You might have heard the term Laobaixing (老百姓), literally “the hundred surnames”, the common people of China. They are also known as LBX in this website dedicated to them.

Laobaixing is a great word, not only because of its obvious etymology, but also because its connotations are quite different from our  “common people”. From what I have seen, in China everyone can be a Laobaixing depending which way the wind blows, and to look down on the Laobaixing is a mortal sin that you can only enjoy when nobody is watching. See below:

This is the protest I saw on one little Huaihai Road Lane a few months ago (56minus1 was faster to post it). Note the white protests banner, to mark the difference with the otherwise identical red propaganda ones. The banner said: “The relocation of the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra to a new building seriously disturbs the people and destroys social harmony.” It disappeared very quickly and there was no way to find out what it was all about. This week I have witnessed chapter 2 of that protest:

The banner is now black like a pirate flag (excuse bad phone camera).The text is also more aggressive, it reads: “The propaganda department XX cheats everyone, doesn’t care if Laobaixing live or die”. I asked the guys who were keeping the banner but the menwei of the little lane nervously sent me away. Nearby there was a poster explaining the problem: the works of the Shanghai Orchestra building right behind the lane are causing vibrations and cracks on the walls. The next day when all was over I went back to witness the despair of the Laobaixing:

This is the little lane where the LBX live. And yes, that is a Maseratti. Stay tuned for the next episodes, we will keep following the plight of the dispossessed.

I just received an email that reminded me of this funny post on the China Hearsay blog. In the blog, he says of Wen:

This guy never ceases to amaze me. When he retires from politics, he should really start his own PR firm. The “everyman” stuff is handled perfectly. The only folks who have surpassed Grandpa Wen’s staff are the people that convinced the American public in 1988 that George HW Bush, a rich dude from Connecticut that went to all the top schools, was an average cracker from Texas.

The mail I received today says:

你见过总理如此可爱的一面吗. 喜欢吗？

Have you seen the cute face of our PM? Do you like it?

And it contains the photos attached below. It is not the first time that I see this kind of thing landing on my inbox, so I post it here to give an idea of the effectiveness of Wen’s PR.

I guess my friend will be reading this in a minute, so my answer to her: Sorry dear for using you as blogging fodder again. And yes, I dig Grandpa Wen, in spite of my well-known allergy to cuteness. Whatever they say, he looks much better than the guys who will succeed him.

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It has to be my lucky day. Today’s marathon meeting in Chongqing was aborted mid-session, and we had the whole afternoon for ourselves to explore the city in the mist.

The place feels like all the energies of China concentrated in one tiny peninsula. The result is not beautiful, perhaps, but it is intense.  By dinner time, my colleague was disappointed that we’d failed to spot any picturable monument, so I asked a taxi driver to show us the views.  He took us to this breathtaking spot on a nearby mountain called “One Tree” (一棵树):

Below, in the middle of the Yangtze, lies the city of Chongqing, and this view was in itself worth the visit. It is the best skyline I have seen in China.

It is not he buildings themselves, they can hardly compare with the towers of Pudong. It is something to do with the round perfection of the scene, the glowing isle on the Yangtze,  and the sudden revelation that there is some higher order in the dusty chaos below.

My colleague summarized it in a single phrase, that can be more or less translated to English: “She was beautiful from far, but far from beautiful” .

A middle aged man in a dark suit left this car. He didn’t look in the least embarrassed. Was he a pedophile? A cadre under the influence, bringing it home to sweetie? Or just the resigned father of a normal Shanghai girl?

I didn’t stop to ask. But I appreciated the customized kitty steering wheel, rear-view mirror and head-rest. And the heap of slain and skinned pink cats stuffed inside the back window for further upholstery use.

I am finding it difficult to concentrate on my work with a band of spidermen in overalls hanging outside the window. It is tower rinsing day today, like every year, and again I find myself paralyzed by panic. I know, it is a common sight in a vertical metropolis like Shanghai. The problem is, through my day job I am familiar with the standards of Safety applied here, and I just can’t bear to watch this.

Safety is First. That is the first sign you see when you enter a Chinese factory or construction site, written in giant characters. It is a long term campaign pushed by the government to promote awareness. Everyone knows the phrase by heart, and all companies follow it… except when it hurts the bottom line. It is a problem of clashing philosophies, in my opinion. No matter how hard the government tries, in the end of the day it’s either “get rich first” or “safety first”, you cannot have both.

