Beijing, China
This one's so fresh it could be the Prince of Bel Air. It hasn't even found its way into my little green book. It just had to go out straight away.
Today, on my way to school, I had my first (and hopefully last) encounter with Chinese police. There were three of them, two in uniform, one in plain clothes. “朋友 (friend)”, they hailed me. I was a bit surprised. Where did I live? I pointed, told them the street name. What house number, they demanded. I had forgotten; people don't send me (physical) letters, so I never bothered to memorise my address. I described the location next the new sports ground. What was the place, what house number, they insisted. They had formed a semi-circle around me. I had forgotten. Did I have my temporary resident's registration card on me? I was being suspected it seemed, eyes scanned me suspciously. I didn't have my card. I was told to go and fetch it, they would wait for me. I tried to object, I had a class to go to. No way, I was to go home and get it at once. They followed me, their car was parked along the road; this is where they would wait. “快一点儿 (quickly)”, one commanded from behind me. That annoyed me. I respected them as officers of the law but this was not called for. "No need to run, is there?" I hoped my sarcasm conveyed even with my limited Chinese. "No need", he responded sternly. Aw, thanks.
I left them waiting at their car. For a while the thought occured to me that they were not following, I could just go to my school by a different route. Sod the registration card. I'd be just like Dr. Kimble, Bonnie and Clyde. On the run, baby... My feet had carried me home before I had finished thinking. Damn, law abiding conscience!
They hardly looked at the damn card. "No. 5", the officer mused. Then informed me I should carry this card with me at all times, a copy was sufficient. Then his colleague, the one who wanted me to hurry, insisted on having a look, too. Maybe he didn't feel important enough yet. Then, with a pat on the shoulder, I was sent on my way feeling a bit like a terrorist.
Why all the sarcasm? I don't have a problem with people doing their job. Sometimes it's just the way they do it that gets on my nerves a bit. Are you John Wayne or is it me?
Monday, 7 January 2008
Saturday, 5 January 2008
Jingle, jingle, thump, thump - Christmas and New Year in China
Beijing, China
Believe it or not but there is now Christmas - 圣诞节 (sheng dan jie) - in China. Maybe not surprising at all - things from the west catch on quickly, like in all of Asia. Or rather, what catches on is that Christmas sells - an all too western attitude. So, it's a very American, commercial Christmas. All big restaurants and even some small ones - whether Chinese or Western - have Santas in the window jollily proclaiming "Happy X-Mas". I swear I even saw a garbage collector who had stuck "Merry Christmas" on his tricycle. Supermarkets and shopping malls are full of songs about jingling bells and red-nosed reindeers, waiters in restaurants wear silly Santa hats. I even saw full-blown Christmas trees and sleighs with likenesses of merry, fat men on them.
Not that this would affect anybody's life though - 圣诞节 is not a holiday here. People go to work and bustle in the streets and honk at each other's cars. There is no Christmas spirit. Of course, this is to be expected - this is, after all, China, not Europe. Still, it was a strange experience to be in a place for the first time where Christmas is not a major holiday. Heck, it was even in Singapore!
Something unexpected happend, though. Something I had also never experienced in this way: I missed home. I remembered the quiet winter evenings, walks in the residential area near my home, Christmas trees in every window. There would be special programs on TV for Christmas and New Year and, of course, food specialties. And Christmas fairs. All that did not exist here. And none of the oriental specialties - no matter how attached I had got - would make up for that. Maybe for the first time I came/come to realise that as much as I love and enjoy China, as much as I enjoy being abroad sometimes, all these places sometimes just cannot give me all that my home Germany can. They can never replace home. Not forever. I've been away for so long even before I came here but maybe I had to come this far to find this little bit of wisdom. I went travelling to learn something about life, about myself. So, is that the lesson I set out to find? I'll still give it some more time.
In the end, I went for dinner with some good friends and over some hot tea and firepot we wished each other “圣诞节愉快“ - "Merry Christmas".
New Year (the solar new year, to be precise) is another Western custom that is starting to catch on but still passes many locals by without them even noticing. The big New Year festival here is calculated according to the lunar calendar and commonly falls on the end of January or beginning of February. When I called some Chinese friends to ask them their plans for New Year's Eve they replied: "Sleep, tomorrow is a working day." That sums it up.
Nonetheless some bars and clubs organise New Year parties for - mainly for foreigners who don't fly home. In the end, I wound up following some friends to what organisers claimed to be Beijing's biggest New Year party at 706 Factory. Here, the advent of 2008 was celebrated with DJs, thumping techno beats and surprisingly expensive drinks - all for the price of RMB 70 entry ticket. Not my cup of tea really but it's the company that matters. Besides, I figured, who knows when I'll next get to celebrate New Year in this exciting metropolis. Let's see what 2008 has in store...
Frohe Weihnachten und ein gutes Neues Jahr!
Believe it or not but there is now Christmas - 圣诞节 (sheng dan jie) - in China. Maybe not surprising at all - things from the west catch on quickly, like in all of Asia. Or rather, what catches on is that Christmas sells - an all too western attitude. So, it's a very American, commercial Christmas. All big restaurants and even some small ones - whether Chinese or Western - have Santas in the window jollily proclaiming "Happy X-Mas". I swear I even saw a garbage collector who had stuck "Merry Christmas" on his tricycle. Supermarkets and shopping malls are full of songs about jingling bells and red-nosed reindeers, waiters in restaurants wear silly Santa hats. I even saw full-blown Christmas trees and sleighs with likenesses of merry, fat men on them.
