The power company I work for provides staff and services to new power plants in China as well as Sudan and Indonesia. Because of this, and also because the Vice Governor of this province was going to be visiting Indonesia, the boss asked me to go to Indonesia with him for a week. A free trip to a new country? I gladly obliged.
After taking all of Sunday to get from Xian to Jakarta, the Monday morning we took a taxi for a meeting in a subsidiary company of the Indonesian State Grid. This company owns one of the power plants that we've operated for the last two years in Sumatra, and the boss would like to be awarded the contract for the next two years as well. It was more of a small chat than anything. Unlike most Chinese bosses, my boss can speak reasonable English, so he did the negotiations by himself, with another translator (who sometimes acts as he business assistant) and me sitting around the table. I wasn't properly introduced, and the slightly nervous sideways looks I was getting from the Indonesian manager we were meeting showed he was slightly confused by the presence of this random Western person.
Afterwards we went for lunch with a Chinese student who works part time in Indonesia for an affiliated company. It was only after a while that I realised it was Ramadan, but the locals tucking into chicken and rice didn't seem to be too put out by it.
We took a 'microlet' back, which is a cross between a minibus and a taxi that ferries people around some parts of Jakarta. The temperature was in the mid-30s outside, and even hotter inside. Jakarta has apparently developed without much centralised planning. The traffic is pretty shocking, and if you get behind one of the bajahs (a round box on three wheels), you'll have a face full of exhaust fumes.
We were staying in Kota in the north part of Jakarta, which is where many of the overseas Chinese live and do business. In 1998 there was a backlash against the Chinese community, when many Chinese and overseas Chinese were killed, raped and had their businesses destroyed. When you mention Indonesia to a Chinese mainlander, this is the thing you are most likely to hear in reply. Part of the reason for it was to do with the fact that the Chinese business community is very strong, and they are generally richer than the locals. The big apartment block opposite my hotel, where my boss has a rented apartment, is populated almost exclusively by Chinese, including over 2,000 attractive young Chinese women who can earn up to a million RMB (90,000 pounds) a year in the various 'entertainment venues' in this part of town.
In the afternoon, I was free to wonder round. I walked south along the main road, which was lacking a pavement but did have a large open sewer running down the middle. It also had hundreds and thousands of small-engine motorbikes zooming along. Some of the junctions looked like someone had double booked a motorbike race and an F1 race on the same track, as motorbikes and cars vied for space. The huge Independence Monument in the centre of town, just over the road from the Presidential Palace, is a very tall and boring edifice commemorating independence from the Dutch. The open area surrounding it is huge, and included a deer park and plenty of military police vehicles. With such a huge rich/poor gap, it's probably a wise decision.
For the first three nights, the boss put me up in a very nice four-star hotel, where they have breakfasts which actually fill you up and the English-language Jakarta Globe gets put through you door in the morning. From reading it, it would seem corruption is a major issue in Indonesia. And when we went to a follow-up meeting the on Tuesday, there was a 'Fight Corruption' plaque in the meeting room, signed by senior members of the Indonesia State Grid. The meeting was to decide the requirements for bidders for the contract discussed the previous day. Asking one of the bidders (ie, us) to help design and advertise the bid proposal seems stupid to me, especially when our boss made recommendations that meant only our company can fulfill the requirements. Perhaps our boss was displaying some of the 'acumen' that has made the Chinese overseas community quite wealthy.
That afternoon, I wandered up the road to the very north of Jakarta, which is where the old colonial town was based. There were a couple of nice old-style buildings, but I was struck by the rundown nature of the area. Some of the old buildings looked like they had been bombed, and the surrounds were particularly insalubrious. I went to the internet bar to see if there was actually anything to do in Jakarta. It seems if you like heat, traffic jams, clubbing, prostitutes and expensive beer, Jakarta is for you.
On Wednesday, we took a taxi and sat in traffic for half the morning on our way to the Sultan hotel, a magnificent five-star hotel where the Shaanxi government delegation and other heads of Shaanxi industry were staying. It turns out we (the business assistant and myself) were going to translate a Memorandum of Understanding for the Shaanxi Minerals and Metallurgy Group Limited, one of the largest state-owned enterprises in Shaanxi and also in the Indonesian market. For whatever reason, they didn't have anyone available to translate it, so we gave the boss enormous face by translating it in the hotel lobby for him. And because he had a foreigner (me) doing it as well, his face was even bigger.
In the afternoon, after another excellent Chinese lunch, I took the bus to Blok M, a place sounding like part of a Dutch prison but actually a part of south Jakarta with lots of shops, Westerners and bars. Jakarta does at least have a few designated bus lanes, making bus travel much quicker and cheaper than taxis. The main bar street was quite disappointing, and the whole area was just one big shopping fest. Apart from queuing for ages in a sweltering hot bus station, I didn't stay long.
On the Thursday morning, we went back to the hotel via a very convoluted route thanks to the driver getting completely lost. We were to meet with the Vice Governor of Shaanxi province. This was the sole purpose of my coming to Indonesia - a chance for the Vice Governor (and other important Shaanxi people) to see that my company has a white Western foreigner working for it and is therefore a great company. We had to put on the blue power plant overalls our company's engineers wear, partly to look orderly, and partly to prove that I really do work here. We waited outside one of the hotel meeting rooms, waiting for the Vice Governor. While waiting, I found out that our boss is the younger brother of one of the top leaders in Shaanxi government, which goes some way to explaining why this company does quite nicely.
