A Canadian in Beijing: Old and New Embrace

by Ember Swift on

Here in Beijing, I am surrounded by the past and the future at every turn. I see technology grabbing the hand of history and pulling it closer, as though history has a history of being afraid to dance and technology cannot take no for an answer. What has resulted is an occasionally awkward intermingling of old ways and new ways here. But, I will hold that the perception of awkwardness is likely only coming from me, the outsider, because I can also appreciate the grace and rhythm that old and new have together, as though they have danced this way for years.

Neither seems in any hurry to step on the toes of the other.

Both are equally (but differently) stubborn.

Both are great dancers.

This kind of dance is evident in simple things that I noticed almost every day here when I first arrived. The kinds of things that are strange to an outsider but eventually become the norm after two months of living in this amazing city. Well, not exactly the norm and I’m still moved every time I notice another example, just no longer surprised. I’ve learned to expect the unexpected in Beijing.

For example, most of the brooms here in China are just tree branches. They are bound together in bunches and attached to a bamboo pole. They’re used to sweep up the leaves and dirt and dust that this windy city blows into walkways and pathways. Every morning at around five o’clock, I hear the sound of a campus worker sweeping the road outside of my building. That is his job every day. He uses this kind of broom and I hear the sound of tree branches on pavement, swishing in a reliably steady rhythm, and it warmly greets my dreams through the open window.

Of course, this way has been used for centuries and there is no need to improve on an idea that doesn’t need improving – something we westerners could learn from! – and so I haven’t seen near as many plastic options for brooms in this city. And we all know how often those plastic brooms break, loose bristles, etc. Cheap replicas of a system that was once based on what we could find in nature. Weren’t all systems? Yes, I believe they were.

As I was walking the other day, a woman was walking in front of me balancing two large pots, each dangling from the ends of a pole. This pole was perched horizontally across her shoulders. Again, this technique has been used for centuries and it obviously works; the weight is more evenly distributed and she walked quite easily with what appeared to be two quite heavy (full) soup pots.

Also, in Wudaokou – where the school district is and where huge buildings are being constructed as we speak with glossy signs and glass fronts – there is a railway crossing right beside the subway station. At this railway crossing, there are four large traffic arms that are lowered (by two attendants, one on each side, not automation) in order to stop the flow of traffic when the trains pass. They use big ropes and pulleys and the arms come down with a clang.

Well, one of these traffic arms is a tree. It’s not just made of wood; it’s actually a tree that has just been stripped of its branches and painted black and white. You can still see where it grew slightly bowed in the wind! It isn’t perfectly straight and it tapers at the far end just as a tree trunk tapers at the top. Why? Because it’s a tree!

When I noticed this, I had to take a picture. The other traffic arms have been replaced with more modern metal ones that were factory-made and look all uniform and boring, but this relic of a traffic arm remains (and entertains its metallic friends with its stories, I’m sure). I’m just touched that they didn’t replace it when the others were replaced or rotted away. Maybe that’s the Chinese way, i.e. “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” It would appear so. (Does anyone know if there’s a Chinese “chengyu” (idiom) with this same meaning?)

Finally, in Shanghai, I was moved by the rows upon rows of laundry that seemed to float in the air above the streets. Of course, not literally. All of the upper apartments have these long metal arms that stretch out from their windows on which the residents hang their laundry outside of their homes to dry. I wondered how often someone loses a pair of underwear to the wind, or fetches their laundry only to find that a bird has taken off with one of their socks?! The colours floated like dozens of multinational flags. Somehow the gentle movement of the laundry in the breeze made the streets feel more neighbourly, as though everyone were open and airing their lives with abandon. “Who cares what people think of my pink underwear!” says the man upstairs . . .

I love it.

I love the connection points between old ways and new ways. It seems so real and raw at once, both stubbornly fighting to exist and/or remain. It seems to me that each has realized that only through an embrace can they survive.

Embracing survival.

Yet another lesson, courtesy of China.

