big cats in small boxes

.big cats in small boxes I

Most guidebooks suggest travellers make a pass on the Beijing Zoo. The general outlook is that any enthusiast is in for a fairly miserable adventure, that will lack the Disneyland lustre of well-funded, high-calibre zoos.

What these travellers unfortunately miss out on, is the opportunity to be absolutely appalled at the horrendous conditions at this zoo, and be forced to use all manner of will-power not to open cages, and release a family of Siberian tigers into the back Hutongs of the city.

Not only are the Jing's animals clearly suffering from isolation and neglect, there has clearly been very little attempt at natural environment simulation. So instead of being surrounded by trees and the sounds of nature (which can't survive the Beijing winter anyway), most animals live in barred-off, cemented, pocket-hole apartments - not so unlike the human population, but without an out.

Whilst the most difficult vision is the hall filled with giant cats (lions, tigers, jaguars etc) locked indoors, in tiny, cement enclosures, it is also depressing (for an Australian) to find a group of kangaroos huddled around a heater in a small cement box.


.big cats in small boxes II
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the tao of construction

Life in an Asian mega-city requires punters to gracefully accept the relentless seven day a week cacophony of construction and demolition. Large-scale urban develop- ments and rising megalithic skyscrapers have become the Asian way – the one dream of transforming China into a giant, matrix-esque, HK-style playground.

Despite sharing this grand vision of urbanization, I can’t repress the troubling thought that the victims of construction-related psycho-trauma must now be in the millions. The unforgiving bang-drill-dust combo is not only an assault on the senses, but a key contributor to rising levels of sleep deprivation, migraines, allergies, and angry delusions.

A few questions I know I want answered are: how bigger stake do earplug multinationals have in construction? When will freelancers be compensated for low productivity due to noise pollution? Will that film of toxic dust ever leave? And on a more personal note, who is going to wean me off oxymetazoline? Oh, sweet nasal decongestant.

I realize my construction-related trauma withers next to Mr. X, the last stronghold in a demolition site near my apartment, but I started out on the back-foot – softened by a life in suburban Australia, where the most offensive noise pollutants are tone-deaf corellas. The following is my personal account as a survivor of long-term exposure to construction, and how I found inner peace in a sea of excavators, cranes and pile-drivers.

I spent my first year in Asia in an apartment circumvented by building sites. After about 93 consecutive 5am wake-up calls, my counter-construction terrorism fantasies began. They were usually preceded by fantastical nightmares, in which a mutant species of demolitionists would descend upon my pad with an array of chainsaws and jackhammers. I would always display a few crouching-tiger hidden-dragon style moves, before realizing the smallness of being a guard-dog for a rental property, and exiting through the back window with my Shakira poster and a few angry barks.

To manage my delusions, I began to meditate – bearing in mind that harmony with surroundings is a key principle in mastering the Tao of Construction. Instead of forging my own path, I began to go with the sounds. I allowed the whirring of distant graders to become ocean sounds, and the heavy thuds, the hooves of horses on open plains. When the sounds became too invasive, I harnessed their energy for positive action. I used the repetitive bangs as a metronome for playing my oboe, and when I felt more subversive than musical, as resistance training for relevant torture techniques.

My advice for all victims of the construction scram is: don’t let the demolitionists win – embrace the Tao. Those living in districts targeted for pre-Olympic developments are in the greatest danger, but all residents must use earplugs and dust-masks, and meditate until the August fervour declines.

If despite all your efforts, you are still unlucky enough to be one of the million Beijingers handed pre-Olympic eviction notices, look at it as a chance for a positive, new start – this is your way out of that bang-drill-dust rut, and back to a peaceful life in the countryside!

To see this article in print link to: Urbane China, Habitat, March 2008.
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the dervish-hippy instruction manual

.(foto: el noveno colectivo)

One of India’s most striking first impressions is her dervishes – the original hippy model. Hindu men in the fourth stage of their Earthly development, re-enter the community on the outskirts, as possession-free observers. Those in this stage of material absolution can be found bathing in the holy waters of the Ganges, philosophising in small posses, and spinning in circles.

Many a western punter sets out on their first journey with the heart-warming intention to escape the plethora of social constraints that have controlled their life up to any given point. There are more than a few that harbour the secret desire to join the travelling ‘hippy elite,’ but often find themselves confounded by a range of new, and often confusing, expectations. Amateur queries can be as simple as: why can’t I wear shoes anymore? And, why can’t I laugh when someone cuts the cheese in yoga class?

Sadly, more than a few hopefuls have been disappointed by their failure to rack up enough hippy-cred. To save the children of the world from further heartbreak I have designed a fast-track, 4-step method to emancipation from your prior self, and rebirth as a hardcore hippy.

STAGE 1: Taking the Plunge
Move to India and start eating from the street. Within two weeks you will be suffering from your first bout of dysentery – the first in a line of many. Over time, this will help give you that skinny, emaciated look.
TIP: Aim for frequent bouts of traveller's diarrhoea (pakoras from railway stations are a good option), as this will speed up the process of emaciation.

