December 30th, 2007 Chris
Seoul is lightly salted with snow. An aggressive chill is setting in, just in time for New Years, but first, the recollection continues from yesterday:
Act Two: Please do not tap on the glass
I have my visa. I’m packed. My boat leaves in four hours and all I need to do is take enough money to last me a month out of my bank of China account, change it to South Korean Won US dollars (other currencies aren’t available this year) and get on the boat. I mean, I have to buy a ticket to another country the day I’m leaving, but this is China. International transport can be handled last minute. Getting my money is the issue here.
I sit on the padded bench with an out-of-date Lonely Planet Korea and read up on the tribute system. And wait.
For anyone thinking of coming to China in the near future, here’s a tip that will may preserve some of your sanity: Bring a book. Almost any book will do. Other recommendations: Middlesex, China Wakes, anything by Haruki Murakami, a Chinese-English dictionary, a pamphlet on overseas tax laws, pretty much anything with words will do. Keep in handy at all times. Waiting is part of the game.
I reach the window. An hour and a half has passed. I withdraw all the money I will need, a process that takes two minutes. I ask where I can change money, but think better of it when I hear a sentence that begins, “To change to US dollars, you will need…” followed by a list of documents I don’t have. I don’t have tax forms. I don’t have a monthly salary. I don’t have a foreign expert’s certificate. I don’t have a job. And everyone is on lunch.
I leave. I eat, wait, come back. Better yet, I try a different bank. Industrial and Commercial Bank of China. The lines are shorter and the paperwork is one half-sheet. I can change $500. Plenty.
I hand a clerk a pile of renminbi. She counts it by hand. Then it goes into the machine, which counts it. Then she feeds it back into the machine to count again. My head drifts away to a place with no clocks, no departure times, no deadlines. When I return, she is counting again. She aligns more half-sheets of paper, interlaced with carbon. She stamps them, checks each one, stamps again. “Can you go faster?” I ask, politely, I think. “Mashang,” she answers. I used to like that word. “Get on your horse. Immediately.” But it never really means “immediately.”
I’m out the door as soon as money and passport are in my hand, in a taxi and at the terminal with a good 12 minutes to spare. A berth is secured. I walk down a long stretch of off-white hallway toward the gangway. It’s probably 200 yards end to end. I wonder, as I’m walking, if these terminals are designed to stretch out the process of leaving a country, to give the traveler time to think about what it means to leave, to wonder when he’ll be coming back, to hesitate, and possibly to miss his boat.
Those thoughts don’t linger long.
I board the boat, settle in to a cramped but otherwise comfortable bunk, watch the Simpsons Movie and crash out. When I wake up, it’s Christmas Day in Korea.
Next up, Act Three, into the heart of Seoul. Stay tuned.
Posted in roadside blogging, the Dalian life | 2 Comments »
December 28th, 2007 Chris
Eyes East is once again blogging from Seoul. I’d like to say I’m here for a deeper look at Korean culture or to gaze into the future through the lens of the most wired country on Earth, really, I’m here for the cash. I’m teaching at Yonsei University again, and I’ll be here for most of January.
We’ll get to the day-to-day details a few posts hence. First, a bit about getting here, in three acts:
Act One: Dalian to Shenyang to Dalian to Shenyang….and finally we have a visa
Getting a visa for South Korea means going to Shenyang. I hate Shenyang. There is no getting around this fact. Maybe it’s because I only go there for unpleasant business. In my mind, Shenyang brings together all the elements of a large city without ever gaining the benefit of so many people in close quarters. Think of Beijing without the culture, the Olympics, the foreign influence or any reason whatsoever to go there.
But as I said, it’s the only place within striking distance of Dalian to get the visa I need. So I go. Usually I come back the same night. Eight hours on a bus means I finished two books and started a third in the two weeks it took to get my documents. David Sedaris does make the trip easier.
Inside the embassy, I have this slight variations of this conversation with embassy staff at least three times, over a period of two weeks:
“Mr. Amico, we need your contract.”
“I gave you my contract.”
“I know, but we need your information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Your personal information.”
“What kind of personal information?”
“It’s in your contract.”
“I gave you my contract.”
“I know. But we need you to call your university.”
“What should I tell them?”
“They need to send us your information.”
“What kind of information?”
“A fax.”
“What is in the fax?”
“Your personal information.”
“What kind of personal information?”
“They will know.”
“Can you tell me?”
“No.”
And outside, Shenyang is a pile of gray ice covered in dirty snow.
Tomorrow, Act Two: Slow boats and slower money. Please do not tap on the glass. Stay tuned.
Posted in roadside blogging, the Dalian life | No Comments »
December 23rd, 2007 Chris
A few days ago, I ate one of the best meals I’ve had in Dalian.
I’ve eaten well here, to be sure: dumplings of all variety at DaQingHua, curry at Abashi, pizza at Noah’s. Add to that list Japanese barbecue at the pragmatically-named Barbecue Coals.
Consider the selection:
Grilled chicken teriyaki with a hint of lemon, covered in melted cheese.
Shitake mushrooms, cooked soft, subtle, and simple.
