In any rush to modernisation there are always the ones who don't quite make it; the ones who get left behind. This is their story. Cue music… I don't know, something pathetic…
Just as Beijing men were discouraged from going shirtless during the Olympics (apparently it was okay for women) proper attire had been mandated over the Expo period. So that meant the Shanghainese custom of wearing pyjamas in public is under threat.
Volunteer pj police patrolled neighbourhoods telling everybody sporting jim-jams to go home, while messages declared that civilised people don't wear them outdoors. Apparently even celebrities appeared on TV to also add their weight to the issue that's threatening to tear this society apart.
Admittedly this custom had been in decline with sightings decreasing annually but it's always been a staple of the Shanghai scene – you know, see the Pearl Tower and check out a couple of funny jammy wearing peeps while you're at it. Maybe even at the same time if you're really lucky. It's just one of those things that's provided this place with a little charm and character. However these qualities are not needed in a big, serious, modern megalopolis.
There's not a lot of looking back over here and why should they I suppose when for the last 150 years or so there isn't a lot to look back to. People lived on top of one another and shared toilets and kitchens with their neighbours, so stepping outside in your pyjamas was no big deal. After all, it was practical.
But it's not really about the pyjamas; it never is, is it.
Shanghai's surely but slowly losing its innocence. I'm not talking about whore of the orient 2.0 kind of innocence but rather more the baby's growing up kind. Things are changing whether anyone is ready or not and as a result, infrastructure just becomes a facade without the interior growing organically with it.
Post Olympics and with the preening and systematic wiping out of the old hutong communities Beijing is now a shiny modern metropolis. One losing its soul but modern nonetheless.
Essentially China's just not that interesting as a bunch of faceless cities but that's the way it seems to be heading. Convenient yes, but no longer as charming. Outdoor markets have gone indoors and food streets that have evolved over decades and look every bit like they've kept a toe-hold in each of those years like a patchwork quilt made of shopfronts.
Yes, we can't stop progress but all in good time. It looks like the baby has grown up alright but is now a bit of a dickhead teenager.
So where does that leave the pyjama people? I hear you ask.
Well, in this world where the only communal area is the lobby of the thirty floor apartment block, it appears some people have decided that by only wearing pyjama pants constitutes as being only half heathen.
See? Not ready to grow up.
And by the way, I'm not really sure as to what age outdoor pj wearing labels you a barbarian – maybe anything above two. The way I see it is that if you can stand, you're liable. So hopefully those pyjama cops come down hard on those thieving toddlers and their unsophisticated, non-Expo approved outfits. That'll teach them for messing with the system.
So now that pyjama wearing has been put on notice I suppose they may move on to public spitting and queue jumping. Oh, surely not.
22 November 2010
29 July 2010
The Universal Exposition of 2010
So that's what all the fuss has been about.
All those months after seemingly endless months of blue toothpaste with legs shaped critters greeting me, no matter where my unfortunate eyes would rest. Sure, they'd tell you the Expo mascot, Haibao, is the shape of the Chinese character for 'people' but to me, if persistent in your face annoyance had a shape this would be it.
Of course it all started small – the odd statue on a street corner here and a poster there. But just like the smack habit China's hosting of grand spectaculars has become, it just spiralled out of control. As the numbers on the specially designed Expo reminder clocks counted down to the event opening, there were Haibaos sprouting up as fast as the black death... and almost as much fun.
He'd be on all forms of advertisements that would look down on you from building sized LCD screens and even on the barge that would chug along the Huangpu river, dancing his crazy toothpaste dance and telling us the Expo was on its way.
He starred in his own TV series and been all over any merchandise you could possible imagine. And that said, there's absolutely nothing wrong with adult sized Haibao briefs featuring the little blue freak urging you to come and play. Nothing at all.
Of course, as it's customary to browbeat the local savagery with appropriate etiquette rules it was up to professor Haibao to instruct us all on the dos and don'ts of rushing the traffic light, spitting in public and smuggling explosives on the underground. I don't know about you but I tend to have a real problem anytime my Colgate blue gel lectures me, especially when it comes to explosives.
