Plus ça change....

This week flaneurial remarks originate from the essentially very cool 'Chillhouse' cafe on the River Kwai Bridge Road in Kanchanaburi. It certainly lives up to its name, the air conditioning being left on at a constantly low temperature; so much so in fact that one is almost relieved to leave the place and feel the comfortable warmth of the Thai streets once again. During the heat of the middle of the day though, I am fond of spending an hour or so within its chilled environs. Oddly, one scarcely sees another Westerner there, the cafés regulars being mostly reasonably well-to-do Thais who invariably greet one and all as they enter the premises with the ubiquitous 'Sawadee Khrap' (or 'Sawadee Khaa' even, if they happen to be female). This is often said with a bow of the head and even a clasp of the hands in a prayer like gesture.

Such politeness is an essential in Thailand – the simple acknowledgement of another person's presence and an expression of respect. To experience this once again came as something of a pleasant relief after the indifference (at best) of China. In fact, the first few days here have been spent re-acclimatising myself to the very different culture. There is an expectation here, almost a demand, for politeness and acknowledgement; failure to do so can easily offend, even if unintended. Thailand is very much 'the land of smiles' but one must ensure that one smiles back!

The atmosphere this year feels subtly different though; there is something of an uneasiness about the place that was not readily apparent during previous visits. There is a tension in the air, an almost palpable sense of anxiety, almost of foreboding. When I last left Thailand in April 2014 it was still a place of political chaos and turmoil but that is almost the normal state of affairs in Thailand. It generally lurches from crisis to crisis but somehow, through it all, manages to survive and even, to a certain extent at least, to prosper.

In May of 2014 however, there was a coup, lead by the now Prime Minister, Prayuth Chan-Ocha. Originally, a state of martial law was introduced and a curfew, which must have slowed down the night-life a tad in such places as Patthaya, Bangkok and Chiang Mai. Fortunately now, the worst of the restrictions have been eased and things have got back to something like normal, superficially at least. Coups are not unusual in Thailand, they seem to be a regular political event that punctuates attempts at establishing democracies every few years. There have been accusations, particularly from those aligned with the deposed Pheu Thai government, that the military have not been particularly even-handed and are favouring their opponents with the subsequent changes and the proposed reforms to the democratic process.

The jury is very much still out on the coup and the justifications for the further actions of the new government. There is a sense of dis-ease here though now, possibly even a sense of the dangers of the upcoming challenges to the future of Thailand. Personally, I would like to write more about such issues but, given the state of affairs here and the restrictions, it would seem wise to desist. Many of the issues could not sensibly be discussed without entering into areas that could conceivably fall foul of article 112 of Thai law (that pertaining to 'lese majeste'). Currently, this is being applied very widely here, and there have been several cases of even foreigners being locked up for prolonged jail sentences (between 2 and 15 years) for stepping over what is a very vague line here in Thailand. Those interested may wish to look up the subject online; perhaps after doing so, they will understand my reluctance to address certain issues...

As ever, and as was the case in China, presentation seems to be nine tenths of statistics. Officially there is no problem with the tourist trade but at the street level here in Kanchanaburi things do indeed seem somewhat quieter. At the far end of the River Kwai Bridge Road from where I stay there are a selection of bars where one can find, if one wishes to indulge such tastes, a variety of distractions on offer. The last time I was here these bars were invariably full of Westerners seeking all manner of 'distractions'. This year, when I have had cause to pass that way, they make a sorry sight. Groups of girls in denim shorts and black t-shirts, usually adorned with some suggestive logo, sitting around tables outside the bars, looking vaguely bored as they chat away with each other over the loud music constantly playing in the background, but with ne'er a customer in sight, the inside of the bars completely bereft of clientèle.

Not all such changes are negative of course. Tourism has had a major, and usually negative, effect on the environment here in Thailand. Many of the beaches, for example, had become very overcrowded, littered and subject to the attentions of many of the less savoury characters in Thai society. Many now, such as in Phuket, are more or less back to their former glory. Other aspects of the environment are getting a chance to recover too (one sometimes wonders about the nature of economic success, especially after spending a couple of months in China. Often, the best possible thing for the environment seems to be... a complete lack of economic activity!)