STAGE 2: The Radical Transformation
Hide your polar-fleece sweater, havaiana thongs, and credit card, and start wearing a sarong with strings of brightly dyed beads around your neck. At this stage it is imperative that you get your hair dreadlocked, and STOP using shampoo. Neat dreads do not guarantee hippy-cred! You need to aim for that matted, ‘I’ve had dreads since I emerged from the womb’ look.
TIP: rinsing your hair in the Ganges is a good way to contract a plethora of tropical diseases that will assist you along the road to emaciation and emancipation.

STAGE 3: Upping the Drug Intake
By this stage you should be smoking ganja at 15 minute intervals throughout the day; and instead of pakoras, nourish your body with a cocktail of hallucinogenics. This is by no means the ‘authentic’ Hindu way, but it will help give you an air of wonder and nonchalance, and break down any resistance you had to meditating in a pile of garbage and cow shit.
TIP: claim regular sightings of god-like apparitions; claim a rainbow is a sighting of Shiva, and the monkey on your balcony, Hanuman.

STAGE 4: Authenticate or Dissipate
By stage 4 you should be experiencing the enlightenment of a frightening combination of dysentrious and drug-induced delusions. Your accessories and hairstyle should be perfect, and the dirt building up under your nails. It is time for you to start chanting and throwing ‘holy water’ on the locals, in between making wild, religious proclamations.
TIP: try to avoid taking yourself too seriously, and believing in your newfound authentic hardcore hippy self. Remember you stole most of your attributes from India’s dervishes: dreadlocks; the minimalist but colourful accessories; the sarong; yoga; bare feet; living with nature; vegetarianism; living on the outskirts; the relinquishment of material possessions; Buddhism (something like Hinduism minus the caste system); and non-violence towards animals.


.(foto: el noveno colectivo)
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through the peephole

As a new resident to the Jing, I soon realized my pad wasn’t going to be that lulling haven of privacy and personal space I had naively imagined – luckily I was eased in gently.

My first landlord, Mr. Li, was a pensioner, and relatively averse to climbing the seventy-odd steps to reach my door. The rare burst of enthusiasm, would of course find him passing through in the wee hours with a team of camera-laden surveyors ready to profile the walls – ‘support evidence’ for damage claims caused by new constructions. In these grandiose intrusions, we would quickly become pajama-clad wall-flowers, and try to avoid the bright flashes. As time passed, I came to consider the occasional loss of space a fair trade for old Mr. Li’s genuine kindness. Lost keys would have him wandering the streets at midnight looking for a locksmith, and my rent-paying occasionally culminated in a drunken ballad.

Mr. Li however, was no training ground for my SanLiTun love-shack collective – ruled over by Li Jie and her troupe of over-sexed cats. It was late one night when I was frying eggs and contemplating reality, that a blinding flash filled the window. A color-wolf! An egg-flipping voyeur! A pervert with a stick-on beard! My claims had my macho-man racing out to accost the offender. Finding Li Jie outside the front-door, he recounted the event. It was then that she unabashedly announced she was just feeling a bit snap-happy; and the Mexican took an extended moment, outside in his slippers, to contemplate a new reality shared with Li Jie.

Another unusual visit soon followed, in which Li Jie attempted to accost some of our household items: old slippers, a rice-steamer, a large kitchen-knife … Spurned on by these visits, the disappearance of a lucky, red paper Fu, and too much Hollywood, a few paranoias began to emerge. A string of 3am phone calls, an hour of banging on our walls, and a blackout, had us huddled, trembling in the dark – waiting for it all to stop. Sweet daylight brought me to the realization that the faulty power-switch was behind our couch; we were to blame for the collective blackout … and maybe Li Jie just wanted her heater to work, not to murder us …

Another series of power-cuts late one afternoon had Li Jie trundling back and forth in front of our apartment. In role as a neighbourhood detective, the Mexican was spying on Li Jie through the door-viewer. He was fortunate enough a witness her ensuing struggle to dislodge our Christmas wreath. Li Jie, caught red-handed, temporarily froze, dropped the wreath, claimed it was for our safety, and scooted out.

Since then, Li Jie has been lying low; and it has become just as likely she will find me peering through her window with binoculars, as I will find her. I remain suspicious that when we’re out of town, she (or at least the cats) loll about in the love-shack, use the rice steamer, and languish in the warmth, but in a strange way, I am becoming ever more comfortable with the idea.


For the massacred version of this article in print: Urbane China, Habitat, February 2008.
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la familia comunista

¡VIVA LA REVOLUCIÓN!

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"mass teacher extermination"

I received the following e-mail from one of my current workplaces in Beijing. It is an excellent example of how 'workers rights' are not part of the Chinese vocabulary, and why China needs English schools. Please note that a complete list of the evaluation scores were included!

Check Your Place In The Competition: Should be known!

Ladys and Gentlemen,

Teaching Department will eliminate 10 teachers at the beginning of February. We will add your December evaluation score into the January one and get a total ranking from the highest score. The last 10 people will be eliminated from 15th,Feb.

Those who always rank in the top 3 will have more chances to get a raise and those who are always in the last 5 of the ranking will be cut the class' hours or salaries. This will not include the teachers who did not participate in December evaluations.

