Trip South: Part A

So I’ve past the Sunday deadline, and I’m feeling that this may be the beginning of increasing laxness in the predictability of these posts. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll get back on track next weekend. Who knows? In the past too weeks I have started working nights. Not evenings, but nights. My shift starts at 12 and goes to 8. That’s what it says anyway. In reality, I can get there around 1 or 1:30 and no one says boo. The first weekend I did it, (yes, weekend nights…it’s a bit sad) I tried diligently to stay awake all night, spending a good amount of time randomly surfing, and even calling home. The problem was that despite the fact that I needed to be there, aside from around 20 minutes at 2, I had no work to do till around 5:30 at the earliest. This idea of staying awake while being paid to work, I realized, was silly. So this past weekend, I brought in some headphones and put my head down on a dictionary for a couple hours of sleep, between the 3 o’clock news and the beginnings of the 8 o’clock editing. It’s been working out well, and I’ve been much happier with the arrangement, accept of course, that its no fun in general to say “so hey, this is a great party guys…. but I have to go to work.” Ah well. I shouldn’t complain.

Last week, I finished work on Monday morning and didn’t start again until Thursday afternoon. So I put myself on a train and headed down to Henan province. The people sitting across the way took the piss out of me for sleeping through the entire 8-hour train trip, but hey, I needed to sleep.

I hit Zheng Zhou around 9:30, and opted to spend the night instead of heading onwards to Kaifeng, figuring that the earliest I could get there would be around 11 or later, and that’s generally not the best time to get to a new town. So I got myself a hotel room, and spent an enjoyable evening walking around Zheng Zhou. I’d read that the municipal planners left the old city walls up as a kind of park, and so I decided to walk the couple klicks over to check them out, and then walk along the walls back towards the train station. These were not great feats of stonework and masonry, but old, beaten earth hills more than anything else, with a path on top. It only occurred to me after I was already there that purposely seeking out the one dark empty place in a city late at night might not be the best idea.

But then I realized that was New York talking, and that this was china after all. I encountered no problems, though by the hushed giggling I heard I might have interrupted a few couples fun.

Though the city was by a large an open one, full of wide boulevards and brightly lit streets, I managed to find the one dark part of town on my way back, and in it, a realio trulio red light district. Lining the streets were hair salons (a common front in china) with frosted glass window fronts positively oozing with a red-pinkish glow. It was great, I laughed a lot.

Next morning, I got up early to the din of the street out my window, and took a bus about an hour and a half to Kaifeng. Kaifeng was the capital of the Northern Song Dynasty, before it was invaded by the Jurchen Invaders (a common term) and the crown prince fled southwards, setting up, rather predictably, the Southern Song Dynasty. But as with any city whose heyday was more than a thousand years ago, it’s kind of a dump at the moment. Most of the architecture is late Qing or early Communist, and both genres are in the mid-stages of decrepitude. It was the kind of place that seemed like it was perpetually grey, and whether or not this is in fact the case, it held true for the duration of my stay.

That first day I spent my morning walking up through town, getting a feel for the place (see above) and learning the layout. In the afternoon I shelled out an enormous fee (around 10 dollars) to go see a Song Dynasty Theme Park, mostly because it had a Jewish history museum hidden inside. The park itself was the definition of Chinese bad taste, and the museum was a worthless collection of photocopied documents (really) and a couple of fuzzy, blown up pictures.

The story with the Jews goes like this. A bunch of Jewish merchants arrived in china around 800 CE, having come along the Silk Road through central Asia from Persia. Maybe they were tired of traveling by this point, because they decided to stay, and, because they’d brought no women of their own, to marry the local girls as well. This excuse has since been used by many other foreign guys when it comes to Chinese girls, but what can you do. They settled in Kaifeng, then the capital, and generally made a good life for themselves, finding their niche in Chinese society. They thrived for almost a thousand years, but by the 1800’s the community has succumbed to forgetfulness and assimilation, and when the yellow river flooded Kaifeng, it washed away most traces of Jewish life, along with the synagogue. It was the descendents of these Jews that I’d come to find, and the reason I’d spent so much to go see the dinky museum.


