China Bits

Haze, a skyscraper under construction: a bit of China

BY WAY OF A PREFACE


It's been more than a year now since I posted on this blog. Now it's time to get back to it and to provide some background about why I've not been writing.

I have several excuses. One, pure laziness: writing is work. Second, Iowa Laoshi in the Middle Kingdom has written so well about many of our experiences here in China that I don't believe that I can add much more than "yea". And finally--and most distressingly--I feel that I don't really know much about China.

We've been living in China for over a year now, and I'd logged some time in earlier visits before moving here. But unlike our experience in India, where we lived in a family compound (in a guest apartment), worked in Indian workplaces, and spoke a local language (English), we've none of that here. Of course, we didn't get far with our Hindi (and nowhere with our Malayalam), but where we lived and worked, the locals spoke English, often extremely well. In China, C works in an English-language school that consists of all English-speakers except for the janitorial staff. (Even the Australians and New Zealanders speak English, although sometimes I wonder with those accents and strange turnes-of-phrase.) I work at home, so I have not regular social contact with locals. Smiles and a Chinese "hello" ("ni hao"), along with ordering some of my favorite dishes at the local noodle shop, are my most extensive local interactions. I volunteer as a coach at the school, but I can teach basketball and volleyball in English (and most of the players are Korean  anyway). Add to this the observations of our eldest, who's spent a long time in China and who speaks the language well, that trying to get to the heart of Chinese society is like trying to to peel to the center of an onion. A very large onion. I've been discouraged.

However, I realized that while my direct understanding will be limited, I still observe things. To borrow the term that Temple Grandin used to describe herself to Oliver Sacks, I can be an "anthropologist on Mars". I won't be able to ask questions or discover explanations, but I can describe from the outside what I percieve and ponder.

And so I'll try to do this in small chunks. It will be bits of China, short observations (barring some great revelations). Thus, I'll introduce such pieces as "China Bits", bite-sized observations and reflections to whet the appetite. For real insight and deep consideration--to provide real nutritional value--you'll have to turn elsewhere. But if nothing else, I hope that I'll provoke some curiosity and further inquiry. 

Dress Codes and Other Observations from Suzhou

Images of the winning team

Dress Code. One of the immediately apparent differences between China and India is between the types of clothing that women and men wear. Indian women, in both the north and the south, usually dressed in local costume. That is, usually in a sari, salwar kameez, or kurta. Only in some sections of Delhi or other of the largest cities (or in Bollywood photo shoots) would you ever see a (young) woman in a skirt or shorts or revealing any leg. The clothing is is marked by vibrant colors and lots of decoration. Jewelry is very prominent. In China, on the other hand, one rarely sees anything that I'd call traditional or local costume on men or women. The women tend to wear western-style clothing with skirts, dresses, or shorts with high hemlines. Having spent so much time in India, the sight of females with legs almost came as a shock. I perceive no difference in women's clothing from that worn in the contemporary West. Chinese men get the most boring clothes award, about as bad as contemporary Western males. In India, the more educated and well-to-do dressed in a Western style, but often with some Indian flare. In the north you'd see stylish kurtas on men and in the south, many men wore longis (man-skirts; long or above the knee, depending on taste). Thus, in a head-to-head match-up of India and China re dress, India wins.

N.B. The number and ease of women in the public spaces in China compared to India deserves a complete post of its own. I perceive a huge difference. 

Everyday wear in Kerala, this is a mundu (a white longi)

Decked out to be checked out in a sherwani

Firecracker 500. Some mornings here--before 8 in the morning--I'll hear bursts of firecrackers go off in our compound. I do not know the occasions. A wedding announcement? The anniversary of a death? The birth of a child? I don't know. Such events seem entirely random to me. Since we have a number of multi-story buildings in our compound, we get quite an echo effect.Howver, let me assure that nothing has matched--or can match?--Jaipur during Devali. Now that was a lot of fireworks, by everyone, everywhere in the city, all night. We'll have to see how Chinese New Year shapes-up.

Learning Mandarin. So far my efforts have been self-taught and computer-assisted only. It's a matter of baby-steps. The first thing that I'm trying to do (per the advice of those who've given the matter series consideration) is to learn the Pinyan system of sounds and tones. (Mandarin is a four tone language.) I'm trying out small phrases here and there as the situation allows. I'll keep readers posted, but it's not easy, and we do miss the Glamorous Nomad's help. For my lunch outings, pointing is still my best bet!








