Same old, same old...

This week I find myself feeling somewhat grounded, back in an old hunting ground which scarcely seems to have changed since the last time I saw it. I am presently spending some time in the UK and finding that no matter how much time one spends away from the place the same old inertia and ennui seems to prevail here. Life in South East Asia was sometimes frustrating, often annoying, even dangerous on occasions, but always colourful and intense. Back here in the UK, there is a strange deadness to proceedings. It's as if the last five months never happened and life has gone on in essentially in the same way as it always does in the UK. Moderate and mediocre, the UK feels like a wet blanket of a country that squelches those who dare to show a little eccentricity, those who dare to be a little different.
Although one would struggle to realise it, there is a general election coming up in the next month. I listened to a commentator on the BBC explaining how the choice this time was starker than it had been for many an election. He then went on to explain the choice that was before us. We had the Labour party, who advocated austerity but at a slower rate than is currently the case, the Liberals, who advocate austerity at about the same rate, the Conservatives, who advocate austerity at an increased rate and, finally, the United Kingdom Independence Party, who advocate austerity at the fastest rate of the lot! At this point, I find myself struggling to work out exactly where this 'stark' choice was, as far as I could see it was just a matter of how severe the austerity would be.

.A few, completely interchangeable, UK politicos..

Still, I suppose, that unlike Thailand at least the UK has a civilian government and a form of democracy, of sorts. And unlike China, you do at least get the chance to vote for a party every few years, even if the parties you can vote for are essentially saying very much the same thing. It does feel like a very clear demonstration of something the redoubtable Ken Livingstone said many moons ago: 'If voting changed anything, they'd abolish it!'
On a more personal level, I find myself already yearning to experience different places, different cultures and different societies once more. Spain is a distinct possibility, with the idea of spending a few weeks in the Girona or Barelona areas. I have had, for several years now, an ongoing love of the architecture of Antoni Gaudi. The man lived and died before the appearance of the surrealists in Paris in the 1920's, but one can view him as something of an architectural precursor to this movement. Oddly, he lived a life of fairly extreme abstinence, but his buildings have a joyous exuberance that has to be experienced directly to be believed.

The gorgeous, and slightly mad, surrealist architecture of Antoni Gaudi...

Spain is particularly tempting at this juncture because of the current strength of the pound against the Euro. Travel on the continent has once more become an attractive proposition. At the same time, and rather against economic fundamentals, the US dollar has become quite expensive. Fortunately, this is not too great a problem as the temptations of America, or at least the United States, do not exert a particularly strong pull on me.
I have, at various times in the past, spent some months in the US, but on each occasion I found the society to be one of the less interesting, dominated by commercial interests and a fascination, almost an obsession, with getting rich quick. I travelled through about a dozen different states, but essentially found that the same multi-nationals dominated wherever one went. A McDonalds in Maine feels very much the same as a McDonalds in Delaware (and, for that matter, anywhere else on the entire planet).
There was also an extraordinary parochialism to the attitudes of many of the folks I met and conversed with there. With a few notable and interesting exceptions, most of those I spoke to seemed to harbour the most extreme US-centralism, the notion that the one and only place to be was the US, and that somehow other countries were of much lesser importance. To be fair, I have come across similar attitudes in many countries, but perhaps nowhere else was it as pronounced as it was in the US. I remember one lass who wished to assure me that she had travelled widely. When I enquired as to where she had been she responded with 'Florida, New York, Pennsylvania, Washington...'

A villainous selection....

