Longtime Beijingers are well aware that the independent bookstore (slash-cafe-slash-bar-slash-event-space) The Bookworm — a local institution if ever there was one — was the first place in town to host weekly pub quizzes. Well, we’re bringing it back. Next Monday, July 24 at 8 pm, there will be a special (loosely) China-themed pub quiz at The Bookworm, hosted by yours truly.
Sample questions you may or may not see during quiz night:
– What city was the first to receive the designation “Special Economic Zone” in China?
– Which of the following is the only Chinese person to have been named Time Magazine’s Person of the Year more than once? A) Chiang Kai-shek; B) Mao Zedong; C) Deng Xiaoping; D) Xi Jinping
– Identify the company, founded in 1988 with hubs in Beijing and Chengdu, that uses this logo:
You got these? Good. Bring a team and compete next Monday. Limit up to 6 people per team, please. Top three teams will win prizes, and we’ll pass out some shots along the way if we’re feeling good.
The closest thing we have to immortality is living in the memories of strangers. Behold the story of Ge Yulu — who is just some guy — whose name is spoken by residents of a half-kilometer stretch of road in Beijing because they think, somewhat hilarious, the road is called Ge Yulu.
Mashable’s Yi Shu Ng has this story. In 2013, as part of an art project for the China Central Academy of Fine Arts, Ge found a random street without any street signs, so he put some up, using his name. The last character in his name, lu, means “road” in Chinese, so people began referring to the street as “Ge Yu Road.” According to Mashable:
In an interview for a college publication, Ge said that he aimed to explore the meaning of his identity and privacy in a public space.
He had previously spray-painted his name on the entrances of his alma mater, Hubei Institute of Fine Arts, and written his name all over noticeboards, toilets and blackboards on campus.
“When I went to Beijing, I found that this metropolis had a lot of nooks and crannies,” he said. “Could ‘Ge Yulu’ survive in such a nook, in a place people usually ignored? That was at the root of this work, this idea.”
It did more than survive. It became immortalized in 2014 after an Alibaba-owned mapping platform, Autonavi, caused both Google and Baidu Maps to think the small street was actually called Ge Yu Road.
Alas, authorities have caught on, and are planning on taking down the Ge Yulu signs.
The road is located in eastern Beijing and measures about 460 meters long. Despite the fact that the street name has been changed, many residents still know the street as “Ge Yulu.”
“None of us knows why the road is called Ge Yulu,” one resident said.
This week’s song is sung by Stephanie Chou and Octavia Romano, but we really could’ve chosen any of several versions (e.g., here’s one with Placido Domingo). That’s because “Kangding Love Song” is one of China’s most well-known and beloved tunes, originating from Kangding, Sichuan province, inspired by the daily life of the people there.
UNESCO and NASA have both recognized the song as one of the world’s 10 best folk songs. But if you know nothing about Chinese culture, there’s a good chance you’ve heard this before — it was given significant play in the first season of Marvel’s Daredevil, in one of Episode 5’s memorable fight scenes:
Lyrics:
High upon the mountain side, floats a cloud so white
There lies Kangding town, bathed in silver moonlight
Moonlight shines bright, over Kangding town
Lovely maiden with a sweet smile, Li the woodcutter’s daughter
Zhang the blacksmith’s eldest’s son, came to court her in moonlight
Moonlight shines bright, a courtship in moonlight
First, he has fallen in love because she is talented and good-looking
Second, he has fallen in love because she can take care of the family
The crescent moon, can take care of the family!
Lovely maidens of the world, I cannot but love you
Gentlemen of the world, they cannot but woo you
Moonlight shines bright, they cannot but woo you
Yin (音, “music”) is a weekly Radii feature that looks at Chinese songs spanning classical to folk to modern experimental, and everything in between. Drop us a line if you have a suggestion: [email protected].
We’re proud to present the first in what will be an ever-expanding Radii podcast network: Wǒ Men, produced by two Chinese women who will discuss weekly topics that affect their everyday life in Beijing.