A Canadian in Beijing: Hou Hai and All That Jazz

by Ember Swift on

Hou Hai is a popular tourist region of Beijing. It’s situated around Hou Hai lake and consists of restaurants, cafes, bars and beautiful hutongs filled with souvenir shops and specialty stores that wind around and spit you out on busy modern streets. When you’re wandering in the Hou Hai district, it really feels like you’ve stepped outside of the geometric grid that defines this city’s streets. The alleys follow the curve of the lake the way they did when they were first built. It’s a curvaceous respite from a linear regime.

Last night, my friend Dave and I went down to the area because I was planning to catch a jazz show at the East Shore Jazz Café. The performer was Jessica Meider, an American who has been living here in Beijing for ten years and whose music career was started and has developed here in China. I had also scheduled an interview with Jess for my women-in-music-in-Beijing research.

We hopped a cab instead of taking public transit and we were dropped off on the west side of the lake. Even though we didn’t know where the café was, it proved to be a great blessing to be dropped off on the opposite side as it gave us a chance to wander the area and take pictures. Dave had been here before but I had not. I was immediately charmed and decided that I will have to come back in the daytime to see this place fully!

The place was lit up with life on this muggy summer night and many people were strolling along, hand in hand, enjoying the breeze from the water and the activity on the shore. You can rent pedal boats or hire row boats (and drivers) to cross the lake. I didn’t see any of these boats on the water but I imagine it would be a beautiful thing to do in the daytime.

There were also many patio restaurants as well with wait staff stationed outside and in your path to recommend their establishment over the others. Solicitation is not something that China needs to work on; there are people whose only job it is to solicit customers outside of the business in question by greeting passersby (often in English when they look at me) and suggesting their restaurant. It’s a combination of both pushy and polite with: “Come take a look! Good food! Relax a while!” and the body language to suggest altering your direction like they’re directing you to turn now and take a seat. I just smile and keep walking straight and shake my head. I have become immune to the solicitation by now and I know they mean no offence by their insistence. We all have to make a living, after all.

We made it to the hutong area across the lake and I suddenly started to feel like we were lost and I’d be late for this interview. I suggested walking out to Gulou Dajie, the street where the subway is, because I have become quite used to the subway system as a means of orienting myself in the city. When we made it to that street and my Chinese skills fell on their face when I tried to ask about the restaurant (I forgot the second character and so I was just asking for “East Café” and no one knew what I was talking about), I got really agitated. I wasn’t sure which direction to walk or whether or not we were completely lost an had to double back. I called Jessica apologizing and seeking direction. We still hadn’t met in person but she was really helpful over the phone. After establishing where I was, she assured me that I was almost there. We had to walk just under a block and then we saw the café.

As usual, the minute I start stressing about something, I find out that there’s no reason to stress. Within minutes, we were climbing the stairs and emerged into a cute café that reminded me of East Village (Manhattan) music venues – upstairs, intimate, cozy, with a small, shallow stage and clusters of tables all quite close to one another. It had wooden columns dividing the room into smaller sections, some easy chairs at the back and candlelit corner tables tucked away for those dates filled with whispers and wonders. Drinks were pricey, but the windows overlooked the lake and I suppose the cost of drinks included the gorgeous view of the lights on the water. It felt familiar somehow.

After chatting with Jessica before the gig and getting some of my interview questions answered, we settled into a side table to take in a lovely first set featuring Jessica on vocals and three talented Chinese players whose names I did not catch but whose talent was impossible to miss. They truly knew their jazz and soloed easily. Apparently, it was the first night for the guitarist but his fluency was remarkable. The bass player and the drummer were loose together but comfortable and they finished the set with a jazzed up Prince song (made famous by Chaka Khan) “I Feel For You.” I was impressed.

We slipped out half way through the show because of an early class today, but I really enjoyed taking in some jazz here in Beijing, a scene that is relatively small but growing in popularity. The audience was about fifty-fifty Chinese and non-Chinese. Jessica also told me about some jazz festivals popping up in China, thus helping the scene grow even further. Maybe I’ll have to time my return to this country to align with one such festival. I’d love to see what the early stages of a jazz movement in China sound like.

