing in a small flat in a sub-district of the City of Dongguan. My days are fairly long, as befits a slow moving flaneur, often leaving at around eight in the morning and only returning at around ten at night, by which time I am usually somewhat tired and in need of some sleep, or at least the semblance of a decent rest. Oft times though, this desire is thwarted by the drivers of cars in the quiet street outside. Even the slightest notion of something that might possibly impede the manic momentum of these drivers is enough to draw loud, prolonged and repeated sounding of the horn from them. Bearing in mind that at two o'clock in the morning, they are often the only car moving along the lane and all that is bothering them is the sight of some distant person wandering home or the odd stray cat (the notion of simply slowing down seems to be an anathema for such folk). The horn will be sounded full blast, maybe three or four times, without the slightest heed to the hundreds of people trying to sleep in the nearby flats. Whether it be 3 am, 4 am or 5 am, seems to be of no import.

At other times, one's attempts at much needed repose will be disturbed by the sound of people having discussions in the street outside, often seemingly at the tops of their voices, no matter what the time. Not the slightest consciousness apparently of their impact on the wellbeing of others. Such a notion would seem to be a foreign concept, perhaps one of those awful Western ideas like freedom, democracy and an independent judiciary that Xi Jinping recently alluded to.

Added to these assaults on one's tranquility, we are also blessed within the small block I am occupying with the presence of a young couple who perhaps are not exactly ideally suited to each other. They have a developed a liking for coming home at three in the morning or so, and proceeding to have loud and vicious arguments, often accompanied by shrieking and the throwing of objects at one another (sadly, at such a time in the morning, I sometimes find myself wishing that these objects would actually hit their intended targets occasionally...). I enquired of a multi-lingual friend as to the nature of the argument, what exactly was the awful calamity that raised such splendidly splenetic passions, and was told that mostly the disagreements are over such things as who didn't put the top on the toothpaste or the whereabouts of the girl's nail clippers. No matter the triviality of the problem, these people can wax loud and unpleasantly for up to an hour at a time, the female metamorphising from a pleasant looking lass in the daytime to a nocturnal shrieking shrek of a harridan with a voice pitched at such a level that it shreds one's already frayed and frazzled nerves like a proverbial knife through butter.

On a recent occasion, the young man involved managed to come home very late (around 4.30 am) one morning and had, unfortunately, forgotten his key. His response was to throw bricks up at the side of the building (not for him such modern wonders as the mobile phone apparently), which thudded loudly into the the masonry before crashing down onto the metal roof of an outbuilding below. Not being entirely impressed by the lad's behaviour, and lacking the necessary words in Mandarin, I did kindly request of the young man that he go forth and multiply, or more exactly, employed an Anglo-Saxon phrase of similar meaning, but he seemed unimpressed…

These are just small personal examples of an underlying attitude that one comes across again and again in China. People are profoundly, and often very callously, individualistic. To be fair, they are also often friendly and warm as well, but there seems to be absolutely no sense whatsoever of how the consequences of their actions affect others around them, almost as if a blind spot exists in the culture, a kind of space, a vacuum where a sense of responsibility ought to be.

One last example. In this country, queuing for a ticket at a rail station is often an exercise that would try the patience of a saint. The queues are often quite long and a little ill-tempered. The ill-temper is mostly due to the fact that so many people steal in at the sides of the queues at the last moment, often thrusting money in front of the uniformed clerks (one feels sorry for these damaged souls, perhaps marred by having to deal with so many difficult people, whose main role in life seems to be to treat the customers as disdainfully as humanly possible). At times, there seem to be more people jumping the queue than in the queue itself. This creates the bizarre phenomenon of queues of queue jumpers queuing on both sides of the main queue…

Hmm, I think I should take my cue at this point and retire the blog for another week. So many examples spring to mind that one could fill pages with them, but that would readily get as tedious as the behaviour itself. China can be splendid in many ways, offering sights and experiences unique to this land, but it can also be a dismal and disgusting dystopia, a nightmarish vision of the consequences of 'progress' unhindered by any other consideration. Development it seems, when economics is the only driver, merely relates to infrastructure, not to the society itself or the people within it.

