A Canadian in Beijing: Capital Museum A Total Snooze

by Ember Swift on

I suppose if I weren’t so tired today our class trip to the Beijing Central Museum (or, ????????????: Shoudu Bowuguan) would be more interesting to me. As it stands, we’ve been here for two hours and I’m bored out of my mind. I’ve even returned to the bus early (the eventual meeting place) because I couldn’t stand the sterility of the experience any longer. My legs were so tired from the endless walking that I’m even sitting on the ground out here and, as you know, that’s not something I advocate in Beijing!

I’m just not into it. What does this say about me?

I’m actually really interested in history and I find stories of the past fascinating. I love to learn about the places I visit and how they have come to develop into what they are under my feet and before my eyes. Where a place has come from and how it has journeyed and why — I love that stuff. So, why couldn’t I get into this museum, I wonder?

The museum is a beautiful modern building made of glass and marble and full of architectural wonder. It has only been open in this current location since December 19, 2006. It is 60,000 square metres in size, five floors with escalators and elevators between each and it can accommodate up to 2,000 visitors per day. It’s majestic, really, and the photos really don’t do it justice.

It’s gorgeous. Every display is well-placed and “just so.” In fact, I think that’s the problem. I have this overwhelming feeling that this place has been over thought, and now the information being communicated about China’s history also seems over thought, as though a huge committee sat around a giant table both approving and vetoing what I should or should not be told as a visitor. Or perhaps it’s more like what I could or could not be told. I became more and more agitated by the descriptions of history with every room that I eventually just found a bench inside and watched people instead.

But, what do I know? My learning is as limited as the next person’s – it’s through my Canadian cultural lens, education, reading material, etc. – and so I can’t claim to know what “really happened.” Still, I know well enough that the rise of the republic in China was not all glory and accomplishment. There was no mention of what the people went through throughout this transition (i.e. “The Cultural Revolution”) or even what they faced throughout the “Great Leap Forward” campaign just following the end of Feudalism in China. I saw no mention of the destruction of historical artifacts, literature, cultural relics; no mention of deaths by starvation or long-term incarceration; no mention of the dislocation of people and families throughout both movements. At least, no mention that I could see in English.

The signs in English were not as complete as the signs in Chinese, either. I know enough of this language to know that, but my ability to read all of the history-related characters was pretty limited and so I had to rely on these English translations which were, of course, full of written errors. I was really shocked to see such mistakes in such an official building. This is the Capital Museum of Beijing! I’m shocked that these errors made it through and I do hope that correcting these is on the “to do” list before the Olympics. I’m sure they’ll have lots of visitors through this museum at that time who will require the English as much (or more) than I did.


[I wished I had some sort of guide, but the computer kiosks offering more detail were entirely in Chinese and I didn’t learn until later that I could have rented an English headset (like I did at the Summer Palace) to accompany my walk. Oh well, I suppose I was meant to experience it as I was and these are my honest impressions.]

Last night, I went out again with my musician friends and checked out live music at Mao Live House (and played a couple of songs too) and so I really didn’t get much sleep. After awhile, my fatigue and my irritation with these language errors (not to mention what seemed to me to be an incomplete reflection of historical events) combined to make me stop reading these annoying signs altogether. Instead, I wandered slowly and aimlessly, looking at displays and snapping pictures until even this lackadaisical passivity got boring.

What’s more, (if you’ll permit me to complain just once more about this museum!), the displays were hardly interactive at all. There were lots of paintings, wood/clay models to peer at as well as plenty of items behind glass, but there was very little for the museum goer to do besides wander and snap pictures. I’ve perhaps become spoiled by places like The Science Centre in Toronto, but I’d have to say that my one trip to the Beijing Capital Museum is plenty for me. I don’t need to go back.

Time to board the bus that will take me “home” to my quiet dorm room so that I can take a nap.

May as well continue this snooze fest!

Milk and Opium: An Expat Artist’s Success Story

by Jamie Rhein on

When I was browsing You Tube videos looking for what caught my attention, I came across the trailer for Milk and Opium. This clip captures the mood of a young male musician leaving a small village in India and traveling to the big city looking for success. That story alone interests me. The real reason this video caught my attention, however, is I know the back story about the director. Four years ago, Joel Palombo did a 10 minute conceptual art film, “Ranger Puja,” where a procession of people led by a tuba player carried a huge, and I mean huge, plywood cutout billboard style head and torso of The Lone Ranger to the Yamuna River in Old Delhi, India and floated it as an offering of sorts. The floating of the Lone Ranger was accompanied with floating candles in a Hindu style ritual until the Lone Ranger sank.