I left humming Prince and eager to play my guitar.

When I woke up, I put on a black and purple t-shirt.

A tribute, of sorts.

A Canadian in Beijing: Summer Ice Skating

by Ember Swift on

Here it is the heat of summer in Beijing and I found myself on ice skates last night. I looked down at the ice rolling under my skate blades in the “You Yi Shopping City” mall ice rink last night and I laughed out loud. I was wearing a light shirt and jeans and the sweat was dripping down my back. Ice skating in the summertime? I don’t think this Canadian has ever been skating without mittens on her hands! China, I keep forgetting how inventive you are!

Last night, a group of us went to a local mall to strap on skates and make some circles around the rink. It was a standard ice rink just like the ones back home, but this one was in the middle of a huge shopping mall – one of the largest in Beijing – and it’s not the only ice rink found in a mall in this city. In fact, naïve me thought that only our famous “West Edmonton Mall” in Canada had ever thought of such a crazy idea. Turns out, thanks to a quick chat with my Quebecois friends who came along, that there’s one in a mall in Montreal too. So, I guess it’s not so rare after all . . .

When we arrived, we descended down giant escalators into a wide walkway and saw gallery style railings that looked down and into the ice rink. People leaned over these railings all evening, intermittently watching the skating from above. I did the same for a moment before going down yet another set of escalators into the skating area.

Choosing skates was the first adventure. I don’t use figure skates because I’m more comfortable in hockey skates. When I asked for hockey skates, the overwhelming response was “Are you sure? They’re dangerous!” I assured the staff and my Chinese friend that I was sure and was reluctantly handed the skates without picks on the blades. It seems as though this choice is more rare here in China, especially for a woman. I explained that I thought it was more dangerous for me to have the picks on the ends of the blades because I’m not used to them and they catch the ice and could tip me forward. It all depends on experience, I suppose.

We all sat down and strapped our skates on and I was excited. It’s not every day that I get to go skating and, even though I live one hour from the longest skating rink in the world (Ottawa’s Rideau Canal), I did not make it into Ottawa for a skating day this winter. I love to skate but I had to go to Beijing to find the time!

My skates were laced and done up long before anyone else’s. I took to the ice and took a few loops to gather back my comfort on blades. I love the feeling of ice beneath me. It’s such a powerful sound, too, that slick scrape of skate blades on frozen water. The very pitch of that sound is nostalgic. Then, when I get the rhythm under me, I feel like I’m flying on the ice the way flying sometimes feels in a dream state. It’s as though you’re being carried along and not actually generating the flight, like the way your hand will catch and ride the wind when you dangle it out your car window while driving.

Like surfing the air.

I suddenly realized that I was daydreaming and ignoring my friends then, and so I went back to check in on them to find out why they were taking so long. There were some size confusions with the skates and then lots of switching between hockey skates and figure skates going on. All of my friends that came with me are male, but all but one settled on figure skates in the end.

It’s very common for men to skate with figure skates here. It’s very unusual back home, in my experience, unless they are training to be figure skaters. In fact, in Canada, I’m ashamed to say that as kids we used to differentiate hockey skates and figure skates as boys’ skates and girls’ skates, respectively. I no longer see it this way, of course, knowing that many women (like me) prefer hockey skates and/or play ice sports and many men (of all sexual orientations!) are accomplished figure skaters. Still, I realized last night that these assumptions are still in me when I found myself marvelling at all the boys in figure skates being so beautiful and graceful with their turns and spins while I roughly cut and scraped the ice at top speed, racing between people and wishing I had a hockey stick and a puck to chase.

Stereotypes are meant to be broken.

When I looked up at the posters hanging from the upper railings around the rink, I saw a maple leaf almost immediately. A picture of a local hockey team showed the kids wearing hockey jerseys with various NHL team logos. One of the kids in the front row was sporting a Montreal Canadiens jersey. I definitely felt at home in that moment and quietly complimented the photographer on placing that kid in the front row. Of all the teams to feature, I’d say that was a good choice!

