A Canadian in Beijing: My First Farewell

by Ember Swift on

My friend Sarah left yesterday and Beijing seems different now. Sarah was one of the people that I met on the Internet before coming. Well, actually, we met over email as she was one of several people who had been forwarded my proposal and my plans to come to Beijing. She wrote offering pointers and friendship for when I arrived. I took her up on both. It was Sarah who really provided my opening view into how Beijing works and where to check out the local scene. In fact, Sarah became one of my first friends here in China and I am really sad to see her go.

I have been told that I ought to get used to it. Ex-pats come and go here, some staying as little as a few weeks or a few months (like me) and others who stay a year or more on longer contracts or for longer school terms. There is a constant stream of greetings and farewells and the parties to go with it.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I also became the recipient of lots of Sarah’s “stuff” like her cookware, her bike, carpets for my dorm room and some excellent guide books to Beijing. I told her to make me her receptacle for any leftovers that she might not want to take back to Australia with her and I eagerly accepted whatever she had to offer. (Thank you Sarah!)

A few weeks ago, when she had to move out of her apartment early, I helped her down with her “stuff-to-keep” and we proceeded to get lots of weird looks for sitting on the dirty Beijing sidewalk with a bunch of random boxes and bags. Sarah lived here for six months already and so I can only imagine the huge transition it would be to dismantle one’s life and proceed to the next adventure. My guts twist around just thinking about leaving after three months here! We sat there together for about fifteen minutes waiting for a friend and then a taxi, just talking and taking it all in – the people, her neighbourhood and the whole experience of moving on.

A very loud elderly Chinese woman approached us and began to berate us about sitting in front of the stuff. She kept saying “you’re going to lose it” and it took me awhile to realize that she meant that we would lose the possessions because our eyes were not on them. Her anger was palpable and she reached over and wrenched my head around to look at the items, pushing my shoulders to face the bags as though I were a child that was ignoring her instructions. I was shocked by her forwardness – something I haven’t encountered in China very often – and several people walking by also stopped to witness the commotion. She got so frustrated with our confused facial expressions that she began to move the bags herself to position them in front of us rather than behind us, muttering to herself that we didn’t understand her and that we shouldn’t be so careless with these belongings.

I suppose her intentions were in the right place, but her approach was brutal and when she finally walked away, we were both visibly shaken by what felt more like an attack than assistance.

But then we laughed about it – finally – and the release was good. How else do you process such an experience, which is compounding something that is already hard?

And then, two weeks later, Sarah’s goodbye party last night was filled with people of from many different countries: Italy, Belgium, Australia, Canada, Austria, Indonesia, Malaysia, The United States and China. Even Jeni flew up from Shanghai and the place was filled with people who love Sarah and will miss her.

We all gathered at a bar called “Q-bar” that is located on the eastern side of the downtown and is a gorgeous, upmarket venue located above a hotel with couches and dim lights and menus in both English and Chinese. It even has a beautiful patio that we couldn’t sit on due to the light summery rain. Still, I would return there for sure, especially when I’m in the mood to feel closer to Toronto and/or wanting to see the lights of Beijing’s business district. It was great to feel lifted from the dirt of the sidewalks to the clean lines and crisp style of this modern bar.

When I left the party for home, I realized that a mini-era was coming to a close. My next phase here in Beijing will be without my friend Sarah who I have come to rely on for laughter, gossip and overall Beijing tour guide services (!) – not mention the most beautiful gift of all: her friendship.

I miss her already.

(Sarah: cut me some slack on posting this picture of you without permission, will ya?!)

A Canadian in Beijing: Goodbye Schmoozing, Ni Hao Guanxi

by Ember Swift on

On Monday night, I had a fabulous night of guanxi.

Guanxi, which literally means “relationship” or “relations” is a central concept in Chinese philosophy and represents one’s social standing and, therefore, social potential. I’ve heard this described also in terms of its obligations. By this, I mean that guanxi is very much about one’s role in exchange with others to both assist and seek assistance and thus maintain one’s intregity or “face” in society. Guanxi speaks to social status; if one properly maintains one’s guanxi, then the social group also maintains its strength. There’s mutual advantage to guanxi that cannot be overlooked.