I was not in the best of moods upon leaving, being somewhat hungry and still jetlagged from a weekend of night shifts, so I went and got a hotel room and took a nap.
*** ***
The rest of my stay in Kaifeng (all 24 more hours of it) will have to wait for another day. I’m writing about it independent of this, and it’s late, so you’ll just have to bear with me.

Since I’ve been back in Beijing, I’ve attended a great dinner party of real, interesting, and generally cool people, and a couple Colby kids have come down from their program in Harbin to spend a week in the City. So I have houseguests, and it’s a lot of fun. Many new pictures (about 2 weeks worth) are up, and I’ll try to finish the Kaifeng adventure as soon as possible. Heart. Martin.

Rooftops, Bars, and Marathons-oh my

This past week was characterized in large part by failures and victories of varying degrees. I guess that really describes any period of time, but what are you going to do? I had a couple days off mid week (my schedule is highly erratic and frequently subject to change) and decided to spend them pretending to be the freelance journalist that I keep pretending I am. So on Wednesday, I took a bus, walked, took a subway, walked, and took another bus a couple hours out of town (it could have been simpler if I had just taken the bus to the subway in the first place, but I was trying to find a different bus stop) to go try to talk my way into a daoist temple that was under construction. The problem was that it wasn’t. The snipped I’d read online had been incorrect, and refurbishment had been completed prior to national day. So instead of just buying a ticket and checking it out anyway, I wandered off to find another temple under construction. There was one, actually, just down by the parking lot, and I spent about an hour talking to a variety of people in my best freelance journalist manner, explaining carefully that it was just because people were not allowed in that I wanted to be let in. They understood, but they also didn’t let me in. So I got back on the bus and took a nap on the way home. Abject failure.

Thursday I decided to figure out how to go to bars alone. To this end I got in a cab (something I try not to do unless it’s really necessary) and went to San Li Tun, which used to be the center of western drinking in Beijing. It’s a has been now, populated by tourists, pimps, and pushers. I walked around a bit, but there wasn’t a place that I actually wanted to try to spend any time in, so I started home. But then I ran into people I knew. This happens frighteningly frequently for a city this big, but then again there are only 5 neighborhoods where foreigners go drinking generally speaking, so maybe it’s not that weird. My friends brought me into a club (and even got me in for free) where a finish electronica musician was playing…and he actually turned out to be really good. So that was fun, and I’ve decided that I don’t actually want to go to bars alone (if for no other reason than that beer is marked up to around 20 times its real price) so I guess that counts as a win.

I also talked to one of the pushers for a while, which was an interesting experience. I had previously thought that getting drugs in china was quite difficult, but since being here everyone I’ve met has told me that all one needs to do is go to San Li Tun and talk to a black guy. After walking around for a night in the area, I was inclined to agree with the rule, and went so far as to ask of the guys (who was from Nigeria I think) about it. He didn’t get mad, but replied with a 5-minute outpouring of mile a minute jive. I caught one of every four words or so, and had to employ my nodding skills usually reserved for toothless Chinese grandparents (who are almost wholly unintelligible). So that was interesting, and I’m thinking about looking more into the phenomenon.

