Buddha Day: Birth, Death and Enlightenment

by Jamie Rhein on

If you missed Chinese New Year and the celebrations that go along with it, there are more opportunities. Buddha Day, also called Vesak Day, falls on the full moon in May. This is a time where Buddhists honor everything Buddha-his birth, death and enlightenment. When exactly events are happening is sketchy. Dates I found are scattered throughout May

You could do some temple hopping to see what’s being celebrated. Finding out exactly when that day isn’t the easiest thing. In Singapore, Chinatown will be lit up with lights starting May 19 and there’s a parade on the 30th. On May 31st head to Lian Shan Shuang Lin Temple in Toa Payoh or Kong Meng San Phor Kark See Temple on Bright Hill Road. According to the Singapore site I found Vesak Day is the 31st.

In Seoul, Korea, Buddha’s birthday is part of the Lotus Lantern Festival that starts today and goes until the 20th. The actual birthday is listed on the 24th. Head to Jogyesa Temple and Jongo. The Parade of Lanterns in the evening is a highlight. In addition to the parade, the festival has lantern making workshops, food, music, dancing. Here is a slide show that’s pretty cool. It’s one of those inspirational types with quotes and photos of festival activities.

In Taiwan, you could head to Dharma Drum Mountain. This is a Buddhist center in Taipei County with events going on every weekend. Everyone’s welcome. This is more of a ceremonial place but it might be interesting. The Web site explains symbolism associated with this day and has photographs of various happenings.

A Canadian in Beijing: The Inevitability of Karaoke

by Ember Swift on

I really don’t enjoy karaoke. I’m sure it comes from the fact that it had a peak of popularity in North America during my high school years – a time that I don’t often enjoy recollecting!

I started to perform live when I was ten and so all of my classmates knew that I had a “nice voice” and I was often cajoled and dragged and/or berated into singing at various parties and school events. Usually, the songs were cheesy love songs with bad keyboard sounds and wind chimes. Whitney Houston was a favourite, I recall, as was “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers.

When I hear the word “karaoke,” I feel a rush of an ancient mortification being unearthed in my body.

I remember being worried that the pitch would be wrong for my voice or the words hard to see on the screen. I can see my classmates looking at me expectantly and remember feeling impossibly shy without a guitar or my own songs to sing, fearing letting everyone down. . . and then missing the opening line of the song because of all the over-thinking I was doing. I was a typical teenager and typically awkward in those settings.

Eventually, I started to hate karaoke and when I was solicited to sing, I would root my feet firmly where I stood and refuse to go up and sing “other people’s songs” as though this were an affront to my artistry. In all honesty, I was scared to death. I built that whole phoney stance around my fears. I suppose this is a human response, but being here in Beijing has forced me to acknowledge it.

Because really, karaoke isn’t that evil.

The psychological effects of karaoke aside (!), it was inevitable that I would have to face my fears here in China. Singing is very related to partying here. There is often a karaoke option in clubs or restaurants and people are just accustomed to getting up and singing after they’ve enjoyed a meal and had a few drinks. It’s a cultural experience, shall we say.

In fact, when I discuss my DVD with people here, I have to explain that it is not a karaoke DVD. Videos here are most commonly karaoke videos (with the lyrics running across the bottom of the screen) and many homes have microphone attachments to their VCRs so that friends and family can sing along to the videos being played on the screen. It is popular, to say the least.

On Wednesday night, I was invited to a party by my friend Zou Rui. She is a professional singer and she has a beautiful voice and several karaoke DVDs. She truly does have an incredible voice. It’s one of the loveliest voices I have heard in a long time.

She was invited to this party by her teacher, a singing coach, who also works for the government. When I arrived, I noticed that we were two of only five women in a room of over fifty people (not counting the waitresses.) I was the only foreigner and everyone came over to greet me and clinked my glass to say hello (in English) and toast my arrival. I was drinking juice, which was a good thing, because it was regularly being emptied with every greeting; had it been beer, I would have been drunk within twenty minutes!