We sat down with hosts Yajun Zhang and Jingjing Zhang (no relation) to discuss what to expect, and also learn more about this inaugural episode, where they talk gender equality with Chenni Xu, co-chair of the Women’s Initiative at her company.
What subjects will you cover?
Yajun: It could be work, lifestyle, culture, love, politics … basically anything that relates to our lives in this fascinating country.
Jingjing: Through this podcast, we want to share stories and views about our lives in China from the INSIDE. And as aspiring professional women, we hope that we’ll bring the new perspectives that perhaps aren’t always part of the discussion.
What are the things you want to say?
Yajun: Very different from our parents’ generation, we are the generation, born in the 80s, that most benefitted from the perks of the rapid development of China – this means we had the opportunity to receive higher education, to consume the most cutting-edge technology, and to experience and explore the world the way our parents could never dream of. The generation gap in other countries that might span a century is condensed into two generations here in China. This kind of rush left a clear mark on every one of our generation, a generation born in the old and having to make a life in the new.
Both Jingjing and I work in corporate communication/PR industry. As part of our job, we consume lots of information every day and develop them into thoughts and opinions. At work, our value comes through opinions and perspectives. In life, we’ve come across so many people that aren’t used to women who have strong opinions. So we built this platform for ourselves and for many Chinese women — who, like us, have a lot to say — to have a channel to share their stories and thoughts.
Jingjing: It can be overwhelming to live in a city like Beijing that is the center of change, and contradiction. I find observing what’s happening around us and spending time asking “why” helped me put things into perspective. Through this podcast, we’d like to share observations and exchange ideas with guests about living in China, and hopefully provoke some thoughts and debates along the way. I feel our experience gives us a unique perspective on many things; we are understanding, critical, embracing, and paradoxical.
What’s up with the logo and your name?
Yajun: “Wo Men” (我们) means “us” in Chinese, so to us it’s Wo Men and Women. I will explain more, but first I have to say the most difficult part of doing a podcast is naming the podcast. We tried so many different names, “Generation Beijing,” “China Perspective,” “Nv China Perspective,” and hundreds more! In the end, we were so fed up that we almost decided just to use the name Zhang and Zhang, because we’re both surnamed Zhang.
Jingjing: Luckily, one of our very close friends suggested, since it’s our podcast, why don’t you just call it “我们” podcast, which means “us” in Chinese and also is spelled the same as “women,” which we happen to be (haha). We immediately fell in love with it because it is just “us.”
Who are Jingjing and Yajun?
Jingjing: Yajun and I have known each other for a long time. We are former colleagues and became best friends. We are so close that we can debate each other without worrying about our friendship.
Yajun: We also share similar experiences, both having grown up in China and studied abroad, and now once again living and working in Beijing.
Why podcast?
Yajun: Oh, I have been planning this for many years. Since the first time I listened to This American Life many years ago, I knew I wanted to make a this-is-Chinese-life podcast. As a former journalist for the Christian Science Monitor in the Beijing bureau for four years, I traveled to many parts of China and talked to many people with very different identities, from farmers to very senior officials. Each one of them has a fascinating story.
Jingjing: I always had a “journalist” dream! I went to university in the UK and studied radio journalism when I was 19 as the only non-native English-speaking person in my year (it was so difficult to find a university that accepted a foreign student into its journalism course!). Having spent most of my university time interviewing strangers speaking in a different language and editing recordings in the studio, I was deeply fascinated by listening to people’s stories from all walks of life and sharing them through audio waves.
What’s in the first episode?
Yajun: In spring 2010, a young Chinese-American female master’s student visited a large spa in Shenzhen during a trip to Hong Kong. At the time, she saw for the first time female migrant workers working there as masseuses, and spoke to them. And when she saw a computer panel with pictures of identical looking girls that male patrons could choose from, and the type of work they had to do, she became aware of the gender inequality issues and the situation that female migrant workers find themselves in. Ever since, she’s been interested in this topic, and subsequently developed her dissertation on gender equality issues in China and continued her field research during her further studies. She is now a professional working and living in Beijing, and is our very first guest: Chenni Xu. Now working at Brunswick Group, Chenni’s passion for gender equality continues – she co-chairs the Women’s Initiative at her company, speaks on the topic (most recently at the first women’s debate event in Beijing held by the China Debate Association), and is a member of the Beijing Women’s Network.
