mallratting


are you a coco girl?

lately our eating habits have changed. we’re spending less time in small restaurants and more time in what might be provisionally called high-end chinese chains, which are located in new upscale malls. unlike upscale malls built in the late 90s, which emphasized designer shopping, but american fastfood dining (in diwang, for example, the chains include kfc and tgi fridays and there’ a taco bell in the mix), these new malls seem to have better teashops and restaurants. the food is better, the decor is nicer, and the spaces more relaxed; the emphasis is on pleasurable dining, but pleasure all around. indeed, these new malls offer some of the cleanest and aesthetically pleasing environments in shenzhen. my latest occassional hangout is coco park, or 购物公园 (shopping park), where super cow provides really tasty grilled meats and several japanese resturants tempt me. at the garden city mall (花园城), next to the shekou wallmart, another chain 6,000 restaurant (六千馆) serves a delicious twist on the hotpot. it is located next to a very popular dim sum restaurant, where on weekends families and friends wait as long as an hour for a table.

in jr high and high school, i spent an embarrassing amount of time at the rockaway mall, watching movies and eating junkfood. roughly 25 years later i find myself once again mallratting, but this time it really is for the food.

old shekou


storefront, old shekou

this weekend judi, xiaomei and i went costume shopping. as they figured out a look for a female pozzo, i wandered the streets of old shekou, wondering when these scenes of early reform would be replaced with more contemporary versions of modernity. once upon a time, only twenty years ago, shekou was new and improved, a beacon for shenzhen’s trail blazers, who had come to build a special economic zone without any idea what that might mean. at the time, even if these latterday pioneers spoke of reform in quite uncertain terms: feeling the rocks to cross the river (摸着石头过河), nevertheless they also spoke of a particular energy: the shenzhen spirit. hopeful, young, at the cusp. today, that world is already outdated and those young visionaries middle-aged. i have posted a few scenes of old shekou.

godot posters

a preview of the waiting for godot posters:

more importantly, we have performance dates!

place: blackbox theatre, shenzhen university
time: 8 pm, 28-29 december 2006

地点:深圳大学黑匣子
时间:2006。12。28-29,20:00

improvements, again


temporary roadblock, nanyou

just when i thought it was safe to wear sandals, shenzhen embarked on a project to upgrade city sidewalks, ripping up roads that had been set only a few years previously. so once again, as the city improves its image, we pick our way through rubble and bricks, dust and exposed sewage pipes. a few photo-gripes here.

hong kong surfaces


self-portrait

this morning, as i walked from my friend’s cityplaza condominium to quarry bay park, i once again found myself refracted accross hong kong’s glitering surfaces. disorienting after the practical tiles of wangniudun.

emplacements


detail, incense burner, julong village

addresses in chinese read from the largest to the smallest unit. last week, for example, i went to guangdong province, dongguan city, wangniudun township, julong village (广东省东莞市望牛顿镇聚龙村). in terms of the use and organization of the built environment, this administrative hierarchy takes clear form. my trip began at the shenzhen city, luohu bus station, transvessed guangdong’s elaborate (and still expanding) highway network, passed through dongguan city center, and stoped on niuwangdun’s main street, which is narrower and less built up than downtown dongguan, which in turn, is less densely built than is downtown shenzhen, where the journey began. this pattern of narrower streets, shorter buildings, and fewer cars continued with each stage of the journey. from main street, niuwangdun toward julong village, for example, i walked on a main street of four lanes, turned onto a two lane street, stepped onto the one lane street that bordered the julong river, and then turned into a gated alley wide enough to accomodate motorbikes and pedestrians.

in addition to reiterating administrave ranking (provinces administer cities, which administer townships, which administer villages), chinese addresses also tell you whether or not an administrative unit is urban or rural. thus, dongguan (shi) is an urban administrative unit, while wangniudun (zhen) and and julong (cun) are rural levels. in contrast, i live in shenzhen city, futian district, huafu street office, tianmian neighborhood (深圳市福田区华富街道办事处田面居委会). district (qu), street office (jiedao banshichu), and neighborhood (juweihui) are urban designations. not unexpectedly, rural and urban designations also take clear form in the built environment. significantly, rural forms tend to be more traditional and urban forms tend to be more modern or western. thus, for example, the buildings in dongguan city, especially the new city plaza, reflect contemporary architectural trends, while in julong village traditional housing abuts updated one-story homes (平房 literally means flat house and refers to traditional village homes throughout china).

in the prc, rural and urban designations do not simply refer to landuse and population, but also to how the land is used. urban areas are directly under the state, where enterprises, corporations, and individuals can obtain landuse rights (in a process modelled after hong kong’s), but the land ultimately belongs to the state. in contrast, in rural areas, farmers have legal rights to land both for livelihood (growing crops) and housing. there are two main consequences of this situation. first, urban areas have been designated for industrialization, while rural areas have been designated for agricultural production. legally, one can only build a factory in an urban area (although in practice, this has been erroding since deng xiaoping’s southern tour in 1992). second, in terms of property, the traditional, one-stories in the villages are situated on land that belongs to the farmer. in contrast, an urban residents purchase a condo in a highrise, but they do not have eternal rights to it because the land on which the building stands still belongs to the state.