Not that this would affect anybody's life though - 圣诞节 is not a holiday here. People go to work and bustle in the streets and honk at each other's cars. There is no Christmas spirit. Of course, this is to be expected - this is, after all, China, not Europe. Still, it was a strange experience to be in a place for the first time where Christmas is not a major holiday. Heck, it was even in Singapore!
Something unexpected happend, though. Something I had also never experienced in this way: I missed home. I remembered the quiet winter evenings, walks in the residential area near my home, Christmas trees in every window. There would be special programs on TV for Christmas and New Year and, of course, food specialties. And Christmas fairs. All that did not exist here. And none of the oriental specialties - no matter how attached I had got - would make up for that. Maybe for the first time I came/come to realise that as much as I love and enjoy China, as much as I enjoy being abroad sometimes, all these places sometimes just cannot give me all that my home Germany can. They can never replace home. Not forever. I've been away for so long even before I came here but maybe I had to come this far to find this little bit of wisdom. I went travelling to learn something about life, about myself. So, is that the lesson I set out to find? I'll still give it some more time.
In the end, I went for dinner with some good friends and over some hot tea and firepot we wished each other “圣诞节愉快“ - "Merry Christmas".
New Year (the solar new year, to be precise) is another Western custom that is starting to catch on but still passes many locals by without them even noticing. The big New Year festival here is calculated according to the lunar calendar and commonly falls on the end of January or beginning of February. When I called some Chinese friends to ask them their plans for New Year's Eve they replied: "Sleep, tomorrow is a working day." That sums it up.
Nonetheless some bars and clubs organise New Year parties for - mainly for foreigners who don't fly home. In the end, I wound up following some friends to what organisers claimed to be Beijing's biggest New Year party at 706 Factory. Here, the advent of 2008 was celebrated with DJs, thumping techno beats and surprisingly expensive drinks - all for the price of RMB 70 entry ticket. Not my cup of tea really but it's the company that matters. Besides, I figured, who knows when I'll next get to celebrate New Year in this exciting metropolis. Let's see what 2008 has in store...
Frohe Weihnachten und ein gutes Neues Jahr!
Sunday, 30 December 2007
How I got here - Only in China
Tianjin, China
Chasing phantoms again. Something tells me I'll be using that heading a lot of times still: Only in China. At the moment there are a lot of things that strike me as really only possible here. And here's one of them:
My ticket said "Beijing - Tianjin" (both in English and Chinese) when I got on the train at Beijing Railway Station. That was right. I was going to Tianjin. Not the most interesting of cities in China ("还可以", my teacher had commented, "only so-so" - and she was right) but that's beside the point. It's the weekend and I wanted to explore. So Tianjin is a good choice for a weekend trip.
I got off the train again one hour later, checked my map and planned the circuit around the city. The first surprise was that my first destination seemed further than expected. On the map only two and a half kilometers helpful people urged me to take the bus; it would be too far to walk. Was that just people generally being adverse to walking? But really, the bus took ages to get there. Maybe distances just looked shorter on maps; besides, my travel guide did make mistakes occasionally...
The full extent of my misconception only came to light when I wanted to return in the evening: The last place of interest was near the main train station, so I decided to walk to last bit and buy my ticket before grabbing dinner. At a big crossing I asked a few workers the way just to be sure: "Is this the right way to the train station?" The group looked back in confusion. "There's no train station here." - "No train station?" Was my Chinese not good enough and I was missing something important? A joke maybe? "No", came the reply, "it's closed." - Closed?! "But I'm sure I got off the train here this morning. More confused, incredulous looks. "That's not possible." Then, how the heck did I get here?! Trains from Beijing, they explained, now go to a different station and I'd better take a cab. Still, a bit bewildered I followed their advice and caught a scooter. Sure enough, it took some 20 minutes to get to our destination. I was already biting my nails because the scooter seemed to leave all lights of civilisation behind and I was envisioning being beaten for my money in some dark construction site when we came to inhabited areas again and pulled up at the train station that I recognised now. Everyone in Tianjin seemed to know about this change, only me the silly laowai (foreigner) trudged around completely clueless. This was the place I had arrived at -almost at the other end of the city! That was why the surroundings of the station hadn't matched my map. Good business for taxis I'm sure. I swear, there was no notice of this anywhere but, hey, who'd expect they would just close a train station like a neighbourhood shop?
Later a friend asked me: "How can they just close an entire train station?" I had no answer. Because they can. Maybe this is China: Anything is possible.
Chasing phantoms again. Something tells me I'll be using that heading a lot of times still: Only in China. At the moment there are a lot of things that strike me as really only possible here. And here's one of them:
My ticket said "Beijing - Tianjin" (both in English and Chinese) when I got on the train at Beijing Railway Station. That was right. I was going to Tianjin. Not the most interesting of cities in China ("还可以", my teacher had commented, "only so-so" - and she was right) but that's beside the point. It's the weekend and I wanted to explore. So Tianjin is a good choice for a weekend trip.
I got off the train again one hour later, checked my map and planned the circuit around the city. The first surprise was that my first destination seemed further than expected. On the map only two and a half kilometers helpful people urged me to take the bus; it would be too far to walk. Was that just people generally being adverse to walking? But really, the bus took ages to get there. Maybe distances just looked shorter on maps; besides, my travel guide did make mistakes occasionally...