On that slightly depressing note, I think I will sign off, slink off, and treat myself to an Americano at the nearby C-Cafe. Hopefully, the upper, non-smoking lounge, will be bereft of smokers for a change, and I can enjoy a coffee and cogitate in relatively un-polluted peace...

An Exercise in Socialism…

Greetings to all and sundry from a rather ornate and well-appointed tea-house in the East of Dongguan City. The man who owns this place runs it as something of a labour of love it seems. He has made a decent living in Chinese finance for quite some years now and chooses to devote some of his 'hard-earned' to create a very pleasant place of rest and recuperation, rather than trying to make much out of the business itself. The appointments are of an extreme solidity and of a distinctly antique style, much as one sees in the pavilions of Hongzhou's West Lake or the gardens of Suzhou.

Such places are a welcome retreat from the hustle and bustle of the hot and humid streets outside. This place actually has a small garden between the tea house itself and the road. It is made out in what I would have thought previously as Japanese Zen style: islands, gravel and bonsai trees; but I am assured it actually owes its heritage to much older Chinese traditions which migrated across to the land of the rising sun many centuries ago. 
Outside, in an open space next to the garden, a friend of mine teaches tai chi fan to a group of would-be students. Every now and again the air is ripped asunder by the surprisingly loud crack of the fans being opened at high speed, propelled by a skilful flick of the wrist. Even if the idea of using a fan as a means of defense seems somewhat quaint, it is nevertheless quite impressive when one sees it demonstrated.
The charm of such skilful practices, and the quaintness of the surroundings, contrast greatly with the busy-ness of the street outside, the noise of the cars, the rather grubby local shops, the rush of the people but, for me at least, this is no longer surprising as China is forever a land of contrasts. At times one could almost cry with frustration whilst at others find one's self lost in admiration at some wonderfully subtle expression of the underlying culture. 
One such aspect that one can but admire is the way the socialist system here provides all that is needed for the people to look after themselves physically. In every town, and many times in the larger cities, one will find open spaces where people are allowed, encouraged even, to so such things as group exercise, dance or practice tai chi. In smaller towns like Yangshuo, these gatherings may only consist of a few people, in the larger cities it is not unusual to see several hundred, or even thousands, engaged in such activities. A truly impressive sight and quite an enjoyable experience to share, although when I have plucked up the courage to do so, I have inevitably becomes the object of much curiosity, threatening to halt proceedings on occasions!

The government also provide what are known as 'gym parks'. These are inevitably massive affairs and usually quite well equipped. The local one, about 100 metres from where I am currently staying, consists of four tennis courts, eight basketball courts (Dongguan considers itself the 'city of basketball'), four table tennis tables, numerous and varied pieces of sturdy fitness apparatus and an open green area free for anyone who wishes to practice any other type of appropriate physical exercise. 

The cost of all these impressive facilities is … nothing, zilch, not a bean. The contrast with the UK and the US (and much of Europe for that matter) could not be starker. Where such facilities exist in the West, they are a priced in such a way as to make them unaffordable for the vast majority, especially the youngsters. The Chinese state seems to view it as part of its role to ensure that the youth of the country has adequate (far more than adequate, it would seem) facilities to enable their energies to be used in constructive and healthy ways. 
Perhaps because of this, one of the pleasanter aspects of life in China is that one barely ever feels under threat from gatherings of youths hanging about on street corners. Youngsters here seem relatively content, interested and socially included. Again this is in such stark contrast to the UK, where the poor so and so's have little or nothing to do (legally, at least) and often find themselves socially ostracized and, to add insult to injury, blamed for their predicament. The thought of providing a positive outlet for
their energies could not be further from the current UK government's thinking.
One also cannot but help notice the relative state of fitness of the youth of China. They are noticeably bigger and stronger than their parents and, with a few exceptions, look to be very healthy and fit. In contrast, one thinks of the ubiquitous 'couch-potato' culture that has gripped teenagers in the US and the UK, with all the concomitant problems of limited attention spans, social ineptitude and obesity. Something tells me that in this area at least, the Chinese have a far, far superior, and indeed a much more pragmatic, attitude.
Back in the tea house I find myself pondering these matters. I do not consider myself a socialist and have seen the deleterious effects of communist systems in the old Soviet Union and East Germany in my time, but perhaps my leanings have a tendency to be gently to the left. Perhaps idealism itself is the problem, and what is needed is a pragmatically eclectic approach, taking the best of each system whilst discarding the worst? If nothing else is achieved during these prolonged sojourns of mine, they at least give one pause for thought...

