A Canadian in Beijing: Lost in the Market and Laughing

by Ember Swift on

With a rickety gate marking one of the main entrances, the market spills out on both sides. There are stalls of all shapes and sizes featuring all kinds of items whose colours cascade down tiered bins and flowing displays. All of the visual action splashes into my senses. The different smells from each stall curl into each other in comfort as we pass through and into the heart of the market.

I am taking it all in.

We are caught in the current of the Sunday shopping crowd and we move slowly through the stalls examining the wide variety of items for sale. I have a moment of feeling like we blend in well (despite the fact that I’m obviously a “waiguoren” or foreigner.) Well, perhaps we don’t exactly blend in considering I look so different and we’re speaking English together, but shopping with David, my Chinese-Canadian friend, makes it a little easier than shopping with a bunch of other non-Chinese folks. People are curious about us but kind and open. Before long, we are having lots of conversations about where we’re from and why we’re here. I don’t see any other foreigners in this market except for us.

Perfect.

Maybe it’s because the market is tucked away in a western Haidian area where tourists rarely go. This is the kind of market that I love the most. It’s slightly dirty with rinds and pits and lychee skins all over the sidewalks from snacking shoppers. There are stalls that look like hovels and/or temporary residences. Kids with dirty faces, bare bottoms and round open eyes are playing with dried nuts from a dried food stand. Vendors are taking naps everywhere in the thirty-two degree heat. (In fact, is there something about garlic that makes people sleepy?!)

Strung everywhere are tarps for shade. Because they are strung up by the individual stalls, they are all different colours as though we’re at a summer campsite where space is extremely limited forcing all the tents to intertwine. Some of these tarps hang a bit low and graze the tops of our heads as we pass. Sometimes we even need to duck.

David complained about the dangling ropes from the tarps reminding him of dangling spiders and I stopped to consider such an image before photographing the offending twine. These ties sometimes catch your head as you pass and if you haven’t noticed them, then it is a slightly creepy feeling, I agreed. Although I’m not arachnophobic, I probably wouldn’t appreciate a bunch of spiders in my hair! We steered around them after that, laughing each time.

Dave and I first discovered this market on the way to The Summer Palace a few weeks ago. At that time, we glanced in at the entrance but couldn’t tell what kind of market it was but agreed to return and investigate. Besides, we were headed for history. Today, we were on a market mission.

Mission successful. This is my favourite marketplace so far.

In this market (whose name I still don’t know), there are fruits and vegetables, breads, steamed buns, oils and nut butters, meat, fish, household supplies, clothing, tea, dried foods of all kinds, antiques, you name it. In fact, I couldn’t quite identify this market as anything but a “general market” if I tried. I could buy lingerie, hoses, brooms, tea, jewelry, fruit and fresh bread while also stocking up on my plumbing supplies if I so desired! It’s amazing.

Row after row of stalls kept making our bags heavier as we purchased dried foods to send home, mangosteens, lychees, and this nut butter that is sort of a combination between peanut butter and tahini. The one cloth shopping bag I brought wasn’t enough for our spontaneous purchases that were now spilling out of additional plastic bags.

Then, we found ourselves at a teashop.

I have been into tea this week, as you know, and I had already bought some chrysanthemum flowers for tea at a different stall – a flavour I truly love here and haven’t seen back home in its raw state. But, the woman at this tea stall was extremely warm and gracious. She spoke Chinese clearly and slowly and we soon found ourselves seated on stools inside the shop and accepting her offer to let us sample various kinds of teas.

She started with a type of tea that looks like a ball. When put into the water, it opened up into the flower that it is and is extremely beautiful. She said that one cup of this tea in a local downtown restaurant or tea house (like the one I went to this week) is about 160 kuai (very expensive by Chinese standards) and Dave confirmed her story. She made one cup of this tea for us and it was a beautiful flavour to top off the beautiful presentation. I watched it opening like a little kid staring into an aquarium. After tasting it too, I knew I had to have a few of these incredible bulbs to bring home for a special (tea) occasion! 40 kuai got me about 8 of them… and that’s pricey but sure beats the cost of tea in the tourist districts.