We then sat down to eat and the food was fantastic. Yet another example of the hot pot, but in this case each person had their own “cook station” which meant that I could be comfortably and independently vegan at this table. I enjoyed every bite but was amazed by the amount of food that was not eaten. So much waste! To compensate, I ate more than my fill and felt grateful to have been invited to join in.

After the meal, the karaoke machine started to hum, the t.v. monitors lit up and Zou Rui got up to start the entertainment. She sang a few songs to everyone’s great delight and mine included. Turns out that she knew she was supposed sing and she encouraged others to get up with her and do various duets of famous Chinese songs. The men at the party didn’t need much encouragement and they lined up to sing with her. She also sang “I Will Always Love You” by Dolly Parton (but made especially famous by Whitney Houston, of course) and I was once again rocketed back to my high school awkwardness.

Right on that cue, she grabbed my elbow and said “lai, lai” (“come, come”) and pulled me up on the stage. The whole place turned to see what this foreign girl would do. Zou Rui had chosen one of the few English songs in the repertoire of titles available and suddenly the opening chords of “Hey Jude” by the Beatles began. She sang the first verse and in the pause, she introduced me to the audience in Chinese as “a very famous singer from Canada” and motioned that I ought to start singing the second verse.

ACK! My throat tightened and I was sure that I was going to vomit right there.

I had the microphone in front of my face but I wasn’t sure what was going to happen when I opened my mouth. Not only was I supposed to sing “Hey Jude” (a song that I don’t know very well – thank goodness for words on the screen!) but now I was supposed to demonstrate my “very famous” singing voice!

I opened my mouth tentatively and, thankfully, the notes came. My body bailed me out. By the first chorus, I was actually smiling and singing at full volume along with Zou Rui. By the second chorus, we were harmonizing. By the end of the song, they were on their feet and cheering.

So karaoke isn’t so bad. I can handle it.

Next time, however, I think I’ll have a drink first!

A Canadian in Beijing: Naked Baby Bums Everywhere!

by Ember Swift on

I wonder how babies in China feel in the wintertime. I mean, they must experience some severe crotch frost considering the built-in air-conditioning their clothing has! This no-nonsense approach to raising not-yet-potty-trained children has me both baffled and amused.

Here in China, children under the age of approximately 4 years old wear pants that are crotchless. In other words, their pants do not have any crotch, just an open space where the crotch should be. At a Pride Day parade, this style would be called “chaps”! Here in China, they’re just regular kids’ clothes.

Basically, when the child has to go to the bathroom, they are taught to squat wherever they are. This can sometimes happen on the sidewalk or on the grass, but it also happens on public transport or in shopping centres.

How does a society deal with that?

Mops. Lots of mops.

This phenomenon further stresses the fact that sitting on the grass or the sidewalk here in China is an absolutely disgusting proposition. Any number of children could have urinated or defecated there. Top that off with the spitting, the rubbish and overall dirt that is generated by 14 million people and you have yourself an extremely unsanitary seat.

The more I see this happen here in China, the less often I have found myself sitting on the ground. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll ever sit on the ground again after three months in Beijing. It may have scarred me for life! (C’mon, a little drama never hurt!)

I finally got up the courage to ask about this ‘crotchlessness.’ The moment came when we were in class and discussing what things we found to be “qi guai” or “strange” here in China compared with our home countries. My teacher laughed out loud when we all started to comment on this phenomenon and then she covered her mouth shyly with her hand as she explained and then laughed some more. She said that she once asked a mother whether or not her children were cold in the wintertime and the mother’s response had been that this section of the body is hot enough on its own and so the missing fabric is “mei wenti” (no worries).

Really? I don’t buy it. I know it’s hot down there, but is it hot enough to keep those bits from frostbite? I don’t think so. Of course, I am a Canadian here and I have heard that Beijing winters are not as cold as Canadian winters. Hmmm. Wo bu zhi dao (I don’t know). I’m shrugging my shoulders here.

