SLReflections

The gutteral hacking cough and phlemmy public spit that was an intgral part of the soundtrack of india is even more popular in China. I’m not sure whether it migrated from India with Buddhism 2000 years ago, or evolved on it’s own. Either way, it differs from the Indian spit – not content with simply clearing sputum from the back of the throat, the Chinese variant seems intent to clear all traces of mucous from even the deepest alveoli.  

 
Seemingly more popular with the older generations (and yet not constrained by gender), by virtue of my rapidly advancing years i’m more than happy to join in the fun. I for one can readily appreciate the cathartic joy of expelling a goodly mass of lung-butter – but unlike many practitioners perfer to aim my ballistic excretons in the gutter, rather than the footpaths, and floors of busses and restaurants.
 
I wonder if this is a large part of the local’s aversion to anything touching the floor. More than just ‘dirty’, it seems that many Chinese think the ground is actually evil. Dropping my backpack on the tiles beside my chair has nearby patrons looking askance, sometimes they’re compelled to run over, and unannounced, move my belongings to a nearby chair. Many cultures have a variation of the 6-second rule, where dropped food can be retrieved from the floor and safely consumed ‘before the germs get to it’ –  if accompanied with a ceremoniously blowing to dislodge debris. However I’m yet to see a Chinese variant – and in this regard I’m happy to follow the local custom.
 
Fitting in with other local customs has required discipline. Years of social conditioning (as well as covert kicks and death stares from my mother when eating with company) has drilled into me eating habits like chewing with my mouth closed, not slurping drinks, not picking up bowls, and waiting to be served from shared plates. 
 
Chinese manners are different. 
 
It’s not merely ignorance of western etiquette, but a deep tradition of eating customs that predate western manners by thousands of years. 
 
Leaving chopsticks sticking up in your rice bowl is a portent of death (i’m still not sure if it’s my death or the death of everyone at the table that they’re worried about) -as apparently the vertical chopsticks resemble joss sticks used in funerals. While (unlike ‘spin the bottle’) it’s impolite to leave a teapot’s spout pointing at someone, flipping over a fish to attack the other side is akin to ‘capsizing the boat’, and it’s unlucky to order an odd number of dishes.
 
But it’s the other habits that challenge my parent’s teachings. Chewing loudly with an open mouth is fine, as is picking up your rice bowl to shovel it’s contents into your mouth. Draining the soup from your noodle bowl doesn’t require a spoon, while slurping up noodles is not only acceptable but virtuous – and burping seems best appreciated at the dinner table (an indication of being satisfied by the meal). 
 
And yet, i’ve adapted quickly to these new customs – maybe too quickly. As I catch myself slurping soup from the bowl I start to wonder if this is really my more natural state, and if I’ll ever be able to give it up and revert to western eating habits, or will be forever shunned from dinner parties back home.

 
Leaving Shanghai for Beijing, I made my way to the train station and negotiated a ticket with the infallible combination of written numbers, spoken names, body language and ESP. Taking the escalators up to the waiting area I was expecting to mill about on the platform until the train arrived – something I’m now exceptionally good at after spending many hours doing just this in India. Instead a waiting lounge the size of two football fields stretched before me. Like an airport departure lounge but without barriers between gates – escalators whisked passengers down to the train platform below minutes before departure. The newness, cleanliness, brightness, and sheer scale of the place had me thinking for a second it was a space-port, with escalators instead leading to SSO launchpads. Give China 25 years and that may well be the case.
 

The following 6-hour bullet train to Beijing was slightly faster (310km/h), roomier, and smoother than Shinkansens i’d taken in Japan, and probably cheaper too. Apparently the trains can go faster – there is talk of development for a 500km/h train in the works – but they were recently limited in the wake of a fatal accident. By the time I heard of this (while I was on the train), 54 officials had been ‘punished’ for the accident – a far cry from the first media reports that it was caused by a lightening strike on a clear day…
 

Long distance bullet trains are so much more convenient, cheaper, environmentally friendly (even though they use a huge amount of power) and comfortable than airlines that i’d love to see them in Australia. However, after seeing a lot of China’s advancements i’m more despondent than hopeful that anything like this could actually happen in Australia – especially as Melbourne can’t even fix it’s amazingly crap suburban train network let alone inter-city trains.

Shanghai is (by at least one measure) the most populous city in the world. It has a slightly bigger population than the whole of Australia (including the estimated million aussies currently living OS, of which 52,000 live in China). A commercial and economic powerhouse – in 2010 it became the busiest container port in the world (handling 29 Million containers, 80,000 per day).As the city the rest of China aspires to be, it seems to be the city of aspirations in many other ways too. 