Yes, it’s “what-can-you-do-for-me?” based, but it’s also “what-can-I-do-for-you?” Thus, not exploitative in nature (or else, mutually exploitative and condoned as such) and I like that.

In Canada, I can only relate this concept to the notion of “connections” or “making contacts” and by extension, an expression called “schmoozing” (commonly used in the arts industry). This expression has always held a negative connotation for me as it’s laced with the notion of sucking up and kissing the behinds of prominent figures in your field. There’s something that is inherently selfish about it.

I’ve never been one to schmooze. In fact, I usually avoid it.Unlike much of western culture that advocates such an individualistic notion of success, I find that guanxi is a concept that places more emphasis on the group integrity and takes longer to cultivate. There’s not as much competition or focus on being the “one” on top. I don’t sense that kind of competitive urgency here.

But, let me begin my story again: On Monday night, I had a fabulous night of guanxi.

I went to see my Canadian musician friends at Star Live, the same music venue at which I had seen Sonic Youth the week before. I was already in a good mood when I arrived because I had successfully found the place with little incident (getting lost in Beijing is becoming my norm!) and so when I walked up the stairs and saw Andy, the promoter for the Canadian touring bands who I met in Shanghai, I was full of smiles and so was he. He immediately greeted me and then asked if I had a ticket to the event. I said that I hadn’t bought one yet but was prepared to, and then he said “come with me,” and he whisked me by security, handing me a complimentary entrance ticket and pointed in the direction of the stage saying: “They’re up now. You’re just in time.”

VSH was on stage (well, without Suzie who had to go home early) and they were tearing it up. I sat at a front table and snapped some pictures and when they were done their set, I went around to the side of the stage to say hello.

Here, I met a man that is on tour with them acting as a tour manager named Norm. He, too, greeted me with a kind smile and grabbed my elbow to tug me back stage rather than side stage, past the security and into the room that was filled with sweaty Canadian musicians. They all greeted me with hugs and tired smiles (it was a night of double duty for each band — two venues and two shows each!) and I was immediately invited to hop on the tour bus and head to the other venue with them in order to catch their second set.

We headed down to “Nu Ren Jie” or “Lady Street” where a bar called “The New Get Lucky” is situated. I’ve been there a few times already and I was familiar with the venue. The owner, who I’ve met through Traci, gave me a smile and a nod of recognition.

I was helping my friends to set up when I heard my Chinese name being called out by a man at one of the tables. It was one of the men, Luo Yan, who had been on the picnic in Shidu on the weekend and he invited me over to his table and we started to talk. Turns out that he’s a bass player (for China’s “T Band”), a studio engineer and a record producer in the music business and he introduced me to some musicians who were sitting with him — four young men who are currently working on their album at his studio. I passed him my CD and press kit and he was truly excited to realize that we are in the same industry and that we’re both professional touring musicians! I was too.

My friends in the Canadian band were trying to do a sound check at this point and I could tell that they were having a hard time communicating and so I excused myself from Luo Yan’s group and started to translate between the stage and the sound person. Eventually, the sound person just motioned that I should take over and so I started to do the sound myself. Luo Yan also got up and helped by suggesting to me (in Chinese) what should specifically be changed in terms of detailed frequencies so that I could make more finite adjustments. (His studio ears were truly appreciated!) I literally saw the young men at Luo Yan’s table change their opinion of me from “foreign girl who sings” to “professional musician with technical knowledge.” It was just a flash in the air that seemed but was a tangible shift in the energy between us. It was a great feeling and VSH’s sound was pretty good after all.

Mid-way through their set, I was introduced to two women who turned out to be the arts contacts at the Canadian consulate! I spoke with them for some time about touring in China and they encouraged me to stay in touch with them as they can be helpful in terms of grant applications etc. What luck to meet them on this night when I was just riding a wave of spontaneous connections!