Friday I went walking around the old hutongs south of Tian An Men Square. This in one of the oldest neighborhoods in Beijing, and much of it is currently in the process of getting knocked down, which is really a damn shame to top most damn shames. It’s not really that hard to explain my fascination with hutongs. They feel real, in a way that much of Beijing, and most modern, shiny, cities for that matter do not. They’re narrow, dirty, and old. Full of old people and children, real people going about daily life. After around 45 minutes of walking and talking (not at the same time) I found myself at the back gate to one of the construction sites. They hadn’t started digging holes yet (one of the reason for many of the demolitions is that the city planners are putting new pipes underground…. not little dinky ones either, these are Pipes) so it was effectively just an area of cleared rubble surrounded by abandoned houses. Naturally, I climbed up on the roof of one of these, and spent about an hour clambering over rooftops and into empty buildings. I took a bunch of pictures…but then managed to delete them all, one of the most annoying things I’ve done in a long time. Many I was able to take again, but some are lost forever. I guess that’s how it goes sometimes. Being up on those rooftops was an interesting mix of exhilarating (I mean, how often do you get to climb around on rooftops) and about as sad as it gets. It was interesting, and it was lonely, and I think I’ll go back on a clear night sometime soon.

This weekend, I’ve been working the graveyard shift, which is rather awful not so much because of the hour but because there’s virtually no work to do. But we call ourselves a 24 hour English station so there’s a live broadcast at 3 am, and then nothing till 8. If I had work to do I could stay awake no sweat. But just sitting around is rather rough, though not, I guess, in the grand scheme of things. This morning I was going home to go to bed, snoozing on the bus, when it stopped, and didn’t start again, about a kilometer from my home. Nobody got off the bus, and really it seemed like everything was normal. I went back to sleep but 15 minutes later we still hadn’t moved. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed my bag and got off…to see a sea of stopped cars and busses. Nobody was going anywhere in on our side of the road. Somewhat mystified I started walking, until I got to ZhicunLu (called by us the third and a half ring road {because, naturally, its about halfway between the north third and the north forth ring roads}) that was blocked off by a line of cops and army guys. Down the road ran scores of people, huffing and puffing and looking very much like the marathon runners that they were. It was ridiculous. I had to go and stand in a throng of people inching its way over a single overpass, pushing the kids in front of me and getting elbowed from behind by old ladies. Not really what I wanted to be doing after a night of sitting in the newsroom.

Otherwise, life continues. Work is work, and free time is taken up sending lots of emails pretending to be a journalist. I’ve been talking to a bunch of train enthusiasts recently, and might go up to Manchuria to see some of the last big steam engines in the world. Tomorrow morning I head down to Kaifeng, where a community of Jews settled in the Song Dynasty. Should be a good trip. Until later then. Peas and carrots, --martin.

CCTV: The land of mystery and wonder

It strikes me that this might be a good time to talk about what I actually “Do” at work, since, after all, that takes up a good part of my time. I work, as I’ve mentioned before, in the newsroom of CCTV International (channel 9). This means that the shows I edit are watched almost exclusively by really bored or jetlagged people in hotels that don’t get CNN or the BBC. There’s really no other reason to watch it.

But, be that as it may, it provides employment, experience, and even (occasionally) a bit of fun. Here’s how it works. First, stories are written by Chinese writers. The term writer here is used loosely, because what they actually do is copy and paste stories from the wire (AP, Reuters, or Xinhua) or translate them from other Chinese stations. Very little original writing gets done. However, they are writers. After the script is initially written, it gets passed up for an overhaul by myself and my coworkers. We generally trim stories, and make them sound like English. A good part of what I actually correct is original material from AP and Reuters. I don’t know why they should need correcting (they do have a bit of a reputation) but there it is. Sometimes stories are easy; sometimes they need to be completely re-written. Worst are the stories filed by other bureaus, which we (that is, the foreign copy editors) generally cry about. They’re that bad. Here’s a good example:

Officials with the State Development and Reform
Commission, Ministry of Commerce, Ministry of Science
and Technology and Ministry of Finance shared their
views and policy guidelines on the industry’s
structure readjustment, production surplus,
internationalization process, efforts to save energies
and develop new energies, and so on. People from
Chinese and multinational automakers also aired their
opinions on the above issues and briefed on their strategies.