So just like that we had swapped one cult of personality for another. I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later as the slow distancing and dismantling of the Great Helmsman's image has reduced him to a kitschy tourist souvenir. He had to be replaced by something and it appears after the casting session was concluded Barbie and Colonel Sanders were pipped at the post by this Gumby knock-off.
Well, at least in its visual plagiarism he does represent what a lot of modern China's ideas are all about. Maybe this was the real point this host nation was trying to make as even the event's theme song was embroiled in a copycat scandal, sounding way too close to a 1990's Japanese pop song for some people's liking. Geez! There's just no pleasing some people.
By the time Expo finally rode into town Mr. H was pretty much absorbed into the crazy Shanghai environment like the carbon monoxide coated air gets absorbed into our healthy grey coloured skin.
However, just when you thought it was done and he couldn't possibly violate your senses any further he literally became part of the landscape, popping up as over-sized topiary wherever topiary could, or even couldn't, be placed.
And just like all good horror movie moments he'd multiply. They'd be an entire troop (or whatever collective noun you wish to use here, perhaps 'murder' would be the most appropriate) dancing and playing musical instruments as they'd welcome and frighten people in equal measure. I'm also pretty sure their goggly eyes would follow you. Maybe to ensure you actually go to the Expo and celebrate the better life this better city is supposed to facilitate. Apparently breathable air isn't part of the better city deal.
The actual opening ceremony wasn't the beginning for most of us, it really signalled the turning into the home stretch after a weary countdown that seemed to start back in Mao's day. It also came with its own inevitable rumour rush of Olympic style craziness. There was a growing apprehension as the event drew near. Maybe the foreigners would be kicked out again due to all sorts of visa regulatory shenanigans and unlike the Olympics, this was a lot longer than a two week wait for the smoke to clear.
The surest sign of an impending international event was that DVD stores went undercover by building secret rooms to house their stock, while the girlie hostess bars on a little seedy strip were closed down. However these didn't hold a candle to the best rumour of doom.
Apparently over the six month course of the Expo all foreigners had to observe a curfew. At the magical time of 11pm we had to scuttle off back to our homes and withdraw for the evening. If by some chance we needed to be out we had to seek permission from our local police station. And if by some chancier chance we were to stay the night anywhere that wasn't our place of residence we had to obtain the necessary paperwork from that locations local fuzz. One happy side effect was that it meant I was going to get home from work a little earlier.
Sure, it had the smell of the paranoid and authoritarian all over it but it seemed so unrealistic an option that even us veterans of the the good old Olympic crackdown of 08 found it hard to believe.
And just as all good things must come to an end, so too did the trillion day countdown to Expo and it finally opened. Of course, in typical Chinese fashion it did so with a bang. Literally. A hundred, thousand fireworks took to the sky and thanks to the opening ceremony rehearsal we were able to experience the sound of a city bombed to oblivion twice.
The office isn't close enough to the Expo site to think it could have much of an effect but obviously I was underestimating the firepower those pesky pyrotechnicians were packing.
At first the low rumble sounded as though a huge storm had dropped out of the sky. However that soon gave way to the suspicion that Armageddon was upon us as the sky thundered more than any sky should. It was only due to my much better informed co-workers letting me know the what's what that I didn't activate my Armageddon looting plan. Shame, as it really is a great plan.
Then it was on for young and old; roll up, roll up and see the world.
And that's what they did. They arrived early and as soon as the doors were opened, bolted to the most popular pavilions faster than you could say... I don't know, something really short. In true Chinese brand loving tradition the popular countries are the Louis Vuitton, Prada and Gucci of the geopolitical world – the US, UK and other top shelf locations.
So the true Expo experience would begin: the good old standing in queue. But not any queue mind you, more like the standing so close to others in queue you can feel buttocks brush on your thigh type the Chinese prefer. Either way, still pretty much unheard of for many here but as the Expo is all about bringing the world to Shanghai then it's only fair some of its customs be experienced as well. Six hour waits are common and 10 hours have even been heard of.
This was for the Saudi Arabian pavilion and their 4D Imax screen depicting life in the kingdom. I don't know, it sounds like a long time to wait for pictures of sand. Oddly enough the North Koreans don't seem to have that problem as they extol the virtues living in the happiest place on earth. I always thought that was Disneyland's line but then again I do tend to get those places confused.