Many of the ex-pats, a trenchant community normally and devoted to their alternative lifestyles in Thailand, seem to have packed up and left. Those that remain seem conscious of the need to keep a low profile and not risk drawing the attention of the powers that be. It is hard to tell where all this will lead in the coming months and years. Personally, I intend to stay for a couple of months and then perhaps leave for quite some time, or at least until the current situation has resolved itself to some extent.

From my point of view, it would be a shame not to spend at least some time here as, for me at least, it always strikes me as a tremendously beautiful country. Life positively teems here in ways that are, at times, quite staggering to behold. As pointed out in previous blogs, day-to-day life has many drawbacks and complications, mainly caused by the politics and the underlying culture, though that same culture has much to recommend it too. In recent years when I have come to Thailand, despite being well aware of many of the problems, the pluses have very definitely outweighed the minuses. This year, on my most recent visit, this perhaps can no longer be said. The people are still pleasant, it is still 'the land of smiles', but those smiles sometimes seem somewhat strained these days. Buddhism, and particularly the Thai version (Therevada) is as absorbing as ever. The fascinating flora and fauna remain forever beautiful and forever abundant. But beyond all this... one cannot help but wonder where Thailand is heading and does one want to be anywhere near this country when it gets there...

Back in the Chillhouse I sip my very generous blueberry smoothie. The original Americano was finished long ago during one of several edits and rewrites of this particular edition of the blog. One is conscious of the need to be careful here and to skirt around certain areas and issues 'just in case'. One of the reasons for enjoying the Chillhouse is its selection of newspapers on a charmingly old fashioned teak stand as one enters the premises. Reading the previously redoubtable Bangkok Post, always a fine newspaper and an informative read on previous visits, one is struck with just how carefully the articles are now phrased. One learns as much from what is not directly stated as from what is. It has become, at least as far as Thai news is concerned, a very much 'between-the-lines' read.

It is difficult to see how things will turn out here but the developments since I was last in Thailand, a mere nine months ago, have been drastic indeed. Many things that one took for granted are no longer possible in the current climate. It is difficult to guess how all this will pan out over the coming few months but, for my part, I think I may well be inclined to keep my flaneurial activities to somewhat less potentially volatile situations in somewhat less volatile places...

Broken China...

As I start this blog entry, I find myself sitting in the rather impressive Shenzhen Bao'an airport terminal 3, a wonderfully modern, state-of-the-art construction, designed by the somewhat unfortunately named Massimiliano Fuksas. It is the kind of architecture that modern China has fallen in love with, or at least those responsible for the pubic purse. One finds examples of these structures everywhere in modern China these days. The railway stations in the medium to large cities for example, often so dully normal in many countries, are on a scale that is scarcely believable in the PRC. Like modern cathedrals, the interiors bedecked with shining white marble, one cannot help but wonder at the cost of such constructions.

Arriving in Hangzhou last year, I recall wanting to buy an onward ticket and being directed to the ticket office at the other end of the inner concourse. The walk, through a vast echoing hall of gleaming stone, the subject of more or less continuous care from a vast army of cleaners, took a full ten minutes. It feels more like catching a plane than taking the train when using such places, the stations more akin to airport terminals than anything we would normally think of as a railway station. Many of the processes are the same. One's luggage is run through scanning machines in much the same manner, passports or I.D. papers have to be shown, and one is not allowed onto the platform itself until the train number has been announced when one proceeds to the appropriate departure gate.

It is all very impressive, the contrast all the greater though after starting the journey from the back alleys of Chang An where rubbish was piled high and left for days, stinking and rotting, the home to an army of cockroaches and rats. Personally, I was somewhat averse to the sight and the smell, but one would regularly see elderly people, their trailered bikes piled high with all sorts of flotsam and jetsam, scrabbling through the mounds of detritus looking for anything of any value whatsoever. This even went as far tearing open packets of discarded foodstuffs, trying to retrieve the small amounts of content that remained after being thrown away, often just a few grams of powder.