The full extent of my misconception only came to light when I wanted to return in the evening: The last place of interest was near the main train station, so I decided to walk to last bit and buy my ticket before grabbing dinner. At a big crossing I asked a few workers the way just to be sure: "Is this the right way to the train station?" The group looked back in confusion. "There's no train station here." - "No train station?" Was my Chinese not good enough and I was missing something important? A joke maybe? "No", came the reply, "it's closed." - Closed?! "But I'm sure I got off the train here this morning. More confused, incredulous looks. "That's not possible." Then, how the heck did I get here?! Trains from Beijing, they explained, now go to a different station and I'd better take a cab. Still, a bit bewildered I followed their advice and caught a scooter. Sure enough, it took some 20 minutes to get to our destination. I was already biting my nails because the scooter seemed to leave all lights of civilisation behind and I was envisioning being beaten for my money in some dark construction site when we came to inhabited areas again and pulled up at the train station that I recognised now. Everyone in Tianjin seemed to know about this change, only me the silly laowai (foreigner) trudged around completely clueless. This was the place I had arrived at -almost at the other end of the city! That was why the surroundings of the station hadn't matched my map. Good business for taxis I'm sure. I swear, there was no notice of this anywhere but, hey, who'd expect they would just close a train station like a neighbourhood shop?
Later a friend asked me: "How can they just close an entire train station?" I had no answer. Because they can. Maybe this is China: Anything is possible.
Wednesday, 21 November 2007
V.I.P.
Taiyuan, China
As a foreigner in China you'll always a) attract attention and b) draw a certain special treatment, especially if you deviate from the typical tourist destinations. In Taiyuan, capital of Shanxi Province, this has reached a new peak.
Returning to Beijing from Pingyao I had to change trains here and had about two hours to spare. So I decided to have dinner. I had been told about several local dishes I wanted to try. The problem was that in my limited time I could only see some foreign and Chinese fast food chains around the station. I ventured further, still without success until I was attracted by a pleasant looking place. "巴西" it said above the entrance. This looked familiar but I could place it immediately. I went in. A very pretty, elegantly dressed waitress was immediately at my side. What did I want to eat? She showed me a buffet (that didn't look Chinese at all). I asked her for Shanxi dishes. She apologised. They didn't have any. I inquired where I might eat Shanxi food. She called the manager. I was now the centre of attention. The manager came and I repeated my question. She said they only served "ba xi" dishes. Then it finally clicked. I had walked into a Brazilian restaurant. The manager explained that they had no Shanxi dishes but there was a restaurant around the corner that did. She even sent the cute waitress that had greeted me to show me the way.
The restaurant in question only had a single table occupied with a group of men eating and boozing. The girl explained the situation and I immediately became the V.I.P. The boss himself came up to greet me, sat me at a table, brought the menu, advised me which dishes were typical of the part of the province. Then he sent his staff to get me a bowl, chopsticks, tea. Of course, he didn't fail to ask me where I was from. I mentioned I needed to catch a train in less than an hour. I was really beginning to worry. No problem, he assured me. When I had made my choice (soup with knife-cut noodles and meat plus a bowl of deep-fried, shredded potatoes with vinegar) he went to the kitchen and shouted: "Hey, here's a German friend who wants to try Shanxi dishes. Make him some ..." At this the chefs also curiously stuck out their heads. Food was ready in record time, the boss proudly served it himself. Then he hovered next to me watching my reaction. I assured him it was very tasty (and it was). Then I tried to look like I was fully absorbed with the task of eating. I had run out of casual conversation topics that my language skills could handle. Fortunately, he knew that I needed to rush, so he left me to my food. Otherwise, this might have been a really awkward situation. In the meantime he tended to the other table answering questions about me and fulfilling the demand for more high percentage alcohol.
When I finally left and rushed back to the train station I was full and happy and had paid an impressively low price. Another one for the category Only In China.
As a foreigner in China you'll always a) attract attention and b) draw a certain special treatment, especially if you deviate from the typical tourist destinations. In Taiyuan, capital of Shanxi Province, this has reached a new peak.
Returning to Beijing from Pingyao I had to change trains here and had about two hours to spare. So I decided to have dinner. I had been told about several local dishes I wanted to try. The problem was that in my limited time I could only see some foreign and Chinese fast food chains around the station. I ventured further, still without success until I was attracted by a pleasant looking place. "巴西" it said above the entrance. This looked familiar but I could place it immediately. I went in. A very pretty, elegantly dressed waitress was immediately at my side. What did I want to eat? She showed me a buffet (that didn't look Chinese at all). I asked her for Shanxi dishes. She apologised. They didn't have any. I inquired where I might eat Shanxi food. She called the manager. I was now the centre of attention. The manager came and I repeated my question. She said they only served "ba xi" dishes. Then it finally clicked. I had walked into a Brazilian restaurant. The manager explained that they had no Shanxi dishes but there was a restaurant around the corner that did. She even sent the cute waitress that had greeted me to show me the way.
The restaurant in question only had a single table occupied with a group of men eating and boozing. The girl explained the situation and I immediately became the V.I.P. The boss himself came up to greet me, sat me at a table, brought the menu, advised me which dishes were typical of the part of the province. Then he sent his staff to get me a bowl, chopsticks, tea. Of course, he didn't fail to ask me where I was from. I mentioned I needed to catch a train in less than an hour. I was really beginning to worry. No problem, he assured me. When I had made my choice (soup with knife-cut noodles and meat plus a bowl of deep-fried, shredded potatoes with vinegar) he went to the kitchen and shouted: "Hey, here's a German friend who wants to try Shanxi dishes. Make him some ..." At this the chefs also curiously stuck out their heads. Food was ready in record time, the boss proudly served it himself. Then he hovered next to me watching my reaction. I assured him it was very tasty (and it was). Then I tried to look like I was fully absorbed with the task of eating. I had run out of casual conversation topics that my language skills could handle. Fortunately, he knew that I needed to rush, so he left me to my food. Otherwise, this might have been a really awkward situation. In the meantime he tended to the other table answering questions about me and fulfilling the demand for more high percentage alcohol.
