5000 years of glorious history, from the bone-reading clerics of the Shang Dynasty all the way through to Bruce Lee, a fair supply of festivals have been invented and accumulated during this time. A festival celebrating the act of love, lovers, etc, is among them. The traditional 'Lover's Day' in China is the 7th day of the 7th lunar month (in August), and I read about the story in the Intermediate (Lower) Chinese textbook a couple of years ago. It seemed a nice story, about a boy and a girl separated by an evil old woman, and only allowed to meet once a year. They are represented by two stars in the sky.
But that's old, boring, and, crucially, is not commercially viable. So what we need to do is forget that rubbish and learn something from those rich, car-owning Westerners - celebrate Valentines Day. A perfect opportunity to spend ever larger proportions of our small salaries on crap no-one wants for the girl we love.
So what is the correct way to show our appreciation and affection? Money. Or, if you have it, loads of money. Flowers are good, although be sure to buy a bunch bigger than your loved one's best friend, otherwise she will be even more offended than if you had bought nothing. Blue roses have been on offer this year. Chocolates, as well, are good, preferably Western brands (knock off ones acceptable, she'll never notice).
Other ideal presents include kingsize fluffy animals, and it seems the older your precious sweetheart is, the bigger should her new bedtime companion be. Disney character balloons and thin ones twisted into the shape of hearts are offered at street corners. If you're feeling devilish, you could buy all of them, although this might cause the oh-so-disastrous event of her floating away. Another good idea is taking her to her favourite shops, such as those specialising in Mickey Mouse handbags.
Be aware, that the love you hold for her is directly proportional to the amount of money you spend on her, or if she's an understanding type, a percentage of your income. Failure to show the necessary 'love' will result in temper tantrums, beatings and charges of irresponsibility and uselessness.
For the man, prepare a pair of padded gardening gloves and a 20litre backpack as all those flowers, toys, animals and tat purchased will be carried round the shops, to the restaurant and home by you. After all, we wouldn't want anyone to get weighed down by foliage. Your other free hand should at all times be in some way connected to the petal on your other side.
How to choose a restaurant? Option A is to choose a place where your cupid once expressed a desire to go, and being the thoughtful knight, you remembered. This place has a nice environment, excellent food and is something a little different from the usual. Option B is to go to a really expensive one. Select Option B. Worried that it's like dining in a car showroom? Don't be. Just pay the bill, you'll be fine.
After dinner and more definitely-not-boring-as-hell window shopping and actual shopping, a trip to a favourite authentic Western restaurant is a good plan. Be sure to buy the 'meal' where you can get free plastic dolls of characters from the hit movie 'Madagascar'. Preferably choose a seat where your loved one will face away from other people - the table nearest the 'staff only' door or next to the washroom are best. If you choose one open to the comings and goings of high-heel girlfriends and present-clinging boyfriends, you will be subject to the number one pastime of 50% of girls in this part of the world - comparing. It's a super fun game, mainly for her. She gets to compare her level of happiness with others by using the GMR - Gift-Money Ratio, a simple calculation made in under 1 second through careful study of other species in the field of vision. Any perceived slight on her part - for example, girl in the white coat had a bigger Mickey Mouse than her - will be remembered for many days and weeks, and will result in a sullen taxi ride home.
And way the day is over, never mind. There are festivals seemingly every week here (last week was a day when you're supposed to get your hair cut), so you'll have more opportunity to express your feelings to your significant other and your sorrow to your bank manager.
Sunday, 15 February 2009
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Chinese New Year
Although in China for over 2 and half years now, last week was my first chance to properly spend Chinese New Year. Using my miserly 6 days holiday, I went back to a friend's hometown, Baoji. It's the second largest city in the province, and an hour away on the fast train. Or if you're a 'true' local like me, you'll take the super cheap and super crowded slow train. Millions of people travel for twenty or thirty hours with no seat during this time of year, so I certainly wasn't complaining about my seated two and a half hour journey.
When I got off the train to be met by my friend (who was, in keeping with what is apparently another Chinese tradition, late) I was briefed on the correct ways to address the family members. This is a delicate area of etqiuette. I should address the mother as 'ai yi' (aunt) and the father as 'shushu' (uncle). This is both polite and personal. Calling family members by their names would be extremely rude, and the older they are the ruder it would be. Although I knew all this before and was prepped going up the stairs to the flat, it's easier said than done. I feel uncomfortable calling people things other than names (or possibly amusing insults). I was told on opening the door to say 'aiyi, shuhu, nihao' (hello). All I managed was a weak 'nihao', thus committing a faux pas.