I'm a Commodity, get me out of here!

Once again today I find myself in the pleasantly cooler confines of Dongguan's 24 hour library. My trusty laptop, which has been a faithful friend through tens of thousands of miles and has accompanied me on many a meander across this globe, seems to have finally given up the ghost, leaving me relying on a Lumia 640xl phablet. To be fair, and to give Microsoft their due, it is a perfectly fine little performer, easily good enough for the likes of myself and my ongoing mission: to create intelligible and interesting blogs in the flanneurial style.

Given my perennially minimalist mindset, I cannot help but ponder if even the carrying of a netbook has now been rendered surplus to requirements, given the utility of the modern smartphone. This current two month Sino sojourn necessitated around about 15lbs of accompanying baggage, of which three or four pounds were accounted for by the weight of the laptop and its sundry accruetements. Less is very definitely more when one wishes to travel in the flanneurial spirit - the possibility of doing without another three to four pounds is tempting indeed.

Once this device has sufficient charge on its battery, I will probably wander upstairs to the English book section to lock horns once again with the curmudgeonly character who somehow holds down the job of librarian in that section. Being the furthest removed from the entrance, four floors and about 100 metres, and being the least used section in the library (not a great call for English books in a city of ten million Chinese speakers), methinks that this is probably the ideal post for this man.

Up to this point in my life, my contacts with librarians have been of the pleasanter kind. Indeed, it has been my experience that beneath their modest exteriors one often finds an impassioned and intense nature, just awaiting the opportunity to give vent to the deeper, darker and more nebulous needs that lie within.

The loathsome toad upstairs though seems to possess none of the more tempting traits of the species. His mind obsessed with any number of rules that govern social intercourse in his domain, he clamps down hard on those who would seek to stretch the envelope, even a little. I seem to have raised his ire for any number of transgressions in the past week, most of which seemed truly trifling and, at times, pathetically piddling, and which I dare not bore my readers with.
I do need access to the books though, not least because of the fine collection of Henry Miller's opus. If you are not already familiar with this author's output, I would recommend 'The Tropic of Capricorn' or Quiet Days in Clichy', but beware...these are not volumes for the prudish, the over-refined or the squeamish!

My own favourite of the moment is 'The Air Conditioned Nightmare', written on Miller's return to America (circa 1941) after spending a dozen or so years creating some of his best work in Europe.

The following passage, taken from this volume, mirrors my own feelings for many of the unnecessary and destructive excesses of modern life:

"I had the misfortune to be nourished by the dreams and visions of great Americans -- the poets and seers. Some other breed of man has won out. This world which is in the making fills me with dread. I have seen it germinate; I can read it like a blueprint. It is not a world I want to live in. It is a world suited for monomaniacs obsessed with the idea of progress -- but a false progress, a progress which stinks. It is a world cluttered with useless objects which men and women, in order to be exploited and degraded, are taught to regard as useful. The dreamer whose dreams are non-utilitarian has no place in this world. Whatever does not lend itself to being bought and sold, whether in the realm of things, ideas, principles, dreams or hopes, is debarred. In this world the poet is anathema, the thinker a fool, the artist an escapist, the man of vision a criminal."

I quite literally could not have put it better myself. Wandering around the streets of Dongguan or Shanghai, of Hangzhou or Shenzhen, is not significantly different to wandering the streets of London or Manchester, of Boston or New York, of Berlin or Paris. Everywhere the same dispiriting and de-spiriting rush to acquire the useless and the meaningless, possession for possessions sake, greed for greed's sake.