 
The first thing that struck me was the Big Name Brands – every luxury brand has a store in Shanghai – Gucci, Prada, Burberry, and Luis Vuitton even I could recognize (despite my well-known fashion disability), Ermenegildo Zenda, Cartier, etc were new to me – but easy enough to spot considering each flagship store is at least 4 stories tall and covered with bling, and there are many satellite stores peppered around town.
 
I’m still trying to figure out the addiction to brands – while definitely not unique to China/Shanghai, the scale of these stores seems disproportionate.
 
Is it a generation of fashion prisoners, who spent their formative years wearing the same drab ‘Mao jackets’, making up for lost time? Is it their children’s generation, as ignorant of  their parent’s experiences as they are knowledgeable of global fashion trends? Is it the power of global luxury brands, backed by colossal marketing war chests, keen to establish the biggest beachhead in what will probably become their lbiggest market? 
 
Or is it representative of a deeper desire of Chinese culture – to flaunt wealth with a passion that few other cultures  match. I’m not sure if they are driven to such lengths (eating instant noodles for weeks to save up for a handbag) because there are so many other Joneses (or Lee’s?) you need to catch up with.
 
Maybe i’ll never know – i didn’t hang around long enough to see anyone actually buy anything… But it’s definitely got me thinking about what it would take to create a ‘luxury’ brand in China.
 
Life inside the 3rd ring road certainly seems very different from anything resembling China as I thought it would be. For most of my life, Japan always seemed to be the technological leader of the world. During the 90′s it seemed 20 years ahead of the rest of the world. Australians returning from a trip to Japan told tales of trains traveling at 300km/hr, gadgets and electronics were available only-in-Japan before the rest of the world, and photos of Tokyo’s neon-lit streets resembled sci-fi movies like Blade Runner. 
 
These days Tokyo is still an amazing, futuristic city. But Shanghai is bigger, newer, brighter, and higher (including the second-highest building in the world). And where Japan’s growth has stagnated in recent decades China is still growing, and Shanghai is getting newer and more modern every day.Shanghai’s MagLev (magnetic levitation) train is the most advanced in the world – even if they forgot to build in a fan for the driver. A visit to Shanghai’s urban planning museum is actually a lot more interesting than it sounds – showing how the city has been rebuilt in whole sections. I wonder if any other country could accomplish such urban renewal – a single planning vision, and no room for complaints. locals dub those who don’t want to move for new developments ‘snails’, depending on who you speak to they are always paid/bought out, or not – across the road from the biggest building is a sculpture of three snails, a brilliantly subtle subversive art work of the human costs of development (i have no idea how ‘the authorities’ approved it).

Standing 495m* above the ground, in a building affectionately known as the ‘bottle-opener’, on the highest skyscraper observation deck in the world (until Dubai’s staggeringly high towers are complete) and looking out over Shanghai skyline, it’s clear that China is intent on supplying Discovery Channel with enough Engineering Marvels for years to come. But unlike the Emirates, its not a new phenomenon – the same day the papers proclaimed completion of a 52 km bridge- I first learnt about the Gand Canal linking Suzou (near Shanghai) to Beijing. While the bridge was finished this year, the canal was completed 1400 years ago (and is still the longest canal in the world), and of course there is the Great Wall (only rivaled by our own rabbit-proof fence…).

Shanghaiers earn an average GDP per capita of USD $11,134 – which is 2.5 times the rest of the country (USD$4393) – so it’s hardly a true representation of China as a whole, but as my first glimpse of (mainland) China, it’s a whole lot different to what I expected.

 
Because it grew from a small fishing village due largely to foreign trade in the 19th and 20th centuries, it lacks the history of a lot of other Chinese cities – but there are still some great examples of a more traditional way of life in the river towns that line the Yangtze river delta not far away.  And tea ceremonies are still performed near yu gardens (which includes ‘one of the most beautiful rocks in China’ – rocks are just as important to chinese gardens as plants, water, ‘mountains’, walls and buildings).
 
 
 
 

From the world’s biggest democracy to the largest socialist state in the world. Flying from Bangalore, India’s most progressive city, to China’s most progressive, Shanghai – the similarities between the two countries seem so alike, and yet the differences couldn’t be more stark. 
 
Together they make up over 35% of the worlds population – as India counted its 1.2 Billionth citizen in March, the world reeled with the hopes, dreams, suffering and appetites of 7 Billion souls. While population control policies have checked China’s population growth (and left a generation of (l)only children), India’s continues to boom – and is estimated to surpass China’s population by 2030. 
 