Then, as I’m heading outside for some fresh air between sets, a non-Chinese man comes through the door with a Chinese woman beside him. He was carrying a guitar and greeted another Canadian woman using English and with a Canadian accent. He looked at me with vague recognition and I looked at him with the same kind of look – that “where-have-I-seen-you-before,” cocked head of confusion. This man is Chairman George, a Canadian songwriter who performs in China in both Greek and Chinese and who lives in Ottawa, just an hour from where I live in Canada. Turns out that we’ve never really met but that we have some common “guanxi” back home and may have been at some of the same events. He offered to introduce me to some of his contacts in China and took my information, even intimating that we could possibly do some shows together next year. I was thrilled.

He introduced me to the woman he was with, Zou Rui, an opera and pop singer, internationally touring performer and model here in China. She lives in Beijing and makes her living in the arts. We all sat down and had a great conversation and Zou Rui and I became instant friends. She will most definitely be a subject of my “Beijing Women in Music” research, but more importantly I am happy to have met such a cool person to hang out with. She’s also excited to have met a language partner and so we’ve been spending some time together this week swapping Chinese for English and vice versa.

When I walked towards the restrooms, I saw Andy again standing by the bar with his Shanghai contingent. They were so warm to me and grateful that I had come to the show to support the bands. He said he’d definitely be in touch about the possibilities for my band next year.

As I was leaving the bar, I said goodbye to Luo Yan who gave me his number in case I wanted a bass player while I’m here. Then, I said goodbye to Kim and Elana of VSH who gave me warm hugs and thanked me for my translation and my support. I assured them that it was truly my pleasure to see them, hear them play and just to spend some time with them — my fellow Canadians — in this beautiful country.

I waved to everyone from the taxi window filled with even more smiles than before.

This is the kind of connection-making I want to experience.

Goodbye schmoozing. Ni hao Guanxi.

[Group shot above is from when I was in Suzhou last week. From left to right: Suzie Vinnick, me, Kim Sheppard, Elana Harte (all making up VSH), Randall (their drummer on this trip), Norm (travelling with them and filling in tour manager roles) and Andy, the Shanghai-based promoter.]

A Canadian in Beijing: Hands in the Air at Beijing’s Midi Festival

by Ember Swift on

One of my goals before arriving in China was to take in the live music scene here. That hasn’t been difficult in the least. In fact, it’s been difficult to balance getting up early for my part-time classes after taking in so much live music.

One of the prominent live music events of the year in Beijing is the MIDI FESTIVAL. Well, it’s prominent in the underground music world, that’s for sure. This festival takes places between May 1st and 5th in an urban park in the eastern Haidian district of Beijing. That’s quite close to where I live and I have been planning to attend this festival since arriving.

So I did.

Truth be told, I applied to perform at the festival when I was back in Canada. There was an advertisement via Sonicbids, an online submission service that I subscribe to and that enables the submission of one’s music for consideration for all kinds of events or services. I was not “awarded” a slot at the festival (although, it was a contest for a single opening and I’m sure there was stiff competition) and at the time I was relieved by this verdict, considering I would not have my band with me. While in attendance this week, however, I wished that I had known how to go through other channels to request a solo spot. I was truly missing the stage as I sat on the grass in front of it. And, I knew that my music would go over well there.

Perhaps next year?

The Midi festival is modeled after North American festivals. There are several stages with simultaneous music, food kiosks with greasy food, diverse markets (though both booths and sidewalk style, which is very Beijing), disgusting port-a-potties and cheap beer for sale in plastic cups. There’s lots of litter and sporadic tents set up on the edges of the site and, let’s not forget the requisite muddy sections in front of the main stage as evidence of hundreds of feet packed tightly against the stage, moshing across five days.

I was there on the final day, having just arrived home from Shanghai and deciding to take in at least one day of such an important musical event. Everyone who is anyone was there. It was a cool kids’ hangout and I simply had to go!