Video sites were awash with locals sprinting to their favourite locations as soon as the site opened in the morning, in order to be as high up the queues as possible. Then came the stories of motorists causing traffic chaos on the bridge overlooking the site as they stopped to photograph or simply gawk. Some didn't even bother to stop as, let's face it, you can always photograph, drive and text at the same time. Yep, Expo was here.
It was inevitable that my time to step foot into the funhouse would finally come. And for that I should thank New Zealand. Obviously my country has no interest in me but our little Polynesian Canada came good with an invite via a film production company. Evening cocktails seemed like a sophisticated way to live the Expo experience so it was off to the show and become one of the half a mil daily attendance figure.
On seeing the partitions at the specially constructed subway station I saw how those numbers were to be handled. Row after row of metal barriers allowed the hordes to be arranged in an ordered manner to file past the metal detector. It was like an airport customs hall expecting the entire Chinese population to drop by. However, at 6pm it simply looked like an oversized cattle sorting yard after the day's market activity.
Effectively this was the Expo's entrance as the next stop would deliver visitors somewhere between the European and Asian zones – think Turkmenistan or something like that.
Since it opened, the Expo had always appeared to be a daytime event where not even shiny light displays could persuade visitors to stay on. Maybe all that standing in line takes a toll after awhile or the understandable fear of vampires, but whatever it was it did make for a more desolate experience.
It was kind of like a huge market with countries spruiking their wares through buskers and food stalls. Actually, it was more like the Melbourne Agricultural Show – without the country ladies competing for the baking honours of the best sponge cake. Admittedly I only took in the sites of the Asia/Oceania Zone so didn't get a complete overview. Of course, possessing a lack of knowledge has never stopped me from commenting before, so why start now?
Even here there were street peddlers selling fake junk laid out on small blankets; a truly Chinese Expo after all. Not to say they were making up for the lack of souvenir shops as there were at least a million of those in the one zone I confined myself to.
The New Zealand pavilion was all a jumble of images displaying a day in the life of its citizens and for their audience – the vast majority of the Chinese population who'll never venture there – that may have been interesting enough. It looked a little like they had reprinted images from an old Encyclopaedia Britannica volume and displayed them on screens.
But all was forgiven when I made my way to the roof and wandered through the artificial greenery 'planted' there. All the trees and plants were props made specifically for the site but it was difficult to tell as it all looked completely authentic. It seemed I wasn't the only one taken in by it as the pavilion guide told me there had been a number of incidences of Chinese visitors attempting to climb the largest tree and cut off a few of its buds. Sure, I'm no gardener but I don't know how well wire and rubber would have grown.
Following the cocktail party it was off to the nearby Australian pavilion before closing time. If you ignored the cafeteria vibe of the lobby and entered into the display area, it all started off well enough. There was a degree of interaction and artistry in the didgeridoo installation but as I ascended the platform to be more of the Australian story, I had the distinct feeling it was really heading downhill.
European settlement was breezed over with a couple of comedic dioramary sculptural pieces (actually, I'd shy away from the word 'sculptural' as that would imply artistry). And then came the facts, all two of them, in rather fancy displays to well, display them in. Apparently there's not a great deal we can be bothered telling the world.
Or we wanted to save it for the whizz-bang finale in the little round theatrette where visitors end their journey. And did we just. The centre convex screens rose and fell in sequence featuring an animation of three children playing and talking absolute rubbish to each other. Oh you know, the old 'what do you want to be when you grow up?' routine all kids love to discuss when perched on a giant head lodged in the sand.
Then to prove the point Australia was the place animated children could be whatever their little cartoon hearts desired, a film sequence displayed the sites of the country. The juxtaposition of imagery was interesting with picturesque natural vistas followed by the mother of all mining holes. All they really needed was a before and after sign.
However eliciting laughs didn't seem to be the aim of this little film, they were more likely going for tedium. Perhaps sprinkled with a bit of horror – as that would explain the music. The film sequence was accompanied by an epilepsy inducing light sequence and music lifted from The Omen films.
It was magic. And while I stood there, mouth agape and more than a little fearful the show was over. A little late for my liking as I had already been eyeing off the emergency exits for the last five minutes. As if this didn't constitute an emergency.