Of course, and to be fair, the rather unfortunate effects of the influence of multi-nationals and globalisation have not been confined to the US. It was, however, the place in which I first became aware of the process as a day to day reality. My first visit to the US was some 25 or so years ago now, and that rather depressing 'sameness' was already apparent in many of the places I visited back then. That same process, because of globalisation, can now be experienced almost anywhere one goes. From a personal point of view, I feel that I want to go out and experience other places and other cultures before the cold, dead hand of globalisation has flattened the whole planet into an acceptable but very boring 'niceness'.
As I write these words I realise my own participation in the process. I am sitting in a branch of Costas in Buckhurst Hill on the edges of London. It is one of many such branches one can find all over the UK in this day and age. Much like Neros, like Starbucks, like Pret a Manger, etc. There are the some very pleasant non-chain cafés sprinkled about here and there, but they are largely swamped by the overpowering ubiquity of these huge chains. The lack of this was one of the joys of Thailand. The multinationals had infected the larger cities such as Bangkok and Chiang Mai, but in the smaller towns there were all manner of interestingly individual cafés. China was interesting in a different way, spawning as it does almost endless imitations of the likes of Starbucks.
For now, in this particular branch of Costas, I find myself spending time planning the start of the next venture. I am not sure of exactly when and where but it is hard to conceive of living in the UK for any more than a few months in the next year or two, the temptations of travel and the advantages of alternative lifestyles are far too tempting to be ignored. My own particular brand of flaneurial activity seems to lend itself very naturally to enjoying other places and other cultures. Such pleasures are so diluted in countries such as the UK as to be scarcely definable as a pleasure at all. I find myself longing for warmer climes and the greater intensity and variety that is available in other parts of this beautiful planet of ours.

I still love the occasional peach and gingersnap tea. Man cannot survive on coffee alone!

Surviving in China, a few tips for the would-be flaneur...

After a round-trip journey of several thousand miles, via Hong Kong and Beijing, I find myself back in the UK at a favourite watering hole from times past, Caffe Nero in Epping. The ambience is pleasant, the staff friendly and very helpful and the atmosphere convivial for a slightly tired flaneur. Some three years ago, I spent much time in this particular cafe both researching and writing a novel, a period that I have fond memories for. Oddly, many of the staff who were there back in those far off days still seem to be in place.

Now that I have left China, for the time being at least, I thought that I would offer a few of my own tips for anyone planning to visit that country. My list is of but ten items, as space permits, but I feel I could offer twenty more quite easily. There are many aspects, and many challenges, that the would-be traveller will come across unless he or she is of the type to go on the most organised of organised tours. So, with further ado, here is my list:

1. If you wish to purchase fruit or vegetables, look to buy them literally off the back of a lorry! Often, particularly near market places, you will see flat back vans selling just one or two fruits or vegetables. As likely as not, these can be farmers, or people working on farms, selling goods directly. Often their prices are far lower than the market place, although their scales are also not always that accurate. Still, all in all, usually one finds there are bargains to be had.
2. Keep a supply of small change, one yuan coins or notes, for the bus. Most city buses in China charge either one or two yuan for any length journey within the city. This translates to 10 or 20 pence (15 to 30 cents). As these journeys can go on for several miles, this can be an outstandlingly economic way of getting around.
   
3. Although there may be markings on the road that look very much like zebra crossings, in China these do not seem to mean a thing to the motorists. Beware, they will not stop! (It's only slightly better than 50/50 for a red light, so be cautious there too).
   
4. On a similar note, at night one must be aware that many Chinese drivers will not turn on their headlights or, indeed, any lights at all. I think this is to save their batteries. Obviously, it leads to certain dangers. This is often particularly the case with the riders of electric bikes and, as these bikes are near silent in their actions, it is easy to wander into the path of one.
   
5. Most taxis within cities are obliged to run on the meter. Make sure they do so as negotiating a fare (or, more accurately, an 'unfair' in this particular case) is often highly disadvantageous. Those of a nervous disposition should avoid taxis altogether though – they drive like complete maniacs (well, to be honest, everyone drives like a complete maniac in China, but the taxi drivers even more so).
   
6. Smile. The Chinese people are a pretty friendly bunch who value social interaction highly. Be relaxed and friendly, even if you cannot speak the language, and be assured of much pleasant, albeit confused, social intercourse.
   
7. Stay away from Chinese officialdom as much as you possibly can. They have rules, a lot of rules, far too many for the comprehension of this humble flaneur, and falling foul of any one of them can invalidate, or render impossible, whatever it was you were trying to do or obtain. Try to make sure that all your documentation is in order before you deal with such folk. I would advise, if at all possible, have little or no contact with these sticklers for detail.
   
8. Join in! One of the pleasanter aspects of Chinese life is to be found in the local town squares and the recreation parks. Often of an evening you will come across groups of people dancing en masse. In Shenzhen there must have been two to three hundred people to a group, at the very least. They really don't mind if you join in and will even find it a cause for much mirth, usually at your expense but in a very friendly and inclusive way. If you care to play table tennis or some other such sport, again as a foreigner you will be the object of some interest and be made to feel very welcome to play. Beware of table tennis in particular though, they are very good at it ...
   