Their current political epochs only began 60 years ago – while India was non-violently shaming the British into independance, China was awakening from the collapse of its last dynasty, devastation from Japanese colonisation in the second world war, and figuring out how to run the biggest country in the world after a successful peasant’s revolution.
 
While both countries embraced modernity – Indias efforts to abolish the social inequalities of the caste system, redistribute land and remove titles and privileges from Maharajas don’t come close to Chinas zeal to modernize.  Modernize at all costs – even having a goal of destroying old things and old thinking (dynastic, cultural and religious) during the madness of the cultural revolution (a very sad time where the teenage angst and hunger-to-belong of a whole country was exploited by Mao’s personality cult to fend off power struggles).
 
60 years on, India trails China by every popular socio-economic indicator -(http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2011/may/12/quality-life-india-vs-china/). But as a traveller, the conclusions drawn through comparisons of HDI, Gini coefficients, and GDP per capita don’t always match what you see on the street or from a train window. It seems any talk of politics in India mentions corruption in the same breath – just as any discussion of Chinese politics by western media always mentions human rights issues – but how much of an impact do these really have on people’s day to day lives?
 
Has ‘socialism with Chinese characteristics’ created a mostly equal society, or are some more equal than others? Has economic modernization led to cultural westernisation? Will I be able to understand enough of it’s languages, cultures and idiosyncrasies to appreciate China’s endearing and disgusting aspects – that make up the love/hate relationship I seem to form with many countries?
 
…and for all this, will I like it better than India? 

Sorry for the lack of recent updates, i could blame it on the fact that it’s -17 degrees at the moment, which makes it painful to be without gloves, and impossible to type on a touch screen with them – but its actually 30 degrees inside the hostel room (I lost the battle for control of the air-conditioner remote, so we’re on the asian setting again – ridiculously overcompensating for the weather outside – anyone who’s been inside a Thai 7-11, or an air-conditioned car in India will understand). I could also blame the Great Firewall of China, but that would reflect pretty badly on my IT skills… (its really not that hard to work around, just a bit slow/painful). But the real reason is i’ve been busy and lazy, and enjoying the most developed cities of China, which compared to the last couple of months seems like taking a holiday from traveling.  

 
But now I’ve left Beijing behind, and i’m the only international tourist in town (Datong in Shanxi province) i’ll try to back-fill a bit, then continue on with tales from the ‘Middle Kingdom’. As we begin the last year of the Mayans you can expect more of the bitter sarcasm, bad puns and sweeping generalizations you’ve come to expect, with accompanying run-of-the-mill amateur photographs – mostly happy snaps, ‘postcard’ shots, and the occasional arty shot (all of those are flukes). 

Scroll down for a wrap up of India and I hope to upload some initial impressions of China soon. As well as being censored, Internet access is painfully slow here at times – regardless of connection speed – so I might need to add some photos to older posts later.

India is definitely a land of contrasts, but never black and white. Instead it’s as though the colour saturation of life itself has been cranked up to 11. More than just the actual colourful rainbows of shuffling saris and turbans, more than the maximum-sweetness chai and incendiary curries, more than nauseating odours and devotional aromas – its contradictions transcend sensory perception to make you feel more …of everything. More angry and peaceful, sympathetic and selfish, ambitious and content, timid and daring. It challenges you to define your own morality, while tempting your mortality.  

 
It’s pushing mercilessly through a packed train platform to find helping hands pull you aboard. Ignoring a beggar only to hear the poor local behind you dropping some coins into the cup. Sleeping on filthy sheets while watching 50 TV channels. A 2 rupee chai and a 100 rupee coffee. Grinding poverty and grooving Bollywood. Hand-pulled rickshaws and Audis. No electricity at home, but 4 mobile phones. 4000 year old Saris, and 60 year old Jeans.
 
But what i find most confronting and yet most endearing about the Indian people i’ve met so far is their complete lack of privacy. Similar to the fact that the word ‘please’ can’t be translated into Hindi – and saying ‘thankyou’ to a friend can be taken as an insult (‘if you were really my friend, what’s mine is yours’) – for many Indians it seems the whole concept of privacy is beyond their ken. For others, the perceived virtues of privacy are outweighed by the fast friendships, familiarity and security of a more communal life.
 