Unlike most visible grass in China, you can SIT on it at this festival and I spent a fair amount of time doing just that at the folk stage, feeling nostalgic about festival season in North America. Lawns in Beijing are not common and, besides, grass is considered dirty thanks to the regular deposit of urine, litter and dust. As a result, there are often “keep off the grass” signs or fenced off sections of what little grass I have seen. Seeing people sprawled across the expanse of green here at this public park was a very non-Beijing sight and it added to the nostalgia for home.

I went to the festival with Traci (see pic of us here, in our “cool” poses!) and she introduced me to several interesting people connected to the music scene in Beijing. I’m slowly making my rounds and finding that people are quite receptive to my interest in building my career here. Traci was also handing out flyers for an event this weekend called the “Maple Rhythm Beijing Concert,” which was a concert scheduled for after the Midi festival and featuring Canadian music. I was happy to see my friends’ faces on the flyers that were landing in the hands of the Beijing hipsters: Vinnick, Sheppard and Harte; The Jimmy Swift Band (no, there is no “Jimmy Swift” and we’re not related!); Alun Piggins; and The Road Hammers. (I have met the promoter for this event, too, and he is considering us for a tour next year – fingers crossed!)

I met up with other friends then and enjoyed a flip-flop between various stages. I took in some excellent Chinese and international bands from folk to hip-hop to rock, most notably “ZouYou” (or “Left, Right”) which was a Chinese progressive hard rock band with amazing musicianship and stage presence. Dave Stewart (from the Euthymics) was the Friday night headliner but he was unable to attend. In his place, he sent Imogen Heap and Nadirah X who each did a couple of songs and blew the audience away. I love Imogen voice and Nadirah X’s lyrics were incredibly powerful and politically potent. Another female artist, a famous Chinese pop-rock singer, also sang but I do not know her name. She garnered a huge applause from the audience when she took the stage, as though her presence were a big and welcome surprise. If anyone reads this and can tell me her name, I would really appreciate it. It was too loud to ask anyone and then it was too late.

Midi was co-sponsored by Greenpeace and I was surprised to see this, considering their radical environment actions and (I’m going to generalize here) the Chinese government’s typical aversion to radicalism! Between sets, the big screens showed hardcore live footage from recorded attempts to stop the transport of nuclear devices on ships, animal rescues, demonstration against polluting corporations, etc. It was incredibly moving to watch and the ten minute short was on regular repeat.

All of these performers (the three women mentioned above) finished off their set by collaborating on a song that was written for Greenpeace. It was empowering and got the audience excited despite the language barrier. The previous big screen visuals had helped to bring the points home without words being necessary.

I left the site late in the evening feeling filled up with music and reminded of how powerful live performance can be. Hands in the air in musical solidarity seemed to me to be another universal sign of camaraderie, belief, and commitment to being part of a movement. Whether or not our aims are the same, music has a cauterizing effect and brings people of all backgrounds and ideologies together, rocking in a crowded cradle of potential.

We can.

A Canadian in Beijing: A Must Do = A Shidu Picnic

by Ember Swift on

The second last day of the holidays and I was invited to go on a picnic in the outlying areas of Beijing with one of my new friends, Rui, and several of his friends. I was the only foreigner (non-Native Chinese speaker) and so I was a bit nervous. Still, Rui’s English is excellent and I only hesitated for an instant before accepting the opportunity to see some of the outskirts of this city and to meet a new group of people.

We went to an area called “Shi Du” which means the ten ferry district. It’s about an hour’s drive south of Beijing and it leads into ten separate valleys around small, jagged mountains which each include water access and stunning scenery. Because it’s become a popular travel site, there are also shops and various other leisure activities locate in each.

This is a time in Chinese history when people from the city have enough money to actually visit the country as a leisure activity – to enjoy the fresh air, the open skies and the natural wonders that lie outside of the concrete and glass. As a result, we were not the only ones with this idea!

