distant ruminations

We’re in the village again. We came up on Tuesday. Actually, the trip was a little weird and kind of frustrating.

On the way to Deshengmen, on the Badaling Expressway (yes, that’s the road we take to Yanqing, and it’s also the quickest way to the bus at Deshengmen) the northbound traffic was flowing smoothly, for once. Southbound was alright until just south of Madian, and then it was hopelessly jammed. We arrived at Deshengmen and discovered that the buses had been separated into Badaling and Yanqing again. Excellent. But the queue for the Yanqing buses stretched over a hundred metres, while the queue for the Badaling buses was unusually short. Fortunately, though, they were loading up the buses two at a time, and they’ve started putting even bigger buses on the Yanqing route, so it didn’t take us too long to get on a bus. Then, as we had seen on the way to Deshengmen, the traffic was light and smooth on the expressway. Right up until we hit the mountains, that is. Some bright spark decided it’d be a good idea to let the trucks back on to the expressway from Nankou and join all the holiday traffic. Brilliant. And then we got to the Badaling carpark. The 919s almost always leave the expressway at the Badaling carpark, even if they’re not going to Badaling, as they have a stop at Xibozi. In fact, only once before have I seen the 919 go straight down the expressway past Badaling. On Tuesday it was business as normal, we turned off the expressway into the Badaling carpark and hit traffic. Big traffic. I think it took the better part of an hour to get through the carpark and onto the road to Xibozi.

And of course the usual suspects started yelling at the conductor. Absolute bullshit, as you would expect, about how the driver should not have gotten off the expressway at Badaling, the bus always goes straight past. Bullshit. They threatened to phone the company to complain. Go ahead, dicks, it’ll get you nowhere, and if you had even a fraction of the local knowledge you claim to possess, you’d know that.

But WHY?!?!?!?!?!

WHY would all these people who had obviously amassed enough money to buy a car, and so are presumably not completely stupid, drive past both Juyongguan and Shuiguan, whose carparks were still in a manageable state (although I did notice three tourists- licence plates were Tianjin, Shanxi and somewhere far away from Beijing- all driving the wrong way on the road outside the Juyongguan carpark and all getting in each others’ way and all incapable of figuring out what they should be doing- I did say not completely stupid) to spend their precious holiday time stuck in a traffic jam in a carpark? WHY?!

And WHY did the police or whoever was responsible for affairs at the carpark and the access road not think to open up a special lane for public transport? It wasn’t the bus passengers’ fault the traffic was so bad, we were all on public transport, and quite possibly a majority of us just wanted to get to the county town. It was those rich bastards fucking up the traffic and pumping shitloads of pollutants into the air. Why punish us for their selfish stupidity? Fuck the rich. No, wait, eat the rich. There must be plenty of calories stored up in their bodies, and judging by the lack of intelligence their behaviour at Badaling displayed, I find it hard to believe the world would miss them. Huiguo rich bastard for the people!

And why does the Bafanda bus company insist on stopping at Xibozi? I’ve never seen many people get off the bus there. Why not, when they’re separating the Badaling and Yanqing buses, let us go straight past Badaling?

Anyway, we got through, eventually, and continued on our merry way. We got off the bus a bit early, at Nancaiyuan instead of Dongguan, which turned out to be a good decision. Unfortunately, the bus ahead of us was the 920 we needed to get up to the village, so we had to wait another half hour for the next bus. Fortunately, there was a restaurant right next to the bus stop, and I was starving and my blood sugar level was plummeting, and in such bright, sunny weather it is not a good idea for someone with skin as fair as mine to stand around outside soaking up UV. So we got a quick lunch, my blood sugar levels went back up to a somewhat normal level, and we went back to the bus stop just as the next 920 pulled up. Wrong 920, though, as was the one behind it, and the one behind that, but two minutes later a fourth 920 arrived, and this one was going our way.