Mind you, I am not one of those safety fanatics who want to force everyone to live inside a cocoon. I ride my bike every day without a helmet, and I eat my noodles from the street stalls. I assume my risks because that is also life. But when it comes to work safety, it is completely different. Because those miners and cleaners don’t choose to hang out there, they do it so that the rest of us can sit in our comfortable offices and do our jobs. They should not give their lives for this. Representatives of the people, take note.

PS: I am no expert in this kind of work, and I have no idea whether the lifeline the cleaners are using is up to the standard for a 30+ storey building. I just took them by way of example. But in case some think I am exaggerating, here is a close-up of the rope as it passed next to my window. I have turned it to horizontal to fit better in the post.

See also these pictures of better standards in my old Spanish blog.

Yesterday I went for a walk on Nanjing Lu and I witnessed a strange phenomenon I had not seen before: the mooncake brokers. It was last Saturday of mooncake picking season, so they were all busily walking up and down the street, scanning the crowds for potential buyers and sellers.

A bit of background: Every few moons, the Chinese celebrate some important festival dating back to the dawn of history, which they spend visiting their extended family and enjoying traditional activities together. The core of these activities involves, of course, eating things, which is why every festival is associated to some particular edible present, generally small, sweet, and roundish in shape.

Of all the very commercialized Chinese festivals, the Autumn Moon is probably the most profitable for the companies involved. The mooncake, particular snack of this festival, has the advantage of being relatively durable, and so well adapted to spectacular red and gilded packaging in the Chinese style. Under these circumstances, there is virtually no excuse for a Chinese not to give and receive the traditional present. Company to employees, neighbour to neighbour, cadre to “ernais”, for a fortnight the beautiful boxes circulate freely in the country, always given in pairs.

A lonely box of mooncakes separated from its partner

Now, the funny thing is that, as far as I have ascertained, mooncakes are not to the taste of many Chinese, who rarely eat more than half in one sitting. But this is of little importance, because few by now see mooncakes as foodstuffs. Rather, they treat them as legal tender of the Face Reserve. Failing to give and receive the appropriate amount and value of mooncakes before the Autumn moon is akin to social bankruptcy. Everybody knows the price of the major brands, so this “face currency” is as reliable as 24 carat gold.

The final result of all this is that most families end up with a surplus of mooncakes. Of course, knowing the keen commercial character of the Chinese and their aversion to “langfei”, you don’t expect them to sit on their piles of boxes. They don’t, and the whole season turns into a curious race to get rid of mooncakes before the Autumn Moon is gone and they loose all their social value (the edible value lasts a bit longer, but that is secondary). And so, the boxes received from the company are given to a neighbour, the ones from the neighbour quickly handed to old auntie Li, who gives them to her park dancing instructor and so on, each pair of boxes passing through many pairs of hands.

Fortunately for the families in Shanghai, mooncakes have an extraordinary liquidity during their 2 week trading time, partly fueled by the habit of the large public corporations to hand out mooncake vouchers instead of giving the boxes directly. All the major mooncake companies have outlets in the commercial streets to redeem vouchers. It is in the vicinity of these points, particularly on Nanjing Lu, that the street brokers set up shop. They buy the vouchers at a discount from passing employees, and then sell the redeemed mooncakes to the less fortunate self-employed and to other bargain hunters.

Saturday, the asking price for the main brands was at 50% of face value, and selling price was at 70%. The difference between these numbers is the spread, which is also the net profit of the broker.

The Nanjing Lu mooncake stock exchange

As I walked in Nanjing Street I was analyzing this phenomenon with my friend Little Yi, who was also there to redeem some vouchers.

“Wouldn’t it be better,” I said, “if the companies just gave money directly?That 20% spread is a net loss for both employees and company”

“No, no,” she assured me, “the mooncake voucher is essential, companies wouldn’t give money”

“But they do give envelopes of money in the Spring Festival!”

“But this is the Autumn Festival,” she sighed, giving me the silly laowai look. “No family wants to be left without mooncakes in the Autumn Moon!”

