Halloween in Beijing

In China, Halloween is not celebrated except by young adults who use it, like in the U.S., as an excuse to party.  For Halloween, me and three friends went to the popular high-end club area near the Worker’s Stadium.  The Worker’s Stadium is where the most posh and downright extravagant clubs are found in Beijing.  Some have sand which surrounds their outer lounge area and still others have segments of the dance floor with rise 15 feet in the air late at night.  Each has a distinct theme to it, complete with advanced laser, fog, and lighting systems.  Bartenders put on shows with fire while juggling bottles, and some clubs are massive with multiple stories and up to four different dance areas.  The lavishness doesn’t just stop at the architecture and amenities of the clubs but in the clientele as well.  As one of the premier night-life hubs of the capital city, this is the playground for the children some of the wealthiest people in China.  In the enormous parking lot which the clubs all border, you can commonly see unbelievable wealth—young kids driving Maserati’s Lamborghinis, Ferraris that are decked out beyond belief.  Baby Face, one of the dozen clubs in the area, was having a Halloween-themed party so I went with three friends.  While pulling up to the club that night, there was a Maybach parked right out front in which a driver was awaiting whomever (or whomever’s kid) was inside.

It was all you could drink after a flat entrance fee of 200 yuan ($32—expensive by Chinese standards).  Of course, this was just the entrance fee and, as is true in anywhere, money is easily spent if you so desire (private rooms are upwards of $500 USD a night).  Inside, the club was decked out in Halloween amenities in every conceivable fashion; waiters and waitresses were donning Victorian-era gowns and wigs, super-hero outfits, or goblin masks, cob webs clung to the ceilings and walls and even the DJs wore Venetian masques.  We met up with some Chinese friends who also go to Beida, and we got a table right next to the dance floor.

Like many service businesses in China, the club had an over abundance of staff—one waiter was dedicated just to mixing, and re-filling our drinks.  All the tables had Johnny Walker Black Label bottles which the waiter would mix with some other liquid to make a light mix-drink.  What’s more, is that a group of girls in golden dresses walked around as a promotion for some type of alcohol—something like, but not Goldshlaugher**.  They were followed by one or two girls who would come over to a table with a golden platter with these tall shot glasses on them, filled with this alcohol.  Sticking out of each glass was a plastic skewer with a special mint candy on it, which you had to eat before taking the shot.  It was definitely a different, but memorable Halloween.

Halloween at Baby Face

Connecting with Ex-Pats

Having Lunch at the Bookworm

One weekend, I met with Bill Russo, a friend of my Dad’s at San Li Tun’s Bookworm, a very warm coffee bar/library.  As the former Vice President of North-East Asia for Chrysler and a 5 year veteran of living in Beijing, he had many insightful things to say not only about the Chinese market, but living in China as a foreigner.  As someone who plans to live and work in Beijing for a few years upon graduation, it was great to get a sense of what the ex-pat life is like in Beijing.

Boston College Social- Beijing

Boston College at the Hilton, Beijing

One Thursday night, the BC alumni China chapter met at one of Beijing’s Hilton Hotels;  I, along with three other BC students studying at Beida and Professor Chapman (a BC associate professor and masters graduate) joined.  The alumni that were present only compromise of less than half of all the BC grads in China, many of which are in Shanghai and Hong Kong.  At the function, there was an equal split between alum involved in business in China, and those in the academic sphere.  Among them, one woman who had retired from an illustrious career of school administration in the U.S. went back to work after getting an offer to principal a private school here in Beijing.  She had a lot to say of the foreign diplomats and big business execs who were the primary cliental of her school, and the Chinese school system versus her experience in the U.S.  She, along with her husband, did not speak any mandarin although it didn’t seem to inhibit her.  Three of the alumni, including Kevin and Deborah (head of the BC Alumni China Chapter) were in the midst of studying Chinese at Qinghua University in hopes of using their Chinese for more promising career prospects (the other renowned school in China considered to be comparable to Peking University).  It was interesting to hear the diverse stories and chain of events which led them all to living in Beijing and was nice to be able to meet others who were so close to home in our shared experience at BC.  We spent the night exchanging stories and insights on China and while our background and careers were all very much different, everyone had one understanding—they were in the best place they could be.