I deleted the whole thing. After we edit a story we pass it up for final inspection by the political editors. There are four of them or so, all over 60, and wise by virtue of years. It is essentially their ass if anything gets said that the government doesn’t like, so they edit very closely, though mostly on stories about Taiwan and similarly sensitive issues.

This is one of the more annoying things about working for a state media outlet; we have to say “Taiwan compatriots,” and “Countries and regions” and God help you if you call the rebels “leftist.” Every institution has semantic rules I guess, ours just happen to be very clunky. How can you say that China warned the Taiwan government when you don’t recognize that China is separate from the Taiwan government, which you also do not recognize? The answer is to go by cities, as in, “Beijing criticized comments by Taipei today etc etc etc.” Still, it’s awkward and annoying.

Another, smaller, part of the job is doing voiceovers for sound bites and sometimes stories. That is, if there’s a clip of some geezer saying that China and Japan might have a chance at good relations if Abe doesn’t go to the Yakushi Shrine, and it happens to be in Chinese, the technician/writers will often get one of us to come speak for him. I have been the voice of Wen Jaibao, and Jackie Chan, and many many people that nobody has ever heard of. Economics ministers and vice chairmen of committees on agriculture. Stuff like that. Sometimes we’ll voice a whole story. This is good fun unless it happens to be a sports story, in which case it will (I’ve never seen one that wasn’t) be chock full of completely unpronounceable names, that you generally have to guess on. Times like these I feel as though I’m Bruce Campbell in “Army of Darkness” forgetting the magic words. Luckily skeleton armies don’t burst forth from the studio every time I mess up a name. The best part of voicing stories is undoubtedly the end, when, after a dramatic pause, I get to say “Martin Connelly, CCTV” in my deepest, newsiest voice. I’ve been working on this voice, and it almost sounds semi decent these days. It’s all good fun. So that’s it. That’s what I do.

The station itself is actually enormous, though it's easy to forget working in the newsroom. I can go down the hall and peek into the gallery of one of the biggest production spaces I've ever seen (exclusivelly for gala events) and watch them go on when there's nothing in the que, which is pretty cool. And don't ask what's on the other 18 floors of the building. I have no idea. I'm not sure anyone does.

The rest of my time I spend doing this and that, trying to start freelancing (which is lots of work, and much like divining for water without the aid of a forked stick) and wandering around the old city. Old Beijing is rapidly getting knocked down to build newer, taller, buildings, and it’s really a shame. I love the narrow alleyways. They’re always full of old folks and babies and guys out of work and I can’t walk through them without having a nice conversation with someone interesting. Today, for instance, I met a guy who teaches Traditional Chinese Medicine at the hospital. He said he had lots of students in his acupuncture class, which makes sense I guess.

I’ve been seeing mahjong parlors for the first time, some even with electronic tables. I think I might try to learn the rules and go out some time. Ridiculousness would probably ensue. Will report on that if it ever happens. In the meantime, the weather has turned and it was sweater weather today, which was great. Fall is beautiful…and that’s the news from Lake Wobegon, peas and carrots, martin.

Typical Days

To clarify, I don’t spend all my time having amazing adventures around Asia. I spend most of my time at work editing copy for the English news, commuting to and from work (which takes about 50 minutes each way), and hanging out in my apartment, usually in my boxers, hardly the rockstar lifestyle.

Commuting is nice actually, as more recently I’ve been riding my bike. It’s a pretty straight shot down the west third ring road, and the weather has been great, mid 20’s during the day and high teens at night. And I feel like I’m actually doing Something, as opposed to just sitting around. I’ve noticed some cool places that are still open at 9 or 10 when I’m biking home, and one of these days I might stop to check them out.