Please pay attention and Good luck! Peace, Jacy

My favourite part is still the well-wishing at the end! As you can imagine this e-mail was met with widespread discontent. Here are some of the responses:

1. Make that nine teachers. This is my two week notice. Jivan

2. Correction, make that 8 teachers. This is also my 2 week notice. Ryan

3. Hello Jacy, I take it the ten eliminated will not include those that sleep with, bribe or otherwise coerce their students which is the reason why they are at the top of this list. This is a very bold action resulting in some very good teachers being lost. But I understand the business side of it. Regards, Gerald
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1.5 million pre-olympic evictions

Olympic related ‘urban transformation’ has displaced more than 2 million people in the last 20 years. In a bid not to let the team down, China is making every effort to violate the housing rights of 1.5 million Beijingers pre-Olympics.

Districts targeted for development and evictions include: (in alphabetical order) Dongcheng, Chaoyang, Chongwen, Fengtai, Haidian, Shijingshan, Xicheng and Xuanwu – most of the city. Human Rights groups have claimed: the evictions are characterized by a lack of formal process; and that tenants are often given little or no notice, and little or no compensation.

It is not uncommon to hear about, or even see, cases of tenants refusing to leave their homes, despite new constructions being approved, and demolition of the site being initiated. These last ‘strongholds’ can be seen clinging to a way of life, even as the rest of a building crumbles around them.

What we can hope to find at the dawn of the Olympics is a spanking new city, full of office buildings, shopping centres, modern apartment complexes, and newly widened roads, overlaying the Beijing that was – its dusty, picturesque alleys, full of hutongs and small-time vendors.


.gongtiyuchan dajie, sanlitun (foto: noveno colectivo)
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montage of first impressions

it is us. we are dreaming together again – soaring through the sky wrapped in the promises of a hanging full moon. the night has us gently in her palm, but soon she will tire – and leave us to tumble through the darkness …

down, down, to a place where our thoughts and words will be stolen by the roaring of a dying muffler, and our eyes will be filled with the stories of other dreamers, and the night cows who graze sleepily in the quiet hours.


in blinding heat we see flashes of jasmine and marigolds, ripened fruits fermenting on the roadside, and the sandy earth stirring, awaiting the violence of the monsoon. as i turn my head, india turns herself upside-down – the winds of saris sweeping the streets with golden dust.

my hands touch her first, wrists bound in jingling bangles, and palms stained with ash-orange henna. i cover my hair, lower my eyes, and disappear. in sarojini nagar he opens his eyes and looks up. i am no longer me, but her, and he is no longer him, but them.

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做文明北京人: civilization campaigns

"It is crucial that the public should strive to desert all uncivilized behavior, and work vigorously toward creating a civilized and harmonious society to host a successful Olympic games."

– 2008 Olympic committee President Liu Qi

Pre-Olympic ‘Civilize China’ or ‘Wen Ming’ Campaigns are in many ways no more than a repeat of China’s historical purges – without the public killings. ‘Civilization’ is being imposed with a heavy hand from the government, for the sole purpose of ‘saving face’ when the foreign devils descend upon the city.

Eradicating behaviours such as: littering, foul language, spitting in public areas, smoking, line-cutting, and wrongful conduct at sports events, are now under the jurisdiction of the Government’s Capital Spiritual Civilization Office. The introduction of a 50RMB fine for spitting in public is just one of the government’s new initiatives.

During the past year, mass-mail outs reaching millions have informed citizens about what is now considered ‘proper conduct.’ Additionally, service sector workers such as taxi drivers, shop assistants and bus conductors, along with civil servants have been given ‘civilization training courses.’ The 11th day of every month is now ‘lining-up day;’ and to emulate the attractive, symmetrical lines of the number 11, citizens are encouraged to board public transport in an orderly fashion.

On a more sinister note, a number of taxi drivers are now being sent out in civvies to spy on their colleagues. These ‘undercover agents’ have been put in place to ensure appropriate taxi conduct, and fine the offenders 200RMB (about 10 percent of their monthly wage). Of course there is no excuse for poor conduct, when you consider the notices displayed on every glove-box, reminding the driver that being ‘civilized’ means: brushing your teeth, bathing each day, and changing your clothes regularly.

In a further initiative, petrol multinational Sinopec has masterminded a privately-run campaign aimed at civilizing the Jing’s drivers. More than a sixth of the capital’s drivers have agreed to be secretly filmed, in the hope of making it through ten minutes of civilized driving. Ten road-rage free minutes caught on camera rewards the driver with 200RMB worth of fuel, a 300RMB carwash, and televised glory. Uncivilized driving is treated with televised humiliation.

Overall, we are left wondering if the Government’s campaigns will have any real, lasting effect after the heat of the Olympics passes, and just how ‘civilized’ it is, to enforce ‘civilized’ behaviour.


.sanlitun billboard: be a civilized beijinger for a great olympics!
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safety: always on the agenda

.free-style cabling outside sanlitun jinkelong (a local supermarket)


.the close-up ... don't be afraid!
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