for the past few years, then, dongguan city has been a poster child of sorts for guangdong’s ongoing economic boom. if online statistics are to be believed, from 1999 to 2003, dongguan’s economy grew at a rate of 18.4% a year, enough to make the city the fourth fastest growing in guangdong and 10.3% higher than the national average. now before i went to julong village, i didn’t really think that much about dongguan and when i did it was in terms of boomtown evils: exploitation, prostitution, and pollution. i frequently passed by dongguan on my way to guangzhou and, like supernaut, was both distressed and fascinated by dongguan’s industrial landscape.

now, what’s important about townships like wangniudun is that much of the guangdong boom is actually located in rural townships and villages. administratively, townships are hybrids; they are rural cities. this means that in niuwangdun, julong villagers can invest in industrial production (because it is a city), but that the landuse rights return to villagers, both collectively and individually, because they hold eternal land rights. this loophole has provided guangdong townships and villages with the incentive and flexibility to industrialize in different ways from cities. on the one hand, it has also enabled villagers to become wealthy independent of the state. in shenzhen, this loophole inspired the rural urbanization movement, which changed the administrative status of shenzhen’s farmers from rural to urban, with the result that their children no longer have traditional rights to the land. on the other hand, it has produced a distinctive landscape of tiled multi-story housing, factories, and traditional remnants. for a sense of the emplacements that rural urbanization produces, please visit wangniudun township, julong village.

field tripping update

several weeks ago, i posted on the middle school trip to yangming township. since then, the heping youth federation has posted on the trip here and here.

glass edges

most construction sites in shenzhen are provisionally gated with cement and brick walls, glass edges, and barbed wire. once the project is finished, more elegant, or perhaps less blatent walls replace the makeshift as if it were all right, expected even to keep people off a construction site, but less savory to keep one’s neighbors outside the gate. i have uploaded some glass edges in my gallery.

韩流: caught in the undertow

A funny thing happened on the road to Heyuan. In order to keep passengers entertained, the bus company had installed a television screen and DVD system. At first, I entertained myself by composing an essay about the obvious irony of watching a Korean drama how a young girl marries up and going to visit poor people. But 15 minutes into the trip, I stopped thinking about social ironies and found myself following the intricacies of romance in an arranged marriage between an 18 year old high school student and a 28 year old district attorney.

I can’t say “The Bride is 18 ((新娘18岁)” was either intellectually compelling or even socially redeeming. The plot hinged on the question, could two radically different people get married and become a loving couple? The answer was yes. Yes because the groom understood compassion and how to teach a recent high school graduate how to be a human being. Yes also because the bride didn’t want to go to college but wanted to be a housewife.

These past few years, I have been vaguely aware of the popularity of Korean pop in China, especially music and drams. Indeed, I have listened to friends talk about their favorite dramas and even watched part of “Wish Upon a Star”, staring An Jae Wook (安在旭), who was a breakout Korean star in China. My students listen to K-pop stars Rain, se7en, and BoA. However, I never considered buying into the Korean Wave (韩流 hallyu in Korean). I classed them with Brittney Spears, Justin Timberlake and other young American popstars—cute, manufactured, well-dressed, cute, photogenic, and did I say cute?—but not really for me.

And yet.

After a four hour trip to Heyuan and then a four hour return to Shenzhen, I was still six episodes from our heroine’s happily ever after. I got off the bus, said goodbye to my students, and then felt compelled to do something I never thought I would: I bought the complete Bride just to watch those last six episodes. I was caught in the undertow.

I confessed to a good friend, who told me that Korean dramas are formidable (厉害). A business associate’s wife, she continued, is totally addicted. After breakfast, the wife is said to make herself a pot of tea, turn on the television, and cry along with her favorite stars.

So to understand how I and other 40-somethings might get hooked on k-dramas, I took an unscientific survey of my friends. One said that k-dramas are good to watch. The sets are fashionable, the costumes are beautiful, and the actors are really attractive. Another added that the shows are really relaxing because you don’t have to think when you watch them. Yet another added that she liked to follow k-dramas because they’re realistic. At this, I raised a disbelieving eyebrow, “Realistic?”

“They talk about urban life. And young people’s hopes and dreams. Not like Chinese dramas.”

My husband watched an episode with me. He thought that the attraction lay in the main characters’ rebellion against social norms, without actually breaking human ties. “Asian people,” he said, “live in relationships. But sometimes we just want to do what we want.”

“Yes,” another friend mused, “it’s that the shows always end with reunion (团聚). Real life isn’t like that. It’s comforting to see everybody come together, no matter what their differences were. And the actors really are attractive.”

Perhaps that’s all it is. Pretty people living beautiful lives. An easy distraction. A coffee break conversation. But then, again, I wonder. How could a contrived melodrama about a girl who gives up college to be a housewife hook me? It wasn’t the story. Not the pretty faces. Not even coffee break conversation. But I’m also sure that simply turning off the TV won’t make me immune. I want. Want powerfully. And in those shows wanting brings about its own reward. Forever.

waiting for godot

fat bird is in rehearsal for a december run of “waiting for godot”. estragon and vladimir appear onstage as a farmer-lei feng (played by yang qian left) and worker-lei feng (played by liu hongming right).

compare our hats with lei feng’s hats on stefan landsberger’s wonderful chinese propaganda poster pages.