There were many little kids on the ice as well — some who looked no more than four years old — and several were being coached in certain techniques by professional skaters. The center of the ice was being used as training areas as were the corner circles, thus making it necessary to skate a bit slower in order to avoid collision with the little ones. Speed could be increased as it got later, though. By around nine o’clock, the rink was clearing out and we had the last half an hour with lots of free space to mess around and practise tricks and have some races.

I had a great time. It was an unusual outing, for sure, but I enjoyed the exercise and the challenge of trying to remember how to skate backwards in a circle. The skills we learn as kids stay in our limbs, I believe, and I found my body recalling the movements and finding the steadiness bit by bit. I’ll have to go back and keep practising!

When we left, it was closing time at 9:30. Some of my friends spent most of their time off the ice, but everyone tried to skate, at least, and we all put on our shoes again in a good mood.

With the piped in Muzak still ringing in our ears, we watched the rink staff rolling large silver coverings onto the ice not unlike those used in the windshields of cars in the summertime to protect one’s interior from overheating. No zamboni and so I imagine that this technique enables the rink to maintain its frozen state, like a cooler. Still, I wonder how they do smooth the surface again? Perhaps the zamboni comes out in the mornings? I have no idea.

I woke up this morning with sore muscles and a bit of homesickness for Canada. Next year, I’m not going to miss the canal. That’s a promise to myself.

And I’ll be sure not to forget my mittens.

A Canadian in Beijing: Floating at Bloody Sunday

by Ember Swift on

Bloody Sunday worried me when I first heard about it. I thought it might be a hardcore women’s event that discussed menstruation and girl power, which to be honest is not for me. I mean, I’ve ‘been there, done that’ and it’s no longer my speed. No offence to all the blood sisters out there who are currently reclaiming their bodies, self-worth and sisterhood; it’s wonderful to experience this kind of transition and learning, especially about patriarchy and empowerment. For me, time passed and now I look back on that time in my life, raise my fist in solidarity and realize I’ve moved on. No crime in that. Part of that very movement is thanks to the empowerment, so credit given where credit is due.

Now, along a different empowerment path, this monthly event is about connecting the arts community here in Beijing. A woman named Pauline organizes the night along with several friends and volunteers. She works full-time in the gallery district of Beijing and is interested in combining arts media together to form alternative gathering spaces in this city. Pauline is from Belgium and she has lived here for many years and so she is very connected to the ex-pat community. We met through my friend Sarah (who I told you about in this blog.)

Anyway, Pauline asked me if I wanted to take part in May’s “Bloody Sunday” event and I agreed to play some songs. This month, it took place in the beautiful Ritan Park ??????????? at the Stone Boat Café, a small restaurant set on the water across a small bridge. It was built about twenty years ago to replicate the traditional structures often built into the water as permanent boat-shaped entertainment spots. (I spoke about a famous one of these structures when I visited the Summer Palace.) Ritan Park itself was built in the year 1530 and is one of the oldest parks in the city. I was told that it once served as an altar site where the emperor made sacrificial offerings to the sun god. By the time I learned that, it was too dark to go exploring. Maybe next time.

I arrived in the early evening to do a sound check and, of course, nothing was ready. I had brought my Chinese textbooks, however, and I was thrilled to sit on the restaurant’s patio working on my reading comprehension while the sound system was slowly assembled on the outdoor platform that would double as the evening stage. I sat right next to the water’s edge and intermittently lifted my head to peer over the railing at the families fishing or laughing as they sat on the rocks around the small lake. I even watched one man successfully pull in a large fish. I have no idea what kind of fish it was but I did notice that he took it home with him, smiling proudly. All in all, everyone here seemed peaceful and the energy was infectious. I felt my muscles relax when I hadn’t even realized I’d been tense.