(I’ve since found that lots has been written about this. Here’s a really cute picture.)

Now, besides the so-called functionality of this clothing design, I have to admit that it’s really cute. When a child is being held either on its mother’s back or in her arms, the child’s legs are bent around her and all you see is his or her little bottom. Everywhere I go, I get glimpses of naked baby bums and I smile every time. How can you not? So perhaps that’s part of the function: kids’ clothing that make the foreigners smile.

When I was on the subway heading downtown one day, a small child of about 2 was sitting on the lap of the woman across from me. He was fussing and irritable and so she took him off her lap and stood him between her legs to steady him as the train rumbled along. He continued to whine and wriggle, wanting to get out from the jail cell that had been created by her knees, but unable to breach her legs for any free space since the train was fairly crowded.

Suddenly, he bent into the squatting position and peed. His mother lifted her feet slightly so that she wouldn’t step in his urine and then threw a tissue at the small puddle and let it soak up the urine before kicking the sopping tissue under the seat with the sole of her shoe.

It was my first experience watching a child pee on public transport and I was amazed. I’m sure my eyes were the size of small dinner plates because she looked right at me with a “haven’t-you-seen-this-before?” expression on her face that was mixed with a sort of diffidence that made me lower my gaze. I don’t want my amazement to translate into judgment and so I spent the rest of the trip looking out the window.

About a week later, I was standing on the street and I saw a small child being led to one of the small saplings that line the road. His mother opened the gap in his pants and positioned his body to urinate and then waited until he had emptied his little bladder under the city tree. I watched this with great amusement.

Later that same day, I was riding my bike back home and it was late in the evening when the twilight can trick your eyes with its dim shadows. I saw a small girl of about 5 years old step into the street a good block ahead of me as I was leisurely pedalling along. She lifted up her skirt and crouched down and I wondered if she was looking for something in the gutter. Seconds later, I watched her hop back up onto the curb and disappear into a building and when I arrived at the spot where she had been, I discovered only a damp patch of asphalt that I had to swerve to avoid.

It seems to me that even as kids grow a bit older, it’s still OK for them to urinate (and what about #2?) on public streets. I wonder how common this is or if I just saw a rare moment here.

Either way, at least it saves on paper and non-biodegradable diapers. That’s a huge something!

Now if we could only tackle the smell …

A Canadian in Beijing: Hot Shots, Hot Pots & Distant Thoughts

by Ember Swift on

On Sunday night, I had the great pleasure of having dinner with my cousin. Well, actually, he’s the son of my Mother’s cousin and so I suppose that means that we’re second cousins, to be precise! He and his partner are on vacation and this was their last night in Beijing. We made plans for dinner and I solicited my friend Rui to come with me.

Remember when I fell in love with the moped? Well, motorcycles are even more fun. In fact, I’ll have to upgrade my love affair from moped to motorcycle, which further distances me from the relationship I have with my bicycle. She and I have had a talk and she knows that I can’t be tied down to one mode of transportation and so all is well in my original matrimony! Seriously, though, I always feel like a “hot shot” when I’m on the back of a motorcycle — like I’m right out of the Grease movies (especially Grease 2!) and I’m pretending to be Michelle Pfeiffer. Okay, so it’s a remnant of my childhood but it makes me smile!

Rui has a motorbike and I have to admit that I rarely refuse if he offers to drive me home or pick me up when the motorcycle is involved. (Of course there are also helmets on our heads, so don’t worry!) I wonder sometimes if he will start to feel used for his motorcycle but I’m careful to thank him and not the bike when I arrive at my destination. It’s actually conscious and so I suppose that’s the true definition of conscientious!!But, really, there’s something so incredible about the zipping through traffic like it’s a video game, the whipping wind in my hair and the heavy sound of the engine between my legs. Okay, I’ll stop there (on that note) but you get my point! Why has it taken me until China to realize that motorcycles are amazing!? Not quite sure.