When the VG came out, our boss pounced, and introduced the three of us to him. Naturally, he was quite surprised to see me, and more more surprised when I spoke Chinese to him. The boss introduced me as 'Director of Translation', which is not true at all. The VG, a short, elderly, unassuming man, asked whether I really do work here. He checked again, complimented me on my Chinese to which I replied 'it's just average', which is definitely the right answer when someone, especially someone important, compliments your Chinese. He was impressed that I knew how to be modest (perhaps thinking modesty is something only Chinese can do), and with that hurried off to his next engagement, surrounded by a melee of other people.
And that was that. The entire point of my week in Indonesia was completed in half a minute. A bit later, we attended the ribbon-cutting ceremony between the largest company in Shaanxi - Shaanxi Auto Company - and an Indonesian company, where the Chinese company sold them 300 dumper trucks, some of which were parked outside the hotel for everyone to admire. A buffet lunch with no chairs for underlings followed, and before we left I managed to get the QQ [instant messaging service] number of the rather attractive and possibly useful secretary to the head of the Shaanxi Trade Promotion Department.
***
Still having a day and a half left, and with Jakarta offering nothing much more to see or do, I went to Indramayu, a town three hours from Jakarta where we have 20 or staff working at a new power station. Also going back were the business assistant and the two engineers who had come yesterday to be at the morning's main event. Halfway into the journey, I got talking to Mr Hou, a chemistry engineer on site. The night before, dinner conversation had resolved around the main topic of the week - 'China is more developed than Indonesia', 'Jakarta is a mess', 'Indonesians are not as rich as Chinese', etc, etc. Mr Hou had not said one word the entire evening. He looked slightly lost.
However, during the car journey on the way to Indramayu he talked at length and in depth about his past. He told me he was sixty years old, which would have made him sixteen in 1966, the start of the Cultural Revolution. I find this part of history fascinating, because it's not in a museum or a book, it's living people with stories to tell when conditions were very different to what they are now.
People of this age are called zhi qingnian, and they have similar stories to tell. He told me how he had left school at sixteen to go down to the countryside to do farmwork. Schools were closed, teachers paraded through streets as 'dunces', and students were sent to the countryside or joined the Red Guards. He stayed there for five years, until eventually he was allowed back, and found a job in a power station.
In 1964, China successfully launched an atomic bomb. "We had a special physics lesson for the whole school, explaining how it worked and everything. I remember that particularly clearly. And Old Mao, when he heard the news, didn't believe it at first".
"1960 was a particularly tough year. No-one had enough to eat. Everyday 'chi bu bao' (feel hungry). It was tough." His withered appearance, thinning hair, stooped posture and thick local accent were testament to the hardships that most young people now in Chinese cities have absolutely no idea about.
I ventured that in those days there were no thieves because there was nothing stealing. "No! It was because if you had something nice that no one else had, people would come round 'on patrol', asking were you got it, making accusations. Then more people would come. They'd ask a lot of of questions, it was dangerous. It was better not to get involved."
People of his generation generally admire Mao greatly. Given the enormous sway one man held over so many people for so long, I asked him what he thought about Mao. "Obviously, towards the end it wasn't perfect. People were scared, they couldn't give him advice. But I still think he's definitely a great man. Deng Xiaoping ruled in peacetime, so it was easy for him. Mao fought off the Japanese, Chiang Kaishek and uninvited foreign influence. He took China out of its highly backward state and made it stand up on its own two feet. People were hungry in the sixties, but better off than in the '30s and '40s. He was also a great military strategist and man of literature. For me, he's still a great man."
He talked about the work he has to do now. "Back then, I'd get 1,000 yuan (90 pounds) a month, and everything was simple. Now everything is done on computers. It's tiring, and my eyes hurt after a while."
Meanwhile, the other two people had not paid the slightest bit of attention to anything he said.
***
The next day, Friday, I had a quick tour round the power station before returning to Jakarta. Because of Idul Fitri, the end of Ramadan, people were streaming out of the capital to return to their hometowns, making the roads a nightmare. Our local driver, after driving for much of the way down the hard shoulder, took a detour through the very pretty countryside. Field after field of green crops and tropical trees, with rows of colourful houses with porches overlooking a bumpy old road and small flowing river, all under a bright blue sky, all a marked contrast to the greys and browns of northern China. The two (different) Chinese engineers with me were busy discussing how backwards Indonesia is, but I thought it was great.
Saturday was not a day I was looking forward to - a full day travelling with the boss. It started by the two engineers supposed to be coming back with us missing their flight. The inability of anyone in our company to plan anything can be quite amazing at times. On the plane to Guangzhou, the boss ignored my book-reading attempts to talk to me.
He is a short, fat man, 45 years old, local to this province, a good brain, not flashy, but not a people person, and obsessed with earning money. As we were flying over Hong Kong, he said HK was not nearly as good as Shenzhen, just over the border, because Shenzhen has a wider range of things to buy. Shenzhen is one of the most soulless places on the planet, but good for earning money, so I was not surprised by his choice.