I sipped tea, translated a text, eventually had some dinner at a very leisurely pace and then it was time for me to plug in my guitar and test the levels. Everything worked out fine and I sat back down again and chatted with the strangers that had taken up residence at my table. It was more of a communal table, really, since there were perhaps eight possible seats (an estimate considering two sides were benches built into the stone boat’s “deck”) and so several people came and went, almost wholly non-Chinese but from various countries. English was our common language.

Some other individuals arrived from the organizing committee and began to pull a large sheet between two trees on the shore. These were the people in charge of programming visuals for the night. As the sun slipped out of the sky, their images lit up the area and gathered a crowd of Chinese migrant workers and Sunday park-goers who gathered on the rocks and watched the silent film clips for several hours as though hypnotized. They were hypnotic, I must admit, and coupled with the music that was spinning by several dj’s including NARA (whose mixes were exquisite), they became hard to ignore.

When it came time for my set, a few of my school friends suddenly appeared to support me and I was grateful. The small area that I was facing was otherwise filled with strangers, so seeing some familiar faces was a treat. Behind me just a few paces was the water and this platform had no railing. I’m sure it was beautiful to see from the perspective of the audience, but I had visions of falling backwards with a splash and electrocution. . . and so I mostly stuck to the microphone and didn’t look behind me!

My voice carried to the tables and chairs on the shore as well, but the performance was really directed at this small area on the restaurant’s patio. The visuals continued throughout my set as well and I occasionally found my eyes pulled to watch while I sang as though I were simultaneously in two different roles: performer and audience. I had to consciously pull myself back and focus on what I was doing because the images were so compelling!

When my set was finished, (and it was very casual and consisted of both English and Chinese – quick spontaneous translations on my part – considering the very mixed audience), I walked around the site more and discovered a brilliant display of items for “exchange.” This was a pile of items that anyone could take, like a free garage sale. People were sorting through the clothing and sifting through smaller items and I’m not sure if much was taken and given a new home, but I love the concept. There was no expectation to actually “exchange” item for item, but the idea of giving away things to others is always positive, both for the person who is minimizing their possessions and for the person who is happy to acquire something new. In this way, it’s a “win-win” exchange, so aptly named.

The best feature of this restaurant was its upstairs room that truly resembled an enclosed upper deck and/or sleeping cabin in a mid-sized leisure craft. Climbing the super steep stairs was also interesting (treacherous?!) and when I got to the top, I found a young man sitting cross-legged on a couch directly facing the stairs who was offering tarot card readings. I asked how much he charged and he told me (with a French accent) that it was 100 kuai. I answered him in French that I’d be happy to have a reading if he’d take a barter of one CD. He smiled and agreed. I sat down to a fairly accurate description of my current life by a complete stranger. I do love a good fortune and this one was fairly encouraging.

I slipped him a CD later on in the evening by ascending the stairs enough to show my head above the landing and then extending a CD through the railings. I leaned it against the chair within my reach. He was in the process of giving someone else a reading and he smiled at me quietly and nodded. Another exchange.

I left the Bloody Sunday event feeling relaxed and smooth, as though the whole event had been a giant reefer for my spirit. I don’t smoke, but this kind of event felt the way I have heard friends describe that feeling; I sort of floated away into the dark night air of the park. I fell asleep soundly that night and dreamt colourful dreams filled with water and travel and painted rafters.

I felt fortunate.

A Canadian in Beijing: First Official Concert in China

by Ember Swift on

I am happy to reprt that my first official concert here in Beijing was a complete success. By “first official concert,” I mean the first “Ember Swift” show in Beijing and not a show that is part of another event or a performance that is supporting another artist or band. This concert took place on May 23rd @ Yu Gong Yi Shan ???????? and it felt like a historical moment for my career.

I had nine weeks to gather enough contacts, friends, supporters and fans and I am thrilled to say that the people came. I did an email and a text call-out in both Chinese and English (the Chinese took me some time and some help, but it was nearly error-free!) and the crowd was a mixture of people I have met in the women’s community, the music community, the student community and this city in general. I felt loved and supported.