9. Keep some tissues on you at all time. This particular tip reminds me of 'The Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy' where the first piece of advice given was to always carry a towel. Chinese loos are nothing like as bad as their reputation, many guides are quite out of date as far as this particularly aspect is concerned. Indeed, I have to say that in my various trips to China I have been pleasantly surprised. You will often find, however, that if there was originally a roll of loo paper it would have been purloined long before you got there! Kinda embarrassing to get caught short in such a way. Also, many of the restaurants charge extra for paper napkins, so having your own supply will save you a few yuan each time you sit down for a meal.
   
10. One needs to know that, for the most part, there is no Google, no Facebook and often even articles on the BBC are blocked. The Great Firewall of China is all-embracing, omnipresent and very powerful, and also very, very annoying! A blogger, such as myself, has to find inventive ways around the restrictions if he wishes to continue to publish. Thankfully, I have able and helpful friends who have assisted me in this endeavour. Also, perhaps because of the sheer amount of checking that goes on with the internet in China, it is much, much slower than we are used to in the West. One wonders as to the damage this must do to Chinese commerce but, hey ho, that is Chinese politics for you.
    

For an extra tip, I would urge people to be careful when using the roads in any situation, whether you are a pedestrian, a driver or even being driven. Before I came to China I checked which side of the road they drive on. The answer given online was the right side but, this being China, that only seems to be a general rule to be ignored whenever convenient. Even to ask 'which side of the road...' is a bit misleading in itself as it makes the presumption that the vehicles will drive on the road. At times, for instance when there is some kind of blockage in the road or they would have to wait in a queue, then the pavement is blithely used without a care of any sort for the people walking there. You may believe yourself to be having a pleasant stroll on a Sunday afternoon, as befits a flaneur, only to have your ruminations rudely ruptured by the random recklessness of a driver who not only feels he has the right to the pavement as well as the road but will even be very demonstrative about exercising that right. The Chinese Highway Code need only consist of a single page and three words, 'Might is Right'.

I hope these tips will help keep any budding traveller to the People's Republic of China safe and assist in the enjoyment of this fascinating but frustrating country. There is nowhere else quite like it that I have ever come across in my travels, both from the positive and negative points of view. It is perhaps, the most capitalist country that I have ever been too, both on the micro and macro levels. It is nominally communist but only nominally. There are some aspect of state capitalism, as opposed to the strictly privately owned variety, but little evidence of any communism whatsoever.

If anyone intends visiting China, my recommendation would be to get away from the East Coast and large cities such as Shanghai, Beijing or Shenzhen and head inland several hundred, or even thousands, of miles. The aforementioned are all completely over-developed and highly polluted. On the other hands, there is much that is beautiful further to the West. My own recommendation would be Yangshuo, but China is a huge country with many beautiful areas and fascinating sub-cultures to choose from. Over time, the governments desire to cover everything in concrete will erode away the character of even these areas, so I would recommend going relatively soon before everything that was Chinese is turned into an ersatz West by the powers that be.

A different China...

After composing a blog a few weeks ago from the inside of a glorified shed, this week's effort comes from one of the swankier establishments that I have had the pleasure to visit during my flaneurial meanderings. It lies at the beginning of the covered market place that runs beside the River Li as it runs northwards out of the town. The café, I am assured, is known as the 'Elegant River Bank Cafe', although I have to take this on trust as my reading of Chinese characters is perhaps not the greatest skill that I possess. In fact, after spending three of the last five months in the People's Republic, I can barely manage to recognise ten of them. On the other hand, and very surprisingly, my spoken Chinese is actually beginning to come on quite well. I can even hold four or five sentence conversations, as long as the context remains simple and the Mandarin speaker sufficiently patient and charitable to forgive my mangling of his national language.

The café itself feels very relaxing with its subdued lighting, discrete corners and even boasts a separate lounge overlooking the river. Right in the centre of the floor is a baby grand piano which looks very impressive in the circumstances. The luxurious surroundings also demand luxurious prices, at least by normal Chinese standards. Coffee is very much in that category in China, often costing something like five times as much as a 500ml beer.