One of the justification that the Chinese government trots out, when asked to justify their truly awful CO2 emissions to climate change conferences, is that China is 'a developing country' and hence should be allowed more leeway than the 'developed' countries of the West. China alone is actually responsible for a quarter of the entire planets emissions and yet they manage, year in and year out, to avoid any restrictions whatsoever on their polluting activities by trotting out this excuse.

China is not an under-developed country in any sense that the phrase was originally meant to convey. The infrastructure would, for the most part, be the envy of most countries around the World. Development goes on at a pace that is truly stunning. New projects are constantly being commissioned by local and national government on a truly herculean scale. Money seems to be everlastingly available for such schemes. They seem to represent an expression of national or local pride, a kind of civic vanity for many local authorities to make the very best possible impression on visitors to their cities. Town halls in China in particular, can be seen as very clear examples of this civic vanity. They are often vast megalithic constructions, or examples of the very latest in architectural trends, that cost untold millions. 

No, China is not an undeveloped nation in the normal sense. On many levels it is vastly rich with sums of money owed to it that are truly staggering (the US debt alone is far more than most economies are worth). What they do have is a wealth distribution problem. The contrast between the wealthy, often an odd admixture of people in China between entrepreneurs, business owners and civic officials with sufficiently influential positions to make their patronage worthwhile, and the poor is often extreme.

It is indeed quite strange to reflect that for a so-called 'communist' country their wealth distribution is actually somewhat worse than either the UK or the US. Indeed, it is odd to think that in the former of those two countries, theoretically a capitalist Western country, there is far more state sponsored help for individuals (hospitals, pensions, welfare, education, etc.) than in the, theoretically at least, communist country of China. The money is there in the latter case but... they would rather spend it on endless vanity projects and suchlike than use it to assist alleviating the load on the poor or providing facilities to the population.

There is a strange factor at work here, or at least strange to someone such as myself coming form a Western perspective. There is a really quite bewildering callousness at times built into the culture. It is not that it is a mean culture or anything of that ilk, in many ways and in many situations, it is actually quite generous. Once one is accepted within a given group then the generosity becomes almost embarrassing at times. On several occasions during this trip, I almost had to fight in order to pay a restaurant bill. People who had treated you previously already would scarcely allow you to reciprocate, assuring you that as their guest they would be happy to pay. It can almost reach comic proportions at times, with several male members of a given group theatrically almost coming to blows for the right to pay the bill.

The downside of this, and where the callousness comes in, is that the generosity tends to extend only to those within the group. Outsiders, be they outside the family, outside the business, outside the locality, anyone who is not considered part of a given group, do not enter into the calculation whatsoever. Often, they are not even extended the most basic of civilities or consideration. There is an oft-used expression in the West: charity begins at home. For many Chinese, this is a fundamental assertion.

The philosopher Confucius gifted the Chinese people with the notion, indeed the fundamental importance, of the beneficial nature of social harmony and relationsips. In day to day practice, this has evolved into the concept of 'guanxi'. Guanxi is expressed in China through interwoven networks of relationships. Here it is the classic case of not what you know but who you know that really matters. The individual is considered to be of little importance within this system. What matters are the networks of relationships that he is part of.

All can be decided by guanxi: education, job, social circle, social status. Those in authority frequently owe their position not to any particular skill or abilities but simply to the relationships they have build up, familial or otherwise, that will allow them access to such roles. If you have few connections, or those connections are not sufficiently powerful or influential, your career choices are likely to be extremely limited within this society.

As ever with these things, one's view of such practices depend how one frames them in one's mind. You could say that it is, of course, necessary to build networks, and relationships are important in almost any situation in life. On the other hand, one could look at guanxi as more or less an inbuilt culture of massive corruption that effects almost everything that occurs in China today. It is all-pervasive and everywhere in the culture, so omnipresent that it is scarcely even realised by those within the system. It simply is the way that lives are lived here.

Within this context, anti-corruption drives, such as the currently professed policy of Xi Jinping's government, are unlikely to meet with any sustained success in the long term. In practice, the hidden purpose of such policies in China has often been to 'purge' political opponents; a way of asserting the leader's grip on the party apparatus. This may or may not be the case with the current example; for the moment, it is too early to say. If it is a genuine attempt to root out corruption then it is a massive task indeed. One can only wish them well in such a venture.