We spent the afternoon in Guangzhou, an enormous, ugly, hot, shopping-mad city in southern China that I could not wait to escape from. At midnight, we arrived back in a chilly Xian to be driven home slowly and with two stalls by the boss's wife.
Wednesday, 23 September 2009
Dinner with Mr Wang and Mr Deng
From about April to October 1st, our company institutes a one-and-a-half-hour lunch break. Never mind that the receptionist likes to play pop music at excessively high volumes, the extra half hour is meant for us to sleep. Anyway, it means that by six o'clock, I am very hungry. Fortunately, there are many restaurants in the vicinity of the company. One is a hu lu tou restaurant, which is a fairly prevalent dish here in Xian.
I usually go there once a week. It consists of 'mo', a type of round bread, which you break into pieces yourself. Add in some rice noodles, mushrooms, quails eggs, herbs, spices and sheep intestines and it makes for a good dish. It seems the phrase 'sheep intestines' does not have much appeal, but if we eat sheep meat, why are the intestines any different? And, indeed, sheep blood, as someone quite accurately pointed out to me last week.
Anyway, at about 6.05pm, after parking my so-rubbish-it's-not-worth-stealing bike, I walk into the hu lu tou restaurant. Just as I think it's fairly empty, I see, at a table in the corner, sit Mr Wang and Mr Deng.
Mr Wang, more generally known as Wang Zong, is an important person in our company, project manager for various projects at home and abroad. I first met him properly during the spring outing our company arranged in April. He has, as a fellow translator pointed out at the time, a tremendous 'ability to summarise', which is great in an age of waffle, guff and spew. He spoke to me about Chinese culture, and is convinced I should become a Chinese professor (possibly because he knows I can never learn power station engineering). Probably about 50-55 years old, he has spent his entire life in a power plant. A power plant in China, particularly the 'old days', is a life. The power station complex consists of schools, hospitals, leisure and, of course, a job.
He speaks directly, to the point, without airs and graces, and with a thick North Eastern accent that makes it even harder to understand what he says. And I knew when I bumped into him evening, it would be more of the same intense listening practice. A warm welcome to sit down and join him and Mr Deng (project manager for a power station in Indonesia) was followed very closely by a sharp call to the waitress for another bottle of baijiu.
Baijiu is the Chinese liquor of choice. If you are a man, and especially if you don't smoke like me, then you need to be able to drink baijiu. Fortunately I can, so I quite welcomed the entire bottle being poured into my glass.
Firstly we ate 'liang cai' (cold dish), which is like the first course of a two course meal. During that, we drank the baijiu and spoke about many topics. Being a foreigner and an Englishman, we mainly spoke about foreign affairs, England and China. Not unlike many Chinese, Mr Wang spoke at length about the humiliation suffered by China from 1842-1949. They don't necessarily want to be number one, and they dislike, even mock, America for trying to be so. But they do not want to be bullied. They admire Stevenson, Watt and Britain generally for being a small country yet able to produce many famous inventors and conquer half the world's land mass.
The main course was eaten quite swiftly. Afterwards, the beer was finished, and more was talked about. I tried to ascertain exactly why Mr Wang would work for our company, at a time when working for a state-owned company is seen as a perfect job. He gave a full and detailed answer, which I completely failed to understand.
A short time afterwards, we left the restaurant. I unlocked my bike - correctly identified by Mr Wang as 'that one that no-one would want to steal' - and rode home.
I usually go there once a week. It consists of 'mo', a type of round bread, which you break into pieces yourself. Add in some rice noodles, mushrooms, quails eggs, herbs, spices and sheep intestines and it makes for a good dish. It seems the phrase 'sheep intestines' does not have much appeal, but if we eat sheep meat, why are the intestines any different? And, indeed, sheep blood, as someone quite accurately pointed out to me last week.
Anyway, at about 6.05pm, after parking my so-rubbish-it's-not-worth-stealing bike, I walk into the hu lu tou restaurant. Just as I think it's fairly empty, I see, at a table in the corner, sit Mr Wang and Mr Deng.
Mr Wang, more generally known as Wang Zong, is an important person in our company, project manager for various projects at home and abroad. I first met him properly during the spring outing our company arranged in April. He has, as a fellow translator pointed out at the time, a tremendous 'ability to summarise', which is great in an age of waffle, guff and spew. He spoke to me about Chinese culture, and is convinced I should become a Chinese professor (possibly because he knows I can never learn power station engineering). Probably about 50-55 years old, he has spent his entire life in a power plant. A power plant in China, particularly the 'old days', is a life. The power station complex consists of schools, hospitals, leisure and, of course, a job.
He speaks directly, to the point, without airs and graces, and with a thick North Eastern accent that makes it even harder to understand what he says. And I knew when I bumped into him evening, it would be more of the same intense listening practice. A warm welcome to sit down and join him and Mr Deng (project manager for a power station in Indonesia) was followed very closely by a sharp call to the waitress for another bottle of baijiu.