This last week has been spent in the vicinity of Yangshuo after an impulsive but thoroughly sensible change of plans. The original intention was to spend just three nights here, but the place proved to be so pleasant (if one ignores the ubiquitous Chinese traffic problems on the main road running through the town) that it difficult to resist. As Oscar Wilde himself once famously said, I can resist anything but temptation, and so it is that I find myself in these thoroughly agreeable surroundings tapping away happily at yet another blog.

I have continued to take pleasure in the taking of long, slow bicycle rides through the remarkably flat and beautiful valleys between the tall karst mountains, usually in the company of my Chinese companion, and we have even ventured up the occasional hill, though this of necessity this has entailed as much pushing of bikes as riding.

On one of these sojourns a couple of days back we found ourselves in the appropriately named 'God's Village' which lies just on the outskirts of Yangshuo, although it is so peaceful that you would never guess you were so close to the town. We rode on narrow, elevated roads above rice paddies being careful not to cycle to close to the ten foot drops on either side. Eventually, the road ran out but we proceeded further down a somewhat muddy track until we came across a young man leading a couple of bullocks through an orchard.

Oft times, when running across such people in these mountains, they have a tendency to be somewhat taciturn and monosyllabic, often resorting to gestures rather than words, and this even when spoken to in Mandarin by my Chinese companion. This man was the exception that proved the rule though. He seemed both pleased and interested to see us and even spoke of a friend of his, a teacher and an artist, who lived in a house in the forest that rose up the side of the hill to our left. The teacher had come to the village four years previously and liked it so much that he had chosen to live there ever since. He was always keen to practice his English apparently, and was said to be more than happy to have guests to chat with.

Thus we found ourselves proceeding up a narrow and steep path to a cottage hidden away in the forest above the valley. Entering by a makeshift gate held in place by a simple loop of wire, we found ourselves entering an alternative reality. Although the teacher didn't appear to be in, we were greeted at the top of the stairs leading up from the gate by an elegant but windswept mannequin whose clothes had, at one time at least, been quite stylish before the incessant wind had torn and ripped them to such an extent that they were barely in place at all. The whole front of the building was bedecked with a varied assortments of artwork, some very fine and betraying the handiwork of a refined and gifted artist, but left out to fend for themselves against the unfeeling and unappreciative elements.

Oil canvasses lay soaked against the wall, their tattered edges fraying. Ink drawings on fine paper had been soaked so many times that even within their frames the paper was almost visibly disintegrating. Works of the finest calligraphy had been the victims of the same disdain. Clearly the artist was a man more interested in the act of creation than in any act of preservation.

 The artist's studio was located at the far end of the building in what seemed to have been a hastily tacked on annexe, although it too was showing many of the same signs of neglect as the rest of the premises. Gazing in through the barbed windows, one could see a pile of etchings, paintings, busts and drawings strewn about the place in an apparently haphazard way. Each piece though also seemed to betray the creative abilities of a very talented individual. There were oils and watercolours, pastels and charcoal drawings, some in the style of the pre-Raphaelites, others hinting at impressionism, still others as traditional Chinese landscape painting. Such was the variety of work that it was hard to believe that they could all have been created by just one man.

There was still no sign of the teacher/artist though at this stage, and as the light was beginning to grow dim we decided it was wiser to leave a note promising a return another day. Just as we finished posting the note through the door though, the artist himself turned up!

Mr. Lin (his name means 'forest' apparently) was perhaps five feet five inches tall but of a very athletic and powerful build. In his younger years he had been the local and provincial table tennis champion, quite a feat in a country that loves the sport. As we had been informed, he was very hospitable and friendly and did indeed enjoy conversing in English, although his accent took a bit of getting used to. He had travelled far and wide it seemed and he regaled us with programs from exhibitions of his works in Melbourne, publications of his cartoons and glossy brochures of his paintings. Reading the blurb in some of these, Mr. Ling seemed to be a man of some renown.

Speaking with him, one could feel the intensity and the depth of his passion, his energy was almost palpable. He spoke quickly, his enthusiasm sometimes getting the better of him as his stories meandered back and forth between personal experiences and conjectures on the nature of philosophy and politics. I strained at times to understand each word. For the first few minutes it was just the general gist that I picked up, but after a while I managed to fill in the gap and began to realise how fortunate we were to meet such a character.