Asparagus, something I haven’t had in China, roasted and served with a dollop of mayonnaise on the side, which I indulged in but felt guilty about (for masking the taste of the vegetable; I don’t so much worry about cholesterol at this kind of meal).
Cherry tomatoes, wrapped in bacon, broiled.
Hard-boiled quail eggs.
Nine of us crowded into one of the restaurant’s curtained private rooms—three West Coast Americans, a Londoner, a French Canadian and his Chinese girlfriend, a Newfoundlander, two Koreans. I list these because despite the disparate upbringings and varied palettes, we all walked away stuffed and satisfied.
I love meals like this. Close friends, great food and an unhurried atmosphere make for one of life’s great joys.
My enjoyment of food usually extends to taking a few photos of the cuisine before it disappears, but in this case, I’m afraid I was distracted (the Asahi did not help). I have on my camera only one out of focus and over-exposed image of enoki mushrooms wrapped in bacon (a theme we pushed perhaps too far, but probably not). Suffice to say that presentation was simple, with most of the food served on skewers and brought to us just slow enough that we felt hungry until we realized we were full.
In all, we spent about 100 RMB each. Expensive for a single meal that didn’t include imported wine, but this was one of the rare occasions when I did a quick mental conversion and thought, “I’d have paid far more than $13 for this in any other country.”
Address:
长江路å¤ç”Ÿå··5å· cháng jiÄng lù, xià shÄ“ng xià ng, number 5
Tucked about 10 metres down an alley, the entrance to which is along Chang Jiang Road halfway between the back of the Shangri La (Tin Whistle) and Minzu Square (towards the You Hao area). Some red lanterns outside, in an old building, around 3 floors tall.
Telephone:
82806502, 13998560574
Posted in the Dalian life | No Comments »
December 19th, 2007 Chris
I have this arrangement with the rest of my family whenever an election rolls around: In exchange for researching every candidate and initiative on the ballot, I get six votes. It’s not exactly six votes, we tend to hash things out via email and such, but for the most part, it’s my job to decide what my parents and siblings do in the polling booth.
But this year I’m really undecided. I never thought it would happen to me. I’ve become one of those fickle people interviewed on local news a week before a major election who just shrugs. In other words, I’ve become my family.
Anyway, China came up in the Democratic debate held on Dec. 4 in Iowa. I figure a candidate’s take on China is a good measure of how they’ll will deal with the rest of the world, because
- We haven’t gone to war with China, but suddenly we’ve noticed it has a military
- It’s an easy target politically, but not necessarily the right one
- It’s not (directly) involved in the War on Terror or Iraq
In other words, China is complicated. And so it’s worth hearing how people who want to run the biggest economy and the biggest military propose we approach the biggest country with the fastest growing economy.
Stan Abrams of China Hearsay did the legwork and pulled the China-related quotes from the debate transcript (full pdf here). Check out what they said in three parts:
Also worth reading is the follow up one local paper did on Sen. Chris Dodd’s “slave labor” comment.
Rock the vote!
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December 19th, 2007 Chris
It would seem, to my eyes, that too many people acting like journalists is a good problem to have. The more eyes and ears on a subject, generally speaking, the more information likely to come out. Not all will be credible, or thoughtful, or useful, but the odds are better that facts will find their way to the surface as more people, professionals or otherwise, dig in.
David Hazinski, a broadcast journalism professor at the University of Georgia, disagrees with this in a column published in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution:
Supporters of “citizen journalism” argue it provides independent, accurate, reliable information that the traditional media don’t provide. While it has its place, the reality is it really isn’t journalism at all, and it opens up information flow to the strong probability of fraud and abuse. The news industry should find some way to monitor and regulate this new trend.
Put aside that regulating who gets to report and publish flies the face of the First Amendment. Congress can’t, and the media certainly can’t. So arguing that either should sounds a bit pointless. But hold off on that for a moment. (Or, if you really want a blow-by-blow fisking, read Dan Gillmor’s take).
Let’s consider what Hazinski sounds like he’s really advocating:
Where there are no journalists
Before you start griping that blogs are going to take CNN down a peg (and I’m not griping about that at all), consider what it’s like when your CNN is CCTV, when your AP is Xinhua. Remember the Chongqing Nail House? Or the PX plant in Xiamen? Not a whole lot of coverage there in China Daily.
Now think about countries that don’t even have that much news. Heard much out of Africa lately?
When you actually want to find out in countries that aren’t overflowing with media, that don’t have 24-hour cable networks following Larry Craig into the bathroom and checking into where Hillary Clinton is getting her campaign money (as they should), places that only make headlines when they get wiped out by tsunamis, who else is out there?
Us and Them
Underlying Hazinski’s rhetoric are two stagnant myths that get trotted out far too often when old media starts taking swings at new media. First, that there is an easily defined thing called “a journalist,” that this thing is easily wrapped in plastic and shipped around the world where it will absorb information without prejudice and send it back to headquarters unscathed. The limits of who or what can be rightly called a journalist are defined by a paycheck and a press pass. This myth says that what’s above the byline counts more than what’s under it.