Baijiu is the Chinese liquor of choice. If you are a man, and especially if you don't smoke like me, then you need to be able to drink baijiu. Fortunately I can, so I quite welcomed the entire bottle being poured into my glass.
Firstly we ate 'liang cai' (cold dish), which is like the first course of a two course meal. During that, we drank the baijiu and spoke about many topics. Being a foreigner and an Englishman, we mainly spoke about foreign affairs, England and China. Not unlike many Chinese, Mr Wang spoke at length about the humiliation suffered by China from 1842-1949. They don't necessarily want to be number one, and they dislike, even mock, America for trying to be so. But they do not want to be bullied. They admire Stevenson, Watt and Britain generally for being a small country yet able to produce many famous inventors and conquer half the world's land mass.
The main course was eaten quite swiftly. Afterwards, the beer was finished, and more was talked about. I tried to ascertain exactly why Mr Wang would work for our company, at a time when working for a state-owned company is seen as a perfect job. He gave a full and detailed answer, which I completely failed to understand.
A short time afterwards, we left the restaurant. I unlocked my bike - correctly identified by Mr Wang as 'that one that no-one would want to steal' - and rode home.
Sunday, 23 August 2009
Renting a flat in Xian in one evening
It took me a long time in Xian to discover these living areas - they can be well hidden. Many of these areas are affiliated with a factory, government department and so on - ie, the employees in that institution get assigned houses. This system doesn't really exist much any more - most people with money want to live in a new house with a lift, car park and no play area for their kids.
The bloke in charge emerged from his little concrete room next to the bike and moped shed, wearing the blue plastic flipflops that are the shoe of choice for many in the summer months. He was taking me to see a one-bedroom flat. I left slightly disappointed - as expected, 'fully furnished' is a phrase that needs some salt. We went back and I asked him what his commission was. He said a month’s rent, which was funny because his wife had told me the day before it was half a month’s rent (plus the standard is half a month anywhere anyway). He said, 'seeing as you can speak Chinese, I'll do it for half a month’s rent'. What he meant was I wasn't a foreigner who makes up for his lack of Chinese language skills with lots of money. Although hardly a sweeping triumph, I felt quite pleased.
Anyway, we looked at a two-bedroom flat as well. I asked the person packing up their things (out of earshot of the 'agent') if there was anything that wasn't any good - she pointed to the water heater used for the shower. The very same one that Mr Blue Flipflops had told me was 'absolutely fine' less than a minute ago, in fact. So rubbish was it that she even bought a new one. On the way down the stairs, I asked him how old the buildings were. He said they were built in 1995, 30 years newer than I thought they were, which proved my theory that buildings in China age incredibly quickly. A couple of days later, I had another theory - he was talking crap to get my money off me.
Slightly disappointed and promising to call him tomorrow (which I didn't do, naturally), I went to the nearest internet bar to search for flats. Most of the people looking for someone to live with requested girls only. No pets, cleanliness, a steady job and good 'societal relationships' (no drug-taking friends, etc) were other common requirements. I phoned one number, which was answered by a very brusque woman. At one point I thought she said 'you're not allowed to go home'. Turns out she said 'you not allowed to bring home people randomly'. Selective hearing can sometimes have its drawbacks.
As the flat was in the centre of the city near the Bell Tower, it was just a short walk. But with time of the essence, I flagged down a moped. These are mostly retired guys cruising (illegally) round the city earning some extra cash. I think they're great, and certainly necessary given the horrendously crowded buses. You wave them by shouting 'la bu la - do you take people?'. You have to be wary not to flag down a legitimate moped driver, however, as you'll look like a tit when they drive past, ignoring you.
I found the flat inside another living area. It was huge, an entire thriving community in itself, and right next to the Bell Tower and main streets, but you would have no idea it was there without prior knowledge. On entering, I was informed that the room had just been taken. I was presented with indoor flipflops (for wearing after taking your shoes off) and the offer of a glass of hot water, but I declined. As soon as the door closed, I had the idea of looking at it and offering slightly more if it was good. But like all my best ideas, they come too late, and without the necessary decisiveness to make it matter.
In the middle of this living area I found another small estate agents, the (probably fake) placards on the wall from various government departments suggesting this was a relatively big operation. The agent was a middle-aged man, bald, possibly blind, with strong dialect. I was assured every flat he suggested was 'piaoliang de hen!' - very beautiful. He thought some body language would aid my understanding when explaining the contents of the flat. The one for shower involved lots of gyrating.
The thing I like about these guys is that they never give a straight answer, and are just trying to maximise financial gain. The good thing is, it's always like this, so I feel less of a shit when asking him questions he doesn't like (ie, any question). If you’re absolutely confident the other guy is trying to get one over on you instead of just not sure, you can be firmer in your dealings.
Anyway, the landlords of a couple of flats were out so I couldn't see anything that night. After accepting a Good Cat cigarette and enjoying it while he did his 'this flat is beautiful / not a penny cheaper, my hands are tied / i will personally help you buy a second-hand tv' thing with a timid-looking Chinese lady from outside the province, I left. I went to another netbar to have another quick search for something. This netbar was above a nightclub with some very inebriated young woman falling out and off their high heels. If there was a competition for 'most attractive woman viewed from behind', China could well take it.