Thanks everyone!

When I arrived, the sound tech was already there and we did a leisurely sound check that stretched into almost an hour. I practiced some songs while they worked on their recording gear. It was wonderful to play through a professional P.A. again and I casually ran through a variety of my material and enjoyed the full sound.

I had advertised the show at nine o’clock, but of course the times were extended and I didn’t go on stage until after ten. Still, everyone was patient and the opening act warmed the room up with some folk and traditional singing from China’s northern regions.

I was particularly touched that a large number of my classmates came to the show. Our “Ban Zhang 班长” (or class president – the equivalent term in North America) planned the outing that included a big group dinner and then a trip downtown for my show. Since I live in Wudaokou and most of my class does as well, this is a long journey for everyone and requires some organization. Getting home after the subway stops running (which is quite early, i.e. before eleven o’clock at night) also requires paying for a taxi or hiring a large vehicle and I was moved that so much organization went into attending my performance. In a class of twenty-one students, twelve came and I think that’s incredible.

Otherwise, two different music producers were in attendance as well as a local music label manager, a tour promoter (or agent), a local filmmaker with her camera as well as some friends I had casually met at various functions, both ex-pat and Chinese alike. It was a great mix of people and I felt so happy to see the crowd growing in numbers right up until I took to the stage and even during the first half of my performance.

The show began with me welcoming the crowd and introducing myself in Chinese. Then, I told the audience in Chinese that “I am here, you are there and it’s lonely over here!” That was my way of saying “come closer” and they laughed at my roundabout Chinese and got the picture. Everyone gathered closer to the stage and cheered me on before I had even begun.

I managed to continue the whole show in Chinese, as well, and felt incredibly proud of myself for not slipping into English, which would have been so easy to do considering the diversity of cultures present. Despite the fact that many people know English, Chinese is the standard here and I really wanted to respect that. At one point, I had to resort to my notes and I read an introduction rather than reciting it by memory.

My fluency is not there yet and I stumble and pause a lot when I speak, which actually makes it really hard to understand me. I lose the rhythm of the language when this happens and I find that I have to attach my words more quickly to be understood. In this way, Chinese is like music; without the rhythm, the melody has no meaning! Reading the introduction made a big difference and they were great about it. I think the point is that I am trying. I can only hope that I’m getting better, but I must be. Every day is a struggle and every day I learn something more. Three months in not enough time for fluency, but it’s a start.

During the Chinese song that I’ve learned (the very famous “Yue Liang Dai Biao Wode Xin 月亮代表我的心“) I asked the audience to sing with me and the whole place raised their voices. It was a beautiful moment and I extended the song just to hear the crowd sing the chorus one more time.

When the show ended, I was told right away that I had sold out of CDs and DVDs long before I had finished performing. I had only brought as many as would fit in my bag and so I am hoping that people will come to my June shows if they are interested in buying some music. Otherwise, the cost of purchasing the CDs over the Internet is way too high in comparison to the currency here and so I don’t imagine that anyone will place an overseas order. I’m selling them for only fifty kuai (about $7.00 Canadian), which only barely covers my base costs (i.e. manufacturing and recording costs). I figured that since brand new CDs are thirty kuai in the stores, selling them for any more would be really tough to do. All in all, no one has balked at the fifty kuai price tag. I suppose they are used to expensive overseas products and my CDs are relatively cheap compared to what I’ve seen at other shows.

The night was a great success. I felt the beginnings of a fan base here in China and I can only hope that this will grow into June. When I return to this country with my band next year, at least I’ll have a foundation in Beijing and that’s a great starting place.

I waved goodbye to everyone at the door as they filed out. Finally, I felt complete here in China; combining both my love for this language and culture and my love for music and performing. Here was a chance to show people my full spectrum and I felt welcomed with open ears.

(This last picture shows me and the Ban Zhang whose Chinese name is “Zheng Xiao Zhe 郑晓哲.” He is a super kind man from Korea who provided most of these pictures, as well, so thank you so much for letting me use them!)