Yes, I know I wasn't the target audience but it had me considering handing in my passport just the same. The French brought their art to the Expo; the Spanish, a Michelin star chef and we had our trauma film.
And so Expo is upon us and despite my visit, would deserve another look in. I mean, there's the rest of the world to be disappointed by and after all that Haibao brainwashing for two years I still feel compelled to see what all the fuss is about.
All those months after seemingly endless months of blue toothpaste with legs shaped critters greeting me, no matter where my unfortunate eyes would rest. Sure, they'd tell you the Expo mascot, Haibao, is the shape of the Chinese character for 'people' but to me, if persistent in your face annoyance had a shape this would be it.
Of course it all started small – the odd statue on a street corner here and a poster there. But just like the smack habit China's hosting of grand spectaculars has become, it just spiralled out of control. As the numbers on the specially designed Expo reminder clocks counted down to the event opening, there were Haibaos sprouting up as fast as the black death... and almost as much fun.
He'd be on all forms of advertisements that would look down on you from building sized LCD screens and even on the barge that would chug along the Huangpu river, dancing his crazy toothpaste dance and telling us the Expo was on its way.
He starred in his own TV series and been all over any merchandise you could possible imagine. And that said, there's absolutely nothing wrong with adult sized Haibao briefs featuring the little blue freak urging you to come and play. Nothing at all.
Of course, as it's customary to browbeat the local savagery with appropriate etiquette rules it was up to professor Haibao to instruct us all on the dos and don'ts of rushing the traffic light, spitting in public and smuggling explosives on the underground. I don't know about you but I tend to have a real problem anytime my Colgate blue gel lectures me, especially when it comes to explosives.
So just like that we had swapped one cult of personality for another. I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later as the slow distancing and dismantling of the Great Helmsman's image has reduced him to a kitschy tourist souvenir. He had to be replaced by something and it appears after the casting session was concluded Barbie and Colonel Sanders were pipped at the post by this Gumby knock-off.
Well, at least in its visual plagiarism he does represent what a lot of modern China's ideas are all about. Maybe this was the real point this host nation was trying to make as even the event's theme song was embroiled in a copycat scandal, sounding way too close to a 1990's Japanese pop song for some people's liking. Geez! There's just no pleasing some people.
By the time Expo finally rode into town Mr. H was pretty much absorbed into the crazy Shanghai environment like the carbon monoxide coated air gets absorbed into our healthy grey coloured skin.
However, just when you thought it was done and he couldn't possibly violate your senses any further he literally became part of the landscape, popping up as over-sized topiary wherever topiary could, or even couldn't, be placed.
And just like all good horror movie moments he'd multiply. They'd be an entire troop (or whatever collective noun you wish to use here, perhaps 'murder' would be the most appropriate) dancing and playing musical instruments as they'd welcome and frighten people in equal measure. I'm also pretty sure their goggly eyes would follow you. Maybe to ensure you actually go to the Expo and celebrate the better life this better city is supposed to facilitate. Apparently breathable air isn't part of the better city deal.
The actual opening ceremony wasn't the beginning for most of us, it really signalled the turning into the home stretch after a weary countdown that seemed to start back in Mao's day. It also came with its own inevitable rumour rush of Olympic style craziness. There was a growing apprehension as the event drew near. Maybe the foreigners would be kicked out again due to all sorts of visa regulatory shenanigans and unlike the Olympics, this was a lot longer than a two week wait for the smoke to clear.
The surest sign of an impending international event was that DVD stores went undercover by building secret rooms to house their stock, while the girlie hostess bars on a little seedy strip were closed down. However these didn't hold a candle to the best rumour of doom.
Apparently over the six month course of the Expo all foreigners had to observe a curfew. At the magical time of 11pm we had to scuttle off back to our homes and withdraw for the evening. If by some chance we needed to be out we had to seek permission from our local police station. And if by some chancier chance we were to stay the night anywhere that wasn't our place of residence we had to obtain the necessary paperwork from that locations local fuzz. One happy side effect was that it meant I was going to get home from work a little earlier.