Of course, that was not all. She began to make us another pot of tea and each time heated the water perfectly, warmed the cups, measured the tea with precision and handled all of the tea tools like the pro that she was. A cup of “pu-er” tea was next on the list and we sipped and exclaimed as she described the properties and why this tea was good for you and when to drink it, etc.

An hour later, we were still in this little tea stall and we had sampled about ten different flavours of tea and had become quite chummy with the shopkeeper and several other customers. She would have kept pouring, too, had I not felt suddenly that we should buy our many items and get heading back home. In fact, I’m not sure the tea would have stopped flowing had we not stood up to leave, protesting yet another flavour she was pulling from the shelf. I laughed out loud at the feeling like I was going to float away!

We all laughed.

Dave bought a lot. In fact, he is the perfect guy to shop with because he is easily convinced to buy more when it’s cheaper to do so and vendors love him! He came away with several different flavours of tea as well as some “feng mi” or honey. (The honey here has a different flavour – it’s sweeter!) I also bought two metal travel mugs for a mere twenty-five kuai each (around $3 Canadian) that come with a built-in infuser. Those will be a welcome addition to our travelling supplies.

We left the stall in great spirits and with bellies sloshing, filled with tea of all kinds. I wondered if all of those medicinal properties combined together would cancel each other out, but if our moods were any indication of tea’s effects then I’d say that it’s all positive!

Losing oneself in a tea stall nestled deep in an authentic Chinese market in an outer district of Beijing feels like a luxurious weekend pastime. I smiled at my life. “Look at me!” I thought, “I’ve tucked myself into this corner of Beijing and it is just my size.”

Then, I popped a lychee into my mouth and let the sweetness roll around in my smile.

A Canadian in Beijing: Shannon’s Wings

by Ember Swift on

Today is the one-year anniversary of my friend’s death. One year ago today my friend committed suicide and I had never before lost a loved one to the concept of choice. It was shocking, to say the least, and I struggled hard to work through the meanings, the messages, the learning, the processing, the feelings. And, that work is never truly over.

She took to the sky and her wings were hers to exercise, I know. But, we all miss her. We only have the feathers she left behind and a lot of unanswered questions. The word of the year has been: acceptance.

Here I am in Beijing – so far from my little country town (where she died) and Montreal (where she lived) – and yet it feels like Shannon is just next door, living across the hall. As it happens with significant things in our lives, when the time of year comes around again that marks the passing of time since that event, everything seems to be a reminder of her as though she’s really close by. Thoughts themselves seem to manifest outside of my mind into the so-called randomness of life. That is how it has been for me these past few days. Shannon has been in everything my eyes have lingered on; she has been in every conversation that has sparked my interest; she’s even in my lessons at school.

We learned the word for suicide yesterday and it came up again today: Zi Sha 自杀 . Seeing as Bejing is twelve hours ahead of Montreal at the moment, I felt that was fitting. Both days full of reminders to mark one day back home.

I also had a great chat with an artist yesterday about the concept of breathing, cross-species communication, flight. All of these topics were in Shannon’s art and as I chatted with this artist in Chinese in a dimly lit café over cold beers, I felt as though I could have been chatting to her in English on a dimly lit country porch over red wine. Same vibe. Same style of conversation. Language, country, gender irrelevant.

This week began with a visit to a bird sanctuary, as well, which also symbolizes my friend. She loved birds and drew them regularly. She collected feathers and repeatedly photographed, carved and painted a dead sparrow that she found that had apparently frozen to death. It lay frozen in time and it captured her interest in a really special, poignant way. This image has now become symbolic of her life, her yearning for release, her curiosity about the other side.