In this 'modern' world, 'progress' has turned us into consumers, or worse - into commodities, our lives bought and sold so the completely vacuous pursuit of glossy baubles can proceed at an ever increasing pace.

At a recent event in Shanghai, the first day's sales of yet another version of an iphone had to be suspended as the would-be consumers came to blows as they clambered over each other in an attempt to get to the front of the queue. Of course, I use the term 'queue' in the loosest possible sense - tis not a concept that has travelled well in China.

Similar scenes of mercenary mayhem were seen across the globe in the last week as the aptly named 'Black Friday' had shoppers frothing at the mouth in a frenetic frenzy of abject gluttony, pushing, pulling, pinching and punching, in order to acquire things that will be soon become yet another abstract acquisition or rendered redundant within but a brief period of time.

v> And thereby hangs the enslavement of modern man...

Sitting now in the shady portico of the library, I ponder these thoughts over an Americano as I watch the World go by, seemingly at an ever increasing pace. I feel like a tortoise lost in a world of  hyperactive hares...

Carmaggedon…

This evening, I find myself in a pleasant little eatery near the main city square in Dongguan. I tend to like this place for its convenience and the fact that it only charges 5 RMB for a cup of filter coffee, as opposed to the 25 to 30 RMB of many nearby establishments. Coffee has the aura of a luxury item in China. Given that the average wage in this part of Dongguan is around £10K a year, 25 RMB would equate to around £7 a cup. Not particularly cheap…

The relative peace of this place is constantly interrupted by the noise of car horns sounding. The average driver here seems to be an odd mixture of the calm and the impatient. They seem not to concern themselves at all at some of the most outrageously bad driving that you will see anywhere on the planet, but if they find themselves having to wait for any more than a fraction of a second, the hand goes straight to the horn, as something of a reflex action.

Progress is often slow and jams almost a permanent feature of life here. Hence the use of the horn is an ever-present background to one's enjoyment of a cup of Java. Oddly, one gets used to it and often I find myself scarcely aware unless I make the effort. What I do tend to be aware of though is the constant presence of car fumes. It is hard not to be. The very act of breathing is challenged at times.

Dongguan, formerly a mainstay of Chinese manufacturing, is now far more concerned with financial and services to make its mint. Few of the factories that were once such a prominent feature here now remain. Unfortunately, the loss of pollution from the factories has been more than made up for by the rapid increase in car traffic.

Emission laws, where they do exist, are a lot less stringent than in Europe or the United States. This being China, even if the law has been written, it is rarely enforced anyway. Both a certain charm and a sense of exasperation can result from the Chinese attitude to laws and rules. Basically, unless the somewhat paranoid authorities perceive there to be a 'threat to social order' then almost anything goes. The elite will often address a given issue with a raft of new legislation, but like most of the legislation that has gone before, it is likely to be ignored unless something very dramatic happens to make it too embarrassing to continuing with such a laissez-faire attitude.

Incidents such as the recent massive and spectacular explosions in Tianjin or the high speed train crash in Wenzhou were sufficiently catastrophic to catch the authorities attention, otherwise life goes on from one near miss to another. Of course, such incidents are on the macro scale, but the attitude they betray can be seen and experienced every hour of every day that one spends in China.

A few simple examples might suffice to illustrate my point at this juncture. Last Sunday, whilst returning to Dongguan after a couple of days in Chang An, the bus became stuck in one of the many traffic jams that tend to bring the city to a complete halt on the weekend. The bus driver, as it is their wont here, decided that he would change route at this stage and we were asked to leave the bus (no compensation, no 'by your leave', just we are going a different way now so get off).

Forced to walk a couple of miles into the city centre, we were constantly beeped by cars who, having realised that little progress was to be made on the roads, decided to simply drive on the pavements (sidewalks) instead. As far as these guys are concerned, might is right in these situations – if you don't get promptly out of the way you are risking life and limb!