Early that morning, I stood on the bridge over the river taking pictures. This was an odd, wonderful kind of experience caused by a person using the arts to infuse two cultures in an unusual way in order to make a statement about spirituality and pop culture. The film’s message is left to the viewer’s interpretation. While Joel was figuring out how to get the Lone Ranger in and out of the water (after it sunk), people were fishing, washing clothes, collecting trash, etc. like they normally do every morning at the banks of this holy river, pollution aside.

Palombo, an American, has taught art at the American School in New Delhi for years and knows India well. Milk and Opium was a film he made while he was on sabbatical. For an interesting read, check out the link labeled “Product” of the Milk and Opium Web Site. Here, Joel explains how the film was made

Since then, it’s been on the international film festival circuit earning awards. He earned the Best New Director Award at the Brooklyn Film Festival in 2006. There have been other awards as well. In April it was at the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Film Festival. Just last weekend Milk and Opium was featured at the Monaco Music Festival. After coming across the trailer, I emailed Joel to ask him about upcoming showings. He said there are some in the future, he’ll let me know. Soon you’ll be able to order Milk and Opium from the website. I’d keep an eye out for more films from Joel. I’d say he isn’t done yet.

For those of you travelers out there, maybe you’ll come across something that appeals to your creative eye. Go for it.

The Trailer

A Canadian in Beijing: A Full Bodhi Massage

by Ember Swift on

A couple of days ago, I went downtown to meet with my friend Stuart. I took the subway, of course, and emerged into a brilliant sunny day to see not one, but three tanned Australian smiles waiting for me at the top of the subway steps at the Beijing Zhan stop. Stuart works for a travel company called Intrepid Travel and he had brought two of his customers along and declared that we were all going for a massage.

In Australian English, this word has the emphasis on the first syllable so that is sounds like “MASS-auge.” I smiled to myself when I realized how appropriate this emphasis was today. The four of us piled into a cab and drove across town where we all sat in the same room and were simultaneously massaged, en masse.

It was an amazing experience!

When we arrived, I realized that I was back in the section of town that was my first introduction to Beijing. Just down the road was the hotel I stayed at on my first night, Worker’s stadium was across the street, the place I first met my friend Traci was just moments away and the venue at which I played my first Beijing gig was about a five-minute walk west (Yu Gong Yi Shan). All in all, Dong Ti Bei Lou seems to be the place to return to. It was nice to see landmarks I recognized.

The massage parlour (are they still called parlours?) was down a small alley and off to the left and is called Bodhi. A beautiful glass-covered stairway with a gurgling pond, swimming orange fish, and a modern wooden staircase carried us up into a beautiful lobby where the attendants greeted us in English and Chinese. Stuart had already “booked us in” and we were taken in almost immediately.

It is custom here to be massaged by the opposite sex and so two male attendants and two female attendants were called to duty. We were led down a labyrinth of dark hallways past many doorways draped by flowing curtains that swayed as we passed. Eventually, we found ourselves in a private room at the end of a main hall that held six recliners along the same wall, each with a footstool. We were all told to take off our shoes and relax awhile. Drinks were offered and the lighting was only the small cracks of sunshine that snuck through the closed venetian blinds. I felt sleepy immediately. What a luxury in the middle of the day!

We all piled into a recliner each and chatted easily while the attendants gathered their supplies. They brought in four large buckets of coloured warm water that looked to be the colour of red tea or a tea tree lake – a sort of ruddy brown. We rolled up our pant legs and put our feet in the buckets that were placed before us and then we were instructed to rise, turn around and sit on the footstools facing the recliners.

Here in China, a lot of massages are fully clothed, which I suppose further encourages the “en masse” environment. It becomes more of a social thing and less of a private experience this way. I didn’t mind. I’m learning to appreciate a massage with or without clothing on! Besides, my attendant was so handsome that it would be hard for me to imagine not being clothed. I would be way too shy for that! (And yes, I do have my shy moments just like everyone else.) All of my previous massage experiences have been with female massage therapists in North America so China has been new in this regard. . .

Each massage therapist proceeded to give us amazing back massages. In fact, before long the room was silent. My attendant was so good at massage that I lost my ability to hold a conversation as I felt the tension draining from my muscles. He used his hands, arms, wrists, and even his knee to manipulate my back and arms and I was suitably pliable within minutes. Eventually, I broke the silence with a quiet one-liner: “Good idea, Stuart!” and everyone laughed.