In the netbar I found a number and gave it a try. It sounded promising, but was told I had to wait until Sunday to actually see it. As it was nearing 10 o’clock, I decided it might be time to call it a day. But then the woman sitting next to me came over, heard I was looking for a flat, and offered to take me to the living area where she lived just round the corner to ask about flats. The first three things that went through my mind where 'what are you after', 'maybe she's a nymphomaniac', and 'you need a better facial wash, I wonder if they have tea tree oil here'.
Turns out she was a perfectly normal, friendly person. We walked the ten minutes back to the 'living area'. This one was the living area for the City Government. She said there were only old people living here now. Not surprising, really, given the money swashing through layers of Chinese government. Anyway, there were no flats again, so we said goodbye and, with the last bus back to the south of the city leaving shortly, I decided to call it a day.
TOP TIPS FOR RENTING A FLAT IN CHINA
• Be patient and respectful
• Don't be a sap, man!
Sunday, 3 May 2009
Consumers of the World - Unite!
May 1st is International Labour Day and as such is a public holiday in China. Falling on a Friday this year, it meant a three day weekend (although it used to be a whole week holiday). And what better way to show your solidarity with tea pickers in Kenya and steel workers in America than to go shopping, surely number 1 pastime of Chinese, way ahead of table tennis in terms of overall participants. Xiao Zhai is a favourite place of my girlfriend, and most other females under 35 in fact. I think the best adjective to describe it is 'swarming'. In one place, there was literally a traffic jam of people, the pavement too narrow to accommodate the herds of consumers. The ancient Chinese had a phrase apt for most situations, and here is no exception. 心静自然凉 (xin jing zi ran liang), which roughly translated means a calm heart (or state of mind) will cool yourself down, regardless of external conditions. Although back then the Chinese were much to sophisticated and cultured as to engage in anything like consumerism, it is extremely true. Having faced the hoards of people on hot, crowded, dusty shopping streets so many times now, I have developed a certain patience that did not previously exist. Also I ended up spending no money, which helped my mood.
Afterwards, at my behest, we went to a bar street, which was like sitting in a nice hot bath after a hard day at work on a Friday or snuggling under the warm duvet when outside its raining and horrible (also on a Friday). Empty chairs on tables lined the narrow street, cars were few, no shops selling rubbish, natural greenery provided shade, and an absolute fantastic blueberry smoothie thing made it my idea of a day off. And despite the lack of retail therapy opportunities, I think even my opposite number felt a degree of relaxation.
Last week at work, I've been in the simulator centre of the Xian Electrical College, which is a short walk from our company and the location for the next stage of the training we are giving Indonesian power station operators. The lying that goes on here is hilarious. We told them before that we had our own simulator centre, so the last few days everyone has been asking me if all these students on campus belong to our company. Hmmm, not quite. Displaying our company's almost inability to prepare anything properly, half of the simulator screens are in Chinese, i.e., useless for an Indonesian. But our translators have done a sterling job in providing hand written translations (tres professionel), and generally they've done the extremely difficult interpretation well. I sit at the back taking notes about their performance, as befits my title of 'translation consultant'. If I ever have to do it myself, the illusion will be revealed.
In other news, Saturday afternoon was spent doing the twice annual 'Wardrobe Switch'. It's spring, so the trousers, jumpers, jackets and anything remotely thick have been bagged and stored, and the shorts and flip flops reappeared after 6 months in hibernation. There's two types of people in Xian, those who are 怕冷(literally, scared of the cold) and those who are 怕热 (scared of the heat), and I definitely belong to the latter. The first year here I got sick, couldn't eat anything for 5 days and turned into a skeleton. Last year was better, but it's still going to be sleepness nights, drowsiness, decreased calorie intake and potential for flared tempers. All I have to do is remember the ancient Chinese - 心静自然凉.
Afterwards, at my behest, we went to a bar street, which was like sitting in a nice hot bath after a hard day at work on a Friday or snuggling under the warm duvet when outside its raining and horrible (also on a Friday). Empty chairs on tables lined the narrow street, cars were few, no shops selling rubbish, natural greenery provided shade, and an absolute fantastic blueberry smoothie thing made it my idea of a day off. And despite the lack of retail therapy opportunities, I think even my opposite number felt a degree of relaxation.
Last week at work, I've been in the simulator centre of the Xian Electrical College, which is a short walk from our company and the location for the next stage of the training we are giving Indonesian power station operators. The lying that goes on here is hilarious. We told them before that we had our own simulator centre, so the last few days everyone has been asking me if all these students on campus belong to our company. Hmmm, not quite. Displaying our company's almost inability to prepare anything properly, half of the simulator screens are in Chinese, i.e., useless for an Indonesian. But our translators have done a sterling job in providing hand written translations (tres professionel), and generally they've done the extremely difficult interpretation well. I sit at the back taking notes about their performance, as befits my title of 'translation consultant'. If I ever have to do it myself, the illusion will be revealed.