Sure, it had the smell of the paranoid and authoritarian all over it but it seemed so unrealistic an option that even us veterans of the the good old Olympic crackdown of 08 found it hard to believe.
And just as all good things must come to an end, so too did the trillion day countdown to Expo and it finally opened. Of course, in typical Chinese fashion it did so with a bang. Literally. A hundred, thousand fireworks took to the sky and thanks to the opening ceremony rehearsal we were able to experience the sound of a city bombed to oblivion twice.
The office isn't close enough to the Expo site to think it could have much of an effect but obviously I was underestimating the firepower those pesky pyrotechnicians were packing.
At first the low rumble sounded as though a huge storm had dropped out of the sky. However that soon gave way to the suspicion that Armageddon was upon us as the sky thundered more than any sky should. It was only due to my much better informed co-workers letting me know the what's what that I didn't activate my Armageddon looting plan. Shame, as it really is a great plan.
Then it was on for young and old; roll up, roll up and see the world.
And that's what they did. They arrived early and as soon as the doors were opened, bolted to the most popular pavilions faster than you could say... I don't know, something really short. In true Chinese brand loving tradition the popular countries are the Louis Vuitton, Prada and Gucci of the geopolitical world – the US, UK and other top shelf locations.
So the true Expo experience would begin: the good old standing in queue. But not any queue mind you, more like the standing so close to others in queue you can feel buttocks brush on your thigh type the Chinese prefer. Either way, still pretty much unheard of for many here but as the Expo is all about bringing the world to Shanghai then it's only fair some of its customs be experienced as well. Six hour waits are common and 10 hours have even been heard of.
This was for the Saudi Arabian pavilion and their 4D Imax screen depicting life in the kingdom. I don't know, it sounds like a long time to wait for pictures of sand. Oddly enough the North Koreans don't seem to have that problem as they extol the virtues living in the happiest place on earth. I always thought that was Disneyland's line but then again I do tend to get those places confused.
Video sites were awash with locals sprinting to their favourite locations as soon as the site opened in the morning, in order to be as high up the queues as possible. Then came the stories of motorists causing traffic chaos on the bridge overlooking the site as they stopped to photograph or simply gawk. Some didn't even bother to stop as, let's face it, you can always photograph, drive and text at the same time. Yep, Expo was here.
It was inevitable that my time to step foot into the funhouse would finally come. And for that I should thank New Zealand. Obviously my country has no interest in me but our little Polynesian Canada came good with an invite via a film production company. Evening cocktails seemed like a sophisticated way to live the Expo experience so it was off to the show and become one of the half a mil daily attendance figure.
On seeing the partitions at the specially constructed subway station I saw how those numbers were to be handled. Row after row of metal barriers allowed the hordes to be arranged in an ordered manner to file past the metal detector. It was like an airport customs hall expecting the entire Chinese population to drop by. However, at 6pm it simply looked like an oversized cattle sorting yard after the day's market activity.
Effectively this was the Expo's entrance as the next stop would deliver visitors somewhere between the European and Asian zones – think Turkmenistan or something like that.
Since it opened, the Expo had always appeared to be a daytime event where not even shiny light displays could persuade visitors to stay on. Maybe all that standing in line takes a toll after awhile or the understandable fear of vampires, but whatever it was it did make for a more desolate experience.
It was kind of like a huge market with countries spruiking their wares through buskers and food stalls. Actually, it was more like the Melbourne Agricultural Show – without the country ladies competing for the baking honours of the best sponge cake. Admittedly I only took in the sites of the Asia/Oceania Zone so didn't get a complete overview. Of course, possessing a lack of knowledge has never stopped me from commenting before, so why start now?
Even here there were street peddlers selling fake junk laid out on small blankets; a truly Chinese Expo after all. Not to say they were making up for the lack of souvenir shops as there were at least a million of those in the one zone I confined myself to.
The New Zealand pavilion was all a jumble of images displaying a day in the life of its citizens and for their audience – the vast majority of the Chinese population who'll never venture there – that may have been interesting enough. It looked a little like they had reprinted images from an old Encyclopaedia Britannica volume and displayed them on screens.