When I finally left and rushed back to the train station I was full and happy and had paid an impressively low price. Another one for the category Only In China.
Sunday, 30 September 2007
Saving my Soul ...
Beijing, China
This one is all about Winnie, the Singaporean lady who says of her cultural heritage that she is a "banana": yellow on the outside and white on the inside. I've been staying with her and Evonne for a month. Evonne had warned me that her flatmate was ... special. She had been unsure if we'd get along. I had decided to make every effort. They were both very nice to me letting me stay at their place - not a matter of course for Asian women. Evonne had further warned that while she was a believer in God, Winnie was a very strong believer. I had assured her there would not be an issue.
I'm still not sure how successful I was with that. I guess we both tried but put an atheist in a room with a fundamentalist and make a guess what will happen.
Even though I've always sort of loosely believed in a higher power it's never (espeically recently) really been the Christian God. I've always had issues with the Church and its history of violence, persecution and meddling. Nowadays, I'm interested in religion from a purely scientific point of view. It's all a form of mythology to me. These days now and after coming to China, I'm particularly curious about Buddhism and Taoism.
Winnie on the other hand believes in what she calls the "one true, living God". She's incredibly vehement about this. She sees proof of it everywhere. She rejects any other religion as idol worship. Once she saw me sitting on her sofa in a lotus seat. I used to do Yoga for a while in UK and sometimes try it again or use it to correct my sitting posture. She told me off because, she said, with meditation I would open my soul to powers that I didn't understand and of which I didn't know if they were good or evil. I mentioned that I had done this in UK but she responded that this was Asia and things were different here. Another time she caught me listening to a CD I had bought in Ulaanbaatar, which featured Mongolian throat singing. I have to admit it does sound bizarre when you hear it for the first time. She said it was chanting. I objected that the title of the song was "Mother Mongolia" and surely the song didn't have anything to do with the profane. I sometimes hate it when my mouth opens before the brain has time to intervene! She insisted I didn't understand Mongolian, so how could I know for sure and she didn't want it played in her flat. With that the matter was off the table. And there were many more things. Small encounters like these. I don't know why they happened. I got the feeling the more I reminded myself not to provoke her the more it seemed to happen on its own accord.
I'm not sure when it started. Some time during the first or second week she must have made the decision that my soul needed saving and she began talking to me about God. As it turned out, we had both grown up without a father. I think she took that for a sign. "You have a father in Heaven", she would often say, "and he loves you." Not that I've ever really wanted a father. It was useless trying to explain to her my view point of religion. Or the matter of fathers.
One day she gave me a T-shirt. She was proud that it was a genuine Nike shirt, not a cheap copy you find on markets everywhere. She rejected that like a number of other aspects of life that are just typically Chinese. I duely thanked her for the T-shirt. Wrong again. "Don't thank me", she said, "it's from your father in Heaven. He told me to go and buy it for you." I tried not to let it show. "Thank you", I said again.
Another time she gave me three small comic books, saying it was to help me practice my Chinese. They were stories from the Bible. As comics. The angels looked a bit like Marvel heroes.
Then last week I woke up to find a brown paper bag standing next to my bed. It contained a little hand written note from Winnie and the "New Revised Standard Edition" of the Bible. In English and Chinese. A massive volume. It was also from my father in Heaven. Now, this was getting a bit creepy. Of course, I trust the two ladies. I've grown to like Evonne. But the notion of Winnie coming in while I was sleeping to carefully deposit the bag next to me is still slightly odd.
One night I was having a particularly animated discussion with Winnie about the views on religion. It was almost turning into an argument when she suddenly stopped me in mid-sentence saying: "I don't want to talk to you anymore. I only want to talk to God now." Then she began praying asking God for forgiveness for my views, to love me more and to enlighten me, and so on. Then after about ten minutes of prayer she disappeared into her room leaving me bewildered. Nobody has interrupted me in quite this way before.