The next morning, en route to the coffee house, my attention was momentarily distracted by the antics of a child in a shop. When I looked back to the pavement I found myself facing a rather large and rather deep hole a mere two or three feet in front of me. No warning cones, no guardrail, no anything in fact - just an open hole in the middle of a busy pavement, waiting to swallow up the unwary pedestrian, with some wires coming out of it (probably live – for good measure!).

I could go on, such examples are experienced constantly as part of 'normal' life here in China.

Air quality is depressingly bad here at the moment. Up north, in the cities of Liaoning, it has become so bad that records are being broken. The WHO recommends that pm2.5 (particles small enough to penetrate the lungs) should never exceed an average of more than 25 parts per million over 24 hours. In Shenyang last week, they averaged over 1,000 and even levels of 1,400 were recorded. Not good from a country that is supposed to be addressing this problem.

Interestingly, just after those figures were released, China announced that it was building a bunch more coal-fired power stations. In a country that a recent report estimated to be losing 4,000 people a day to the effects of pollution it is hard to believe that not only are they continuing to produce so much of their electricity by coal burning, but they are actually committing themselves to even more.

The Global Times, a state sponsored media outlet, was even celebrating that in August of this year record car sales were achieved. Personally, I am not sure 'achieved' is the right word in this context. One thing that China does not need is yet more cars.

Of recent times, many fine words have been spoken and apparent 'commitments' to addressing the problems of pollution in this country have been made but….as the old adage has it, actions speak louder than words. One would imagine that with an international conference on climate change coming up in Paris soon, this rhetoric will only increase. If only it were matched by action…

As I complete another week's blog I found myself back in the same cafe the next morning and enjoying the first rain for a couple of week's. I say 'enjoying' as a decent downpour tends to clean up the air to something like breathable levels. I have actually avoided exercise for the past week, simply because the prospect of breathing deeply in such an atmosphere seemed to be anything but a step on the road to health and vitality.. 

 

PS. On the way back to the flat last evening there was a protest on the stairs to the massive City Administration building overlooking the Square. Those protesting seemed to consist of about 30 people, the majority women of more mature years with one or two younger women mixed in, plus a couple of elderly gentlemen. I have no idea what they were protesting about as we were not allowed within 50 metres and their placards were quickly taken from them by a group of around 50 or 60 members of a SWAT team; tall, fit-looking young men dressed in black and looking somewhat like the AGM of the Darth Vader Appreciation Society. It did seem like something of a very large hammer to crack a very small nut ...

(Forgive the slightly over-dramatic image, but I daren't take an image myself and this was the best I could come up with online!)

Give Us A Twirl

On another hot and steamy day in Dongguan, I find myself sitting in the spacious confines of the city's magnificent library. I use the word 'magnificent' advisedly, it truly is a wonder and there is nothing we have in Europe that compares to it as a public amenity. It also has the distinct advantage of being air conditioned which, in such a hot and sticky atmosphere as Dongguan possesses, is a distinct plus point. I am also feeling rather replete, having dined at a local Buddhist restaurant where they lay on the most generous spread each lunchtime. An entirely vegetarian affair, they often include grapes, bananas and/or pears to round off the already generous offerings. Today there is a choice of some 16 dishes, 5 soups and a range of dangao (cakes) and fried fancies. One can return to the trough as often as one desires – all for the princely sum of 15 yuan (approx. £1.50 or $2).

I have used this particular restaurant on several occasions since arriving in South China, the range and freshness of the food on offer being hard to resist, especially at such a reasonable price. The only problem has been that, as so often in my existence on this earth, I am struggling with an inability to resist temptation. On arrival in these parts, I was a sprightly and fit 101 kgs which, for my rather large frame, is not at all bad. Now, after only two weeks of regular indulgence, my weight has climbed to a rather portly 107 kgs. I even gave up the distinctly refreshing and unbelievably cheap (45p UK, 60 cents US) bottle of Tsingtao that I would imbibe at the end of each long day of diligently observing my flanneurial duties. Unfortunately, foregoing the pleasure of downing a cool beer at the end of the day seems to have had no measurable effect on the situation.