But all was forgiven when I made my way to the roof and wandered through the artificial greenery 'planted' there. All the trees and plants were props made specifically for the site but it was difficult to tell as it all looked completely authentic. It seemed I wasn't the only one taken in by it as the pavilion guide told me there had been a number of incidences of Chinese visitors attempting to climb the largest tree and cut off a few of its buds. Sure, I'm no gardener but I don't know how well wire and rubber would have grown.
Following the cocktail party it was off to the nearby Australian pavilion before closing time. If you ignored the cafeteria vibe of the lobby and entered into the display area, it all started off well enough. There was a degree of interaction and artistry in the didgeridoo installation but as I ascended the platform to be more of the Australian story, I had the distinct feeling it was really heading downhill.
European settlement was breezed over with a couple of comedic dioramary sculptural pieces (actually, I'd shy away from the word 'sculptural' as that would imply artistry). And then came the facts, all two of them, in rather fancy displays to well, display them in. Apparently there's not a great deal we can be bothered telling the world.
Or we wanted to save it for the whizz-bang finale in the little round theatrette where visitors end their journey. And did we just. The centre convex screens rose and fell in sequence featuring an animation of three children playing and talking absolute rubbish to each other. Oh you know, the old 'what do you want to be when you grow up?' routine all kids love to discuss when perched on a giant head lodged in the sand.
Then to prove the point Australia was the place animated children could be whatever their little cartoon hearts desired, a film sequence displayed the sites of the country. The juxtaposition of imagery was interesting with picturesque natural vistas followed by the mother of all mining holes. All they really needed was a before and after sign.
However eliciting laughs didn't seem to be the aim of this little film, they were more likely going for tedium. Perhaps sprinkled with a bit of horror – as that would explain the music. The film sequence was accompanied by an epilepsy inducing light sequence and music lifted from The Omen films.
It was magic. And while I stood there, mouth agape and more than a little fearful the show was over. A little late for my liking as I had already been eyeing off the emergency exits for the last five minutes. As if this didn't constitute an emergency.
Yes, I know I wasn't the target audience but it had me considering handing in my passport just the same. The French brought their art to the Expo; the Spanish, a Michelin star chef and we had our trauma film.
And so Expo is upon us and despite my visit, would deserve another look in. I mean, there's the rest of the world to be disappointed by and after all that Haibao brainwashing for two years I still feel compelled to see what all the fuss is about.
6 May 2010
Mr. Hong Bao
This is the one time in the year where Shanghai sleeps, or at least naps. In actual fact, it just closes its eyes for a second. Whatever the definition, it's quiet. That's right it's Chinese New Year time – the festival where for foreigners stranded here not a lot happens.
Most book their escape from the oncoming nothingness months or at least weeks in advance. That of course, is only a microscopic migration when compared to the Chinese one, where just about everyone returns to their home towns to reunite with their families.
As soon as I step outside my apartment building it reminds me of a good old-fashioned end of the world type of scenario, something where every person has vanished off the face of the earth. Unfortunately I have to contain myself from the first obvious impulse of pillaging and looting – as besides having conversations with yourself that's what being the Omega Man is all about.
So I leave my building and as I resist the urge to pillage I notice something extremely rare here: it's quiet... too quiet. There are no abnormally loud conversations going on, no industrial equipment pulverising for pleasure and most telling, no cars. There's always an underlying noise that's more perceived rather than actually heard; the din of traffic, of life going about its business. And now as there is no business, there's also no din.
It's also something that hits your eyes as well as your ears with only the odd soul or two wandering the streets. Maybe like me, thinking they're the only one who has been left behind but they're more likely paying respects to friends and neighbours. The prettily (or the negative amongst us might say, gaudily) package filled with fruit tends to give it away.
It's actually comforting to see that despite the proliferation of flat screen TVs into this society, fruit is still the gift of choice for CNY. That's probably because you can't use a word play with it, unlike an orange, which becomes a proxy for a gift of long life. A Gameboy can't do that – well, not yet anyway.
Besides the inevitable silence (fireworks and crackers not included) of this time of year, the other thing that tends to happen is that something inevitably breaks. As it's winter, where one can enjoy evenings of minus something or rather degrees, my favourite breakage is the heating system.
And one evening that's what happened.