     

10 Things We Loved About India

 C & I have now exited the land of the coconuts and Mughal palaces, and she wrote this list for her blog (Iowa Guru in the Land of the Coconuts) with which I concur. I put my comments in italics following her comments.

1.     Mangoes, the best I’ve ever consumed.  Also the Keralan delights of appam, dosas, and the coconut curries, and the paneer of the north and the lassis from M.I. Road in Jaipur. C made some of the most delicious mango lassis ever consumed by any human being. We even had the national mango festival across the road from us!

2.     Fabulous Textiles, hand-block prints, embroidery work, silks, and cottons. I scored a lot of good shorts. Although I'm not a clothes-horse, even my limited aesthetic can appreciate the incredible beauty and workmanship.

3.     Mughal era Palaces:  Udaipur’s, Jodphur’s, and Jaipur’s were all winners. These were quite amazing. We were living the life of Jackie O (visitor to the majaraja's palace in Udaipur) for a few minutes.

4.     Sari Shops:  Both the products and the shopping experience.  Saris are the funnest clothing I’ve ever worn. C learned to rock the sari as did No. 1 daughter. Ladies of all ages look good in these beautiful clothes, although given the temperatures, they look a bit hot.

5.     Nature, from the gorgeous coffee plantations of Wayanad, to the especially exotic birds like kingfishers, green bee eaters, and water fowl of every color of the rainbow. India has degraded far too much of its environment, but the parts that are preserved provide some beautiful viewing, except for the tigers we never saw!

6.     The beach at Kovalam, 30 minutes from our home in Trivandrum.  We didn’t get there often enough, but it was enough just to know it was there if we needed to escape. We could have had a good life as beach bums. Really a nice to hear the waves lapping up on the shore.

7.     Great traditions and festivals of both the Rajastanis and Keralan people, especially Devali in Jaipur and Onam in Trivandrum. I will never forget Jaipur during Devali: like a war zone so many fire crackers were exploding around us. Definitely a fun time. But C did fail to mention the kite festival of Jaipur, in which we watched (but could not master) the art of aerial combat with kites.

8.     The people, all the friends we made and all the people who were friendly and curious and very pro-American. This was the best. We made some wonderful friends and had some great experiences with people. Anti-American? Only one drunken auto-rickshaw driver in Jaipur.

9.     Cheap books. I bought too many--wait, that's a non-sequitur. But we both bought a lot. Nothing like the less expensive south Asian editions to whet your appetite to buy.

10. JLF:  Jaipur Literature Festival:  enuf said. What a treat! 

Thank you, India!

 

A Good Ol' Fashioned Fourth

Well, not really.

We were up early enough--5 a.m. But we were on a flight from Kochin, Kerala in south India on our way to Chengdu, Sichuan, China via Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. As the day broke, I saw the southern most tip of India below me narrow into a vanishing point followed by a string of tenuous islands, followed later by a view of Sri Lanka, the land of the mythical city of Lanka, home of Ravana, the demon king in the Ramayana, the classic Indian epic. Not exactly the normal scene for Fourth of July celebration. Yet, I needed to do something. No hot dogs, no picnic, no parades, no band playing Sousa marches (not even on my iPod!).

First, I needed to address my custom of reading some outstanding work of American history for the Fourth. I panicked at first. I had only two paper books with me, neither a work of American history. But my trusty Kindle came through. I searched and discovered that I had The Education of Henry Adams that I hadn't finished. In fact, I hadn't finished it since my senior year in college when David Schoenbaum assigned it for his class on 19th century Europe. At the time I wondered how this work by an American about himself (written in the third-person) and published in 1918 could qualify for a 19th century Europe course. But I under-estimated both Schoenbaum and Adams. Now I could make up for it, and I dove back in. (I'd read some in Jaipur last year.) A great choice. Modern Library chose it as the outstanding work of non-fiction in the 20th century, and I wouldn't disagree. The work is a masterpiece. 