The bird sanctuary was an accidental discovery. My friend and I stumbled on it while walking around and exploring the countryside. For just 6 kuai a person (with our student cards – less than $1 Canadian), we were able to stroll through the park and visit all the birds. But, nothing is an accident, really. The timing of this discovery was right in line with the significance of this time – a commemoration of my friend.

I took copious pictures of birds from all over the world, not just China. So many colours and shapes and sizes. I was amazed by the diversity of birds in this small sanctuary. Put a sparrow next to an ostrich and it seems uncanny that they’re both birds (Just look at those ostrich feet!) Put a turkey next to a flamingo and it’s hard to see how they’re from the same species! But, they’re all beautiful in their own way… (be nice to the turkeys, now!)

There were these super large birds whose Chinese name I have forgotten. (Does anyone know what they’re called in English?) They were the most interesting to me because they appear to be so animated with their large eyes, their slouched and hobbled walk. (The opening shot on this blog is of this bird and below is its full body.) It reminds me a kid’s cartoon whose name I have also forgotten, or the way judges in court are often depicted with their hunched shoulders, spectacled eyes and long gowns resembling black feathers. The fact that they’re so big also made it possible to read expression in their eyes, which is something you can’t normally do with birds. I told them (silently) that I was sorry that they were trapped in there. They looked at me with disgust. We were both helpless in that moment.

I walked away from their large cage feeling a rush of wanting to release them all – every bird in the park – and let them take to the sky. I know it’s not responsible. After all, look at the effect of starlings on North America just because of one man’s desire to have all the birds of England in Central Park? But, the urge to release a winged creature is something that just rushes up in me when I see a bird in a cage. I want to use my opposable thumbs to help them return to the wide open spaces above it all…

And, of course, along the exit pathway there was a full wall that showed birds that have already gone extinct and when. Many of these extinctions are a result of development, pollution, hunting, and of course a lack of human foresight that led to thoughtless decisions or loss of habitat. It struck me that perhaps it is possible that some of these birds simply went away. Maybe they just didn’t feel like staying in this world in the way that it was and has become. They left.

It’s possible. Anything’s possible.

Shannon’s date of extinction was June 12th, 2006. For me, her face was on that wall too. I miss her.

I miss you.

A Canadian in Beijing: “No Clamber Over”

by Ember Swift on

I’m from Ontario. It’s a relatively flat province in Canada with lots of rolling hills and some small mountains that most of my west-coast friends won’t even call mountains. That’s fair enough, considering they’re looking at the Rockies all the time. The first time I saw those magnificent Rocky mountains I was sixteen years old and I remember feeling as though I had never seen anything so intense, so breathtaking, so grand in nature. Every time I get the opportunity to go west again and look up at their majestic snow-capped peaks, I am awed all over again. They never get boring to me – this Ontario-born Canadian – and I always feel really lucky to see them again.

Now here I am in Beijing and I was only an hour out of town this weekend and I had a similar moment of complete shock. I knew there were mountains outside of Beijing, but I didn’t know they’d be so beautiful! Of course, they’re nowhere near as high as the Rockies (i.e. no snow and no cloud-covered peaks), but they’re majestic all the same. These mountains are lush and green and they hold beautiful “tan ?” (deep pools), waterfalls and teal-coloured lakes in their various stony crevices.

I am moved by natural beauty.

(I took a lot of photos.)

The mountain we climbed was called: “Yougu Shentan 幽古伸潭.” The path rounded around a flowing stream filled with huge rocks and small waterfalls, mountain pools heated by the sunshine and picturesque views that took your breath away every time you turned around. And, you had to turn around regularly. Why keep your back to the beauty? It made for a slower ascent, but the view was always worth it.

Climbing was, of course, hard work. This was a tourist site, though, and it was set up well with resting spots equipped with sun awnings, railings on steep sections and lots of benches along the way. The “No Clamber Over” signs made me chuckle, too. I explained to my friend that the word “clamber” was technically correct, but it’s just such a strange way to request that people stay on the walkway side of the fence. “Don’t Climb Over the Fence” would more likely be on a sign at home. In fact, I haven’t seen the word “clamber” in print in a long time!

