Music: Acidman - Turn Around A two-hour layover in Narita has re-ignited my teenage-old fever for Japan. Staring out the airplane window oval, Tokyo’s coastline was everything I’d imagined in dreams. Small boats on blue waters, lush greenlands dotted by neat gray buildings (so unlike American suburbia’s neat rows of Monopoly-esque houses), giant power plants gloating like a line from Laundry: the world teetering toward apocalypse. It took a writers’ workshop and a couple runs of “who are your favorite authors?” for me to fully realize this country’s influence on me. From Haruki to Laruku to Shunji Iwai, from Banana to Art-School to Lily-Chou-Chou, one day I will return here (but not for long, not for long… there are still some things about this place that will never quite spell livable for me).
I still haven’t been in China beyond the plane touching down, beyond a bus ride to Tianjin, beyond the Taxi ride home. To be honest, it was a bit anti-climactic coming through the airport. Not that I was expecting loud fanfare, ribbons flying, and trumpets blaring (all right, who am I kidding? I was totally counting on being tackled with free waterbottles, paraphernalia, and Coca-Cola branded souvenirs as I roll out). But it was 10:30 at night and nothing was different about the airport this time around aside from a couple information booths here and there with multi-lingual voluteers lined up. In a way, nothing about China is really different from the year before. Yes, more skyscrapers have gone up. Yes, streets are cleaner cuz they get flushed with water when the country sleeps. Yes, Olympic advertisements are ever-y-where. But during the quiet of the night, girls with fake designer bags and lolling Tianjin accents still soothe me on these Burberry nights…
I did manage to pick up some free guidebooks and maps and in my dreams I wrote the introduction to the BEIJING OFFICIAL GUIDE:
Steeped in imperial history, sizzling with creative energy and bursting with brash new money - Beijing is a city of contrasts. Its residents live on the cutting edge of change, yet monuments to the city’s deep roots are all around. The Great Wall, the Forbidden City and the Summer Palace rank among the wonders of the modern world. Ancient temples and parks provide refuge and respite from the demands of a rapidly evolving society.
Phew, SIZZLING YO. :)
Smog conditions in Tianjin, 7.30. To be honest, it’s difficult being an “American-Chinese” in China right now. The smog weighs on some 1.3 billion souls like we’ve all got something to prove, not just the unfortunate guy in charge of the clear skies campaign since the bid to this hoopla-fare (is this the downside of Nationalism?). Foreign media is blasting China with the usual party-platter attention: human rights, censorship, pollution, Tibet. I’ve been asked by everybody and their great uncle: “how about that smog?” and “so what are you guys doing about the smog?” I’ve talked to acquaintances and strangers who toss words like “propaganda” and “cultural genocide” like they are de facto arsenal in regards to China, only they explode like bombs at our feet. Maybe as one NYTimes commentor said, we Chinese really do have thin skin. Criticism is hard to take after 100 years of cultural, social, political, economic, spiritual, and historical misplacement.
The verdict? I don’t think we’ll find anything in the madness that will soon unfold other than the spinning out that happens when cultures and values colllide, but oh it will be a show, ladies and gents, it will be. I am simply here and ready to bare witness, one smoggy day at a time, hoping for the blues.