But one can only read a masterpiece for so long on a flight, where thrillers or less demanding works are the norm. So while disappointed that I didn't have "Stars and Stripes" or "Washington Post", I decided to listen to American music; American composers and performers. The list included the following: 

•        Frank Sinatra with the Tommy Dorsey Band (early Sinatra)
•       Paul Simon ("The Myth of Fingerprints") and Simon & Garfunkel (Simon rates as the greatest popular American songwriter of the Baby Boomers—sorry Billy Joel). 
•       Stephen Schwartz's "All for the Best" from "Godspell", his musical of Mathew's Gospel, very early 70's America. The Gospel according to soft-shoe.
•        Barbara Streisand's "All in Love is Fair" from her "The Way We Were' album, one of the first albums that C and I bought when we were newlyweds. Babs rates as the best Boomer female vocalist, no?
•       Louis Armstrong. What more to say
•         "America" from "West Side Story". Bernstein & Sondheim. Wow. Great piece of Americana.
•         "America" from Simon & Garfunkel's classic "Bookends" album. Another piece of Americana.
•         "American Pie" by Don McLean. The beginning of college for me marked by this elegy for a crazy time in the 60's. A lot of history in this song.
•         Nathan Gunn performing Billy Joel's "And So It Goes". I'm a Billy Joel fan, but this performance is even better. Ran out of time to get to "We Didn't Start the Fire". Too bad. Kate made it into a fun 4th game.
•         "Anyone Can Whistle" by Stephen Sondheim (an American great) performed by Cleo Lane and James Galway (we'll make this Irishman an honorary American).
•         Ella Fitzgerald. Great. (Can’t recall which song. L)
•         "Appalachian Spring" by Aaron Copeland. Our greatest American  composer for orchestra? “Yes” for my money, and this is his best work. A pure joy. I couldn't listen to it all because I wanted to get a lot of variety, but it's great. Sorry I didn't get to "Rodeo"!
•         The Fifth Dimension performing "Aquarius/Let the Sun Shine In" from the American Tribal Love Rock Musical "Hair". The popular rendition by a fun, talented vocal group from the 60's.
•         "At the Zoo", Simon & Garfunkel.
•         "Attaboy" by Yo-Yo Ma, Stuart Duncan, Edgar Meyer, and Chris Thille. Fun American folk music.
•         Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings". Is there an American orchestral piece more beautiful and haunting? (No!) Played continually on the radio when FDR died.
•         Dave Brubeck Quartet performing "Blue Rondo a al Turk". Classic jazz, the original American musical form.
•         "Because All Men Are Brothers" performed by Peter, Paul, and Mary with Dave Brubeck. Jazz meets folk. Fun. A song of hope and humanity.
•         George Winston performing "The Black Stallion" theme composed by Carmine Coppola for the film we saw at a drive-in with the G family. Great memory. I'm a big George Winston fan.
•         Billie Holiday singing "Blue Moon".
•         Tony Bennett. Vintage and still with us.
•         Aretha Franklin "Chain of Fools". Too little Motown so far!
•         Phillip Glass from his music from the terrific American documentary by Errol Morris, "The Fog of War" about Robert McNamara. An American tragedy to my mind. Great music. Also listen to Glass's soundtrack for the film of "The Hours".
•         "Colour My World" by Chicago, one of my favorite 60's/70's groups. Hard to pick, but this came up first.
•         Pete Seeger performing "Guantanamara". Another American performer for the ages.
•         George Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" performed on piano by the Five Browns. This prompts a great memory: in the Bicentential of the signing in 1976, C and I took my Aunt Barb to Ames to hear Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic perform an all-American concert culminating with Bernstein conducting and playing the piano for "Rhapsody in Blue". To say it was memorable understates it entirely.  

I ran out of time. Some greats have been left out for a lack of time: Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Judy Garland, Bette Midler, B,S & T, more Sinatra—I thought I'd get to them later. I didn’t even look further down the list! 

Having reviewed this, I'd say we Americans have done okay with our music. I like it anyway. Happy belated Fourth to everyone!

The Case of the Love Commandos: A Vish Puri Mystery by Tarquin Hall

N. B. Cross-posted on Taking Readings

Readers of this blog will know that I’ve become quite a fan of Tarquin Hall’s Vish Puri books. They satisfy on a couple of levels. They are neat little mysteries. One blurb calls Puri “the Indian Hercule Poirot”, while others compare him to Alexander McCall Smith’s “The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency” series set in Botswana. Fun plotting (and sub-plotting), along with insights into Indian culture, make the books work. In fact, it’s this later point about the insight into Indian culture that makes the books so fun for me. Hall is an outsider who’s peaked behind the curtain or at least one who’s bothered to look. His comments on roadways and traffic, unique Indian phrases, Indian snacks, arranged marriages, exams—I could go on, but you get a catalogue of life here. For someone still trying to figure things out, observations that confirm my own thinking or that elucidate the strange are most welcome, especially when shared in such a fun format. 