We didn’t bring any water or food with us, however, and made the mistake of assuming there’d be a vendor somewhere. About halfway up, we asked someone coming the other way and discovered that there would be no food at all for us unless we were to invade a stranger’s picnic! Of course, that was out of the question, but we were lucky enough to learn that a free flowing spring was at the top of the mountain and we just needed to get there to re-hydrate. Around the next bend, we found it.

As non-Chinese as it was, I washed my hands vigorously under the spout and then cupped them together and filled them up with water so that I could drink from the spring. I brought my cupped hands to my lips several times and felt refreshed.

I heard a woman exclaim “she’s drinking from her hands!” and I knew it was because here in China it is assumed that hands are very dirty. Perhaps this is a fair assumption, for the most part, but I didn’t have a bottle with me and this method is a way I have known to collect water since my childhood. Different cultures = different practices.

My friend, however, had a different plan. The fact that he’s Chinese meant that he wasn’t going to do as I had done and he, too, looked at me strangely as I cupped my hands together and brought them to my lips. I shrugged and continued. I was too thirsty to change my ways in that moment. When I was done, he leaned his whole face into the spout and took the water directly into his mouth. He came away from the spring with his whole face and part of his hair drenched but smiling. Different strokes for different folks! Either way, we both felt better.

At this point in the walk, we were too tired to continue and started to double back. This mountain path was not a circular one and so lunch was no closer to us the farther we walked. Food was becoming more of a motivator than scenic sights.

After getting back down to the foot of the mountain, we hopped on the bike and drove deeper into the hills where the roads wound around steep cliffs and rose and fell in switchbacks and hairpin turns. Around one corner, we saw a building that looked, to me, like an old gas station. My friend turned in and parked the bike right next to an empty outdoor table and asked the proprietor if we could have lunch there. They said sure and motioned for us to sit.

I was shocked. It didn’t look like a restaurant to me! There were three tables that were sitting in front of two cars. These cars were essentially in the parking lot (or where the pumps would have been had it once been a gas station, which it hadn’t) and then there was an L-shaped building that didn’t look like a restaurant in the least.

On closer inspection, this was indeed an eating establishment. One of those rooms housed some interior tables, one was the kitchen and one appeared to be living quarters for those who ran the restaurant. Simple and nothing fancy, but fully functional.

We ordered some vegetarian dishes, which included vegetables that grow on these very mountains. The food was delicious, the service was kind and it was the perfect lunch for two incredibly hungry hikers. Afterwards, I took several pictures of the surroundings not wanting to forget this nondescript building and its hidden hospitality. After all, it felt to me that we were pulling up at a personal residence and we were treated as such – just like long-lost guests.

This mountain top adventure more than quenched my thirst for beauty and my hunger for nature. I came away humbled by my insular Beijing existence over the past two months (not counting my foray into Shanghai, but that too is another city). I now know that all of this natural beauty is just a short drive away. I’ll be sure to take more of it in on my next journey to China.

Until then, I have lots of photos.

A Canadian in Beijing: Dealing Inspiration

by Ember Swift on

One of my many aims of coming to Beijing was to embark on some music research (as described in my first blog). I spent the first six weeks gathering names and ideas and talking to people about my intentions to see what they thought of my research plans. I think taking time to settle into this community and carefully select who I ought to speak with and eventually interview was a good choice.

The project is going wonderfully.

The topic is women in music. The specific approach is a cross-examination of what it is like to be a woman who makes music (writes, composes, plays, sings) in this urban center (Beijing) as compared to what it’s like to be a woman making music in these ways in Toronto, for instance. The possibilities are endless. So far, my findings have been truly diverse.