Silk Market Revisited

I took another trip to the silk market, knocking some items of the Christmas list for my family and getting some personal souvenirs along the way.  I had a personalized chop made bearing my Chinese name, 吴伟豪, oriented in the traditional Chinese fashion—right to left, up to down.  I also got my first tailored suit made along with a tan cashmere overcoat, and some custom made shirts, all for 1/20^th of what it would cost me to do it in the states.  (Yes, the quality is remarkable and very satisfactory).

Carving my Chinese name- 吴伟豪

My Custom Chop

Economic Trip to a Rural Village

Arriving in the Rural Village

Arriving in Rural China

As part of my Rural Economics class, we took a field trip to a rural village just a few hours outside Beijing in order to observe first hand, the effect (or lack thereof) urbanization and modernization has had on rural economics and rural life in China.  Needless to say, the villagers were not accustomed to seeing tourists, and the only people in town were those who lived and worked there.  We first went to a small cluster of new buildings which houses the towns administrative offices and documents and we met with one of the local town leaders.  She described the town’s demographics and the three sources of rural income: crops, non-farm jobs, and transfer payments.

The government is almost exclusively responsible for livelihood of this rural town, like many others.  Many of the residents farm the land on a lease system—a family leasing the land from the government for 20, 50, and 100 years at a time.  Outside agriculture production, there is virtually no job opportunities here; the government therefore provides jobs and stable salaries for many of those who live here under a variety of government programs whether it be a wilderness fireman, a fire watcher, public security, street cleaner, or water supply manager.  Jobs such as the fire watcher are available to the elderly who would otherwise not have a salary and are often not capable of participating in labor intensive vocations such as farming.  These jobs are primarily created so that these residents can stay in these villages and make enough money to eat and support themselves.  They are, in essence, a form of a transfer payment (almost like welfare) although they provide a service (fire control/prevention) for their town and the surrounding environment.  These payments and their job creation are part of a government initiative that is attempting to keep rural life (the population and economic stability) intact in spite of the overwhelming pull of urbanization which would otherwise leave many of these townships virtually deserted and economically unviable for those who would stay.

The Doorstep of a Local Farmer

Our economics teacher explained that the paved road on which we rode in on is also a recent addition in the last few years.  It was built as “a gift” to the local government by a nearby stationed regiment of the PLA (People’s Liberation Army).  Interestingly enough, it is not uncommon for this to happen that various entities (government or otherwise) make contributions or gifts to local governments to be in their favor and at the same time augmenting the infrastructure of the developing country.  While the country is united under the Communist Party and aligned nationally, the operations and affairs of the various regions are very much managed on a local scale, each area having a local government with their own developmental aspirations.  In some rural provinces with millions of people and thousands of townships, each town serves a month or so in a large project—i.e. a dam, irrigation system, a bridge—and afterwards are exempt forever from having to serve.  In this way, huge infrastructure developments are completed and/or maintained extremely cheaply by leveraging the extensive population and therefore providing services for life for all the people in the area with only minimal required work (from an individual town’s perspective).

One aspect of rural life that was imminently obvious in the town we visited is the lack of youth.  Virtually all the younger kids, once they graduate from middle school, follow the trend of urbanization and move to the city to take advantage of the budding opportunity—something that cannot be found in a small farming town such as this.  Therefore, almost all of the people we encountered were in their 50’s or older and either working in a government supported non-farm job, or working on the land growing crops of some kind.

Talking to a Local Farmer

This man, pictured in his home, warmly invited us in; he had a career in the city working for the government for thirty years—finding and documenting old wells all over Beijing.  He has since moved back and retired and now lives with his wife and his father, and his mother, all of whom sleep in this room on a long box which runs the length of the room and serves as a large bed.  Here, with pictures of their ancestors lining the walls, they keep warm with a special coal pit which burns slowly underneath their beds.

The house is modest by all means, but much is part of a much more formidable (and cost-effective) era of farm houses which the government helps to build and is made principally from concrete with two large, bare rooms, and a small washroom (kitchen with a sink).