Then this week, the matter finally climaxed. It was on Winnie's birthday, just before she went to the office. We were standing in the kitchen. She was talking again about our father in Heaven when she said she wanted to make a birthday wish. She wanted to pray for me. She wanted me to open myself to God. In retrospect it seems that she meant to make a final effort to convert me. I really didn't want this. I wanted to do my homework. Anything else. I felt a huge waste of time and energy coming up. However, conscience kicked in: It was her birthday, she'd been very kind and generous to me, so I should indulge her. I cautiously agreed. Winnie began praying asking God to enlighten me, to send down His holy fire, fill my heart with His love and more such things in minor variations. As her prayer grew more intense she came up to me. I tried to retreat discreetly only to hit the wall on my second step. She put her hand on my chest and went on. Could I feel how hot her hand was, she asked me. I thought that, of course, it was warm - she was a living human being. She told me to close my eyes, to open myself to God. I obediently closed my eyes and tried to think holy things. Just be patient a little longer then she'll be happy and leave you to your affairs. But she didn't. She rested her other hand on my head. She was feeling the heat, she said. She was standing quite close to me. Under different circumstances, with a different girl, it shot through my head, I would actually enjoy this a lot. I remember doing my best to keep myself from going through my shopping list in the privacy of my head. Then she said she could feel God's presence and I should sit down because when He came over me I would be weak. She lead me to the sofa in the living room and sat me down while she knelt in front of me. Winnie continued praying with her hands resting on my thighs. She kept repeating that she felt hot, that could only be God's holy fire flowing through her. The whole situation was more than suggestive, I wonder if she realised that at the time. Thoughts reared their heads that had nothing to do with praying. At the same time I couldn't help wondering what she actually wanted from me - and what would make her stop. Was she honestly waiting for me jump up and shout "Haleluyah!"? While she continued praying and put one hand on my chest again I tried to think of a way to gently but firmly tell her that it wasn't happening and that I didn't want to go on with this anymore. Eventually, she stopped by herself. She was out of breath and her hand had left a moist spot on my shirt. "Can you feel it", she asked me. I asked back if she wanted the truth. Nod. I shook my head sadly. "No." I had tried to tell her before that maybe, one day I would find my way to God but there was no point trying to rush it. At this she finally gave up and retreated to her room to freshen up. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I checked the time. We had taken about 40 minutes! When I told them about Winnie friends had already told me I should go and find my own place - soon. Some had said that she was scary. Now, I'm sure she had the best of intentions and I would certainly miss Evonne but that moment I knew that my friends were right.
Now, I want no misunderstanding. I've seen Winnie has a kind heart. She has tolerated me in her flat for a month and tried her best to make me feel welcome and at home. I'm sure that with our differences in beliefs that hasn't always been easy for her. At the same time she's been a hard test. I've never met anybody who's ultimately as fundamentalist as she. Born in a different day and time she might have been another Joan of Arc, a crusader, an inquisitor, a missionary. The way she can describe her faith, with such passion and conviction, without a quantum of doubt must be quite impressive to those who are receptive to such things. Like the Chinese girl I saw at her friend's birthday party. At the same time I note that she and a lot of her Singaporean friends from church and Bible group are middle-aged, single women. I wonder if that enormous passion they throw into their faith isn't the very same that other women might have for their boyfriend or husband. A cynical or analytical voice may even ask if all this "heat" they feel doesn't just come from some repressed sexuality? Ultimately, whatever reason there may be I find it hard to agree with or sometimes even accept her point of view. It's not only in conflict with my personal beliefs but also with everything that I've ever learnt about God. So, I'm sure even if I was Christian I would still disagree with her. I hope she'll forgive me that. I do appreciate her help.
This one is all about Winnie, the Singaporean lady who says of her cultural heritage that she is a "banana": yellow on the outside and white on the inside. I've been staying with her and Evonne for a month. Evonne had warned me that her flatmate was ... special. She had been unsure if we'd get along. I had decided to make every effort. They were both very nice to me letting me stay at their place - not a matter of course for Asian women. Evonne had further warned that while she was a believer in God, Winnie was a very strong believer. I had assured her there would not be an issue.
I'm still not sure how successful I was with that. I guess we both tried but put an atheist in a room with a fundamentalist and make a guess what will happen.
Even though I've always sort of loosely believed in a higher power it's never (espeically recently) really been the Christian God. I've always had issues with the Church and its history of violence, persecution and meddling. Nowadays, I'm interested in religion from a purely scientific point of view. It's all a form of mythology to me. These days now and after coming to China, I'm particularly curious about Buddhism and Taoism.
Winnie on the other hand believes in what she calls the "one true, living God". She's incredibly vehement about this. She sees proof of it everywhere. She rejects any other religion as idol worship. Once she saw me sitting on her sofa in a lotus seat. I used to do Yoga for a while in UK and sometimes try it again or use it to correct my sitting posture. She told me off because, she said, with meditation I would open my soul to powers that I didn't understand and of which I didn't know if they were good or evil. I mentioned that I had done this in UK but she responded that this was Asia and things were different here. Another time she caught me listening to a CD I had bought in Ulaanbaatar, which featured Mongolian throat singing. I have to admit it does sound bizarre when you hear it for the first time. She said it was chanting. I objected that the title of the song was "Mother Mongolia" and surely the song didn't have anything to do with the profane. I sometimes hate it when my mouth opens before the brain has time to intervene! She insisted I didn't understand Mongolian, so how could I know for sure and she didn't want it played in her flat. With that the matter was off the table. And there were many more things. Small encounters like these. I don't know why they happened. I got the feeling the more I reminded myself not to provoke her the more it seemed to happen on its own accord.
I'm not sure when it started. Some time during the first or second week she must have made the decision that my soul needed saving and she began talking to me about God. As it turned out, we had both grown up without a father. I think she took that for a sign. "You have a father in Heaven", she would often say, "and he loves you." Not that I've ever really wanted a father. It was useless trying to explain to her my view point of religion. Or the matter of fathers.
One day she gave me a T-shirt. She was proud that it was a genuine Nike shirt, not a cheap copy you find on markets everywhere. She rejected that like a number of other aspects of life that are just typically Chinese. I duely thanked her for the T-shirt. Wrong again. "Don't thank me", she said, "it's from your father in Heaven. He told me to go and buy it for you." I tried not to let it show. "Thank you", I said again.
Another time she gave me three small comic books, saying it was to help me practice my Chinese. They were stories from the Bible. As comics. The angels looked a bit like Marvel heroes.