We arrived at the fifth “du” and walked along the rocky ridge of a beautiful lake and scoped out our picnic site. We were about twenty feet from another group and the lake was full of people on leisure rafts with large sticks to propel them forward. When everyone was satisfied with our choice of location, all the men then went back to the cars to get the food and coolers and other items while the women stayed with the dogs. I stayed too, of course, considering my gender and the complete surprise that I garnered when I offered to help too!

When they returned, there was the typical arguing about where to put the cook stoves and then the men all mutually failed several times at starting the fires. I had to laugh. Everyone had a better idea than everyone else and it was just comical. It could have been happening in any country, in any language. Eventually, the coals took and the cooking began, as did the laughter and the good times.

Here in China, it seems as though picnic blankets aren’t the norm. Instead, plastic is used. Large strips of cheap plastic was pulled from a roll and was laid out flat and held down with rocks. The food went on top of it – a veritable feast of kabobs and salads and beverages. My friend had stocked up on vegetables from the market that morning and so I ate vegetable versions of what they were eating. I tried my best to overlook where they had been cooked considering my status as a guest and my desire not to stand out any more than I already did.

Besides, I had a hard time with the language. I couldn’t have explained myself properly even if I had tried. Everything happened so quickly that I often found myself the only one not laughing at a joke I hadn’t understood. It was hard, but they were all really nice and Rui translated as often as he could. Eventually the group was offering to teach me Chinese. In fact, they said “you don’t need a school! You just need to hang out with us!” That felt good.

Across from the feasting, we could see children playing in large, thick, plastic balls that were floating on the surface of the water. It looked like an enormous amount of fun – like those huge indoor walking wheels for pet mice but big enough for humans. They were tethered to the edge of the waterway so that they couldn’t float away and I could hear the laughter bouncing off the liquid sunshine.

After the food, my friend and I walked down to the edge talking about music and lyrics. He sang a few songs to me in Chinese and then started to share all the songs he knows in English, most of which were incredibly cheesy and huge hits from the past. He sang them word for word (sometimes the wrong words in misunderstood English) and I joined in when he sang that Jack Wagner song “Nothing’s Gonna Change my Love for You” (made famous again by Glenn Mederios in the 80’s), Richard Marx “Right Here Waiting for You” and George Michael’s “Careless Whisper.” (I’m pretty sure he was still with Wham at that time!)

Imagine us: me, the only foreigner for miles around and him, a young Chinese man without any kind of self-consciousness, singing his heart out on the edge of a lake. When I sang along, our voices reverberated against the cliffs and echoed over the water. No one stared any more than they already had been staring. In fact, we were even interrupted by someone trying to get us to buy time riding on a horse. So, I guess we weren’t being so “xiguai” (or strange) after all. Either way, there’s an absurdity that I felt in that moment that still makes me laugh at the thought of it.

One real downside to the day was the waste everywhere. I saw so much litter — so many wrappers and plastic everywhere. It was sad to see such a beautiful landscape with such dirty evidence of previous picnics.

The toilets, too, were just cement blocks surrounding pits that were absolutely FULL of human waste. I could barely walk by them without gagging, let alone use them. Eventually, though, I had no choice and I’ve discovered that I’ve become particularly good at holding my breath. Even thinking of it now makes me queasy, though. I’m not immune to disgusting toilets yet and perhaps I never will be.

We climbed back to the picnic site and had more food before helping clean up.

One of the women had laid out plastic “blankets” for the dogs and was desperately trying to convince her dog to lie down on this “blanket” to stay clean rather than laying in the dusty dirt. The dog was not interested and eventually settled right beside the blanket much to her disgust.

(At the end of the day, I watched her clean him with a wet napkin — a “moist toilette” and they’re very popular here. She washed his underside from paws to buttocks while her husband held him in the air. Then he was deposited in the vehicle without much ceremony.)

The group just piled the waste in a large central area after everything of value was gathered, and then left it there for hovering “recyclers” to sort through. Just like in the city where elderly people collect bottles and recyclables, I had noticed several older people eying our picnic and awaiting our departure.