We arrived at their hotel just a bit late (which is a wonder of wonders in Beijing where it’s easy to be extremely late at the best of times) and it was great to see them. Tim and Paulie looked refreshed and excited about their vacation and I felt for a moment like I was much closer to home than I am.

They decided they wanted some authentic Chinese food (despite the plethora of western restaurants surrounding their hotel) and so we agreed on a “hot pot” place. Rui called a friend and got a recommendation for a good restaurant that specializes in hot pots just about a ten-minute walk from the hotel. We set off down small alleys, around corners that only Rui knew and found ourselves on a wide street with large trees casting their evening shadows on our faces.

We walked slowly and talked while Rui pointed out local landmarks and we caught up on our lives. I would characterize our pace as a stroll and it felt good under my feet – a plush summer evening rolling out before me like a carpet.

The restaurant was quiet and brightly lit and had nothing in the way ambience except our smiles, but we settled in and they brought out the huge hot pot tower, the likes of which I have never seen before. It’s a copper structure with a coal fire glowing in its core and a small chimney extending up the centre with a cap on its top. This oven heats the water above which is divided into two sections, one with hot spices and one without. Throughout the meal, the “fuyuan” (wait staff) regularly fill up the trough with fresh boiling water so that it never boils all the way off.

They then brought our large selection of vegetables and tofu and stacks of beef and lamb for the meat eaters at the table, i.e. everyone except me. I have become quite a fan of “xiang gu” or “fragrant mushrooms” and I was happy to see a huge plate of them arrive and before we knew it there were several different kinds of vegetables sizzling happily in the hot pot and my stomach was growling. They also brought us a sauce that was delicious. Not quite a peanut sauce and not quite a hot sauce but perfect. I wish I had the recipe!

I had already prepared myself for the likelihood that I would be sharing this hot pot water with meat. Being a vegan in Beijing has had its moments, as you know, and sometimes it takes some psyching up on my part to be able to accept what I believe to be inevitable. i.e. that I will be in a food situation that I can’t control and so I may have to quietly exit or simply accept that I’ll feel ill afterwards.

I filled up my side of the hot pot with vegetables and tofu while the water was still meat-free and cooked things all together and quickly, hoping my head start would mean that I wouldn’t detect the meaty aftertaste in the water after meat had been added.

I soon noticed that everyone was just eating vegetables, tofu and noodles. In fact, ten minutes later they still had not touched the meat and it dawned on me that they were waiting for me to eat enough before they started to cook their meat portions. When I realized what was happening, I was overwhelmed by their thoughtfulness and I said: “go ahead, it’s okay! I’ve had lots and I’ll be alright!” I was pretty full, to be honest, and I had a huge plate in front of me with my quickly cooked food that still needed to be eaten. I was also so touched by the gesture that I couldn’t possibly let them stall any longer. They hesitated and resisted a little, but then I convinced them to dig in. Soon all the food was being cooked and the conversation was flowing.

We agreed that it’s not “what is cooked” but “how it’s cooked” that makes all the difference. Being able to engage with your food while enjoying lively conversation is a total treat. I loved it! I would definitely get a “hot pot” again in this city. The experience was totally memorable, not to mention delicious.

Over two hours later, we left the restaurant having filled up on fantastic food and the exchange of ideas. We talked non-stop all evening and when we arrived at their hotel I was surprised at how quickly we had strolled back in the cool night air.

We posed for some shots in front of Rui’s bike (he’s taking the picture) and then said our goodbyes. There’s nothing like seeing family when you’re far away from home. It felt like a breath of Canadian air in my lungs. I could almost smell the clover and honeysuckle in the fields of Eastern Ontario.

I hopped on the back of the bike and waved goodbye as we sped away, feeling cool and hot at the same time and excited to be back again on my favourite mode of transport. I closed my eyes as we motored through the streets towards Wudaokou, letting the wind stroke my face with familiarity. I let the Beijing air get to know me that night. Maybe I could have more than one home in my future? Hhm. . . The thought lingers and seems less and less distant every day.