I have also been tempted into doing some exercise. In these conditions, walking two or three miles is normally enough, but it now seems necessary to supplement my flanneurial jaunts with some extra-mural calisthenics. So it was that when I came across a gentleman in the local square swinging nunchaku to and fro I became quite interested in learning this particular martial art myself. My companion here, a master at Tai Chi, was equally fascinated. Originally the intention was a few stretches and a round or two of qigong, but seeing this highly-skilled gentleman twirling the nunchaku with such dexterity aroused more than a little curiousity in us both.

Nunchuku (sometimes known as 'nunchucks' in the West) consist of two metal bars, each about 12 inches in length, connected by a sturdy piece of chain that is approximately 5 inches in length. Apparently, they were originally developed as a weapon from a wooden flail whose original purpose had been to pound rice in historic Okinawa. At the time, the Japanese had invaded the island and banned the possession of all weapons. The locals responded by teaching themselves karate skills and develop the use of such implements as staves and scythes as a means of defence.

The gentleman in the square who gyrated the nunchaku so skillfully turned out to be a Mr. Chen, a Shaolin trained master-artist who hailed from a small village in the Shandong district, just south of Beijing.  Apparently, his village has something of a tradition of training and teaching martial arts so, for Mr. Chen at least, this sort of thing runs in the family. This is by no means untypical of China, where certain areas will have certain specialisations, and even certain families be known for their expertise in certain fields. In Tai Chi in particular, it all gets a little too competitive, and perhaps just a bit silly, as each of the famous families involved tends to claim the right to the true lineage of Tai Chi (and, of course, the right to train the devotees at ever increasingly large fees).

 The idea appears to me that skills are passed down through the family line, usually from father to first born son. Though one imagines that genetics would have some bearing on the level of skill likely to be possessed, this sort of extreme attitude to the role of birth is hard to swallow. Although it often happens that a famous sportsman's son will follow him into that sport, rarely does that son display the same level of skill as his pater. There are exceptions of course, but the exceptions are so few that they rather lend support to the view that such extreme 'geneticism' cannot be based on anything more than belief.

The whole situation can become a very touchy subject, with each faction believing that they have the sole rights to the teaching of the given skill – and the right to denigrate the other families who are possessed by a contrary opinion.

Mr Chen, fortunately, seemed pleasantly free of such concerns, but his love for his art shines through his teaching and his attitude to his students. Mostly, he carries a demeanor of calm and patience – he scarcely ever raises his voice. When he does, just a few short, sharp words are enough to reassert the required discipline needed once again. He has clearly taught a range of fighting skills for many years now, as many photographs of him tutoring would-be martial artists of many nationalities demonstrate. My own desires in this area are far more modest; I simply wanted to learn how to use the nunchaku, hopefully without injuring myself in the process.

 Easier said than done! After a week now of twirling these bars  I have now successfully managed to hit my fingers more times than I care to remember, my elbows all too often and even managed to give myself quite a painful blow to the cranium on one occasion. My arms bear witness to my own ineptitude, with several bruises coming up nicely now. Still, there is something fascinating in the whole pursuit, something about the desire to get to grips with a very challenging skill, something in the feeling one gets when one actually does manage to manipulate the nunchaku skillfully. When it is going well, there is a certain sense of togetherness, of focus, of flow. It is a sense I have known in several other fields in the past, and each time I come across the state I enjoy it immensely.

There is also something rather lovely in that relaxed yet focus state which comes upon you as you practice well. Often, with me at least, it takes about 15 minutes of decreasing clumsiness before I get near that state. Each time I start at the moment, it feels like the first time all over again, but…. gradually, those periods of ineptitude are getting shorter and the feelings of competence becoming more and more sustained.

Mr. Chen looks upon my efforts with quiet and friendly eyes. He has seen it all before – the clumsiness, the incompetence, the frustration, but he knows that if one quietly perseveres the skills will come along in their own time. At first, I would curse under my breath or even, as few hear know when I am happily blaspheming, swear out loud. But gradually, session by session, I am learning to let go of that frustrating and simply pick the nunchaku up each time they clatter noisily to the ground and start all over again.