Then last week I woke up to find a brown paper bag standing next to my bed. It contained a little hand written note from Winnie and the "New Revised Standard Edition" of the Bible. In English and Chinese. A massive volume. It was also from my father in Heaven. Now, this was getting a bit creepy. Of course, I trust the two ladies. I've grown to like Evonne. But the notion of Winnie coming in while I was sleeping to carefully deposit the bag next to me is still slightly odd.
One night I was having a particularly animated discussion with Winnie about the views on religion. It was almost turning into an argument when she suddenly stopped me in mid-sentence saying: "I don't want to talk to you anymore. I only want to talk to God now." Then she began praying asking God for forgiveness for my views, to love me more and to enlighten me, and so on. Then after about ten minutes of prayer she disappeared into her room leaving me bewildered. Nobody has interrupted me in quite this way before.
Then this week, the matter finally climaxed. It was on Winnie's birthday, just before she went to the office. We were standing in the kitchen. She was talking again about our father in Heaven when she said she wanted to make a birthday wish. She wanted to pray for me. She wanted me to open myself to God. In retrospect it seems that she meant to make a final effort to convert me. I really didn't want this. I wanted to do my homework. Anything else. I felt a huge waste of time and energy coming up. However, conscience kicked in: It was her birthday, she'd been very kind and generous to me, so I should indulge her. I cautiously agreed. Winnie began praying asking God to enlighten me, to send down His holy fire, fill my heart with His love and more such things in minor variations. As her prayer grew more intense she came up to me. I tried to retreat discreetly only to hit the wall on my second step. She put her hand on my chest and went on. Could I feel how hot her hand was, she asked me. I thought that, of course, it was warm - she was a living human being. She told me to close my eyes, to open myself to God. I obediently closed my eyes and tried to think holy things. Just be patient a little longer then she'll be happy and leave you to your affairs. But she didn't. She rested her other hand on my head. She was feeling the heat, she said. She was standing quite close to me. Under different circumstances, with a different girl, it shot through my head, I would actually enjoy this a lot. I remember doing my best to keep myself from going through my shopping list in the privacy of my head. Then she said she could feel God's presence and I should sit down because when He came over me I would be weak. She lead me to the sofa in the living room and sat me down while she knelt in front of me. Winnie continued praying with her hands resting on my thighs. She kept repeating that she felt hot, that could only be God's holy fire flowing through her. The whole situation was more than suggestive, I wonder if she realised that at the time. Thoughts reared their heads that had nothing to do with praying. At the same time I couldn't help wondering what she actually wanted from me - and what would make her stop. Was she honestly waiting for me jump up and shout "Haleluyah!"? While she continued praying and put one hand on my chest again I tried to think of a way to gently but firmly tell her that it wasn't happening and that I didn't want to go on with this anymore. Eventually, she stopped by herself. She was out of breath and her hand had left a moist spot on my shirt. "Can you feel it", she asked me. I asked back if she wanted the truth. Nod. I shook my head sadly. "No." I had tried to tell her before that maybe, one day I would find my way to God but there was no point trying to rush it. At this she finally gave up and retreated to her room to freshen up. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I checked the time. We had taken about 40 minutes! When I told them about Winnie friends had already told me I should go and find my own place - soon. Some had said that she was scary. Now, I'm sure she had the best of intentions and I would certainly miss Evonne but that moment I knew that my friends were right.
Now, I want no misunderstanding. I've seen Winnie has a kind heart. She has tolerated me in her flat for a month and tried her best to make me feel welcome and at home. I'm sure that with our differences in beliefs that hasn't always been easy for her. At the same time she's been a hard test. I've never met anybody who's ultimately as fundamentalist as she. Born in a different day and time she might have been another Joan of Arc, a crusader, an inquisitor, a missionary. The way she can describe her faith, with such passion and conviction, without a quantum of doubt must be quite impressive to those who are receptive to such things. Like the Chinese girl I saw at her friend's birthday party. At the same time I note that she and a lot of her Singaporean friends from church and Bible group are middle-aged, single women. I wonder if that enormous passion they throw into their faith isn't the very same that other women might have for their boyfriend or husband. A cynical or analytical voice may even ask if all this "heat" they feel doesn't just come from some repressed sexuality? Ultimately, whatever reason there may be I find it hard to agree with or sometimes even accept her point of view. It's not only in conflict with my personal beliefs but also with everything that I've ever learnt about God. So, I'm sure even if I was Christian I would still disagree with her. I hope she'll forgive me that. I do appreciate her help.
Indecent Proposal
Beijing, China
It was on her birthday party a few days ago that Winnie first brought this up. A business proposal since I had mentioned I was thinking about earning some money to finance my stay in China. It was like this:
A friend of hers (who was also at the party) had an architecture or design business. Would I be interested in making a short business trip for her a week later, stay at a classy hotel, enjoy all sorts of luxuries, do practically nothing and even be paid US$300 for it?
Do nothing? Get paid? That sounded almost too good. But I've become a suspecious person. What was this about? Winnie's friend needed a Western face to represent her company to some potential Chinese customers. I would only have to attend a business meeting or two, look professional and pretend not to speak Chinese at all. Surely, I could do that? Now I was curious. How would we communicate? Why did they need me? Because of the prestige. In China, a Western face adds positive credibility to a company's business. There would be a translator, so I didn't have to speak any Chinese. I wouldn't need to negotiate anyway, the customer just wanted to meet one of the Western business people in person. And why was I asking so many questions? I was being offered money for doing nothing, I should appreciate that. Well, after two wars we Germans don't appreciate the pleasures of blinder Gehorsam (blind obedience) anymore. I dug deeper. Finally, I was told that an architect from Canada had been supposed to fly over but had cancelled at short notice. I was filling in for him. But I wasn't a trained architect, I objected, how could I fill in for one? Winnie was getting annoyed now. I wouldn't need to do any talking. I could just enjoy my stay. It was all very easy really. They were even offering lots of money for it. This was a godsend. Her friend wanted an answer. If I didn't want it I should say so and they would find somebody else.