Talking to a Local Farmer

Produce in the Farmer's courtyard

Above, the man is showing us a solar water heater he had constructed which is the only source of warm water for the household.  In the small courtyard outside his home, he describes the various crops he cultivates with a big smile on his face.  He says that although he does not need to farm for a living, he produces a modest harvest primarily for personal consumption but mostly because he loves it…telling us, “the land is part of my life” and it gives something for him and his family to tend to.

We then walking up into the neighboring mountain to find another farmer, one who had never had a career other than a farmer.

Meeting a Local Farmer, 82 years old

This man has been farming all his life, a way of life he has not abandoned even at the ripe age of 82.  His son, who looked relatively young (late 20’s) spends his time between helping his father farm and working as town security, took us to his family’s plot high in the hills above town.  In the hills north of Beijing, like much of China, the arable land is scarce and therefore farmers had to cultivate the hills into various terraces in order to more effectively grow crops.  We found him, armed with a scythe, cutting down the corn husks after a harvest and gathering them in piles alongside a tree.  He was gathering huge bundles and hoist them over to the tree (tying them together with a stem in a flawless technique only acquired by a lifetime of experience) to be brought down the mountainside later to burn for fuel or feed his mule.  Based on his progress for the day, he had been there for many hours and the strain of the hard field work was obvious.  He was laughing and smiling the whole time, which only intensified after he watched me try to help him cut the stocks.

Farming in the Mountains of Rural China

When we were heading back down the mountain, we asked if we could help him bring down his bundles but he told us he will not head back to town until sundown and would wait till then to move his day’s work.

Chaoyang Acrobatic Show

One evening some friends and I went to go see the Chaoyang Acrobatic Show.  It was absolutely unbelievable and included acts with 30 girls balancing on one small moving bike, people contorting their bodies in inhuman ways, and high-flying stunts that made the entire audience gasp.  At one point, a huge spinning contraption was lowered from the ceiling, and two men clamored on top of it to keep from getting flung into the crowd 50 feet below.  They progressively made their situation more dire even putting blind folds on.  At one moment, while one of the acrobats had a blind fold on, he ran around the top of the spinning structure and caught his foot.  In that split second, the crowd went crazy, and I personally thought we would all witness him fall to a certain demise.  I don’t know whether it was planned or not, but he definitely tripped, and faltered, just barely grabbing hold of the structure with his hands rather than staying on top of it on his feet.  It was troubling but exciting nonetheless and the whole show kept you–literally–on the edge of your seat, gripping the person next to you in anxiety for the death-defying, out-of-this-world performances.

Unfortunately I do not have any photos of the show, although their website: http://www.thebeijingguide.com/shows/acrobats.html gives you a good taste of what the show entails.

Beijing’s Hutongs

Beijing's Hutongs

One day after class, I was feeling compulsive and decided to go explore Beijing.  I walked out the east gate of Peking University and over to the nearby bus station and got on the first bus that showed up.  After riding on it for about 25 minutes, I got off where fruit vendors lined a busy street, bantering with potential customers.  After walking away from the bustle of the main road, I found myself in the back alleys of Beijing, the lifeblood of the real city—the hutongs.

Hutongs refer to the narrow streets, alleys, and neighborhoods originally created from lines of traditional courtyard residences most notably in the city of Beijing.  Many courtyard homes of ancient China were built by affluent families and housed only one family.  As China’s dynastic era came to an end and national economic conditions faltered, aged hutongs housed many families and declined in social and economic stature.  Today, hutongs represent the historic roots of Beijing and are the heart of local Chinese culture.  Since the founding of the PRC and their push for industrialization, many hutong communities in Beijing have since been razed to make way for highways and highrises, a trend which has only recently been halted as the government moved to protect them and the Chinese cultural history and flavor which they embody.

That day, I aimlessly explored the back streets of Beijing and although many of the hutongs seemed old and run-down,  I frequently ran into new residential developments which are noticeably increasing the standard of living while revitalizing many rough back alley’s of Beijing.

One of the busier Hutong streets, where the dynamic city life of many Beijingers’ unfolds.

Some of the older, more charismatic hutong alleys

A new development in a Hutong Neighborhood

New Residence in a Hutong neighborhood

While walking through the hutongs, I bought pancake-esque bread form this man (pictured below), encountered some construction workers moving buckets of cement, and even a Chinese chess club.