Back in the departure lounge, my flight has just been called. Within a few minutes I should be leaving China and heading South to the sunnier climes of Thailand. In many ways I will miss the place. Each occasion I come here I enjoy it but, at one and the same time, I also find it maddeningly frustrating. One cannot help but be elated by the sheer magnificence of buildings such as this terminal, it is architecture on the grand scale. On the other hand, one cannot but help but be depressed by the sheer abject nature of the poverty one sees here. Magnificent and abject, generous and callous, so much opulence and yet so much squalor; the China of today is a land of great contrasts.

Some people love it, others loathe it. After another two months here, I am still not sure which of these groups I owe my allegiance to...

Every breath you take...

This week's flaneurial reflection comes from a rather comfortable seat on a rather comfortable train that is comfortably travelling at very nearly 200 miles per hour. All is smooth and quiet as we whisk along the track between the cities of Zhuzhou and Guangdong through the somewhat continuously grey Chinese countryside. The coffee on board is a very reasonable 20RMB a 400ml cup (about $3). The subjective realisation of speed only occurs when one chances to glance out of the window and watches endless hills, roads and rivers flashing past at a truly alarming rate.

          I am on my way back from attending a Tai Chi tournament in the City of Liling. The event was rather successful for my friend who managed to win a gold and a silver medal and come home with an 18” plate and a rather large china vase. We had travelled to Liling on the invitation of the Hunan Tai Chi Association, who generously supplied hotel rooms, meals and transport for the both of us from the Friday evening  to the following Monday morning.

          This generosity was much appreciated, as were the facilities of the four star hotel we stayed in. The food was copious and prepared in the local Hunan style (very greasy, very salty, very spicy) but, unfortunately, was not particularly to my tastes. There was something typically Chinese in the way the food was presented though. The dishes, usually a dozen or more, were set upon a glass revolving disk in the centre of the table and one chose from the offered selection whatever one took a fancy to. This style of eating is very communal in nature which is not atypical of the culture here in general. There is a great willingness, almost an expectation, of sharing. If someone orders a bottle of the local alcohol, an horrendously strong brew that fair took my breath away, it is expected that it will be shared by all at the table.

          There seems to be an etiquette to turning the glass centrepiece, an etiquette that stresses the needs of others at the table above oneself. Generally on such a table there is a huge pale of sticky white rice in the centre. Here too there is an etiquette – one makes sure everyone else is supplied with rice before filling one's own bowl. Even within this there is another level where the status of those waiting is to be recognised, with the higher status individuals going first. In practice, this generally implies a respect for age, with the elders being given preference over the youngsters.

          Toasts are often drunk, complete with the usual expression 'gumbei!' (empty glass) proceeded by a chink of one's glass with all and sundry. Again, one needs to make sure one includes everybody who cares to be included and, as a mark of respect, holds one's glass slightly lower than those of higher status (usually best just to presume everyone else is – my personal 'fail proof' method!).

          Throughout my stay in Liling I was treated with great respect and a rather lovely inclusivity.  This is one of the loveliest aspects to the culture here. Once accepted within a given group, one is treated with a great deal of friendly and good natured indulgence. The Chinese, in this way at least, are a very hospitable people.

          The time spent in Liling was enjoyable on many levels bar one, but that exception makes the thought of my upcoming trip to Thailand a pleasant prospect. The quality of the air in these medium sized cities has to be seen to be believed. I use the word 'seen' advisedly. Of course, as soon as one gets off the train, one is immediately aware that the air quality is not all it should be. My first bout of coughing was on the station platform itself, but what is most noticeable is the dreary grey smog that hangs continuously over the town.

          We arrived at the hotel just before five on the Friday evening and I took a photograph of the somewhat uninspiring view from our seventh floor window. Grey and dank and almost sulphurous, the blocks in the distance disappearing into the smog:

          At nine on the following Monday morning I took a second picture from the same vantage point:

          Comparing the two images, one would think that they had been taken one after the other. This was not the case. In the three days we were there this view did not change at all except for the coming of the night. Just one long, dreary, greyness that hung over the city continuously from dawn to dusk. Never a glimpse of the sun, never a shadow beneath one's feet, unless you chanced to go inside a building.