After the back massage, we were all spun around and led into our recliners again and our legs were raised one after the other onto the stool and massaged up to the knee. At this point, we got to chatting with the attendants and Stuart and I were translating for the other two who didn’t speak any Chinese. The conversation was full of kindness and positive exchange as we learned where each of the massage therapists was from and picked up some good slang and tips about Beijing.

I even had the occasion to hand out my new “ming pian” (business cards) that I had made here a few weeks ago (200 for only 40 kuai! That’s only $5.50 Canadian!) because they began to ask me about my life here and I spoke openly about my music and my career. Perhaps I’ll have made some new fans? Who knows. Handing out business cards seems to me to be the standard way to connect with people here and so I didn’t hesitate.

Just over an hour later, we were all loose, calm and ready for a nap. The lighting was still dim and when the attendants left the room and had formally finished, we all stayed in those big chairs for just a few more minutes not wanting to leave the cocoon of comfort and relaxation. Eventually, we put our shoes back on and strolled to the front to pay.

These massages weren’t exactly the cheapest in the world (80 kuai per person, I believe it was) but it was worth it. In the end, that’s only $11.31 in Canadian dollars and I haven’t a single complaint about the experience. I’d definitely return to Bodhi in the future.

We followed that up with a walk to a nearby outdoor café where we enjoyed a cold beer in the afternoon sunshine. That’s a Canadian summer tradition that I miss here – a cold beer on a hot summer’s day – and so it was great to indulge in “yi ping pijiu” (one bottle of beer) before I had to leave to connect with another friend that evening.

I said my goodbyes and then walked smoothly away, gliding through the air as though my limbs were lighter than light. I’m not sure if that was the buzz of the beer or the remnants of the massage but I didn’t care. I smiled as I walked and got smiles in return from strangers.

Free smiles.

The best kind.

A Canadian in Beijing: Charmed by Chinglish

by Ember Swift on

A few years ago, I had a running joke with a friend of mine about being “grammar police.” We used to lament not having a large stack of magic markers (of various colours and thicknesses) stashed in our bags or our vehicles at all times. These markers would be for quietly replacing missing apostrophes, for example, found on public signs or missing quotations, periods, question marks. Generally, we bonded over punctuation (yet another side of my geek self) but we would also stray into the territory of spelling once in awhile and report sightings of commonly misspelled words. In our policing fantasy, we would employ our arsenal or markers to reverse common spelling errors, as well, thus making the reading world a “safer” place.

I think this fantasy has been entirely cured here in China.

Everywhere I go in this city, I see English misspelled and/or misused. This is affectionately called “Chinglish” here (combination of Chinese and English) and I love it.

I recently saw a mistake on an official cover of a thick, glossy, fashion magazine that had purchased subway banner ads lining the walls of one of the subway stops. Picturing a gorgeous Hollywood star (who I couldn’t identify) and assuming they were boasting that this issue featured coverage of the ‘Best Bodies in Hollywood,’ the caption read: “Hollywood Specialty Bodies.”

I scratch my head and smile.Here in Beijing, there’s a movement to correct the English in advance of the Olympics. In fact, they’re talking about setting up a hotline to report English mistakes on official signs around the city and they hope to have the English cleaned up by the end of 2007. (This article notes some fantastic bloopers.)

I’m wondering how often this hotline will be called. My desire to correct signs dwindled when the task started to seem too vast. I have even seen engravings that are incorrect – marble and bronze alike. There’s very little one can do in these cases; those English errors are forever set in stone!

Of course, the errors aren’t just written errors. When I first took the subway, I was amazed that the recorded voice was in both English and Chinese. I did notice right away that the Chinese was more complete than the English, but that’s okay with me. I mean, we (as travellers) don’t really need all the additional polite commentary that follows the identification of the next stop: “if you are getting off at [the next station] please prepare for your arrival.” The only part that is translated is “the next station is…” and that’s all one really needs.

The part that I noticed was incorrect is when Line 13 ends and all passengers are expected to disembark and/or transfer to Line 2. The voice says: “Thank you for taking Beijing Subway. Welcome to take this line on your next trip. Have a nice day.” It’s completely clear what is meant, but the absence of a “the” before “Beijing” in the first sentence has now started to sound normal to my ears, not to mention the absence of “you’re” to start the second sentence.