Street Vendor in the Hutongs

I could hear the room long before I reached it—cries erupted from a small room in which 20 people were huddled around a table as two of their members faced off.  My interest caught attention of one of the members who was resting on the periphery, seemingly exhausted from the relentless duels which animated the ravenous onlookers.  She approached me and we started talking; I answered the usual questions such as why I was here, how long I was here for, what I am doing, and what I think of China.  I quickly realized she could speak English very well—a rarity on the street even in Beijing—and she told me it was because she was a middle school teacher.  Our conversation quickly grew as her passing friends stopped to see why a foreigner would be in their neighborhood.  An elderly woman introduced herself as Old Woman Wu, and introduced her small dog, Diu Diu, who was standing attentively by her side.  We all spoke generally about family and Beijing and how they thought it was great and suprising that I was walking through their street; after 25 minutes or so, I exhausted all the conversation my Chinese level allowed me and I told them that when I could speak better, I would return.  We exchanged goodbyes, and I started back down the hutong alley, looking back to see Old Woman Wu holding Diu Diu and waving after me.  On my way back towards the main road, I found a hole-in-the-wall of a barbershop where I got a haircut for 8 yuan (about $1.25) before taking a cab back to Peking University.

Men working on renovation/construction

Walking through the Hutongs

Fang Mountain- Monkeys, Monks, and Gondolas

A week or so after returning to Beijing and resuming classes, we took a day trip to Beijing’s Feng Mountain (方山) which had a variety of old Buddhist Temple’s and caves.  We walked along stone paths and visited monks and other locals who lived within the mountain’s vast woods.   Within the first 10 minutes of climbing the mountain, we encountered a monkey, who seemed content in just watching us and was especially grateful when we threw him a banana.

Hiking up the mountain

Buddhist Monk who lived in isolation

This Buddhist Monk lives in a temple on the edge of a steep mountain face, a 30 minute hike from the base.

View from the Temple

Donkeys we encountered high atop the mountain

1,080 year old Locust Tree

This remarkable had a plaque near its base which read:

“This Locust tree, with a height of 28 meters, and a diameter of 1.3 meters, is approximately 1,080 years old.”

This tree was here even before the 1st Crusade began.

Fang Mountain's "Camel Peak"

On the way down, we took a gondola which tugged us along a cable off the mountain and over a few hundred foot drop into the valley below.

While the pictures may not do it justice, it was a pretty hairy situation, especially for someone who is afraid heights.

Luckily, my worst fears were never realized, and the tin box we were in held together long enough to make it back to ground.

Moments before the mountain dropped from beneath us, leaving us hundreds of feet in the air. If only I had known...

Peering down hundreds of feet to the bare rock below...

Sheep being encouraged down the mountain by the shouts of their Shepard

Riding out on the Mongolian Grasslands

On the third day we drove farther into rural China to the Inner Mongolian grasslands.  We entered a camp, with rows of Mongolian yurts of various sizes, bordering the open plain.  As we got off the bus, three women in traditional Mongolian dress greeted us with a song and extended a small wooden cup.  As I stepped off, I took the cup thinking it was tea, and as prompted, took it down the hatch.  It was Baijiu, a strong Chinese rice wine that has a distinct taste (more like vodka), and needless to say, I was wide awake after napping on the bus for the last few hours.  We all settled into respective yurts; although they were structurally bare, with only thin metal walls, inside was pretty cozy with a pile of blankets and a hanging lantern.  The idea is that they are somewhat like Native American teepees although they are circular in shape.  Like teepees, they were easily transportable and allowed for a nomadic life which was characteristic of the Mongols.  These were more permanent than their traditional counterparts and we crammed 9 people in ours.

Mongolian Yurts

We had lunch as a group in the settlement’s restaurant (serviced by Mongolians in traditional dress) before walking out to a corral where almost a hundred Mongolian horses were huddling together.  It was nippy out, although with the sun it wasn’t too bad—in Mongolia we had heard that it is significantly colder than in Beijing, especially in the open grasslands.  We all hoped on a horse, and gathered into groups based on how many of the “sites” we wanted to go to that were available to visit.  During lunch they had described the various places you could go (like everything in China, it was based on what you wanted to pay) including a Mongolian village, a river, a mountain, long grasslands, etc…  I was part of a group that had used bargaining to our advantage and got to go to seven of the “sites” for a relatively good price.  With that, we were off and following a gruff man in a green bulky Chinese overcoat (not only the standard heavy coat issued to the military but popular among many in countryside), we trotted out into the Mongolian grasslands.