In other news, Saturday afternoon was spent doing the twice annual 'Wardrobe Switch'. It's spring, so the trousers, jumpers, jackets and anything remotely thick have been bagged and stored, and the shorts and flip flops reappeared after 6 months in hibernation. There's two types of people in Xian, those who are 怕冷(literally, scared of the cold) and those who are 怕热 (scared of the heat), and I definitely belong to the latter. The first year here I got sick, couldn't eat anything for 5 days and turned into a skeleton. Last year was better, but it's still going to be sleepness nights, drowsiness, decreased calorie intake and potential for flared tempers. All I have to do is remember the ancient Chinese - 心静自然凉.
Sunday, 26 April 2009
Working lunch
The dinner table is to a Chinese as the golf course is to an American - an ideal location for business discussions. Recently, I've been offered a position in a university in Xian to help establish links with overseas universities for exchange programs, and, accordingly, have been involved in discussions recently.
The first stage was interesting. My friend and former tutor is now a teacher in that university, so he is the all-important 'go-between'. I don't have much experience, but I've heard Chinese only like to do business with associates, or at least people they have some personnel connection with. When you consider its quite an individualistic society, with people looking to make money left right and centre, it is a sensible policy.
So in the last couple of weeks, I've been talking over a coffee in a quiet corner of a cafe about my position and that of the school with that friend. It reminds me of diplomats arranging the basics before the meeting of the political leaders. After two meetings, it was decided that last Friday was a good time to meet the university "lingdao", or leaders.
Expecting an evening of significant baijiu consumption, I had had an extra big lunch. So it was to my great surprise when I walked in and found three women sitting at the table. I had assumed it would be fat middle-aged men with white socks and bad teeth smoking 'Good Cat' cigarettes. I was introduced by my friend to them, and did the only thing appropriate on such occassions - immediately forgot their names.
I also forgot their titles, but it became apparent during the dinner that the woman to my left was the most important. She had a habit of laughing uproariously and spitting out shrimp legs at the same time. The other two (later three) were more demure, following the lead of the leg-spitter. The later addition was actually a former teacher of mine, and so with everyone reasonably familiar with each other, it was a pleasant evening.
The food was certainly a success. For occasions like this, there is always much more food than could possibly be eaten. Although I did my best to break this rule, taking a special fancy to a sort of fried rice cooked inside a pineapple.
Being from a university and with mostly woman in attendance, the atmosphere was more sincere than I had previously assumed. Firstly we made polite chat about this and that. Teacher Gao displayed her appalling command of French, and I complimented her heartily (what else can you do?). Teacher Xiang (the most important one) went off on a lengthy tangent about how she encountered wild animals last time she went to the mountains. Everyone listened patiently, possibly wondering the same thing as me - 'would it be rude if I kept eating that pineapply thing while she tells this incredibly boring, self-centred, anecdote'? It always amazes me how much most people like the sound of their own voice, even though it seems a certain way to ensure you are disliked my other members of your party.
After the eating was mostly over, we got to the 'zheng shi' - the point of the dinner. They want me to work in their university, setting up a website, contacting foreign universities, getting students to come to China. As I already have a job I like, but one possibly not able to renew my visa, the negotiations were tricky, and I discovered afterwards there were one or two misunderstandings. We also avoided the tricky question of money, although universities in China are overflowing with money, so hopefully it won't be too much of an issue.
At the end of the evening, the leader paid the bill, and being a teacher, she got 15% off, which is a common arrangement for restaurants in areas with universities and schools. She asked me if there were similar arrangements for teachers in England. I think not. The mostly undrunk baijiu was given to me, which is a real bonus because it is an expensive one. I left with my friend first, the three other teachers staying behind to discuss the events and to wonder if all foreigners have such a fancy for pineapply rice.
The first stage was interesting. My friend and former tutor is now a teacher in that university, so he is the all-important 'go-between'. I don't have much experience, but I've heard Chinese only like to do business with associates, or at least people they have some personnel connection with. When you consider its quite an individualistic society, with people looking to make money left right and centre, it is a sensible policy.
So in the last couple of weeks, I've been talking over a coffee in a quiet corner of a cafe about my position and that of the school with that friend. It reminds me of diplomats arranging the basics before the meeting of the political leaders. After two meetings, it was decided that last Friday was a good time to meet the university "lingdao", or leaders.
Expecting an evening of significant baijiu consumption, I had had an extra big lunch. So it was to my great surprise when I walked in and found three women sitting at the table. I had assumed it would be fat middle-aged men with white socks and bad teeth smoking 'Good Cat' cigarettes. I was introduced by my friend to them, and did the only thing appropriate on such occassions - immediately forgot their names.
I also forgot their titles, but it became apparent during the dinner that the woman to my left was the most important. She had a habit of laughing uproariously and spitting out shrimp legs at the same time. The other two (later three) were more demure, following the lead of the leg-spitter. The later addition was actually a former teacher of mine, and so with everyone reasonably familiar with each other, it was a pleasant evening.
The food was certainly a success. For occasions like this, there is always much more food than could possibly be eaten. Although I did my best to break this rule, taking a special fancy to a sort of fried rice cooked inside a pineapple.