Now, it's not like I don't appreciate presents but I don't like being put under pressure and the way they were waving the benefits of the whole thing in my face it felt as if they were hiding something. Winnie wouldn't even tell me which city I would be going. The whole affair stank. Things are never as easy as people say they will be. Besides, this was blatant fraud. I was uncomfortable at the idea of being uncovered as an impostor. How much support could I expect from this friend of Winnie's. She might just deny everything. If things went awry $300 might not be nearly enough to get myself out of trouble again. Of course, on the other hand she had me hooked. $300 plus a fancy hotel for a few days...
I did the old Who-wants-to-be-a-Millionaire trick. I called my good friend Shu and talked things over with her. She didn't have a good feeling about it either but she knew that a Western face sometimes might help close a deal. I might really have very little to do. And why not do something crazy or adventurous for a change, I added.
In the end, I agreed with Winnie that I would go but on the terms that I should receive a detailed briefing before I left. And maybe they could throw in the suit that I'd need, as well. Some of her initial enthusiasm had dissipated by now. She'd call her friend and tell her. That was the last thing I heard of it. They didn't need me anymore. Apparently, the real guy had turned up, after all. Much ado about nothing.
I still wonder what might have happened. The whole thing did feel exciting, like Mission Impossible. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, will be..." Is this really how they do business here?
It was on her birthday party a few days ago that Winnie first brought this up. A business proposal since I had mentioned I was thinking about earning some money to finance my stay in China. It was like this:
A friend of hers (who was also at the party) had an architecture or design business. Would I be interested in making a short business trip for her a week later, stay at a classy hotel, enjoy all sorts of luxuries, do practically nothing and even be paid US$300 for it?
Do nothing? Get paid? That sounded almost too good. But I've become a suspecious person. What was this about? Winnie's friend needed a Western face to represent her company to some potential Chinese customers. I would only have to attend a business meeting or two, look professional and pretend not to speak Chinese at all. Surely, I could do that? Now I was curious. How would we communicate? Why did they need me? Because of the prestige. In China, a Western face adds positive credibility to a company's business. There would be a translator, so I didn't have to speak any Chinese. I wouldn't need to negotiate anyway, the customer just wanted to meet one of the Western business people in person. And why was I asking so many questions? I was being offered money for doing nothing, I should appreciate that. Well, after two wars we Germans don't appreciate the pleasures of blinder Gehorsam (blind obedience) anymore. I dug deeper. Finally, I was told that an architect from Canada had been supposed to fly over but had cancelled at short notice. I was filling in for him. But I wasn't a trained architect, I objected, how could I fill in for one? Winnie was getting annoyed now. I wouldn't need to do any talking. I could just enjoy my stay. It was all very easy really. They were even offering lots of money for it. This was a godsend. Her friend wanted an answer. If I didn't want it I should say so and they would find somebody else.
Now, it's not like I don't appreciate presents but I don't like being put under pressure and the way they were waving the benefits of the whole thing in my face it felt as if they were hiding something. Winnie wouldn't even tell me which city I would be going. The whole affair stank. Things are never as easy as people say they will be. Besides, this was blatant fraud. I was uncomfortable at the idea of being uncovered as an impostor. How much support could I expect from this friend of Winnie's. She might just deny everything. If things went awry $300 might not be nearly enough to get myself out of trouble again. Of course, on the other hand she had me hooked. $300 plus a fancy hotel for a few days...
I did the old Who-wants-to-be-a-Millionaire trick. I called my good friend Shu and talked things over with her. She didn't have a good feeling about it either but she knew that a Western face sometimes might help close a deal. I might really have very little to do. And why not do something crazy or adventurous for a change, I added.
In the end, I agreed with Winnie that I would go but on the terms that I should receive a detailed briefing before I left. And maybe they could throw in the suit that I'd need, as well. Some of her initial enthusiasm had dissipated by now. She'd call her friend and tell her. That was the last thing I heard of it. They didn't need me anymore. Apparently, the real guy had turned up, after all. Much ado about nothing.
I still wonder what might have happened. The whole thing did feel exciting, like Mission Impossible. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, will be..." Is this really how they do business here?
Monday, 24 September 2007
Winnie's Birthday
Beijing, China
Another birthday party. This time it's Winnie's big day and she wanted to celebrate in style. I still hardly know her so I bought a big bunch of flowers for her at the florist opposite her compound. I realised, not for the first time, that I have no bloody clue about flowers. I left it to the lady and her husband to put the bunch together telling them only it's for a woman's birthday. My Chinese doesn't really allow me to say much more yet. Then I got in a cab and managed to be directed to the club she had designated. This was a club in a very Old-World, British sense with lots of marble and expensive woodwork and waitresses in cocktail dresses - not the modern "thump, thump", "binge, binge" affair. I have hardly any formal clothing with me, so I felt horribily underdressed.
Most people here were again from the church or Bible group. This brought back some scary memories. There were a number of Westerners, too, this time. I chatted politely but somehow felt a bit left out. But Winnie had asked me to be the photographer. That gets me every time. Later, Winnie announced, there would be a gettogether at the home of one of her friends, an American couple, with Bible discussion and "sharing".