But journalism is about doing more than being. It’s about reporting, and writing, and editing and producing—everything we want to see in a good piece of news. It’s about finding and sharing information.
The second myth is that we all want to produce and consume the same thing. Criticism of citizen journalism so often seems to assume that bloggers and podcasters and YouTubers all want to replace the media model that has existed since Ben Franklin started having gender issues and writing letters-to-the-editor as Silence Dogood.
More more more
There is plenty of ink and TV coming out of Beijing and Shanghai. Foreign coverage abounds, for good and obvious reasons. Much of it is excellent.
But China is huge. There is no feasible way for any single news agency, or even the combined efforts of that agency and all the wires it subscribes to, to hit everything. There’s just too much.
And that’s OK. Not everything is interesting to everyone. I don’t really keep up on what’s happening with the latest US-China trade talks, but I’m glued to Times’ Choking on Growth series. And when I feel like going deeper, there’s Shanghaiist, or Responsible China, or AfricaBeat, or China Law Blog. I shouldn’t even have to say this at the end of 2007, but seriously, where else am I getting what Global Voices is producing? Or Danwei? Or ESWN?
Consider what Robert Scoble told Thomas Crampton the other day:
There’s lots of opportunity for content that hasn’t gotten past the committees that run big TV stations. But because of low cost of this stuff, I can create new content that goes into new areas, and I don’t need to clone CNN.
Yes, a lot of what gets printed on The Internets is crap. Much of it isn’t journalism and doesn’t pretend to be. As the Google guys would say, this is a search problem. And I sure as hell won’t object to more information, more dialog and more engagement, especially in places like China. Isn’t that what we, who have the audacity to call ourselves journalists, want from the public anyway? Time to study up, professor.
Posted in News, projects | 4 Comments »
December 16th, 2007 Chris
Put this in the category of Chinese media living up to stereotypes about Chinese media:
Fortune reports that China Daily refused to run a News Corp. ad celebrating its $5-billion takeover of Dow Jones.
Spanning three pages and playing off Dow Jones’ motto, the headline is “Free People, Free Markets, Free Thinking,” and trumpets Murdoch’s convention-challenging accomplishments over several decades. Those include the launches of the Sun tabloid and BSkyB satellite broadcasting in England, the creation of Fox television (and The Simpsons) in the United States, the Fox News Channel, and the purchase of MySpace two years ago.
Cheeky, sure, but not many papers would turn down a three-page ad. The Financial Times turned it down, too, though for mostly because it didn’t much like giving its rival such gloating room. Fair enough. But why did China Daily say no?
China Daily’s objections, according to News Corp. insiders, were more comprehensive, including - not surprisingly, the liberal use of the word “free” in the headline. Under advertising laws in Communist China, use of such words as “first” or “best” must be approved by authorities. Apparently Murdoch has rejected to the papers’ requests to modify the ads.
Much as this sounds like Cold War “them Commies hate freedom” kind of talk, well, I wouldn’t put it past China Daily to live up to its reputation.
Posted in News | 1 Comment »
December 14th, 2007 Chris
I was grocery shopping with my flatmate the other day, going through the list of needs and wants, when she came to oranges.
“Oranges?” I had to ask: “Why not just buy them on the street outside our building?”
“Because they rip me off,” she said. “They see a foreigner and they double the price.” And so she buys most of her fruit and vegetables, nearly all the food in our apartment, actually, at WalMart or one of the big Chinese hypermarkets. Sometimes this means she pays more, sometimes less. But the chains don’t mark up on an individual basis; everyone who shops there is paying the same foreign-goods-in-China price.
I take the opposite route: Nearly every piece of produce I buy is a street transaction. Not saying this is a better, way, just the way I do it. If I pay more, I’m paying for convenience and Chinese practice. If I pay less, so much the better.
There aren’t many foreigners in my neighborhood. I live in a quiet section of Dalian between Peace Plaza and Olympic Square, what I like to call the Bo Xilai part of town, since the former mayor had a thing for planting trees. That was part of the appeal when I moved in: Huge oaks line the sidewalks, hanging out over the street. The trees give the area a calmer feeling and hide the ugly gray facades of the buildings that look much older than they really are.
Any street can turn into a farmer’s market. I haven’t figured out the system that determines where the vendors will park their carts and drop their goods, but it’s never more than a block from my front door. The people selling tend to come from rural parts of Greater Dalian: Pulandian, Wafangdian and slightly farther out. In for a day then back home. I wouldn’t call them migrants in the usual sense, more agricultural commuters.
I don’t know the people who work at WalMart. I shop there, but the experience is much like WalMart anywhere. I get what I need and get out as quickly as possible. It’s hard to be conversational in the frozen food aisle, even about the low, low prices.
But back to my original thought: What’s the proper thing to do here? Take the open market, potentially be ripped off or get food about to rot, with the trade off of paying the guy growing the food (or someone less removed from the process, at least), and getting it closer to home? Or go corporate, get guaranteed quality and the higher price that goes with it, minus a bit of the human interaction? Where do you buy your vegetables?
Just throwing this out there.
Posted in the Dalian life | 7 Comments »