          Many of the more industrial Chinese towns and cities are like this the whole winter long. Dreary, dirty and, in the air quality sense at least, really quite disgusting. To experience this is really quite oppressive, the feeling of not knowing when you will next see a patch of blue sky or where your next breath of reasonable air is coming from. In Liling's case this was particularly disappointing as the town itself looked to be rather interesting with a huge pottery market and some lovely old architecture.

          Last year, as happens many a year, there was some particularly bad smog in Beijing and Shanghai during the winter months. It became so bad at times that some people, having unwisely decided to venture out for the evening, were reportedly reduced to using the satnav apps on their mobile phones to find their way home again!

          A few years back, the Chinese government became quite annoyed with the American consulate in Beijing for publishing air quality figures on its website. The American staff had become increasingly worried over time with the deterioration of the environment. As far as the Chinese government were concerned, all was fine and there was no problem as long as no one made a fuss about it. The fact that millions of Chinese people were dying prematurely each year because of the effects of pollution was not particularly concerning, but 'losing face' in such a way, particularly at the hands of the Americans, was definitely not acceptable.

          Eventually, they relented and started publishing their own figures but this caused another problem. The PM 2.5 figures (fine particles below 2.5 microns in width that your body has little or no defence against) were truly atrocious. The World Health Organisation recommend that these should be kept at levels below 20 micrograms per cubic meter of air. Hardly anywhere in China could meet these standards so the Chinese government did what the Chinese government does best in such circumstances; it moved the goal-posts. The Chinese national standard calls for a 'healthy level' of 35 micrograms per cubic meter of air. It would appear that Chinese lungs are 1.75 times better than lungs elsewhere on the planet at dealing with this problem...

          Even with these much lower standards, Chinese air quality in most major cities fails to achieve these levels. Examining one of the websites that publishes this data, I see that today in central Beijing the level is 309, ie., some eight plus times their own, rather liberal (nice to see them liberal in some ways at least...) limits and fifteen times the WHO levels. Some Northern Chinese cities are at levels well in excess of 500. Sad to say, this is not an unusual occurrence.

          Back in the train a couple of hours have passed and we are now within just a few short miles of Guangzhou. This technology is very impressive, as is much of the new infrastructure of modern China. At times though, these achievements have been made at a tremendous cost to the environment. Apart from the truly awful air quality, 70% of China's rivers and lakes are polluted, not to mention 90% of their groundwater (which makes up most of the 'potable' water used for drinking, cooking, etc.). The widespread and indiscriminate use of pesticides and chemicals means that the soil is very unhealthy in China too. The pace of economic growth has been truly amazing but, to paraphrase, and slightly amend, a saying from the Bible: What does it profit a man if he gaineth the whole World but cannot breathe the air, drink the water or eat the food?

                      

Beware of drinking hot coffee in close proximity of impatient Chinese train passengers...

          

No braining in China...

Today, having wandered the slightly scary back streets of Chang An, I find myself enjoying a bowl of noodles and vegetables at a small restaurant about a quarter of mile from Star City. The manager, a strong looking bull of a man in his mid-forties with a ready, even if somewhat gap-toothed, grin smiles appreciatively and practices his four or five words of English on me. He is a most welcoming host, even if the depth of the conversation is not overly impressive, given the circumstances.

          When I refer to the scary back streets of Chang An, it has little to do with any perceived threat of violence. I am told that such things do occur but have yet to see anything of the sort after spending many months in China during the past few years. The dangers, far more real and far more objective, are from the ever present construction work. Not only are new buildings constantly being erected in what seem, at times, to be the very smallest of spaces, but an ongoing and seemingly endless program of reconstruction and modernisation is an ever present experience for the modern visitor to urban China.