After sharing some Sri Lanka green tea with us, he led us through to his studio. From the inside it looked even more chaotic than it had through the window. Pieces of all  manner of compositions lay strewn about the place. Some were in an adequate state of repair but many had simply been left to decay once the process of creation had been created. It reminded me a little of the practices of Tibetan monks when they painstakingly create their sand paintings over the course of several days. Once the painting has been carefully and precisely created, with due and deft care applied to every last detail, it is looked at for a few minutes and then simply swept up into a pile of coloured grains.

When I first came across this phenomena as a young man, I remember being absolutely horrified. It seemed almost a crime to destroy something that had taken such an effort and such creativity to make. It wasn't until much later that I began to understand the point. It is the act of creation that is important in itself, not the thing created. It, like all things (from a Buddhist viewpoint) will suffer decay and inevitably fall apart. It is a hard but profound lesson, but one that was scarcely needed by Mr. Ling.

We longed to stay with this fascinating man longer, but the light had completely disappeared by now and we were faced with a somewhat unnerving ride through the raised roads above the paddy fields. This we safely accomplished and even enjoyed, being the fortunate beneficiaries of an eerie light that shone through the clouds and bathed the scene in a soft, monochromatic glow. There was no moon to speak of the previous night, so I guessed that the glow from the clouds must have been the reflection of the nearby town. Still, it was sufficient to light our way and we got home without undue incident.

Reflecting back on it now, the whole evening had an oddly surrealistic feel to it. To find such a house, to discover such a character, in the middle of a strangely named village in the Chinese countryside gave me the feeling of almost stepping into an alternative reality. If it had been the south of France or perhaps somewhere in the hinterlands of California, then it may not have been so surprising, but here in the People's Republic of China!?

As I contemplate these matters, sitting back in a deeply be-cushioned settee in the Elegant Riverside Café, I realise that perhaps this particular area of China is one of the few places it could happen here. The whole ambience is quite exceptional, quite different to anything else I have experienced in the PRC. It seems to attract not only the hucksters of West Street and the usual exploiters of tourists that one can find in any such place, but an altogether different kind of almost esoteric character. The place is unique, a complete one-off, possessing at times and in places an almost ethereal beauty. Perhaps because of this it is but natural that such characters as Mr. Ling should find themselves drawn here.

Before we finally talk our departure that evening, he had said that if we ever re-visited the area and were in need of accommodation, not to hesitate to drop by. One day, in the not too distant future, I may well take him up on that offer ...

On The River Li

This week's blog comes from a small café built on  the edge of a forest overlooking the River Li just outside the famously picturesque town of Yangshuo (pronounced 'Yang-Shore'). This side of the river is almost cliff-like in this location and so, of necessity, there are some very steep steps leading down from the café’s precipitous verandah to a small landing stage below. This place is known as the Durian Café, although café seems too simple a word for this rather strange, almost Gothic establishment. I am composing the blog sitting at a home-made table in the small garden to the side, trying to focus on the writing whilst being constantly tempted to play by a very lively  four month old kitten who goes by the name of Bai Ban, or 'white plank' (something to do with Mah-jong tiles apparently).

Inside, the café consists of numerous tiny rooms and spaces, one of which manages to hold a drum kit and guitar, leaving enough room for at least three in the audience. Two of the rooms lead out onto the vertiginous verandah via some outlandish doorways. Strange seats adorn the walls, most of which are far too angled for the task of comfortably consuming coffee and would seem more suited to the smoking of a shisha pipe or the imbibing of some narcotic or other. 

The owner of the establishment seems to be the final piece to the tableau; her long angular features framed by dramatically dark and straight hair. The clothes seeming oddly out of place in the China of today, but perfect for this place. Her skirt, made of some heavy, dark beige material, hangs down to the floor and for a top she wears a light lace blouse that would have been very much in vogue in the 1920s. She is very friendly, well-read and intelligent. Originally from Beijing, she turned her back on the city life and settled in the outskirts of Yangshuo some ten years ago.