All this started me thinking about the difficulties that English presents. The word “welcome” is commonly used on its own or to start a sentence like “Welcome to Beijing” or “Welcome to China.” It’s no wonder that this mistake is repeatedly made here because it is minor and hardly blurs the meaning. In fact, I barely notice it now and I may even come home speaking this way if I’m not careful!

In a more non-official light, clothing here is regularly covered in misspelled, illogical and/or completely ridiculous English, so much so that it’s sometimes funny. At the market a few weeks ago, I bought a t-shirt because it made me smile with its mixed up English. The front is just fun and says “Flashy Carnival” but the back? Well, it’s bizarre. My favourite line on the back is “everybody loves to be freedom.” I figured I needed to sport such a shirt, especially back home where people will read it and respond with a twisted look that tells me that they’re trying to solve my t-shirt’s riddle. I’ll have to laugh at these expressions and explain that I bought the shirt in China where t-shirts in English rarely make sense!

Years ago when I was studying Chinese in Canada, a friend of mine told me that the new wave of fashion in North America featuring Chinese characters also rarely made sense. I started to look closely at t-shirts with characters on them and I found that she was absolutely correct. She said that she’d see just jumbled Chinese characters on people’s shirts all the time and it was clearly just about the “style” and not the meaning.

Of course, that’s in reverse here. Tit for Tat.

Speaking of tats… we all know about those misused Chinese characters tattooed on people’s arms in North America. In fact, there are a few websites (like this one) devoted to the discussion of these lost-in-translation tattoo mistakes. Well, I’m happy to say that I have yet to see misspelled English on any Chinese flesh. Another point for China!

One of my favourite repetitive English errors is at the ATM machines. When you select “English” as your language of choice, everything is fine until the very end when the machine asks you if you’d like a “printed advice.” I looked at this carefully the first time, wondering if the machine was actually going to advise me about my financial situation. I thought, “An electronic financial advisor? How cool!” Of course, I realized quickly that they meant “invoice” or “receipt” here and it’s just been poorly translated. Still, I eagerly press “Yes” every time in hopes that I may one day get some advice from an ATM machine.

Even my text book (which includes English translations for the grammar sections) will often have errors. If not errors, it will have a jumbled set of sentences that lose meaning rather quickly. I have to chuckle to myself when I read them. I’m learning to just read the grammatical explanations in Chinese if I really want to understand what’s going on!

All in all, I’d be interested to hear follow-up about this attempt to reform the English signage here in Beijing. I’m wondering if anyone will really call and report the errors. Really, I wouldn’t bother. It’s fine with me. It’s part of the whole experience here and I’m (gratefully) no longer anal about these things. In fact, I am occasionally amused by the mistakes and that extra bit of humour in my day is something that I’ll never complain about.

In general, I appreciate even the little bits of English clarity that appear around the city. I see it as a welcoming gesture of kindness and nothing more.

Who cares if it’s perfect?

(Well, besides the Olympics committee. . .)

It’s more fun when it’s not.

The History of Toilets: One Museum Has it All

by Jamie Rhein on

I’m so bummed. I lived in New Delhi for two years, had my “places to see list” but got too busy. Every once in awhile I remember a place I forgot to see. Here’s one: The Sulabh International Museum of Toilets. I have a vague memory of someone telling me about this place, pronouncing it “pretty neat.” But, like I said, I got busy and it’s still on my places to go list.

I can see why a person living in New Delhi might come up with the idea of a toilet museum, although New Delhi is actually a fascinating city that manages waste admirably well considering. When I heard about this museum, I thought it was just a bunch of toilets gathered together for display, but not so. Dr. Bindeshwar Pathak, the founder, is a sociologist who has studied the ideas, problems and solutions of how to get rid of human waste in an honorable way. Read Dr. Pathak’s profile to learn about India’s issues with this. It’s connected to the now abolished caste system among other things.

Besides displaying the variety of toilets over the centuries from various countries, the museum also has displays the ideas people have had about defecating. For example, there is an Arayn code of toilets that dates back to 1500 B.C. If you want to follow the code, one thing to do is to get yourself a piece of sacred thread and hold it next to your ear while doing your business. I wonder if the toilet timeline includes details about when reading the newspaper and adolescents pleas of “I have to go to the bathroom” became popular ways to avoid doing household tasks or get a few moments to oneself.

For a detailed history of ideas humans have had about toilets and doing one’s business over the centuries, click here.