Tuesday evening, my friend Traci and I headed to a local café and met with two amazing women, one who fronts a famous contemporary all-female Chinese punk band called “Hang On The Box” and another who was a member of the (now defunct) world famous and FIRST all-female rock band in China called “Cobra.” Both women, Wang Yue and Xiao Nan respectively, were a joy to meet and had so much to say about this amazing world of music.

But, it’s Traci who needs a shout out here. She is amazing. I just learned a new “chengyu 成语” (Chinese idiom) in class today and I immediately thought of her: yijian rugu “一见如故.” It means that someone feels like an old friend after the first meeting or, like you’ve met before because you immediately fall into a rhythm with each other. That’s what it was like when I met Traci and I am thrilled that she’s in my life.

When I first told Traci about my research plans, her eyes got wide and her pupils jumped with excitement. She told me that she had wanted to do similar research about ten years ago and hadn’t ever fully actualized her vision. She leaned forward in her chair to hear more and she got more and more excited about the ideas. She offered to help me on the spot and I, of course, eagerly accepted.

After all, she knows everyone in this music scene (it seems!) and her Chinese is impeccable after being her for thirteen years straight (and seventeen years on and off). I already knew that I would need a translator for certain interviews and certainly some help navigating this world of Chinese music. What’s more, having someone like Traci involved is like locating the missing piece – the essential bridge between two worlds.

I’ve found a perfect research partner and she’s been enormously helpful. Without her, this work couldn’t be done.

For instance, I’m extremely awkward on the telephone here. In fact, I still get really nervous speaking Chinese on the phone because I don’t have body language or any kind of energy context for what they’re saying. What’s more, people speak quickly and loudly on the telephone, which often blurs and distorts the sound. I have found myself completely lost in several conversations, which is just embarrassing, especially when I ask them to repeat themselves several times and the meaning doesn’t get any clearer with each repetition. When this happens, I begin to feel more and more anxious and stupid, which makes me more and more unable to understand: 越着急，越听不懂 (the more one worries, the more one doesn’t understand).

When I told Traci about my anxiety, she immediately offered to make the calls and set up the interview times with all of the Chinese artists that I wanted to interview. When she offered, the heavy dread lifted from my body. I visibly relaxed and sat back in my chair with a sigh. She laughed and completely understood. And, now that we’ve had an evening of interviews, I can see that without her, each interview would have been long and arduous with many misunderstandings and much frustration on both sides.

Traci’s such a good translator and is extremely gifted at making people feel comfortable that she should really do this for a living. She was unbelievable. Because she’s been a self-described “professional fan” of the music industry in China since the 90’s, she also is really knowledgeable and has no problem understanding the content of what is being said either, even though she is not a musician herself. That makes her a double expert – both in music and in Mandarin – and that is the ideal element of this project. What I offer is my investigation and writing skills. We form a perfect team.

All of these words have a (Christian) religious context, but I’m not sure what else to call her except one or all of the following: an angel, a saviour, a God-send? She is all and more. There’s got to be a more fitting word here . . .

Well, now that I’ve gushed for an entire post about my new friend, I should also tell you that my research will not be compiled here. I’ll be writing for several publications and websites when I get back and I’ll let you know where to find the articles.

In general, the biggest learning so far on this topic is that we, as women who make art, lead very similar lives no matter what the political, social, cultural, historical context. We want to be heard and have a voice, and we see how our contexts both restrict and enable those desires from being realized. There are times when we acknowledge and celebrate the “femaleness” of our art (both in perspective and approach) and times when we would just like to be seen as artists because the division is so tiring, so limiting, so annoying.

We did a lot of laughing on Tuesday at our mutually similar stories and experiences. While so much has changed in the past twenty years in both countries and in both the Canadian and Chinese music scenes, so much has also remained the same and may never change.

I left the café positively buzzing with new ideas. This philosophical cross-cultural exchange was like an injection of inspiration and I stayed up way too late writing and thinking and letting it settle in my bloodstream.

Inspiration is addictive.

Traci is the bridge to that high so I guess I ought to call her my “dealer.”

Which makes me an addict…

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!)