Jingjing: Chenni will join Yajun and myself to discuss gender inequality in China. We will look at perceptions of socially accepted gender roles and expectations and how this is perpetuated in the family, school and workplace, and how to stop the vicious cycle of social programming. We also look at the up-and-coming women’s network and feminism scene in China, and the gender issues that appear in our everyday lives and how should we address them.
Last week, I went off on a tangent (and perhaps the deep end) about the cultural implications of online racism. If you’re still awake and with me, rejoice! This week’s column is both short and to the point.
First, let’s check in with the fan counter:
Woah. Now we’re talking.
If you’re wondering where the sudden spike came from, allow me to explain my latest Yingke discovery:
As it happens, streaming yourself live on Yingke isn’t the app’s only feature. You can also record and/or upload short 15-second videos for the enjoyment of your fans or whoever else might come across them. I’d browsed through a few of these “small videos” before, but they seemed to overwhelmingly consist of one of three things: 1) pretty girls blinking rapidly into a Snapchat-style filter for 15 seconds, 2) big muscly guys picking up big heavy things and setting them down again, or 3) people of either gender using the chipmunk-voice feature for a comical effect that becomes a lot less comical after you’ve seen it a million times. It wasn’t until I started noticing a few magic tricks, comedy bits, and various demonstrations of interesting skills that I had an embarrassingly late realization: Yingke is also Vine.
Vine, in case you’re unfamiliar, was an app that allowed users to post 6-second videos; it was basically the audiovisual version of Twitter until Twitter bought it and shut that shit down. Users were free to publish regular little snippets of what they were up to, and just like Twitter, the content ranged from the utterly mundane to the undeniably brilliant. Sure, you could spend 6 seconds shooting a 6-second selfie video of yourself eating a sandwich – or you could spend hours shooting and editing together some of the best 6-second-segments of humor, camera magic, and creativity the world has ever seen.
And sometimes, just the best kind of dumb fun
Now, I was the kind of super-cool and clairvoyant teenager who thought that Facebook and Twitter were dumb fads that would soon pass by, so it probably comes as no shock that the whole Vine thing kinda passed me by. Nonetheless, it’s never too late to learn (technically for Vine, it is too late, but never mind), so upon realizing that Yingke had a whole *secondary* feature that drove an entire American internet phenomenon for several years, I started doing some homework, i.e. watching “Best Vines of xxxx” compilation videos on YouTube. I used to be really into magic as a kid – again, can’t stress enough how cool I was – so without showering, arranging any lighting, or considering the angle of the shot, I grabbed a hot pepper, a cocktail glass and made the following bit of nonsense in under an hour:
Behold how an adult human chose to spend an hour of his time upon this earth
That’s it. I only did a few takes and didn’t bother to get the cut where the pepper hits the water exactly right because – can’t stress this enough – I was just playing around with a feature I didn’t think was a big deal. After posting the thing and drinking another cup of coffee, I checked my phone and saw that I had 57 notifications from Yingke. Despite only having 3500 followers, the video had already been watched 4,000 times and the comments (and gifts) were pouring in. By the end of the day, the (again, really stupid) video had been watched 20,000 times and I had netted an additional 1,000+ fans. At time of writing, that first video is over 70,000 views and my fanbase (still small) has nearly doubled. Now, of course, none of those numbers are even remotely impressive by Chinese streaming – or even YouTube – standards, but it’s definitely given me a new perspective on what’s possible for me on Yingke.
