Monday, May 02, 2005
Hello from Chengdu!
Ni hao (Hello) from Chengdu, China, the capital of Sichuan province. I have just figured out how to type in English characters on this computer, so now I will begin:
When I last left off, we were about to teach our final law class. It went well and, at the end, the school director, Mr. An Eng Ong, presented us with traditional Khmer silk scarves. (He is one of only a handful of lawyers to have survived the Khmer Rouge genocide of 1975 to 1979, during which most of Cambodia's intelligentsia was killed). The students gave us several rounds of applause and a class representative made a heartfelt speech thanking us for our efforts and for traveling so far to teach the course.
Hopefully the same course will be given again next year (and hopefully, I will be able to teach it), but as of now, funding from foreign donors is not yet in place, due to an unstable situation at the Bar Association of the Kingdom of Cambodia. It seems that in the recent elections for bar council president, it was not clear who had won and the losing candidate has contested the election results before the courts. Part of the controversy is also related to the fact that, in addition to admitting the 74 students that we taught in 2004 to the bar as lawyers, the then-bar association president (who is close to the prime minister) also admitted the prime minister and several senior ministers to the Bar (The prime minister became a lawyer without taking our course ... I am insulted!). Anyhow, as with most controversies in Cambodia, one of the most corrupt countries in the world, they are eventually settled - usually peacefully, although the enemies of those in power have occasionally been known to "disappear" - hopefully not in this case.
After the last class, I took a one-hour flight to Bangkok, Thailand, where I visited my friend Jake, who works there as a business lawyer. Jake is continuing to live the good life, having just purchased a BMW that he seems to enjoy driving on the congested streets of Bangkok. Jake, a native of Montreal, does not seem to have had any difficulty adapting to driving a right-hand drive car.
During the weekend, I relaxed a bit and also visited the Chatuchak weekend market. This huge market is, as its name indicates, only open on weekends. It is crowded, attracting 200,000 people per day. It is comprised of some 40 sections and, within each section, there are numerous owner-operated stalls divided by very narrow covered passageways. The 40 sections, in turn, are divided by very wide-open pedestrian malls. You can buy almost anything at Chatuchak, from dishes and clothing to statues of Buddha (at the statue shop, of course) to fighting cocks for bird fighting.
At the market, Jake introduced me to his friend Kaypee, who has a stall in the fanciest part of the market (enclosed showroom with air-conditioning) from which he sells fabric, both retail and wholesale. Kaypee is a Sikh Indian who was born - and whose parents were born - in Bangkok. Kaypee's mother tongue is actually Thai, but he also speaks excellent English, having been sent to study in India as a child. There are as many as 200,000 Indian people in Bangkok. They are a well-established minority who are generally well-off and are, in many cases, active in textiles and real estate. They often send their children to be educated in India, the United States or Europe.
After leaving the market, I flagged down a tuk tuk (a motorized ... make that turbo-charged … rickshaw) for a wild ride through the streets of Bangkok to the central area around Khaosan Road. This area is where low-budget travelers tend to stay (I stayed elsewhere). Khaosan is filled with neon signs in English and Thai advertising everything that a backpacker could possibly need or want. The street is filled with bars, restaurants and youth hostels - some more seedy-looking, some less so.
One of the neon signs, in particular, attracted my attention. It had only Hebrew writing and a map with a star on it (a Star of David, of course). It was presented like a secret treasure map, so I couldn't resist following the directions. I left Khaosan Road and followed a dark alley past several massage parlours with seedy-looking characters hanging out around them. Finally, in the midst of all that seediness, I came upon a synagogue! (This was a long way from Cote St Luc ...). Outside was an armed guard and several menacing looking young men. After I said the secret code word ("Shalom"), the menacing doormen became friendly and I was whisked upstairs by a crazy man with a crew cut - who claimed that he had single-handedly brought peace to the world - to a room filled with about 50 people singing songs in Hebrew. It was a surreal mix: About half were backpackers wearing t-shirts and the other half were bearded Lubavitch Jews dressed in black suits and wearing black hats (in the 38-degree heat!). (These orthodox Jews look like the cloistered Chassids in Outremont, but take the opposite approach: Instead of keeping to themselves, the Lubavitch actually reach out to non-Jews and to secular Jews. They strive to make the world a better place so that the Messiah will come).
It turns out that I had arrived just before sunset on the final day of Passover (an eight-day Jewish holiday). I was seated between two bearded men originally from the United States, one named Levi and the other named Shmueli. While eating a very un-Thai meal of matzah (unleavened bread - traditional Passover food) and gefilte fish, and during a speech in Hebrew by the chief rabbi of Thailand, Levi explained to me that the Lubavitch were creating a joyous atmosphere so that the Messiah would come. Just then, the chief rabbi led the assembled masses in the Lubavitch theme song "Moshiach, Moshiach" (Messiah, Messiah). I left the party with a bag full of matzah to bring to Jake and returned to the seedy streets of Bangkok. I flagged down a tuk tuk (with my matzah in hand) for the ride back to my hotel. I hadn't felt particularly comfortable with the messianic complex thing, but it was nice to be able to celebrate Passover - albeit somewhat belatedly - so far from home. (To their credit, when not singing about the Messiah, the Lubavitch of Thailand are running a tsunami victims' relief project).