Weighing myself this morning, I still turn the scales at around 107 kg but … whether I lose weight or not exercising in such a way, I found myself both enjoying the learning of a new skill and, perhaps more importantly, re-learning the benefits of patience with one's own shortcomings.

Tucked away now in a quiet corner of the foreign books section of Dongguan library, I find myself smiling at the prospect of enjoying another session with my 'shifu' (master) later this evening. The gentleman in question is but few years older than me, but he is vastly more experienced in these areas. Martial arts here in China are, naturally, about fighting skills but, more than that, they are also a vehicle for one to learn about oneself, one's limitations and, ultimately, one's possibilities.  Beneath the combative exterior, there are layers upon layers of beliefs, philosophies and concepts.

Such notions deserves a little more attention than I have the time or the inclination to give today. It is an area, though, that I may well revisit in coming blogs. For now though, I must be on my way. Hopefully, barring too many blows to the head from fast moving sets of nunchaku, I will be in a position to continue my flanneurial activities next week.

Until then … Zaijian!

Built to last,but not for long

Built to last, but not for long....

On a very steamy day in central Dongguan, I have managed to locate a very comfortable, air-conditioned, little drinks and cake outlet that goes by the delightful name of Green Tea Cake (as ever, the Chinese omit the definite article). 

A Chinese crooner is groaning away softly from the speakers, clearly in some pain over a long lost lover, or something of similar ilk - one needs little understanding of the words, the sentiments are the same the whole World over. 

Opposite the cafe, a building that consists almost entirely of the utilitarian white tiles that were so ubiquitous in this country twenty or so years ago, sits softly crumbling, losing more tiles each month, while it awaits its turn for its own, all too inevitable, demolition.  

China seems to be in a constant state of renewing itself, replacing the relatively 'old' with sparkling new edifices as part of a seemingly continuous process. Unfortunately, although the new edifices may sparkle they tend to do so for but a few years. The endless building and rebuilding of flats is a fine example of the process. The flats look like the last word in luxury when they are constructed, but a return visit only a couple of years later gives a completely different impression; one of rising damp, leaky pipes and crumbling tile work. 

On the plus side, this impermanence means constant work for those involved in all things related to construction. On the downside, one wonders at the wisdom of investing in property that has such built in obsolescence!? 

Economically, this permanent state of impermanence entails a constant state of turnover. This means that there is forever an ongoing state of intense economic activity as the money spins around again and again in these ever renewable projects. The period between building and obsolescence seems to be becoming shorter and shorter. Even buildings that are less than a single decade old can be quickly consigned to history in the headlong rush into the brighter, more modern, future.  

In a sense, it feels all very Buddhist; almost a celebration of impermanence. It can also feel a tad disconcerting though, as one succumbs to the feeling that one never really knows a city in China. Go back to the same city just a few years later and so much will have changed as to render it nearly unrecognisable. 

          

It seems that most things are built to last but a short time here in China. Visiting sites that, just a couple of years back, were the last word in modernity, but are now left forlorn and abandoned leaves one feeling somewhat disconcerted at the temporality of it all.           

I read on the BBC site last week that the UK government, in its wisdom, has decided to allow the Chinese to build two atomic power stations, one on the East coast and one on the West. Given the general standards of construction here in China, one cannot help but ponder on to the sagacity of such a move. 

In the week that I left the UK, the self-same British government were casting doubts on the new leader of the British Labour Party, one Jeremy Corbyn. They felt that his election might pose a threat to the UK's security. They then followed this up by asking the Chinese (of all people) to build the previously mentioned nuclear power stations. You couldn't, as they say, make it up... 

Back in the cafe, the crooner on the radio wails more plaintively than ever as I finish the last of my cold green tea. One's heart cannot help but go out to such a suffering soul, but it will be with a feeling of some relief that I leave him to his heartache as I head out once more into the steamy streets of this burgeoning metropolis. 

The café itself is a very pleasant, and very comfortable place in which a wandering flaneur can take all the time he wishes to gather his thoughts and compose an at least semi-meaningful blog. This particular flaneur though, wonders if it will still be here the next time I return to the ever-changing city of Dongguan?