Traveling in India i’ve endured the stares of thousands, the ubiquitous public spitting/burping/farting/pissing, had almost as many photos taken of me as i’ve taken of Indians – and shared hundreds of filthy handshakes. In return i’ve never been refused a conversation or plea for assistance except for lack of English (although many people’s keenness to help far exceeds their knowledge or sense of direction). A one hour conversation on a train will net you a new Facebook friend (request…), a complete breakdown of their extended family tree, resume of education and work experience, and hopes and dreams of the future. All while you are being offered to share home-cooked food from poor families (‘sleeper’ or ‘second class’ is the only real way to travel).
 
5 years ago I spent 3 weeks in India on my first trip out of my home country, and though I was awed by the sites, tantalized by the food and amazed by the scale of everything – i’m shamed to admit I wasn’t sad to leave. 3 weeks of traveling alone, and being confronted by mobs of begging children, homeless families and mutilated amputees had taken their toll.  I used to think I lost a bit of my humanity there – after denying my less-than-hard-earned riches to the hundredth wretched soul, justifying that I needed to save what I had for the rest of my journey.
 
This time around, after 2 months in India I leave it in a completely different frame of mind. I’m sure I’ve changed in the interceding years, as I’m sure India has as well. I’ve learnt many things about Indian culture and way of life that at once explain away confusions and questions I had from my last visit; while spawning thousands of more questions. I’ve grown to accept the fact that I’ll never understand more than the rough outlines of ‘Indian culture’ – with it’s multitudes of races, languages, climates, religions and traditions – where for every correct statement there is an equally true opposite in another place, time or frame of mind. 
 
I’ll miss the ‘one photo please’, the head-wobbles, the guttural spit (or as I liked to call it the ‘soundtrack of India’), the street food, chai, eating with my hands (actually just my right-hand), the mayhem and chaos, the sights, sounds, tastes and maybe even the smells – but what I’ll miss the most is the general friendliness (and inquisitive helpfulness) from just about everyone I’ve met. 
One thing I am sure of, whatever lured me back here this time will surely do it again, the siren’s song will nag at me to pause my predictable greyscale life and immerse myself in the dynamic mayhem of India once again.

Too many words, not enough photos, so here are some photos of cute dogs spotted roaming the streets of India.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Indian Police

Posted in India | December 20th, 2011

Wherever you go in India, the locals are always quick to complain about corruption, especially in the police force. Thankfully I haven’t had any first hand experiences to confirm or deny this – the closest encounter i’ve had to date is staring down a lathi-charge in Mumbai 5 years ago, during my most boring new years celebration to date (a thousand or so youths had turned up infront of the Taj hotel to catch a glimpse of the Bollywood celebrities arriving for NYE celebrations and I happened to be caught up in their dispersal) i’m still not sure whether it was my size (twice as tall as the policeman), nationality, or simply that the poor guy next to me was in a better position to take a swing at – what I am sure of is Lathis can be very effective against Indian crowds (and relatively non-violent, unless you’re amongst the 2% who get hit). They are simply a long cane or stick for whacking people.  
But once again in India, whenever something starts to seem reasonable, there always another wacky fact nearby – in this case the seemingly daft choice of uniforms and equipment for beat-cops. Although they vary from city to city they are almost universally ill-suited to the tasks I imagine they’d face in a typical career. 
 
The contenders for the most impractical police equipment are: 
 
From Calcutta – Traffic cop with steel helmet. While it might be able to stop a bullet from a .303, i don’t like its chances of protecting brain matter from the schizophrenic calcutta traffic – and it masn’t be much fun to wear 40 degree heat. 
 
 

 
Talking of the .303 rifle – otherwise known as a Lee-Enfield, it’s a bolt acton, semi-automatic rifle used by the British army from 1895 until 1957. Why you’d need a rifle with an 800m range in an urban environment eludes me, i wonder if they’re loaded – like the ubiquitous ‘metal detectors’ that are invariably switched off or broken (i even saw one made out of grey painted poly-pipe, as though simply walking through an open door frame is enough to fool most locals) – they certainly seem to embrace the concept of ‘security theatre’.  
 
But the winner is this guy, patrolling the peacefull grounds of the Victoria monument in Calcutta. Threats of terrorism (from Maoists or Muslims) aside, what possesed him to fix a bayonet to his .303 rifle, and then put a protective cover over it is beyond me.

 
[to be fair, after the Mumbai terrorist attacks, many police at train stations could be seen sporting Sterling submachine guns, also former British weapons used in the second world war, but better suited for clearing platforms of AK-47 weilding terrorists than .303s. - also prominent intersections and tourist attractions were covered by guys like this hiding behind sand-bags with more modern automatic weapons]: 

 
 
 
 
 

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