A Canadian in Beijing: Dealing Inspiration

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

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!)

A Canadian in Beijing: Charmed by Chinglish

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.

One for the Road (04/27/07)

I’m dipping into the archives for this Friday afternoon book suggestion. Originally released in 2003, this fascinating look at the world of endangered languages introduces readers to just some of the over 6,000 languages that exist today. Unfortunately, author Mark Abley tells us, that number is dropping significantly — threatened tongues will continue to die off at a rate of about one every two weeks. Spoken Here: Travels Among Threatened Languages is an investigative look at why languages are disappearing.

Abley’s book introduces us to little-known tribes and their virtually unknown words, examining the forces at play that are driving these exotic languages into extinction. As Gadling’s own language diva Adrienne has shown us through her Word for the Travel Wise series, the beauty and cultural diversity of the spoken word keeps us all connected and communicating as we travel through this world. As languages like Murrinh-Patha (Australia), Mi’kmaq (eastern Canada and Maine) and Boro (India) disappear, will all we have left someday be English, and its butchered info-age dialects, email and texting? Take a trip through Abley’s world of troubled tongues and decide for yourself.