As the Chinese Pop Streams in Guangzhou...
Some Observations (Mine and Others) Upon My Unexpected Return to the Motherland

"In toe Wan"

First, surprisingly, on the net front, Big Other has blocked neither blogger.com nor this page . So whoop whooop whoop whoop! Unfortunately, livejournal, that intimate and subversive archive of many a friend's inner thoughts, has not escaped China's 30k strong army of net police. Nor has the trusty old anonymization.net, which used to provide a bridge around the censors.

Chinese net bars have only gotten better in the eight months since I was last here. Flat screens, webcams, waiters that deliver any kind of food you'd like right to your computer. This so beats anyplace in South/East Asia. Using the toilet is about the only thing I can't do at the computer terminal. (Of course, I haven't made any inquiries).

The old crowd of pale, smoking, and sickly looking online gamers is as unchanging as the clouds. Occasionally, I get an audio reminder of this group's existence as it overpowers the streaming Chinese pop in my headphones with the usual shouting and cheering swells when the action heats up.

I feel comfortable here. I pick up online pieces of neglect from too many quick minutes of exensive internet access. I can afford to take my time when this dim scene costs only $1US for three hours.

Standards, and Fashion as if my Gram Stepped Out of a Photo Album and Sat Down on the Metro

Next, I like the city of GuangZhou. Getting off the train from the New Territories in the northern portion of the Hong Kong Special Region, I got a wave of that familiar, dorky Chinese feel that comes from the uniformity of, well, just about everything.

I try not to pay attention to things such as my own hipness quotient (and I know there are better things I could spend my time doing) but I have to admit I spend too much mental energy wandering about wishing I could updaet my wardrobe. It's nice not to feel overpowered by flash and style like I did across the waters in Hong Kong. Here on the Mainland I can be my dorky self without being snubbed for wearing a "Cox Bazar" t-shirt and jeans I haven't washed in a week.

Moving Mountains

Standards of uniformity prevail all over the Mainland. The sidewalks and public spaces are the standard slabs of tile, limestone and granite, like entire mountains were sliced into inch-thick blocks and stuck down by armies of migrant workers, which is probably pretty close to what happened. The drab salmon-colored buildings, the size and style of handrails, the pointy three-inches of extra toe space in boys' elf shoes (as I call them), everywhere the same.

To my surprise, the women of Guangzhou set a different standard, and Guangzhou is my first widespread observation of much balleyhooed "China Chic" in actual practice. Women's dress here--unlike the utilitarian Hello Kitty sweatsuits I expect to see--often utilizes light, airy, frilled, bowed, printed, striped, dotted, and heeled motifs. My fashion vocabulary is more fit for Dhaka, of course, but imagine sharply pinned frizzy hair parted at a jaunty angle far to one side and shoes that would have made any pre-revolutionary Shanghainese night creature a star. Then you have something besides the stuff that wouldn't fit on the truck to Walmart, This is the kind of chic that turns my head and makes me smile. Silly, I know.

On Lanuage, and Song
(Skip this section if you need more than just a map of Chinese dialects to understand me, because I'm assuming some familiarity with Chinese Language here. Thank you Wikipedia)

How comfortable for this speaker of Mandarin to be in the heart of Cantonese territory and speak nothing but the standard northern dialect. One day I'll be able to go to Tibet and do the same, not only because the Tibetans have mostly all left, but because the Han--northern Mandarin speakers, especially--are like the Borg. Resistance is futile.

Luckily, I've never been much of a minority language preservationist. I'm all for ease of communication. As long as there are enough scholars who understand the intricacies of ancient texts, I'm happy. I would like to one day publish a book on "travel Latin," but it's a far-off and low priority goal.

The publisher I never met on Hong Kong suggests in his book that new waves of Mandarin music will overtake Cantonese pop's dominance. I don't doubt it. With the sounds coming from Taiwan and Beijing (check out this site, Niubi, for avante-garde Beijing shizba streams), I won't have to spend many more nights thinking I'll be able to understand the next song on the karaoke lineup only to be confused with more Cantonese.

And now to get my head out of the ground and on the ground...

Maoists Suppress Maoists: Revolution Versus Stability

It will be interesting to see if China honors Nepal's request to help put down the Maoist insurgency there. I remember reading this article in the Bangladeshi rag The Daily Star before I left that half submerged nation and wondering what would come from a land ossifying to Capitalism while Mao's omniexpressional painting gazes down on every primary school classroom in the Republic. The presevationists in Beijing better strap Mao down because it seems likely that, before too long, he'll be rolling in his Maosoleum.

And From A Voice We Have Not Heard

And here's something from an old colleague, Kelvin, who pretty well summed up my feelings about the Middle Kingdom when he returned here earlier this year after his Spring Festival holiday time:

"...look forward to getting back to China. I miss the dumb place, and its genuine smiles from the folk who try to rip me off when I ask "Jager, dos-e-en?"

Kelvin has his own pinyin for "Zhege duo shao qian?"

In all, it's good to be back in the Middle Kingdom and now I must move on to other more pressing things.