Although the different “sites” blended together, our ride took us through fields of long grass, an old river bed, and vast barren terrain, passing cattle and even stray horses along the way.  We stopped to rest at an ancient Mongolian village, which today has a few houses.  There we tried Mongolian yak milk and some sort of milk candies.

Mongolian Girl with a Baby Sheep

We returned back to our encampment, and as we returned our horses, some of of the horse wranglers did Mongolian wrestling, which culminated when one man managed to get the other off his feet and on his back.

Mongolian Wrestling

As the sun fell in the Mongolian sky, the temperature rapidly dropped and the empty horizon assumed a deep orange glow.  Six Mongolian horsemen gathered beneath the waning sun in preparation of a race.  With the last rays of light streaming between them, the horsemen charged toward us, crouched upon their stirrups.  One wrangler eased ahead right before they all trampled by, followed by a cloud of dust.

Preparing to Race beneath the falling Mongolian Sun

Shortly after we all went back to our yurts to avoid the increasingly frigid Mongolian night.  All the guests at the camp gathered in the banquet hall where we had a traditional Mongolian feast including a roasted lamb which they paraded up and down the aisle for everyone to see.  While a Mongolian woman sang local songs on a modest stage, we filled ourselves with warm food to get us through the infamously cold night on the grassland.

After the banquet, we had a bonfire in the middle of the encampment with plenty of Baijiu and beer and speakers that blasted music far into the black nothingness that surrounded us.

Keeping Warm inside our Yurt

Me and three friends decided to venture out where the horses had been to see what the grassland was like at night.  After walking out into the infinite expanse of plains, the music started to fade away and the bonfire and camp dwindled to a modest glow which bordered the infinite blackness of which no movement or signs of life could be distinguished.  Beside us was a single dirt road which was the only way to and from the encampment and the only indication that anyone had even been over this vast plain.  With only the faint illumination of the stars above, we sat upon a hill on the border of civilization, looking out with uncertainty at the mystery of the Mongolian grassland.

Resonant Gorge- Camels, Sand-boards, and ATVS on the Gobi Desert

The second day we headed to the Resonant Sand Gorge where entertainment of all kinds on the dunes of the Gobi desert awaited us.  The Gobi desert covers 500,000 square miles, twice the size of Texas, and is the largest desert region in Asia.  The Resonant Sand Gorge is at the edge of the desert—where the Hantai River (largely dried up) encounters the barrier dunes of the Gobi, rising over a hundred feet in the air.

In order to get over to the Dune from the staging area, we had to take a chair lift; we were slowly pulled toward the mountain of sand while people slid down the dune’s slopes on wooden “sand-boards.”  At the end of the lift, we were each given “sand socks” which were made up thick cloth and enveloped your entire foot and shin so sand would not get into your shoes and pants.  I, like many also put on a mask so not to get sand in my mouth and nose.  The sand was extremely fine and a strong breeze easily carried wisps of sand high into the air.

It was a huge playground—a entire sand theme park was built upon this enormous dune with hundreds of camels, dune buggies, ATVs, slides, and sand sculptures.  We all first went to the camels and went on an hour trek up and down the endless sea of sand dunes.  I was in a procession of half a dozen camels, all inter-linked with ropes from humps to nose, led by a guide on foot.  We trekked slowly through the sand and up over a ridge, revealing an exhibit of meticulously crafted sand sculptures some of which must have been 20 feet high.

After the camel expedition I took an ATV around a course with Lihau (a classmate from Hawaii).  We spent hours playing in the sand and I also sand boarded down (everyone sat on them like a toboggan) the front face of a dune.  We also browsed a nearby market set up beside the dunes which boasted any and everything from small sculptures to old rusty swords.  We were there for most of the day and stayed in a nearby hotel for the night.

Lihau and me ATV-ing

Dune Slope where people sand-board

Resonant Gorge Encampment