That evening we watched the short TV programme I made in 2007 . When I tell people about it, one of the first comments is 'how much money did they give you for it'? My answer that I did it for the fun of it and only got 200yuan was met by the mother in the usual way - bafflement, almost disapproval. A Chinese person thinks anyone who doesn't take every opportunity to make money is either unlucky or stupid.
Baoji is the second city of this province, home to about a million people, most of whom are actually descendants of people who came here from outside the province. My friend's paternal grandparents came here from North East China to work, and the maternal grandparents came from central Henan province, where they were escaping from a flood caused by the deliberate breaking of a dam by Chang Kaishek during the Civil War in the 1940s. Like most people in Baoji, they don't speak the local language of the province. To be unkind, Baoji is, like many Chinese cities, noticeable for it's sameness. But it has much better air than Xian, and the mountains surrounding it provide a welcome reminder of nature.
The father used to work in the electrical equipment factory, and as such the three of them live in the 'family living area', row after row of six storey flats provided for the families of the factory employees. Most employees would retire at 50, and so he runs a small place where people play mahjong. In fact, 20 years ago I would not be allowed into this area, as half of the city was closed to foreigners.
Their family is like that of millions of others. The father has two sisters and a brother, the mother has four sisters and a brother. With the only child policy, the family photo of the mother's side was noticeable for its lack of young faces. The parents grew up at the back end of the Cultural Revolution, and never enjoyed the relative wealth and openness which their kids do. They speak frankly and without airs. Like most Chinese men, the father liked to impart words of wisdom about Chinese history and culture to me. If I had 1 yuan for everytime someone told me how many years old Chinese culture is (answer: 5000), I'd be a rich man (and would not have to make TV programmes for a living anymore). I can also drink baojiu, Chinese alchoholic spirit a bit like vodka, which went down well.
The second day, we went round the corner to the house of the paternal grandparents. Visiting relatives is one of the main New Years activities, with the others being making and eating dumplings, buying clothes, setting off fireworks, sleeping and watching TV. I made the same mistake again of not addressing them in the correct way (although I did splutter out a weak 'nainai' (grandmother) at some point). The food was like the food for the entire 5 days - superb.
The next day we went round again for making and eating dumplings and watching TV. The dumplings were delicious and plentiful. Most of her relatives had absolutely no idea how I could eat something as disgusting as bread, and how I manage to get enough sustenance without rice and mantou (steamed buns) was equally perplexing. With the constant urging of various uncles and aunts to eat more throughout the holiday, I've definitely put on some pounds.
On the evening of New Years, we went outside to 'fang pao', set off firecrackers. We had some exceptionally loud ones. All they did was emit an enormous bang and leave red stuff everywhere. But good fun. The point is too frighten away bad spirits. I imagine the cats were also frightened away. For similar reasons, actually, you're not meant to throw out the rubbish on New Years Eve in case you throw out the good spirits (and possibly some unused fireworks). Some of the neighbours had gone all out and bought loads of 'proper' fireworks, which made for a very spectular and noisy night. The blatent disregard for safety was extrmely refreshing. My over-riding impression was how much it sounded like war, with booms of various intensity heard all around. The fireworks go on for 15 days, by which time I imagine all spirits and timid creatures will have been thoroughly dispensed of.
The highlight for me, though, had to be the next day, when we went to an uncle's house to see the relatives of the other side of the family. After lunch and TV watching, I was taken to the unmissable Titanium Factory. The whole complex employs 20,000 people, and consititutes a small town on its own, known simply as '71'. The relatives work there, and as such live 'onsite' in the family living area. It is the largest titanium factory in China, I was told proudly, and given its location right in the mountains, probaly the most inaccessible of all of China's titanium factories. It was moved here in the 1960s by Chairman Mao as part of his attempt to protect the key industries from possible war.
We piled into the back of a black Volkswagen Santana (with Snoopy steering wheel) to drive the short distance to the factory itself. It consists of different buildings, connected by a single road. They've had 30 years to move it, but maybe the scenic location is too much of a draw. Inside was a mixture of titianium in various forms, crumbling old machinery and brand new Italian and Germany equipment. The mountainous setting was a nice change from the city. In fact, if I had kept walking south through the mountains, I would have made it into panda country and Sichuan.
Which is probably where all those evil sprits went.
When I got off the train to be met by my friend (who was, in keeping with what is apparently another Chinese tradition, late) I was briefed on the correct ways to address the family members. This is a delicate area of etqiuette. I should address the mother as 'ai yi' (aunt) and the father as 'shushu' (uncle). This is both polite and personal. Calling family members by their names would be extremely rude, and the older they are the ruder it would be. Although I knew all this before and was prepped going up the stairs to the flat, it's easier said than done. I feel uncomfortable calling people things other than names (or possibly amusing insults). I was told on opening the door to say 'aiyi, shuhu, nihao' (hello). All I managed was a weak 'nihao', thus committing a faux pas.