          Part of the reason for this is the rush towards the modern; a brave new world is being constructed before our very eyes and this is being done at an astonishing pace. Another part of the reason is the poor quality of the construction often calls for re-construction within just a few short years. I recently visited a friend living on the 19^th floor of the romantically named block no. 4 (of 15) in a development in one of the many suburbs of Dongguan. She and her husband have been living there for under a year but already there were cracks appearing in the ceilings of the stairwell and in the walls of her flat. The 19^th floor felt just a little too elevated a position for this nomadic flaneur, given the thought that as much attention is likely to have gone into the foundations as had gone into the building materials...

          There have been several scandals in China in recent years where flyovers, schools and office blocks have  collapsed due to insufficient foundations or simply because of poor construction. Indeed, I saw one amazing image recently of a brand new, multi-storey apartment block that had simply toppled over onto its side and yet, astonishingly, had remained largely intact. As far as I could tell, the foundations were so shallow as to be barely existent at all. Needless to say, the company were having difficulties filling the adjacent flats in the other buildings on the estate...

          On the smaller scale sites, such as one sees in the back streets of Chang An, the ubiquitous material for scaffolding is bamboo. I am told that this is perfectly safe and just as good as the steel used in the West, but the sight of it is not overly reassuring. The construction seems very haphazard with posts sticking out at all angles and a wide range of knots employed, most of which did not look overly secure. The foot-ways on the upper floors seem very rickety indeed and I for one would not certainly care to be making my way along one of these at anything above ground level. On the outside of these hodge-podge constructions are layered tarpaulin or scanty netting, often in ribbons, as a kind of nod towards safety of passing pedestrians, the effect more symbolic than real. Random rubbish, bricks and detritus of all sorts are scattered about on the ground with no obvious sign of order. If one is lucky, you may even see some warning cones; they are normally stacked up unused in some corner, ironically, often just about the neatest thing about the site. No tape, no lights, no warning signs are employed, or at least not as far as I have ever been able to discern.

Recently, whilst walking through a back street in the city of Dongguan with two female friends, one of whom carried a six month old baby, our somewhat absorbing discourse was interrupted by what I thought was some particularly dusty debris being blown through the air. This in itself is not an unusual occurrence in Chinese cities so it did not really grab our immediate attention. Shortly afterwards though there was a resounding crash, followed by urgent shouts and cries from all around us alerting us to the fact that the building we were walking beside was under reconstruction and a gentleman (other, perhaps more apt, terms came to my mind at the time...) was pouring wheelbarrow loads of debris, mainly bricks and metal fittings, from a gap in the wall on the third floor. We had to take immediate and drastic avoiding action as the bricks and piping fell within just a few feet of us. There was not a single warning cone, message board, railings or even a piece of coloured tape to separate the growing pile of building debris from the passing pedestrians. Personally speaking, I was somewhat less than impressed...

          The same cavalier attitude exists in relation to those who work on these sites. On the larger construction projects one may see men somewhat reluctantly outfitted in high visibility vests and hard hats but these are as rare as an accurate economic prediction on the smaller sites. I have no idea what the fatality rate is for such sites, I would doubt that the data even exists, but it must be frighteningly high as these men take risks on a daily basis that would never be permitted in the West.

          In the UK there is an oft criticised piece of legislation that recently celebrated its fortieth anniversary. It often finds itself the butt of many a joke and the tabloid newspapers in that benighted (at least at this time of year...) land often indulge joyously pointed out the more absurd applications of the act. The Health and Safety at Work act has never been particularly popular with either employers or employees. The former regarding it as yet more 'red tape' whilst the latter mostly think of it as needless nannying. Still, the figures don't lie (well, actually they often do, but in this case they do give a certain insight). In the year the act came into force (1974) , more than 650 people died as a result of accidents at work. Needless to say, thousands upon thousands of others were seriously injured. 40 years later, the number of fatalities was 133, with a similar reduction in injuries.

          In the US in recent years similar legislation has come into force with similar resistance and similar criticisms. The pioneering work of Ralph Nader should be born in mind in this area. Again though, the effects have been much the same, with huge numbers of people saved who might otherwise have died or have had their lives (and, by extension, those of their loved ones) needlessly blighted.