Days off I’ve been spending wandering around mostly, and going to wudakou at night. Wandering around is always cool. Yesterday I went to the south west of Beijing, an area I’ve never really explored before. There wasn’t really much going on, but it was cool to go where foreigners normally don’t go—after all there’s nothing to see. I was looking, sort of, for the Muslim district centered around Ox Street. I’ve been eating lots of Muslim food recently (usually at XinJiang restaurants) and I had vague ideas about getting some lunch. There was also supposed to be a pretty cool mosque, though I never found it. What I did find was a huge green building with onion domes, which turned out to be an office, the official department of Islamic Affairs in China.

There are all sorts of quasi embassies around. The night before I went to dinner with a friend at the XinJiang Provincial Bureau compound. Each province apparently has it’s own embassy compound type of thing in the city, so they can keep up with central party policies I guess. A very strange idea.

My friend David (or Zhao Long really), is a good sort. He works for the sports news, and just became the guy in charge of weekly Olympic features. Apparently, CCTV9 is going to spend 7 minutes a week (minimum) for the next two years talking about Olympic developments. They’re pretty into the whole thing. But David is a good guy, 25, exceedingly modern. He has something like 4 cell phones and feels comfortable saying unpatriotic things about the Chinese government.

But he has big issues with Gong Li. Gong Li, the actress. She was Zhang Yimou’s muse for years (he has problems with Zhang Yimou too, for desecrating Chinese history), but last year she starred in Memoirs of a Geisha. This, according to David, is unforgivable. Not only did she portray a Japanese woman, but a Japanese woman of the Profession. I just think it’s funny, but David was deathly serious, and I couldn’t convince him that she was an actress, not a government official, and that her job was to be people she wasn’t, which is sort of the definition of acting. No dice. They’re still not on speaking terms.

But I’ve been eating lots of Muslim food, which is pretty much where the whole thing started. I could cook, and will cook, but in the meantime, I’ve become a regular at a restaurant down the street, where I’ve been having lunch at least three times a week. I always get the same thing, and while I feel I should probably branch out, it’s so good that I’m not sure if I want to. My lunch consists of a “small” serving of Chao Mian Pian, or, stir fried noodle pieces, a small grilled naan bread, and a pot of tea. The Chao Main Pian is an enormous dish, full of noodles, peppers, some lamb, onions, tomatoes, and Chinese Garlic Shoots (which we don’t have for some reason back stateside). The grilled naan is the closest thing the Chinese really have to bread, and it doesn’t even count because it’s not really Chinese. And the tea is tea. It’s great, and fills me beyond completely. The whole thing costs a $1.15.

Wudakou is the student bar district north of me about 15 minutes by bike (but only because of traffic). Situated between Peking University and Qinghua University, there are tons of bars and cheap outdoor food places. It’s much cooler and cheaper (especially with the lack of taxi fare) than anywhere else around. That said, I’ve been spending most of my time wandering into places and standing by a column, looking at everybody else who has classmates and wondering if the homework would be worth it.

I’ve been hanging out at D-22, one of the premiere rock clubs in the city, which would be great if I were really into rock and punk and all that. I started because my friend Lindsey, currently in the states for Halloween Season, took me there, and new lots of people, and it was lots of fun. Solo is slightly less so, but I figure if I keep showing up I might get to know some of the kids who hang around there, which would be fun, and besides, experiencing new cultures is the name of the study abroad game, right? Chinese culture I know, but not Chinese Punk Culture.

Yesterday, standing by the subway waiting to meet a friend for dinner (for all my whining I do actually know a couple kids in the city) I met Sam somebody, who saw my Moxie T-shirt and decided I might be me. He’s a friend of a friend, and the whole thing was about as random as it gets, so that was cool. I’m trying to decide if it was more random or less than meeting the same cute British girl 3 days apart in completely different locations in New York this summer, though to be honest, they were both free events. However, both days I was shat upon by inconsiderate birds, and since that didn’t happen last night, I think that the meeting with Sam was more fortuitous.

I might stop the random play by play style sometime, and try to write About China, instead of about myself, but we’ll see what happens. New pictures from this weekend’s wanders are up. peas and carrots. martin.