This book in the series deals with arranged marriages, “love marriages” (not arranged), caste, and political corruption—issues that remain at the very heart of Indian society today. Vish Puri, long-time husband in an arranged marriage, isn’t convinced that the trend from arranged marriages to love marriages is necessarily a good one (nor am I entirely), but he nevertheless gets involved with an effort to the thwart an arranged marriage goes awry. Having gone down the rabbit hole, Puri finds himself dealing with the Dalits (once known as “Untouchables”), the lowest rung on the caste rung, which isn’t supposed to exist, but does persist still in varies guises. Throw in genetic testing and a large scientific research enterprise—well, you should have the picture by now. 

Vish Puri has once again not only cracked the case, but he’s cracked many a smile on my face. Informative, fun, and insightful, this book is a great read for understanding India while following the intrigues of the ace detective (and his mother!). 

India Journal: "It's the Noise, Noise, Noise!

WARNING: COMPLAINTS AHEAD. PROCEED WITH CAUTION

In my mind I hear the voice of Boris Karloff's Grinch confesses the cause of grinchy sentiment toward Christmas: "It's the noise, noise, noise!" I'm I hearing voices? Should I be seeking treatment? No, I don't think so. While I do repeat this silent mantra in my head (sounding remarkably like Karloff's Grinch), I'm merely giving play to my love of a good impersonation. Oh, but the noise--the noise is real!

If there is a noisier nation than India, I don't want to go there. Of course, after 15 months living in India, this isn't news to me. Still, some reminders are too much, like the rehearsal for the motorcycle rodeo.

We live close to the main performance venue in town. We can see it from both of our balconies. We've enjoyed events there, including a film festival, traditional dance, and a katakali performance. As seems the norm for any public performance in India, our neighbors set the sound system volume for the deaf in the audience (thinking that they'll appreciate the vibrations, I suppose). (India movie theaters do this as well, especially with the ads.) What sound system managers should realize is that most persons aren't deaf, but the numbers must be increasing with the use of their deafening sounds systems. I suspect that India may be suffering an epidemic of hearing loss compounded by thinking that everyone suffers from hearing loss.

At around 6:15 A.M. one Saturday morning I am shoved into consciousness by the sound of screaming, whining motors. "What the heck?" (Or words to that effect.) I look out my balcony window to see several young men practicing stunts on their motorbikes in the adjoining area. And when I say "screaming, whining motors", I mean it, like model airplanes on speed. I am too sleepy for outrage. I am aghast and peeved. After an hour it stops. Reason has prevailed, I think. But I deceive only myself. For in the course of the afternoon and evening, the young motorcyclists put on a performance, whining, screaming motors and all, followed by music. Loud music. Loud popular music (to wit, long on beats, short on interest). I am happy to report that it all ends by 10 p.m., when peace returns to our otherwise sedate neighborhood (the roars of the lions have long since become soothing to my ears). 

The home of Vroom-vroom! and Boom-boom!

And while I'm at it, during a walk recently during the mid-day, to the tune of the aleatoric music of honking horns, I came across several random sets of loudspeakers. One played music for no one. Another carried a speech. Although I don't understand Malayalam, it sounds all the world like a harangue to me, as do most speeches at political gatherings here, which encounters at random. The sets of loudspeakers, about 4' high by 3' wide (fashionably loud) were attended by no one. Down the street, I suffer another involuntary concert of what I took to be devotional music. 

Anyone, anyone?

I don't want to be all negative. I love the sound of the schoolchildren next door playing at recess; our ever vigilant, crowing rooster and his clucking hens; and the roars of the lions and the bizarre calls that emanate from the zoo. Indian classical and  traditional music can be as beautiful and enthralling as the best of music anywhere (although that I must say that I find the Bollywood tunes, like a lot of contemporary American pop music, bores me quickly).

So as I write this,  Mr. Rooster sounds soothing and puts out of mind the noxious blaring of the buses that navigate the far too narrow lane that the must traverse to deliver passengers to the zoo.

Thank goodness for iTunes.