Switching Positions

Three Ladies looking to the West

The 10th floor of Guibin Lou Hotel (贵宾楼饭店), with a balcony looking down upon Chang’an Street and the Forbidden City was the appropriate location for a farewell party to the parting German ambassador to China, Volker Stanzel, organized by the Beijing Goethe Institute. Stanzel (he’s the guy to the left on the picture below, the other one is Beijing Goethe Institute’s director Michael Kahn-Ackermann) is going to be Political Director of the German Foreign Office, a position just left by his successor in Beijing, Michael Schäfer.

Ambassador Stanzel and the head of Beijing Goethe Institute, Michael Kahn-Ackermann

(A very beautiful Vero Moda dress was spotted three times at the occasion.)

Don’t Mess With the Conductors!

Beijing public transport is sometimes scary. Especially in the rush hours you can see buses cutting into the bicycles’ lane, literally shouting at the cyclists and pedestrians: “靠边儿, 靠边儿, 靠边儿! Kào biānr, kào biānr, kào biānr!” – “Get out of the way, immediately!!” For a long time I thought this was coming from some tape recorder or sound generator, as it sounded like the bus itself had found an angry voice to articulate its road rage, but in fact the drivers at least of the older buses seem to have microphones connected to some outside speaker system (Update, Aug 19: Some of the sound bites actually come from tape, I’ve noticed. And it’s not the drivers but the conductors who do the rest of the shouting). Beijingese, in order to illustrate the rudeness of the bus system (and giving good excuse for generally favoring taxis), like to tell the story of a female bus conductor who in October 2005 actually strangled a 14-year old girl in face of her parents after some dispute about the girl’s fare. So you’d better always buy a valid ticket!

The Strange Attractor Theory of Turbulence

Sunshine has returned. After several days of heavy thunderstorms and frequent rain the summer shows its friendlier face. Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about a Chinese phrase that wonderfully captures one of the typical phenomena in this city. The phrase is 凑热闹 (còu rè nào), and it means something like “gather around the turbulence”. That’s what many people here like to do: Wherever there’s something going on, they like to participate, wherever there are many people, they like to join. It’s kind of a natural emotion for the Big Market Place that China has now become, but it surely has more sinister applications as well. One can easily imagine how 凑热闹 has had its share in igniting the more violent events of the Cultural Revolution, how it still has got the potential to trigger uproar and riot. In such circumstance a more convenient translation for the phrase would be Frank Zappa’s wonderful line from 200 Motels: “adding even more misery to the troubles of the world”.

If it’s not in the Wires, forget it.

As an old fan of Beat Generation literature I was especially moved when I saw that the Culture department of news.sohu.com has dedicated an entire web special to the 50th anniversary of Jack Kerouac’s legendary novel On The Road. And what an attractive topic for the web it turns out to be, with all these beautiful boys and their romantic life…!

I immediately asked myself: Why is such a thing not possible in Germany? Imagine T-Online, Germany’s nearest ‘equivalent’ to sohu.com, providing such a dossier. Dream On? Well, yes, but at least the likes of Spiegel or Focus should be able to recognize such an occasion when it comes up. But all in all, German online journalism is still too narrow-minded and dumb (or too busy with installing all the over-hyped Web2.0 bells and whistles) for such a competent and independent approach to good topics in cultural history (or anywhere else, mind you).

Bottleneck

After many years of mental work I’ve come to acknowledge the fact that during nearly every solitary creative effort there is a bottleneck period. Subjectively it feels mostly like a painful phase of muddle-headed emptiness of the conscious mind. External input, be it through reading, talk, or any less-processed stimuli of the senses seems to have significantly less meaning at this stage. One feels utterly helpless and stupid.

What makes this experience particularly annoying is the fact that there is no real means to distinguish it from sheer hesitation or procrastination. One simply does not know whether it is the mind’s work or the will’s that leads to the ecountered exhaustion. But maybe there is less difference between the two than we might think.

Virgin Trip to Karaoke

On a weekend trip to the seaside with Q’s department I have finally celebrated my initiation into Karaoke, or K-TV, as the Chinese call it. There had been a lot of serious drinking going on before in an outdoor seafood restaurant in Nándàihé (南戴河) – the heavy stuff, Bái Jiǔ (白酒), not the watery Chinese beer that barely affects minds and senses. I had refused, cheated, even secretly spilled some of the dangerous liquid to the ground in my desperate attempt not to be toasted and cheered to delirium, but the boys of the Sohu newsroom had been persistent enough to work some significant amount of alcohol into my blood. Fortunately a sudden heavy rain shower interrupted the procedure.

When we arrived at the Hotel some of the more heroic Fighters of the Bottle had to be escorted to their rooms by caring female colleagues. With the rest I migrated toward a side building where you could either play Mah Jong (in a slightly electronically enhanced version) or take the dimly lit, fully equipped backroom for Asia’s favorite weekend pastime.

It feels a bit ridiculous to give a detailed report on something that is such a common and trivial experience throughout many areas of the globe. Suffice it to say that I wouldn’t have needed the help of Bai Jiu and my already slightly elated mood to enjoy the adventure. As soon as the first non-chinese titles came up I accepted the microphone and merrily droned along: “Are you going to Scarborough Fair, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme…”

And I was more than a bit enchanted by the much more talented boys and girls in the group who put their heart and soul into very personal interpretations of all the cheesy chinese megahits of the past years. May they be discovered as China’s next Supergirls and -boys!

Public Discourse, Ground Level

One of the distinguishing features of young Chinese urban culture is the predominance of oral communication. In the fast-paced life of the asian metropoles a communication means like email is deprecated because it simply is too indirect, too time-consuming, deferring the pleasure, flexibility and preciseness of direct talk, the very efficiency of it.

So instead of writing mail, young people freely use their mobile phones, maybe send SMS or, if it has to be the computer, instant messaging. But at the core of the matter is the face-to-face meeting, preferrably in one of the thousands and thousands of restaurants that permeate the cities like a geological layer.

People meet in small groups, in medium groups, in large groups. You bring someone along? No problem, no prior arrangements necessary – it might be someone who called you during the taxi ride and whom you simply invited to join the event.

The moment people get together the chatter begins, agitatedly, with lots of laughter, moving from everyday matters to serious business and back seemingly without hesitation. The procedure of Chinese style eating adds to the openness of the conversation: the dishes circle between the guests, everybody has his or her share, eating and talking take turns in pleasant rhythm (the taciturn might add a little more weight in the long run).

Finally, the whole event is as quickly dissolved as it is assembled. No reason for awkward parting rites. The next occasion for further pleasant exchange is only half a day away.

Ann Who?

Ann Wroe is quite possibly one of the best journalists on this planet. Still only a few will recognize her name. Say “Econonomist’s obituary section” though, and you might get a different picture. For many (like me) her weekly one-page portraits of the recently deceased are the main reason to keep their Economist subscription in spite of the magazine’s often shitty political profile. Now she has written a one-workweek diary. Comment on Metafilter: “God, Ann Wroe’s writing is so incredibly, fantastically good that it makes me want to get famous and then kill myself so she will write an obituary about me.”