Being from a university and with mostly woman in attendance, the atmosphere was more sincere than I had previously assumed. Firstly we made polite chat about this and that. Teacher Gao displayed her appalling command of French, and I complimented her heartily (what else can you do?). Teacher Xiang (the most important one) went off on a lengthy tangent about how she encountered wild animals last time she went to the mountains. Everyone listened patiently, possibly wondering the same thing as me - 'would it be rude if I kept eating that pineapply thing while she tells this incredibly boring, self-centred, anecdote'? It always amazes me how much most people like the sound of their own voice, even though it seems a certain way to ensure you are disliked my other members of your party.
After the eating was mostly over, we got to the 'zheng shi' - the point of the dinner. They want me to work in their university, setting up a website, contacting foreign universities, getting students to come to China. As I already have a job I like, but one possibly not able to renew my visa, the negotiations were tricky, and I discovered afterwards there were one or two misunderstandings. We also avoided the tricky question of money, although universities in China are overflowing with money, so hopefully it won't be too much of an issue.
At the end of the evening, the leader paid the bill, and being a teacher, she got 15% off, which is a common arrangement for restaurants in areas with universities and schools. She asked me if there were similar arrangements for teachers in England. I think not. The mostly undrunk baijiu was given to me, which is a real bonus because it is an expensive one. I left with my friend first, the three other teachers staying behind to discuss the events and to wonder if all foreigners have such a fancy for pineapply rice.
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Indonesians come to China
Last week our company started the training event that we have been 'preparing' for the last few weeks. There are 32 Indonesians, all men and with varying levels of experience as operators of power stations. They are here for nearly 2 months, mostly for training on a simulator.
I've been struck by how incredibly friendly and modest they are. During the opening ceremony, their 'leader' was fraught with nerves and could barely speak. He said if they made any mistakes or did anything culturally inappropriate, they were very sorry. Absolutely nothing of the sort from our side.
The presenter and translator for the speeches of the 领导, ling dao, or leaders, was me. I can be spotted in the background of two of these photos.
http://www.npgc.net/news_detail.asp?id=356&pid=6
The speech delivered by our boss was actually written by someone else, and the first time he saw it was when he unfolded it from his pocket. The Indonesians sung their national anthem with vigour and rythm; our side sung theirs feebly. (The only saving grace was no-one asked me to sing God Save the Queen). My favourite part was when the boss explained how the boiler engineer couldn't make it because he was still compling the teaching materials, when, in fact, the company did not even have a boiler engineer present at that time. As for my translation, it was reasonable. Even the translators in our company were surprised I could understand the Chinese, despite working here for nearly half a year. The Indonesians also looked slightly confused by my presence.
The training is in its 9th day now. I've not actually been told to do anything (I have a lot of freedom as one of the two 'experts'), but I've been listening to each lecture every morning. All I can say, the importance of preparation should never be underestimated. A fairly simple piece of organization, this training, and the people in charge have fucked it up royally. I don't actually translate myself, just sit at the back taking notes, and try to give advice to our translators (Chinese engineer speaks Chinese, Chinese translator speaks English, Indonesians listen - yes, this is as problematic as it sounds).
Our company is nothing if not thrifty. If you want to use a paper cup, you have to apply for one. My suit (which is not the right size at all) cost 300 RMB, but they charged me 500 RMB for it ('standard company policy'). Initially, the boss said that, because the Indonesians going to the mosque on Friday is nothing to do with them, they should go by public bus. 32 non-Chinese speaking Indonesians piling onto overcrowded buses going to a place they don't know the location of? Brilliant. The snacks offered daily for the 32 Indonesian trainings during training consists of one bag of biscuits costing 2 pence. The classroom offered was a room in a hotel on the 'staff area' floor with no windows or ventilation. Even when the big boss saw this, he was pissed off. Although he only changed it when he knew the management from the Indonesian side were coming to look.
But anyway, it continues, and we'll see what happens.
I've been struck by how incredibly friendly and modest they are. During the opening ceremony, their 'leader' was fraught with nerves and could barely speak. He said if they made any mistakes or did anything culturally inappropriate, they were very sorry. Absolutely nothing of the sort from our side.
The presenter and translator for the speeches of the 领导, ling dao, or leaders, was me. I can be spotted in the background of two of these photos.
http://www.npgc.net/news_detail.asp?id=356&pid=6
The speech delivered by our boss was actually written by someone else, and the first time he saw it was when he unfolded it from his pocket. The Indonesians sung their national anthem with vigour and rythm; our side sung theirs feebly. (The only saving grace was no-one asked me to sing God Save the Queen). My favourite part was when the boss explained how the boiler engineer couldn't make it because he was still compling the teaching materials, when, in fact, the company did not even have a boiler engineer present at that time. As for my translation, it was reasonable. Even the translators in our company were surprised I could understand the Chinese, despite working here for nearly half a year. The Indonesians also looked slightly confused by my presence.
The training is in its 9th day now. I've not actually been told to do anything (I have a lot of freedom as one of the two 'experts'), but I've been listening to each lecture every morning. All I can say, the importance of preparation should never be underestimated. A fairly simple piece of organization, this training, and the people in charge have fucked it up royally. I don't actually translate myself, just sit at the back taking notes, and try to give advice to our translators (Chinese engineer speaks Chinese, Chinese translator speaks English, Indonesians listen - yes, this is as problematic as it sounds).