Although this place could not be described as typical of Yangshuo, the small town near Guilin in which I find myself in this week, it is typical of the way that this town, and this area, seems to attract the more quirky and interesting characters both from within China and from without. There is something of an ex-pat community here too, although they seem to be of a very different type to those one meets in Thailand.

There are several aspects of Yangshuo that are exasperating in exactly the same way that the rest of China is exasperating. The air in the town itself is not great, for example. Nothing to do with industry this time, but more to do with the presence of so many cars. The Chinese, for the moment at least, are very much in love with their cars, and this has had, and is having, a very unpleasant effect on the environments in the towns.  The quality of the fuel, particularly the diesel, is much, much worse that what would be allowed in America or Europe, hence even a relatively few cars can make the air smell quite foul. Unfortunately, it is not until gone midnight that one ever sees few cars on the streets in Yangshuo; they are busy from early in the morning until late at night, complete with the compulsive sounding of horns and the fact that the drivers seem to obey no recognisable set of rules or laws makes for an unpleasant environment.

Fortunately, Yangshuo is blessed with an old town of many winding streets, lanes and alleys that are more or less bereft of cars. The transformation is immediate. One turns off the main thoroughfare and feels as if one is in a different world. Pretty boutique hotels, coffee shops, book shops and esoteric paraphernalia of all sorts give the area a generic East Asian feel. The area has the happy knack of feeling both quiet and colourful at the same time.

Another very pleasant side of Yangshuo is that it is set in some of the most stunning scenery you will ever see in your life. The karst mountains rise majestically and in magnificent isolation from each other, thus creating the most dramatic of scenic effects. I have meandered through many a land in my time and seen many mountain ranges from the Pyreness to the Alps, from the Atlas mountains of Morocco to the Ural mountains of Russia, I even saw Everest once many moons ago, but the mountains of Guangxi Province are the most impressive, the most aesthetically pleasing, the most awe-inspiring that it has been my good fortune to see anywhere.

All of the photographs on this week's blog were shot in the last few days during bicycle tours of the area. The hills may be dramatically steep but the valley floors between them are, for the most part at least, remarkably flat. Gently cycling along the dedicated thoroughfares that have been built exclusively for bikes (although in China this includes powered bikes) is a pleasure indeed amongst such splendour. One's main problem is the desire to stop again and again and take a picture or two of yet another phenomenal landscape.

This area is also home to many Tai Chi schools. The location gives itself quite naturally to such practices. I often wonder at the value of doing any physically exerting exercise in a Chinese city as the quality of the air is generally so poor. This is not the case here in the Yangshuo area (as long as one gets away from the traffic in the centre of town), the air seems crisp and clear and even the water in the many rivers seems much cleaner than anywhere else I have seen during my travels in China.

Food is also good here, although often the price reflects that it is something of a tourist trap. There are ways around this though, at least if one has the help of a Chinese friend who 'knows the ropes'. A pretty decent meal for two can still be easily had for under £4 ($6) and a beer, even in a bar, for about 8 RMB (about £0.80). If one just wants a beer without the company, then one does not need to pay more than 4 RMB for 500ml.  Along West Street, the main tourist drag in the centre of town, prices may be way beyond this and very similar to Western prices, but the way to avoid such expense is to avoid the rather ersatz version of China that place like West Street represent.

Another plus for the Westerner in China that Yangshuo offers is the fact that it attracts many visitors from the Occident and, perhaps because of this English is much more widely spoken by the natives than anywhere else that I have been to in China, including such cities as Shanghai and Shenzhen.

This week's blog seems to have taken far longer than usual due to the sometimes painful, but always distracting, interactions with Bai Ban. For one so young, he has some sharp teeth and claws which he seems to enjoy sinking into me whenever he gets the chance. Hard to be annoyed with him though. At present, he is just a bundle of the whitest fur with a pair of piercingly beautiful ice-blue eyes.

This is a place that one could settle. It is one of the most beautiful on earth, despite the annoyances of the traffic. Once one is away from the town, say at such a place as this, then the quietness envelopes you, holds you, stills you. I feel tempted to order another Americano. The last one came with a chocolate, half a dozen tiny oranges and a large slice of pomelo. They don't seem to have many customers here so they rather spoil the ones they do have.

If one were wishing to settle down and just find a place to write, to think, maybe to further one's understanding of Mandarin, one could do a lot worse than this place.