The next day, I headed for China, via Hong Kong. My expected three-hour layover in Hong Kong became 45 minutes. When I arrived at Hong Kong, I was immediately taken aside and told that my flight to Chengdu had been moved to a much earlier time. The five-foot tall woman who had greeted asked me to follow her quickly. Her walking was so fast that I could barely keep up. She eventually broke into a full-fledged running stride. We crossed Hong Kong airport, one of the world's largest airports, in record time, as we jumped over small children and people's luggage (It resembled those old OJ Simpson commercials for Budget rent-a-car - or was it Avis?). In the end, I made my connecting flight. Unfortunately, my luggage did not.
The flight to Chengdu on Air China was comfortable: It was on a new Airbus 319. To my surprise, there was a first class section: Apparently, not everyone in Communist China is equal ... some are more equal than others. During the flight, I read the China Daily, the official English-language newspaper of China. I read with interest an article that stated that real estate developers were earning too much profit and that a Mr. Yu, a simple engineer and model for his fellow comrades, had therefore taken it upon himself to organize with other hard-working future homeowners to counter the developers' monopoly and to deny these developers the "excess profits" they were earning. Mr. Yu was organizing his own cooperative apartment buildings.
Basically, as I understand it, the official line is to encourage simple citizens to become condominium owners and real estate developers. However, in encouraging these most capitalist of endeavours, the Communists couch their business advice in the vocabulary of communism. That seems to be the way that Communist China works; in practice, capitalist, but couched in Communist language! (Of course, the Chinese do not get to vote, but it seems the emerging middle class is too busy making money to notice).
When informed upon arrival at Chengdu that my bag would be arriving a day late (it had been delayed in transit at Hong Kong), rather than being disappointed or angry, I decided that the situation would provide me with an opportunity to go shopping for a change of clothing among the locals. I noticed a department store on the way into town and so I headed over there after checking into my hotel. The store looked like any department store back home. It had a full selection of goods, including some of the same designer brands that we have (which is not surprising, since most of the clothes we wear are manufactured here in China). There were, however, maybe 10 times as many sales clerks as one would find at the Bay, let's say. They were very friendly to me, despite the fact that none spoke any English whatsoever. Through sign language, they suggested shirts that I might want to buy. I eventually settled on a nice short sleeve shirt and was able to find my size (the largest size they had), again by sign language.
Payment was a bit of a procedure, as the saleslady first made out an elaborate bill by hand, which I then paid at a cashier's booth equipped with a modern cash register. I then presented a stamped copy of the hand written bill to the original saleslady and finally received the goods. I guess when labour is cheap, you can involve more employees in the payment process.
Chengdu is a city of 9 million people that most of us have never heard of. It is quite modern, with very wide boulevards and numerous 30-storey steel and glass office buildings. There are many cars of makes that are both familiar to us in the West and other Chinese car models that we have never seen. There are bicycle lanes on the sides of the streets, filled with scooters, bicycles and rickshaws (like a tuk tuk, but propelled by pedal power). There are few Westerners here. I can walk for a couple of hours without seeing another Caucasian.
The streets are very crowded. Even at 11 o'clock this morning, the volume of people in the stores and malls made it look like Boxing Day in Montreal. There are many shows presented in front of stores. On a short walk, I saw a magic show in front of a cell phone store, a fashion show at a jewellery shop and a children's sing-a-long in front of another cell phone shop.
Eating in China has been an adventure so far. Just finding a restaurant is not always easy. At home, a Chinese restaurant can be found by looking for a Chinese sign and the English (or French) word "restaurant." Over here, looking for a Chinese sign does not help this hungry Anglo-Canadian very much and there is no word "restaurant" on the signs, either. Anyhow, with patience, I have managed to find places to eat thus far.
Once inside the restaurant, I do a lot of pointing and readily accept anything they suggest or even bring - so far, so good. I keep things friendly by smiling and saying words like "xie xie" (pronounced chez chez), meaning thank you. The waiters often react by laughing - whether at me or with me, I will never know.
This morning, I visited a museum located in a small dusty shed down a small alleyway. It houses a collection of 57,000 pins, posters and statues, all depicting the image of Mao Zedong. All were collected by an elderly man, Mr. Wang An Ting, who claims that Mao came to him in a dream and told him to display his collection to the public. Mr. Wang greeted me and insisted that I take many photographs of him in front of his exhibits. Mr. Wang does not believe in dusting his museum/shed. It was definitely one of the stranger museums that I have ever visited!
In the afternoon, I visited the Wenshu Buddhist temple and tea garden, where you can drink tea while listening to the chanting of Buddhist monks. Chengdu is known for its teahouses. For the most part, they resemble Starbucks in the sense that they are places to imbibe caffeinated drinks while reading or hanging out with friends.
Tomorrow, I will visit the pandas: More on that in my next e-mail.
Take care.
--Larry