I have such a hard time with this coming from such a beautifully maintained country, especially our forests and provincial or national parks. We have so much education about “no trace camping” and having a “light footprint” on the earth. I am conscious that these recycling people will extract the valuable recyclables but then leave the plastic bags and food waste there to rot (or collect dust because they aren’t biodegradable) like all the other small piles I saw.

I left with my friends feeling a sense of guilt towards the earth and a helplessness to relieve it. I also felt incredibly grateful to have been given such a great opportunity to see a part of China that I wouldn’t normally have seen. Everything is a mixed blessing and I try to feel the balance at the best of times. I’m not sure how to reconcile it all.

We drove onwards and stopped to photograph the “shidu” or “tenth ferry.” There were cable cars here and a bungee jumping platform. There was also a small island and a lake filled with pedal boats and happy vacationers.

One the way home, I noticed that this section of one of the “shidu” lakes is a popular car-washing spot. People drive their vehicles right into the water and then wash the cars right there. You wouldn’t see this in Canada!

The long ride back to Beijing was quiet. Everyone was exhausted by the sunshine and the large amount of food intake. I smiled out the rear window of the vehicle and felt a sense of pride at being invited and included in such an outing. I felt like I had been adopted by this group and given a true modern Chinese picnic.

Next time, I’m going in those water balls!

A Canadian in Beijing: Veggie Restaurant Redemption

by Ember Swift on

I thought it appropriate that I redeem the vegetarian restaurant that was the site of my “bad day” a few weeks ago.

First off, my friend Traci (an American and thirteen-year resident of Beijing) read my blog and had the following to say to me: “everyone has bad China days, Ember, so rest-assured you’re not alone.” That was good to hear. She said that even she has days when she struggles with the cultural differences and when she feels excluded or misunderstood because she’s a foreigner.

Last night, my friend Wei asked me if I was interested in going out for vegetarian food with him and since I feel like my cold is lifting and I’m feeling better, I accepted. He was the one who had originally told me about the “Lotus in Moonlight Vegetarian Restaurant” and I hadn’t realized that he meant we should go to that same one in particular. Of course that makes sense, though, since it was his recommendation in the first place. He picked me up in a taxi and I didn’t notice our destination until I got out of the taxi and saw the same line of bicycles that had been my parking spot just a couple weeks ago.
I didn’t indicate to him that I had been here before, but I did think to myself that it was a good opportunity to redeem the experience and I coached my open mind to remain that way. I’m so glad it complied.

The food was excellent and the service was impeccable. I saw no sign of the previous waitress and I would definitely return to eat there again, even though it was rather pricey.

Wei is Chinese and his English is pretty terrible. His pronunciation is painful and I find him more comprehensible in Chinese than I do in English. When he tried to use his English, I often have to hear what he’s trying to say in Mandarin before I can understand him (or correct him) in English. He and I met at a live music venue the second week I had arrived and he was really helpful in explaining some words to me and writing them down. We became friends and have since spent a bit of time together. When we hang out, it forces me to speak only in Chinese, which is something that is really important for my language development.

He taught me this very valuable expression “dabao” which means “I want it to go.” It’s apparently more colloquial than “na zou” (literally: take to go) and is a request for your food to be packaged up and sent home with you. I used it with the waitress who gave me a huge smile before nodding and returning with the container and a small bag with handles.

I have to admit that I can only spend about two hours in Wei’s company before I feel like my brain is going to stage a mutiny, carve an exit from my skull and then roll off my head and out the door. It’s not his company, of course, but the forced constancy of speaking Chinese that draws that feeling. The mental exhaustion feels physical and it’s a kind of tired that I’ve only experienced when I’ve been in immersion settings in my second or third language. Thankfully, it doesn’t happen to me anymore in French and I will eagerly await the day when it stops happening in Mandarin!

He treated me dinner (which was very sweet) and then I had to take my leave because I could no longer function in a conversation. He was understanding and waved me into a taxi. We’ll likely hang out again in the next couple of weeks. He remarked on my improvement with the language, so he’s a good gauge of my development. We’ll see if he says the same thing to me next time!