Our company is nothing if not thrifty. If you want to use a paper cup, you have to apply for one. My suit (which is not the right size at all) cost 300 RMB, but they charged me 500 RMB for it ('standard company policy'). Initially, the boss said that, because the Indonesians going to the mosque on Friday is nothing to do with them, they should go by public bus. 32 non-Chinese speaking Indonesians piling onto overcrowded buses going to a place they don't know the location of? Brilliant. The snacks offered daily for the 32 Indonesian trainings during training consists of one bag of biscuits costing 2 pence. The classroom offered was a room in a hotel on the 'staff area' floor with no windows or ventilation. Even when the big boss saw this, he was pissed off. Although he only changed it when he knew the management from the Indonesian side were coming to look.
But anyway, it continues, and we'll see what happens.
Monday, 16 March 2009
Spring Break Ltd
A couple of weeks ago our company organised a 2-day 'chun you' 春游 (spring break), which is something where most people get out and about to make the most of the relatively pleasant spring weather. Most companies will offer this, and our boss, always one for skiving off work and driving her car round the outskirts of the city, organised a visit to some surrounding attractions for our 40-strong team. (Last week, she fell asleep on the couch in her office after a little too much liquid at lunchtime).
(photos available at this address: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=70507&id=510992267&l=35c1d2039f )
We gathered at 8am outside the company and boarded the coach. Just as I'm wondering where we're going, a microphone screeches and a booming, lispy voice comes at me from every direction. That was when I realised I was facing for the first time something I normally try and avoid - a tour guide.
My worst fears were confirmed when she tried to get us to do some 'wake-up games'. The sight of girls rubbing their heads with their left hand and boys rubbing their ears with their right hands holds zero amusement for me, and apparently for everyone as well, because no-one else joined in. Not to be deterred, our courageous guide, a young girl named Xiao Wang, sang us a very moving rendition of the Chinese equivalent of 'wheels on the bus' (or some such). The accompanying round of applause was, if not generous, at least sympathetic. At least we weren't distributed matching visors, and the attempts at colour-coding us into teams proved beyond her powers of organisation.
First stop was a small town next to Xian called Lantian. Almost every city or large town in China is famous for something, and Lantian is famous for jade. So we stopped in the main street and piled into a shop selling jade. I was surprised by how fascinated everyone was by the jade on offer as a) you can buy it everywhere and b) its probably fake. Instead I sat in the backroom with a copy of the Shaanxi Morning Post.
Later that morning, we drove to the outskirts of Lantian to Wang Shun Mountain. Snow still covered the ground, and with the clear blue skies and trees just starting to leave behind winter, it provided a very pleasant backdrop. Taking advantage of this rare opportunity for solitude, I charged ahead and was able to make the 3 hour climb to the top unfollowed by the rest of my 'team'. Stone steps snaked their way slowly up, past waterfalls and pavilions, the footprints of early climbers marking the way where the snow was heavy. Higher up, it was possible to see the surrounding peaks, stretching far away, with the occassional pavilion perched on the side.
However, it was still in China, which meant someone decided that the sound of birdsong and rushing water is insufficent, and needed to be completed by background music. Speakers were rigged to the overhead cable car, and the sort of music you hear in lifts in faux up-market shopping centres accompanied me up the mountain. It was even louder at the top, lilting across the ranges like goo.
The afternoon was followed a longish bus trip to the south of the province (Shaanxi) to Zhashui. On the bus, I was nominated by the assistant guide (a complete twat) to sing a song. I opted instead for a joke, and I'm pleased to say it went down like a sack of rain-soaked rice. Nothing like having to repeat a punchline. Three times. In Chinese.
Anyway, when we got there, the attraction was an ancient street where a film was once shot. In the evening, some of the men in our party thought it would be fun to get me drunk, but their shameful ability at drinking meant their efforts were short lived. The woman boss kept trying to encourage us to 'kao rou' (barbequing slithers of skewered-meat). Instead I was listening to the Chief Engineer in the company tell me all sorts of things that if I had only understood I am sure would have been of the utmost interest.
Sunday morning, I got up early and went for a wonder through the fields. With urbanisation incerasing at planet-destroying rates, its easy to forget that China is an agricultural based country. We got up nice and early and took a ride to the a series of caves with those 'rock icicle' things in. Inside were lots of surprisingly interesting and attractive rock formations and even more tourists. Our group got seperated after about 3 seconds and all different groups then moulded into one, big, slow moving group, like an oil spill in the ocean.
I have to say something about photography. Chinese just love taking pictures, particularly of themselves. Every time anyone got to anything remotely of interest ("this rock is slightly more pointy than the last one!"), they stand in front of it and get someone to take a picture of them. Invariably there are two 'poses', the word 'pose' now being a part of the lexicon of most young urbanites. One is the V sign (victory, not piss off), and the other is a completely expressionless face. I couldn't help but snigger when 3 of them had their battery run out. The forlorn, almost dazed, expression, was a photo opportunity in itself (if only they hadn't run out of battery). For them, that was the end of the trip, and they made swiftly for the exit.
Heading back to the smog of Xian, it was nice to have had a reminder that there is a whole lot more to China (and possibly life generally) than banging around in a city all day.
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