          These measures may be particularly unpopular with businesses who often point to the added costs involved, but what they fail to mention is the costs avoided by the society such as hospitalisation, recuperation, ongoing care, loss of trained and educated personnel, etc. The reality of this has come to be realised over time and now few sensible politicians, except perhaps some extreme ideologues on the right, would argue for the repeal of such legislation. In the end it is, as the very apt American phrase has it, something of a 'no-brainer'.

          Many, many moons ago, as a child growing up in London, I had the good fortune to count a young fireman as a close friend. I was just a boy at the time, but Trevor Paul Carvosso, 'Carvo' to his friends, befriended me and would spend hours happily teaching me snooker or table tennis, or simply sharing a chat. He was a little crazy and unpredictable at times, always in trouble of some sort or other, but had such an infectious good-humour that it was impossible not to like him. On the 26^th July 1969, Carvo was manning an appliance in the East End of London when it was turned out to an incident at Dudgeons Wharf on the Isle of Dogs. He and four other fireman were inspecting the roof of a petroleum tank when a workman chose to apply an acetylene torch to pipework at the foot of the construction. Seconds later it exploded killing the workman, Carvo and all four of his colleagues. One sometimes wonders if Trevor and the rest of the crew would still be with us today if the Health and Safety act had come in some years earlier...

          Last week, in the Guali Township of the Xiaoshan District of Hangzhou, five firefighters were killed when putting out a fire in a factory on an industrial estate. Apparently they were fighting the blaze from within the premises when a roof collapsed, always a danger in firefighting, and the five fatalities plus several others were trapped beneath the rubble. I have no means of making any sort of judgement in this matter, but one hopes that the same standards (or rather lack of them) that apply to the building trade in China do not apply when committing firemen to such situations. The youngest was just 18 years old, the eldest 22; these men cannot have been that experienced and would have needed guidance from older, more experienced heads. Fire fighting will forever be a dangerous business, but there is no point in making it any more dangerous than it needs to be.

          Thoughts of the dangers of fire fighting and memories of lost friends swirl in my mind as I once more find myself back in the rather utilitarian but functional confines of the noodle bar. China itself is still developing at an unprecedented pace and it is having to learn lessons in just a few years that it took the West decades to come to terms with. One only hopes that they are able to assimilate these lessons quickly. Sad to say though, that at the time of writing it is hard to see that they are even aware that there are lesson to be learnt at all...

Same same, but different....

Tis the very first day of January in 2015 and I find myself comfortably ensconced in yet another Chinese imitation of a very (in)famous, tax-evading (oops, I meant tax avoiding, of course!), American coffee chain. These seem to be two a penny here and are very fashionable at the moment in China. This one is called 85 Top Coffee for some strange reason and has a logo that would probably breach various copyright laws in most countries around the world. Not in China though.

          All is not as it seems here and one often finds oneself doing a double-take as one realises that what one thought was, say, a Rolls Royce or a Mini, is actually not. If one were so inclined, one could happily spend twenty minutes or so trying to spot the differences between the Chinese version and the European original, in similar fashion to that ubiquitous game that one finds printed in the newspapers of the world. The list, at the end of the twenty minutes, even with the most careful of perusals, would not be very long...

         

Oddly, those highly respected protectors of company's and people's rights, the Chinese Courts, rarely find in favour of the plaintiff when a European company has the audacity to complain. One can only admire their obviously much keener eye and the way it is able to perceive clear differences that are far beyond the abilities of lay observers, such as myself, to perceive.

          In the case of the American company, owners of the famous green, circular logo, it is perhaps a little difficult to feel too much sympathy though. It seems from recent evidence that they do tend towards a certain flexibility in the interpretation of the law themselves. Their beans, for example, tend to be sourced from that well known home of coffee, Switzerland (must be the climate...). Strangely, last time I was privileged to visit the home of cuckoo clocks and highly creative bankers , I didn't particularly notice the presence of large coffee plantations. Oh well, I guess their economy must have moved on in the meantime and branched out into the coffee trade...