That’s one of the problems with transport in Beijing’s outer suburbs. Tongzhou is the same. About a million different bus routes share the same number, meaning you have to be careful, you could easily get on a bus with the right number but find yourself in completely the wrong place. Changping and Yanqing share the 919 route, meaning on the rare occasions I’ve managed to convince a friend to come visit me up here I’ve had to give very, very precise directions lest they wind up somewhere in Changping instead. That isn’t a fate I would wish on my worst enemies. And within the county, the 920s are the same.

Actually, a friend is on the way up as we speak. He’s been here before, fortunately, so he has a good enough idea of how to get here and he shouldn’t have any trouble. We’ll see how the traffic is on the expressway and at Badaling, though….. He could find himself stuck on a bus far longer than he was expecting. Warned him, though.

Anyway.

We got home alright and that’s the main thing. It’s good to be here.

The first summer storm. The air tastes delicious.

I spent a couple of hours this afternoon sitting outside a row of “new” cafes over at Beiyu. “New” cafes because they’re new to me, although they look to be very well established. They’re in that building that houses the supermarket behind the garden just south of the basketball courts, but probably most people reading this have no idea what I’m talking about. Anyway, I ducked into one of the cafes, got a bottle of Tsingtao, went and sat at one of the tables in the garden, drank my beer, and watched the world go by. A lot has changed about this part of town, but the changes to Beiyu are purely superficial. It’s still very much the same place I knew five years ago. I finished my beer, and ran inside to get another, and took that one outside to drink. And then a third…. It was really comfortable.

Actually, today reminded me of summer in Dunedin in the deep, deep south of New Zealand. Not hot, but comfortable, with a cool breeze, perfect weather for sitting in a garden with a cold beer watching the world go by.

And in about half an hour I have to go and help a group of PhD students prepare to “serve” at some conference or something involving a bunch of foreign delegates. They want to know how to not make complete fools of themselves or offend the foreigners or whatever. You know, the usual inane questions about how to say hello and what questions shouldn’t be asked. If I ask them what to do, they’ll be able to tell me all the basics, I’m sure. I really can’t figure out why they want my advice. Especially considering I have all the social skills of a braindead brick that just smoked a field-full of weed. So, help me please (not that I’ll get any answers before seven, but whatever, for future reference, help me): How can I say politely- and the emphasis is on ‘politely’: Grow some balls, and a backbone, scrape together a bit of self-respect, and just be yourself. Don’t grovel at the foreigners’ feet. Don’t ask stupid, inane questions. Don’t be an arsehole (note: ordinary American citizens are generally not personally responsible for all that ails this planet, so don’t treat them as such. And everybody hates the English, but individual English people are generally just the same as you and I. And so on). Just treat your foreign guests as equals, meaning behave like you know you are their equal, because you fucking are, and don’t patronise them because they’re foreign (can you use a knife and fork? Wah! Really? That’s so amazing!). Basically, just fucking be a fucking man. Or woman, as the case may be. Alright, just be a normal human being. That’s all. There’s no magic to it, no special formula.

To sum up: Behave with dignity and self-respect, and do unto others…. ummm, how does it go? Before they do unto you? Nonononono…. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Simple.

Actually, I really don’t want to go to this PhD’s English corner. But what the hell, I’ll get a bit of money for my trouble. And it gives me something to do. I guess if I didn’t go I could sit here on my own drinking beer and watching the two DVDs I bought today. Oh yeah, lzh is out with her friends, which is how I could kill a couple of hours over at Beiyu drinking beer and watching the world go by.

Anyway, it’s been a pretty good day, considering I had to go to the bank (that alone is almost always enough to ruin a day even before you’ve gotten to the bank) and the ATM that you can deposit money into still hasn’t been fixed. Still, I’ve never heard of the Bank of Communications being accused of competence. And I didn’t have to wait as long as I would’ve had I gone to the ICBC.

And I didn’t find the film I was looking for, although I know it is on at the Wudaokou Cinema (Note to the pirates: Some people do want to see Tuya’s Marriage), but I did manage to find a couple of good ones. And obviously the “crackdown” on piracy is over: The shop was back up to it’s usual wide selection.