The thing is – and this is particularly relevant in the wake of the recent uproar about VPNs – I think the way I seem to be coasting my way to streaming success highlights a massively underserved need in China: fun with foreigners. As I mentioned a few weeks back, general social interaction is a big draw for Chinese live streaming; but this is something more powerful and specific. There is a massive divide between what the world of Chinese media portrays – foreigners and their culture thrown at you by every ad, video, school, and movie – and the reality of life in China – foreigners are mostly a strange novelty in daily life, even in big cities like Beijing (let’s leave Shanghai and Hong Kong out of this for now). I’m nothing special – my looks, musical talent, performance chops, and audio/video skills all pale in comparison to the average waiter in NYC – but by living in China, I’ve managed to stumble my way into a world where my particular intersection of abilities and inherent attributes (i.e. blond hair, blue eyes, etc.) allows me to be literally one in a million.
And without wishing to be melodramatic, this is starting to feel both really cool and a bit scary. I’m nowhere near *internet famous*, but the comments and messages have officially started to overwhelm my ability to respond to them in any meaningful way, especially those that are lovely and well-thought out and basically all say “hey, can we be friends so you can teach me English, because I don’t know any foreigners.” The other night, a woman sent me a picture of her 8-year-old daughter and told me that she thought watching my stream would be a good way for her to learn something about foreign culture. Again: cool, but scary.
As dedicated readers will recall from last week, Yingke puts me in the interesting yet uncomfortable position of representing all foreigners and particularly all Americans – at a time when a whole lot of Chinese people want to know why America seems to be so angry and hateful and there’s not an easy answer to give them (especially not one that will allow me to keep running my mouth on the Chinese internet).
I tend to be a fairly snarky and irreverent sort of person, but I also hold the belief that a good relationship between China and America is up there with renewable energy and stuffed-crust pizzas on the list of things the world really, really needs. Besides the obvious language practice and financial incentives, the idea that I could make a small contribution to mutual understanding and humanization between China and America (by way of simply shooting the breeze with tens of thousands of Chinese people on the subway and making them laugh at some silly videos) is reason enough for me to keep putting hours into this bizarre pursuit.
So there you have it. I’m not narcissistically wasting my time taking hour-long selfies, I’m promoting world peace!
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go shoot a video with a big toy minion, ‘cause you’d best believe that shit is going viral.
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]In America, laying on the car horn is a driver’s sure way of saying one of two things: 1) “You’re an asshole”; 2) “I’m an asshole.”
I’ve found it’s a little more nuanced in China, where the horn can mean either of the above two, but also:
— Look at me, aren’t I the richest and best?
— You probably aren’t aware of this because as a pedestrian walking in the middle of the road you are clearly a heedless and foolhardy fellow, but I’m a car and would really like to travel at the speed of one, now.
— Please politely step aside for your own safety because I am a car and I am FAST APPROACHING.
— I’m bored, has it really been 20 minutes since we’ve moved 100 meters?
— DIE YOU %@#$
It all sort of depends on context, you know?
But no matter what, cars produce noise pollution, and if there are a lot of cars — say, nearly 6 million in Beijing alone — then the pollution can be more than a little annoying.
Which is why this is development interesting: certain areas around Beijing will now be using “car horn detectors” to make sure drivers are not illegally honking. Via China.org.cn:
“The detectors consist of three parts, namely, a microphone array acquisition device, an electronic capture and a LED prompt system. Combining the three systems, we can distinguish between the sounds of horns, brakes and engine noise, etc.,” said Li Jianfeng, deputy director of the Scientific and Technical Information Department of the bureau.
“The detectors can accurately collect honks.” Li said. “Even parallel vehicles can also be identified based on their position in each lane; the recognition locator feature can reflect the direction the honks are coming from, so there will be no misjudgment.”
Offenders will have their car plates photographed, tracked down, and prosecuted. They will only be fined 100 yuan (US$14.76).
Beijing isn’t the first city to install this system. For a year now, Nanjing has been using sonar plus photography to grab overzealous honkers. They haven’t nabbed many — only 17, which makes me think enforcement is somewhat arbitrary — but it’s the spirit that counts. Use less horn where possible. Everyone will be happier for it.
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