          For all that, I must say that these particular surroundings are rather conducive to quite cogitation and writing and are therefore much to my liking. The music in the background, easy listening jazz, makes an altogether welcome change from the seemingly endless loop of Christmas songs that I have been subjected to for the last few weeks. The seating is modern and comfortable, the décor dark, the odd mature house plant growing against brown walls. All-in-all, it has the feel of some of the more exclusive coffee houses of Thailand or Indonesia.

          85 Top Coffee itself is to be found near the main entrance to a large shopping complex that has been given the modestly unassuming name of 'Star City' in Chang An. The ground floor is smart, modern and home to various jewellers and mobile phone outlets. The first is occupied, at least mostly, by clothing outlets. The second floor is...largely empty and unoccupied. The fourth the same, except for a slightly run down gym that is currently offering outrageous discounts to get increasingly reluctant customers in through the doors.

          This particular mall isn't alone in this. Often the presentation is of a thriving economy but the reality is a little different. The first faint whiff of recession is in the air, although carefully hidden away, particularly from Western eyes. Even on the apparently bustling high streets one sees, every now and again, vacant shops with dusty and naked mannequins strewn across the floor, amidst the discarded hangers and the piles of leaflets posted through the door, the premises having clearly been empty for quite some time.

          When I was here last year, I was told that it would be a great idea to invest in Chinese property. The old adage: “You can't go wrong investing in bricks and mortar” was heard incessantly amongst the group of people I staying with. I wondered to myself at the time how often I had heard this particular refrain. It brought back memories of the property boom in Ireland in the early part of this century, people queueing around the block just to get their names down and the chance of buying a property before the price rose yet again. How different it looked a year later, the cranes motionless, building sites abandoned mid-build, flats that could scarcely be given away. With these memories in mind, I decided to resist the temptation to invest.

          This year in China, prices are down. It is not the same across the board, some areas doing notably better than others but... dark rumours abound of the inability of property developers to pay back enormous loans, often secured on the shadow banking sector, and of town halls in debt up to their eyeballs having financed local government projects via less than conventional means and shady deals with builders. Up to the time of writing, there have only been one or two collapses (I mean this in the financial sense – though if one sees the quality of some of the building it is a small wonder that it doesn't happen more often in the physical!). One has the feeling of a pack of cards that has grown far, far too high and is teetering of the very edge of disaster.

          Still, one of the advantages of the Chinese system is that the powers-that-be can manage news, and financial intervention, in such a way as to avoid, for a time at least, much of the panic that ensues in the West when it becomes obvious that the market is about to collapse. There have been bail-outs and pay-offs but the news scarcely reaches the headlines. There are rumours of whole cities, built at enormous cost, with scarcely any occupants (the so called 'ghost towns') and developers subsequently caught up in mountains of unpayable debt.

          If one were to believe the figures, the Chinese economy is still doing very well and growing at rates that we can only dream of in the West. For 2014 the figure is likely to be reported as just over 7% but... these figures are more likely to mislead rather than to inform. As Leonard H. Courtney said (often mis-accredited to Benjamin Disraeli), 'there are lies, damn lies and statistics'. The management of data and the form it is released in is a dark art that has reached new heights in the People's Republic of China.

          Over the years, one cannot help but notice that people who wish to invest in stock markets, housing, or whatever have a strange ability to manage their own perceptions. They tend to see only that which they wish to see. An ability to tell themselves that somehow this market is different to all previous markets, that this is not a bubble but a new paradigm, that the old rules don't apply any more and this market will go on growing forever. Of course, it never does. The same old rules do apply and when a market grows much faster than the ability of the purchasers to keep up it will, inevitably, decline. If it is a bubble, it will, inevitably, burst. Strange how this always seems to come as a surprise to many despite it being re-iterated time and again in the past.

          Back in the café, life goes on as pleasantly as ever. These last few decades have been good times for China and the standard of living here has increased to an extent that parallels, in many cases, that of America and parts of Europe. People gamble (technically illegal in China – but no one ever seems that bothered), smoke (technically illegal – but no one seems that bothered),chat and pass the time of day with a goodly degree of bonhomie. It is an entirely comfortable and reassuring scene. I have my fears and forebodings but for now I simply wish, for their sake, long may it continue.