That evening we watched the short TV programme I made in 2007 . When I tell people about it, one of the first comments is 'how much money did they give you for it'? My answer that I did it for the fun of it and only got 200yuan was met by the mother in the usual way - bafflement, almost disapproval. A Chinese person thinks anyone who doesn't take every opportunity to make money is either unlucky or stupid.
Baoji is the second city of this province, home to about a million people, most of whom are actually descendants of people who came here from outside the province. My friend's paternal grandparents came here from North East China to work, and the maternal grandparents came from central Henan province, where they were escaping from a flood caused by the deliberate breaking of a dam by Chang Kaishek during the Civil War in the 1940s. Like most people in Baoji, they don't speak the local language of the province. To be unkind, Baoji is, like many Chinese cities, noticeable for it's sameness. But it has much better air than Xian, and the mountains surrounding it provide a welcome reminder of nature.
The father used to work in the electrical equipment factory, and as such the three of them live in the 'family living area', row after row of six storey flats provided for the families of the factory employees. Most employees would retire at 50, and so he runs a small place where people play mahjong. In fact, 20 years ago I would not be allowed into this area, as half of the city was closed to foreigners.
Their family is like that of millions of others. The father has two sisters and a brother, the mother has four sisters and a brother. With the only child policy, the family photo of the mother's side was noticeable for its lack of young faces. The parents grew up at the back end of the Cultural Revolution, and never enjoyed the relative wealth and openness which their kids do. They speak frankly and without airs. Like most Chinese men, the father liked to impart words of wisdom about Chinese history and culture to me. If I had 1 yuan for everytime someone told me how many years old Chinese culture is (answer: 5000), I'd be a rich man (and would not have to make TV programmes for a living anymore). I can also drink baojiu, Chinese alchoholic spirit a bit like vodka, which went down well.
The second day, we went round the corner to the house of the paternal grandparents. Visiting relatives is one of the main New Years activities, with the others being making and eating dumplings, buying clothes, setting off fireworks, sleeping and watching TV. I made the same mistake again of not addressing them in the correct way (although I did splutter out a weak 'nainai' (grandmother) at some point). The food was like the food for the entire 5 days - superb.
The next day we went round again for making and eating dumplings and watching TV. The dumplings were delicious and plentiful. Most of her relatives had absolutely no idea how I could eat something as disgusting as bread, and how I manage to get enough sustenance without rice and mantou (steamed buns) was equally perplexing. With the constant urging of various uncles and aunts to eat more throughout the holiday, I've definitely put on some pounds.
On the evening of New Years, we went outside to 'fang pao', set off firecrackers. We had some exceptionally loud ones. All they did was emit an enormous bang and leave red stuff everywhere. But good fun. The point is too frighten away bad spirits. I imagine the cats were also frightened away. For similar reasons, actually, you're not meant to throw out the rubbish on New Years Eve in case you throw out the good spirits (and possibly some unused fireworks). Some of the neighbours had gone all out and bought loads of 'proper' fireworks, which made for a very spectular and noisy night. The blatent disregard for safety was extrmely refreshing. My over-riding impression was how much it sounded like war, with booms of various intensity heard all around. The fireworks go on for 15 days, by which time I imagine all spirits and timid creatures will have been thoroughly dispensed of.
The highlight for me, though, had to be the next day, when we went to an uncle's house to see the relatives of the other side of the family. After lunch and TV watching, I was taken to the unmissable Titanium Factory. The whole complex employs 20,000 people, and consititutes a small town on its own, known simply as '71'. The relatives work there, and as such live 'onsite' in the family living area. It is the largest titanium factory in China, I was told proudly, and given its location right in the mountains, probaly the most inaccessible of all of China's titanium factories. It was moved here in the 1960s by Chairman Mao as part of his attempt to protect the key industries from possible war.
We piled into the back of a black Volkswagen Santana (with Snoopy steering wheel) to drive the short distance to the factory itself. It consists of different buildings, connected by a single road. They've had 30 years to move it, but maybe the scenic location is too much of a draw. Inside was a mixture of titianium in various forms, crumbling old machinery and brand new Italian and Germany equipment. The mountainous setting was a nice change from the city. In fact, if I had kept walking south through the mountains, I would have made it into panda country and Sichuan.
Which is probably where all those evil sprits went.