The heating and television died, yet strangely, not all of the lights. The beauty of living in an apartment complex is that all you need to do in response to these problems is pick up the hotline to the doorman sitting (or sleeping) at the building’s entrance. I suppose he’s not really a doorman as he opens nothing, however, he’s less of a guard as he lets everybody in.
So I rang the guy who naps at the front door and said in terrible Chinese that there’s no electricity. This is actually easier than it sounds as long as you know the words for ‘electricity’ and ‘stop’. Actually, he probably had no idea what I was saying but was curious to discover what I was all excitable about. He didn’t realise that it doesn’t take much. Cheese would do it, or even blinking lights.
Eventually an electrician arrived, where he proceeded to do meaningful things like turn the light switch on, off, on, off, on, off, on, off. He also inspected the small switchboard room for the entire floor, accessible just outside my apartment.
So after another turn of the light switch on, off, on, off, he came to the conclusion that the electricity bill had not been paid and someone from that company had taken it on themselves to pull out a couple of fuses. To prove his point he shone his flashlight to the part of the switchboard room that should have contained those very fuses.
It would seem, according Sherlock Electrician, that a worker from the electricity company crept into the switchboard room about 11pm, during the most revered public holiday no less, and stole two out of possible whatever fuses in order to teach me a lesson. No warning, no total switch off (as apparently without paying your bill you can still enjoy lights), nada.
After a long defense of his theory the electrician finally acquiesced to temporarily replacing the fuses until something could be sorted out when life resumed in a week. Funny how the company could send someone over to cause trouble yet was probably closed. Strange no?
Needless to say (but obviously I’ll say it anyway) it sounded like a whole lot of rubbish to me but my main concern was not to let my apartment turn into a freezer. Given the concrete box of my apartment that would take about an hour.
So thinking everything was sorted, you could imagine the joy when the resumption of power lasted for 20 minutes. Perhaps the alarm bells went off at the electricity company and they needed to dispatch another fuse ninja.
Once again on this festive evening the electrician was called. He tinkered in the fuse room briefly and all was well again. Although I didn’t believe his hypothesis I still thanked him for his help in returning things to normal. It’s then he asked for a ‘hong bao’ meaning, a red package.
Traditionally at this time of year people place money in red paper envelopes to give as gifts to family, friends, employees and apparently even people who return your power in the middle of the night. Oh and also, as these are considered gifts they’re not usually asked for. It was brazen. So much so, that as it was out of context I at first didn’t know what he was referring to. I’m slow.
In these instances my mind isn’t so much a computer but more like an abacus slowly being manipulated by a one-arm monkey. However, I eventually got there and I’m pretty sure he would have been aware of that too. My look would have given that away as my p…p…p… poker face is anything but.
You see, at the time my little one-armed monkey abacus was working overtime I was beginning to suspect our handy electrician may have set this all up himself. Ignorant foreigners stranded in the cold may be grateful to have the heat returned – and on a holiday too. They may even pay a reward if prompted. Of course I had no proof, nor the vocab to accuse him. Besides, he knew where my fuses were.
His smile also seemed to recede as my failure or unwillingness to comply with the niceties of the season put a dampener on his evening. Share the cold is what I always.
With little cheer he left and we all (in my opinion) continued the facade of investigating matters further. The electricity provider was called and a worker made an inspection. Surprisingly nothing was amiss.
So I’d say next time I should enjoy this slumber season with an eye open.
Most book their escape from the oncoming nothingness months or at least weeks in advance. That of course, is only a microscopic migration when compared to the Chinese one, where just about everyone returns to their home towns to reunite with their families.
As soon as I step outside my apartment building it reminds me of a good old-fashioned end of the world type of scenario, something where every person has vanished off the face of the earth. Unfortunately I have to contain myself from the first obvious impulse of pillaging and looting – as besides having conversations with yourself that's what being the Omega Man is all about.
So I leave my building and as I resist the urge to pillage I notice something extremely rare here: it's quiet... too quiet. There are no abnormally loud conversations going on, no industrial equipment pulverising for pleasure and most telling, no cars. There's always an underlying noise that's more perceived rather than actually heard; the din of traffic, of life going about its business. And now as there is no business, there's also no din.