The other day I saw a tourist bus from Nanjing that caught my eye. On one side the name of the travel company was written in Chinese characters, and below it there was a text written in a mysterious language:

“ISGNOG NAIXUOY EHCIQ UOYVL NAITGNEH GNIJ NAN” 

Initially I thought it must be Uyghur, but then I realized the combination of letters was bizarre even for that language, and it led to some diabolical phonetics. A satanic chant? A magic formula? After a while I was too curious to leave, so I had to ask the tour guide who was sitting inside.

Can you guess the language before you continue?

Click to continue »

You haven’t really seen a city until you have been to its zoo. I have known this fact since I was 5 years old, and after many years I suddenly remembered it again last Sunday, and I decided it was about time I went to the Shanghai zoo.

When you grow up you realize zoos have a good side and a bad side. I still enjoy watching a tiger as much as before, but now I have more of an environmental conscience, and I can’t help a sense of guilt at the thought that my joy costs its freedom. Fortunately, the clever sign at the entrance reassured me that the animals environment was taken care of.

NOT!

I was shocked by the behaviour of a big part of the Chinese visitors to the zoo. In spite of all the forbidden signs they kept throwing all sorts of food at the animals. Parents encouraged their little kids, and they all made fun when a monkey could not open a sealed packet of chips or a can of soda. Dozens of people watched and laughed, and nobody thought it was wrong, no guards to be seen either.

They were putting the animals in danger of cuts, poisoning, etc, and in the same time they made the cages so dirty that some animals were literally living in a garbage dump. Some kids were also putting themselves in danger by jumping the security barriers or hand-feeding monkeys.

But what made me saddest of all was to see the king of the junkyard, the Lion, who was taking a lazy nap after lunch. The public had come to the zoo to hear it roar, and they would hear it roar. In 5 minutes I saw 3 bottles of water full of water fly towards the lioness head. She was so used to it that she didn’t even move when she got hit in the paw.

What’s up with Shanghai? I am really surprised because I always considered our city a civilized place. How can people have such little respect for those beautiful animals? And how can the council allow this to happen? I hope somebody puts an end to this situation immediately, it hurts the animals, and it gives a sad image of the city for the Expo.

For comparison I add a picture I took in the zoo of Pyongyang, were as far as I know I was the only visitor of the day. I complained that the animals received political indoctrination, but otherwise the place was much cleaner than Shanghai zoo.

BTW: Kim never travelled further than Russia.

In the afternoon of the World Environment Day, the sky in Shanghai has gone almost completely black (brown?) at 3pm, and these little babies have fallen from the sky.

In the same time,  many “Environment Day” squadrons were busy in the parks and beaches for the 1 hour long volunteer cleaning up activity. I hope they are all OK.  I’ve never seen the sky so dark.

Are the heavens complaining against a meaningless WED? Is it a sign, on 6/5, that the regime has lost its virtue ?  I let you figure that out, but please do not leave home without an umbrella.

Photo: Origin unknown (circulating on emails)

Some pictures of my recent travels in Shanxi & Shanxi. As with past editions, 5 words per picture.

The Shanxis have solid history Click to continue »

“The country is changing so fast!” , this is one of the things I usually say back home  to explain why I find living in China so exciting. Today my street has changed very fast indeed.   Linder was lucky enough to spend the night in the garden, but other bikes where not so lucky. Inexorably engulfed by the waves of development.

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I first read about  “China Underground” last Friday, during my daily browse of the China blogs. I had never heard the name of Zachary Mexico before, but the review on  China Beat made me feel curious, so after work I stopped by the Garden bookshop and got my copy. Only 24 hours later I had been to a speech by the author, queued at the Shanghai literary festival to get his autograph, and finished reading his complete works. I guess this qualifies me as his fastest fan.

Over the weekend I spoke with a few friends about the book and I could  feel some resistance. Some China hands clearly disapproved of the cover’s pop approach to a grave subject like the Middle Kingdom – a friend of mine from New York even warned me against what looked like “an East Village poser”.  All this probably explains why the few  who had actually read the book were so excited about it:  they weren’t expecting it to be readable in the first place.

Not having any kind of prejudice against pop illustrated covers, I found the price tag fair and the promise of a fresh perspective on China exciting enough to give it a try.  Here’s the results. Click to continue »