The Americans lived in a compound like most foreigners do. It's for safety and convenience purposes. Evonne and Winnie do. That where the similarity ends, though. Evonne's and Winnie's compound has four tower blocks and a community building in the middle. This compound was a fenced-in district in itself. The moment we passed the gate it felt more like crossing from China into a miniature version of America. It was heavily guarded, too. We were immediately hailed by uniformed guards who radioed back to central confirming who we were and where we were going. As we entered the building almost every door was secured with a key or code lock. People that lived here were seriously afraid of something. I had never felt that threatened in Beijing. A playground for rich foreigners, it seemed. Then came the flat and I realised how right my first impression had been. It had white marble, gold-plated railings, a fluffy, white plush carpet. To say it was "luxurious" or "lavish" doesn't quite capture it. I've never seen an apartment with Roman-style columns. They had a live-in 24-hour Filipino maid and a spoilt, little, white dog matching the carpet. The only word I could think of was "decadent". Somehow it reminded me of the descriptions of the villae of rich Roman citizens where they lived with their family and slaves.
I was also a bit apprehensive about the "sharing". Would they try to make me tell a story about how I had recently experienced God?
I didn't need to worry. Everyone gathered on the plush carpet and, being the host, the American quickly volunteered. He told an impressive story about his dream where he found himself in a sort of cathedral, the sky opened and God spoke to him fitting him with holy armour and a flaming sword telling him to be His servant. Everyone nodded. "Amen", some agreed. Then Winnie herself told the story of how her friend had been unhappy for a long time and she had gone over and they had prayed and sung together and waved around a white flag to cleanse the room when they had seen a dark shadow, a demon, retreating for their sight. More agreement and amens.
I can't help myself. The whole gathering felt a lot like a group of people bullshitting each other. Who can get the most attention? Who's the closest to God? Humans love to compete, humans love attention and social acceptance and this is just another arena. The stories I heard this evening could I have been straight from a Dungeons & Dragons game session. I could have written stuff like that (and I have made a mental note to reuse some of the stuff I heard tonight). You just have to be part of the group so that you have credibility. Then you can probably tell people anything. Still, I wonder if people tonight really believed what others or even they themselves said. No matter how much Winnie tries to convince me I find it harder and harder to identify with this kind of faith, let alone believe it.
Another birthday party. This time it's Winnie's big day and she wanted to celebrate in style. I still hardly know her so I bought a big bunch of flowers for her at the florist opposite her compound. I realised, not for the first time, that I have no bloody clue about flowers. I left it to the lady and her husband to put the bunch together telling them only it's for a woman's birthday. My Chinese doesn't really allow me to say much more yet. Then I got in a cab and managed to be directed to the club she had designated. This was a club in a very Old-World, British sense with lots of marble and expensive woodwork and waitresses in cocktail dresses - not the modern "thump, thump", "binge, binge" affair. I have hardly any formal clothing with me, so I felt horribily underdressed.
Most people here were again from the church or Bible group. This brought back some scary memories. There were a number of Westerners, too, this time. I chatted politely but somehow felt a bit left out. But Winnie had asked me to be the photographer. That gets me every time. Later, Winnie announced, there would be a gettogether at the home of one of her friends, an American couple, with Bible discussion and "sharing".
The Americans lived in a compound like most foreigners do. It's for safety and convenience purposes. Evonne and Winnie do. That where the similarity ends, though. Evonne's and Winnie's compound has four tower blocks and a community building in the middle. This compound was a fenced-in district in itself. The moment we passed the gate it felt more like crossing from China into a miniature version of America. It was heavily guarded, too. We were immediately hailed by uniformed guards who radioed back to central confirming who we were and where we were going. As we entered the building almost every door was secured with a key or code lock. People that lived here were seriously afraid of something. I had never felt that threatened in Beijing. A playground for rich foreigners, it seemed. Then came the flat and I realised how right my first impression had been. It had white marble, gold-plated railings, a fluffy, white plush carpet. To say it was "luxurious" or "lavish" doesn't quite capture it. I've never seen an apartment with Roman-style columns. They had a live-in 24-hour Filipino maid and a spoilt, little, white dog matching the carpet. The only word I could think of was "decadent". Somehow it reminded me of the descriptions of the villae of rich Roman citizens where they lived with their family and slaves.
I was also a bit apprehensive about the "sharing". Would they try to make me tell a story about how I had recently experienced God?
I didn't need to worry. Everyone gathered on the plush carpet and, being the host, the American quickly volunteered. He told an impressive story about his dream where he found himself in a sort of cathedral, the sky opened and God spoke to him fitting him with holy armour and a flaming sword telling him to be His servant. Everyone nodded. "Amen", some agreed. Then Winnie herself told the story of how her friend had been unhappy for a long time and she had gone over and they had prayed and sung together and waved around a white flag to cleanse the room when they had seen a dark shadow, a demon, retreating for their sight. More agreement and amens.
I can't help myself. The whole gathering felt a lot like a group of people bullshitting each other. Who can get the most attention? Who's the closest to God? Humans love to compete, humans love attention and social acceptance and this is just another arena. The stories I heard this evening could I have been straight from a Dungeons & Dragons game session. I could have written stuff like that (and I have made a mental note to reuse some of the stuff I heard tonight). You just have to be part of the group so that you have credibility. Then you can probably tell people anything. Still, I wonder if people tonight really believed what others or even they themselves said. No matter how much Winnie tries to convince me I find it harder and harder to identify with this kind of faith, let alone believe it.
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