Monday, 2 February 2009
Happy Niu Year
The year of the Ox has arrived, and with it a pun that has been doing the rounds in China, the word for Ox (niu 牛) sounding like the ‘new’ in Happy New Year. And what New Year celebration would be complete without the company New Year Party.
The threat of a boycott by our Translation Dept evaporated, and even those on our 'team' who weren't performing in our skit ended up getting involved. The event was held in a hotel round the corner from the office, and consisted of dinner followed by each departments' skits and various other acts of jolity.
As I was about to play the part of not one woman but two, the nerves were there, and so the opportunity to eat some of the unappetising food on offer never really presented itself. Also, having my fingernails painted blue to play the part of my second character made me reluctant to extend my hands too far from the safety of under the table.
So you can imagine my delight when I was told I would be saying a few words on behalf of the translation dept. The other staff members speaking, particularly the boss, said how wonderful everything was, was a great 2008 it has been, how 2009 will be so much better, etc, etc. I, with my green hoodie and blue fingernails, mentioned how the translators have a boring job and are essential to the company, and hope they get good leadership in 2009. I was too frightened to look at anyone whilst speaking, but I think it went down well.
Ours was the first skit - The Emperor Chooses his Concubine. I played the First Concubine - Obama's sister, and the Fourth, a women called Furong Jiejie, who is an object of ridicule on the internet in China, famous purely for making ghastly poses in photos and wearing revealing clothes that someone of her appearance probably should not wear. Our lead actor lead the way, performing the role of the first Emperor of China with vigour and panache. His nickname is 'Zhuang Zhuang 壮壮', which could be translated as 'Biffa', and his ample frame helped add to his suitability for the role. Scooping the 200 yuan for 3rd place should be enough for a departmental dinner at some point.
The other acts came and went, in between there were various party games which did their best to arouse the half empty room. The female host of the evening was using a microphone she clearly did not need. As I was leaving, the boss told me that last year nearly three times as many people came, hence the less than spectacular atmosphere. How a company rapidly expanding has significantly less attendees to its annual party is far too sensible (and sensitive) a question to ask.
The most interesting event of the evening was when there was a semi fight outside the hotel involving one of our staff. Being a former resident of Nottingham, I would have considered it a waste of experience if I had not got involved. So I stood there, looking tall and foreign, until the wives of the drunken men bundled them into taxis. After going back in and taking vast quantities of photographs with various humorous poses, it was time to head off and enjoy our six-day New Year break.
The threat of a boycott by our Translation Dept evaporated, and even those on our 'team' who weren't performing in our skit ended up getting involved. The event was held in a hotel round the corner from the office, and consisted of dinner followed by each departments' skits and various other acts of jolity.
As I was about to play the part of not one woman but two, the nerves were there, and so the opportunity to eat some of the unappetising food on offer never really presented itself. Also, having my fingernails painted blue to play the part of my second character made me reluctant to extend my hands too far from the safety of under the table.
So you can imagine my delight when I was told I would be saying a few words on behalf of the translation dept. The other staff members speaking, particularly the boss, said how wonderful everything was, was a great 2008 it has been, how 2009 will be so much better, etc, etc. I, with my green hoodie and blue fingernails, mentioned how the translators have a boring job and are essential to the company, and hope they get good leadership in 2009. I was too frightened to look at anyone whilst speaking, but I think it went down well.
Ours was the first skit - The Emperor Chooses his Concubine. I played the First Concubine - Obama's sister, and the Fourth, a women called Furong Jiejie, who is an object of ridicule on the internet in China, famous purely for making ghastly poses in photos and wearing revealing clothes that someone of her appearance probably should not wear. Our lead actor lead the way, performing the role of the first Emperor of China with vigour and panache. His nickname is 'Zhuang Zhuang 壮壮', which could be translated as 'Biffa', and his ample frame helped add to his suitability for the role. Scooping the 200 yuan for 3rd place should be enough for a departmental dinner at some point.
The other acts came and went, in between there were various party games which did their best to arouse the half empty room. The female host of the evening was using a microphone she clearly did not need. As I was leaving, the boss told me that last year nearly three times as many people came, hence the less than spectacular atmosphere. How a company rapidly expanding has significantly less attendees to its annual party is far too sensible (and sensitive) a question to ask.
The most interesting event of the evening was when there was a semi fight outside the hotel involving one of our staff. Being a former resident of Nottingham, I would have considered it a waste of experience if I had not got involved. So I stood there, looking tall and foreign, until the wives of the drunken men bundled them into taxis. After going back in and taking vast quantities of photographs with various humorous poses, it was time to head off and enjoy our six-day New Year break.
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