So basically it hasn’t all been good today, but the day has been good enough that even going to the bank doesn’t sound too bad. That’s a pretty good day, in my books.

Although the apartment reeked to high heaven when I got back at five, and the fridge smells like it’s developing it’s own civilisation. I think lzh and I are going to have to have a quick clean-up before we disappear for the holidays.

Somehow I’m developing a record of notching up ‘firsts’ here in China that really should’ve been done back in New Zealand. I mean, my first trip to the opera in Beijing should’ve been to a Peking Opera performance, right? Well, as it turned out, it was to Madam Butterfly, performed by Chinese, but otherwise entirely Western. And I was underwhelmed. But still, that was the first time I’d seen Western Opera, here in Beijing, at the Tianqiao Theatre several years ago. Really should’ve seen my first Western Opera somewhere Western, I think, but no, it was here in Beijing.

Last night the State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs held a concert for foreign experts (some of whom actually looked like they might really be experts) at the Zhongshan Forbidden City Concert Hall (dammit! It’s 中山公园音ä¹?å ‚ in Chinese. Why’d they have to go giving it a completely different English name?) . My school, of course, got tickets and invited both us foreign teachers and our wives (about bloody time she was included in something!). My colleague turned down the invitation for whatever reason, but I decided, having turned down a few too many invitations since I’ve been here, that lzh and I should go, especially considering they invited her as well. So off we went, with absolutely no idea what kind of concert we’d be attending or where….. Fortunately the school did provide a driver. And a car. Kind of useful, that.

Because of May Day, we had to work this weekend. Actually, I got off pretty light, I only had to work yesterday, but Friday, Saturday and today I have no classes. Anyway, with a car leaving the school at 6pm, that meant lzh had to rush home from work. Probably she should’ve gone straight to the concert hall, but nevermind. She got home on time. We got in the car, and were handed our official invitations. No tickets yet, though. Apparently we had to wait until it was time to go in to the concert before we’d be given them. So, we opened up the invitations and saw we’d be seeing the China Philharmonic Orchestra/中国爱ä¹?ä¹?团 (I love how ‘philharmonic orchestra’ is translated into Chinese) conducted by Long Yu/余隆 (why did they have to ‘Westernise’ his name? I can’t stand that! When was the last time you heard about Zedong Mao or Xiaoping Deng? Why can’t we just stick with Chinese names written Chinese style, only Romanised?)

So, another first. Growing up in the Salvation Army, I saw plenty of brass bands. More than enough for several life times. I’ve also been to my fair share of pop and rock concerts and gigs and festivals of various kinds. But never a classical concert with like, a real orchestra and stuff.

Well, there’s a good reason for that. I was never really in to classical music. I’m going to blame a childhood of torture at the hands of brass bands. Classical music was a kind of collateral damage. Well, it was always a matter of time and place. In the appropriate time and place, classical music can be cool. For example, the film Immortal Beloved really brought Beethoven’s music to life for me. I guess that’s what happened last night. Even though I know next to nothing about classical music, and even though I would not normally bother to listen to anything classical, I really enjoyed the concert last night. It’s not my favourite style of music, but somehow last night’s concert brought the music to life and I felt its power and I really enjoyed it.

So there you go. I went to a concert. I had a good time.

Actually, what I liked best were the trombones. Maybe that’s my bias speaking, though, I mean, I am a reformed trombone player. But I played really badly. I sucked, actually, and I gave up when I was about 16. But still, the trombone is by far the coolest of all brass instruments.

And I bumped into a fellow blogger during the intermission. His university had also brought along its foreign teachers. His university had a busload of foreign teachers. Had the other foreign teacher from my school come along, we would’ve still fitted into the Santana comfortably. Had he brought his wife, the secretary who was charged with getting our tickets probably wouldn’t have gotten to see the concert. This school is kinda small.