It's also something that hits your eyes as well as your ears with only the odd soul or two wandering the streets. Maybe like me, thinking they're the only one who has been left behind but they're more likely paying respects to friends and neighbours. The prettily (or the negative amongst us might say, gaudily) package filled with fruit tends to give it away.
It's actually comforting to see that despite the proliferation of flat screen TVs into this society, fruit is still the gift of choice for CNY. That's probably because you can't use a word play with it, unlike an orange, which becomes a proxy for a gift of long life. A Gameboy can't do that – well, not yet anyway.
Besides the inevitable silence (fireworks and crackers not included) of this time of year, the other thing that tends to happen is that something inevitably breaks. As it's winter, where one can enjoy evenings of minus something or rather degrees, my favourite breakage is the heating system.
And one evening that's what happened.
The heating and television died, yet strangely, not all of the lights. The beauty of living in an apartment complex is that all you need to do in response to these problems is pick up the hotline to the doorman sitting (or sleeping) at the building’s entrance. I suppose he’s not really a doorman as he opens nothing, however, he’s less of a guard as he lets everybody in.
So I rang the guy who naps at the front door and said in terrible Chinese that there’s no electricity. This is actually easier than it sounds as long as you know the words for ‘electricity’ and ‘stop’. Actually, he probably had no idea what I was saying but was curious to discover what I was all excitable about. He didn’t realise that it doesn’t take much. Cheese would do it, or even blinking lights.
Eventually an electrician arrived, where he proceeded to do meaningful things like turn the light switch on, off, on, off, on, off, on, off. He also inspected the small switchboard room for the entire floor, accessible just outside my apartment.
So after another turn of the light switch on, off, on, off, he came to the conclusion that the electricity bill had not been paid and someone from that company had taken it on themselves to pull out a couple of fuses. To prove his point he shone his flashlight to the part of the switchboard room that should have contained those very fuses.
It would seem, according Sherlock Electrician, that a worker from the electricity company crept into the switchboard room about 11pm, during the most revered public holiday no less, and stole two out of possible whatever fuses in order to teach me a lesson. No warning, no total switch off (as apparently without paying your bill you can still enjoy lights), nada.
After a long defense of his theory the electrician finally acquiesced to temporarily replacing the fuses until something could be sorted out when life resumed in a week. Funny how the company could send someone over to cause trouble yet was probably closed. Strange no?
Needless to say (but obviously I’ll say it anyway) it sounded like a whole lot of rubbish to me but my main concern was not to let my apartment turn into a freezer. Given the concrete box of my apartment that would take about an hour.
So thinking everything was sorted, you could imagine the joy when the resumption of power lasted for 20 minutes. Perhaps the alarm bells went off at the electricity company and they needed to dispatch another fuse ninja.
Once again on this festive evening the electrician was called. He tinkered in the fuse room briefly and all was well again. Although I didn’t believe his hypothesis I still thanked him for his help in returning things to normal. It’s then he asked for a ‘hong bao’ meaning, a red package.
Traditionally at this time of year people place money in red paper envelopes to give as gifts to family, friends, employees and apparently even people who return your power in the middle of the night. Oh and also, as these are considered gifts they’re not usually asked for. It was brazen. So much so, that as it was out of context I at first didn’t know what he was referring to. I’m slow.
In these instances my mind isn’t so much a computer but more like an abacus slowly being manipulated by a one-arm monkey. However, I eventually got there and I’m pretty sure he would have been aware of that too. My look would have given that away as my p…p…p… poker face is anything but.
You see, at the time my little one-armed monkey abacus was working overtime I was beginning to suspect our handy electrician may have set this all up himself. Ignorant foreigners stranded in the cold may be grateful to have the heat returned – and on a holiday too. They may even pay a reward if prompted. Of course I had no proof, nor the vocab to accuse him. Besides, he knew where my fuses were.
His smile also seemed to recede as my failure or unwillingness to comply with the niceties of the season put a dampener on his evening. Share the cold is what I always.
With little cheer he left and we all (in my opinion) continued the facade of investigating matters further. The electricity provider was called and a worker made an inspection. Surprisingly nothing was amiss.
So I’d say next time I should enjoy this slumber season with an eye open.
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