and post offices and besides they're far easier to delete without reading!
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Almost anything you can say about China that is older than the fourth
ring-road encircling Beijing comes across as a cliché, but one is
unavoidable - 'China is changing' - and it's changing fast. Arrival at
Beijing airport - once modelled on the South-Asian ordeal of uneven floors;
introverted and unfriendly staff; and extroverted obsessive porters &
taxi drivers - is now as painless as anywhere else in the world. Acres of
marble, smart & generally helpful staff, and toilets with fittings to
do
Helsinki proud all greet the arriving traveller.
The underlying reason for all this is the Olympics - remember
the 2000 games were 'stolen' by Sidney. Well China is in the race for 2008,
and this time it's personal. Many of the possible failings of the last
application have been quite literally removed from the city.
So it was in one of the new breed of red, low pollution taxis that we rode
the 30km into the centre. Unsettlingly the journey finished without a
shouting-match over a mysterious 8 Renmenbei added to the total for luck,
greed or sport, and we just paid the metered fee (curiously the meter was
switched on). This was the face of things to come.
Our plan for the journey was to spend around four days in Beijing to see
relevant people from departments, organisations and potential funders,
before flying out to Chengdu, in the West of China, from where we were to
take the road into the mountains of West Sichuan & the Tibetan Autonomous
Areas where the projects that Tibet Foundation is supporting are located.
For the time in Beijing I was able to stay with a friend from University who
works on the China Daily newspaper. In Sichuan we (Karma - my colleague at
the Tibet Foundation - and myself) were guests of the local authority,
seeing another very different facet to the Chinese conundrum.
As I have dwelt on throughout this message, it is the change which is most
striking in China. The last time I was in the East was in 1995, a mere five
years ago by many standards, but five years between visits to Beijing
perhaps equates to fifty apart from any other city! Wanfujing Lu, one of the
best known shopping streets, epitomises the dramatic changes. Built close
to
Tien'en'man Square, on Beijing's rigid north-south grid system, in 1995 it
was one of the few places to shop for western goods, in fact - I replaced
my
camera in a small
shop toward the southern end of the street. Today, entering the street at
its more removed Northern end, there were a number of buildings surprisingly
reminiscent of time spent on our last trip searching for a post-office -
surprising in as much that I remembered them, as they were still standing.
However about half way along the road an abrupt change takes place. The
street widens, the buildings grow and become ever more garish - swapping
traditional Chinese brick hutons for shopping centres best described as
monumental; finished with acres of glass and draped with miles of garish
neon. This sea change apparently took place in the space of twelve months
leading up to October 1999, frenetically timed to meet the fiftieth
anniversary of the foundation of the People's Republic of China, when Mao
looked down from the nearby Gate of Heavenly Peace, across a fundamentally
different landscape, and declared the arrival of a new world order.
The changes reach far beyond mere shopping, and one of the most immediately
obvious is what people are wearing on the streets today. Though I'm not a
style guru(!), it didn't even escape me that people's dress
has changed markedly - their clothes are much more integrated to their
style, and they are worn far more confidently. On a similar note - in
Beijing at least - the incessant call of 'Lao-wai', or foreigner which once
rung out a billion times in the ears of recognised foreigners, is no longer
there. A nation maturing, perhaps?
Leaving Beijing on Friday for Chengdu, we had the pleasure of being delayed
in Beijing Airport for several hours, during which the novelty waned
somewhat. The flight was far more regimented than previous internal Chinese
aviation experiences had been, though much to my relief some of the famous
'chinglish' translations conspicuously lacking in Beijing had been lovingly
preserved
on the Airbus. 'No Class Divide Here' and 'No Use for Passingers' restored
my faith in the dying arts of mis-translation. The flight otherwise passed
with two wings and
no prayer, and we were soon in Chengdu at the hanger which passes for the
terminal until the new airport is completed (no doubt in time for our return
flight?). Chengdu was milder than Beijing. The 'Northern Capital' had seen
some snow before we arrived, whereas Chengdu was still basking in
temperatures of around 10C, with just a smell of the oppressive humidity
which blights it in the summer.
We were met at the airport by the local government representative in
Chengdu, complete with two kashags - the Tibetan prayer scarf traditionally
given at meetings - and the government landcruiser. So - in a new departure
for me - we swept out of the airport (past the 'Passengers must get on in
the park' sign) to Chengdu and the hotel they'd organised. This looked to
be
turning prickly when the landcruiser swept into the Jinjiang Bingunan, the
top hotel in Chengdu, and previously only a place I'd gone to post letters.
This time proved to be no
different - we were just visiting to make use of their money changing
facilities.
Crossing Chengdu to the lesser though perfectly adequate hotel we were
staying in, much had changed here too. Watching out for the 'little tiled
cafe at the top as we raced up Renmin Nanlu', we suddenly and prematurely
ran
out of road - the top hundred metres had been flattened to create a green
plaza befitting Mao's gaze from the podium once cramped by the passing
traffic, today enjoying the sheer bourjoiseness of the grass below!
That evening, after the obligatory hospitality, we returned to the hotel
room to the Tibetan visitors who heard through the grapevine that we'd
arrived, and the late-night phonecall offering a massage. Both transpire
to be customary, and both occur at the same time. The visitors arrive at
your room - just as the thought of sleep has become overpowering -
proffering a medley of greetings and prayer scarves (a sizeable collection
of which
we are fast acquiring!), then talk shop in Tibetan for the next couple of
hours! Late night massages - though less insistent or blatant than in
Russia - seem to be offered to all arriving guests.
So slightly light on sleep (no, we didn't have the massage) we set off from
Chengdu on Saturday. Initially
tearing out of the city on the new elevated expressway, then the deserted
motorway, flying at 100mph, past blurred signs warning about the dangers of
speeding, we soon exhausted the anachronistic motorway through the paddies,
and started to climb into the hills. The road remained good, and the driver
retained his determination to be first, reacting as though personally
insulted if someone failed to get out of his way. The road climbed, first
through the low hills where paddies clung to the slopes, and the omnipresent
haze sat atop, but by early afternoon we were pulling up into the mountains;
1500m, 2000m and finally - by late afternoon - 2500m in Dhartsedo, capital
of Kandze Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture. A small city constricted by the
encompassing hills, we went straight to the Kangding Hotel, the top place
in
the town, and judging by the other guests, site of a police convention. So
we don't need to worry about theft here!
The evening proceeded as expected - many visitors from previous trips
arrived, and rapidly took us out to an extravagant dinner, with even more
extravagant toasts. It is over dinner that the real positioning takes place.
Who you sit next to speaks volumes about who you are perceived to be. Toasts
are proposed repeatedly, using a local form of repackaged white-spirit to
poison the weak (the wise - among who I have to count myself - remember the
last (only) time they tried rice wine, and steer a wide berth).
Today we spend in Dhartsedo - our plans are to visit a teacher training
college in town which has an internal charity which supports the students
of
the poorest parents. We have £1000 to give them, which will provide
basic
living costs for eleven students for one year - after which we hope to be
able to extend the scheme to more students.
Hope that you're all well - there may be another update if we don't run out
of telephone reach too soon....