January 3, 2010
Workers are putting the finishing touches on a French-designed, glass-and-steel train station on the fringes of Wuhan, a major metropolis on the middle reaches of the Yangtze River in China.
Inside, the mostly middle-class passengers line up to board the high-speed train. It takes just three hours to cover the more than 600 miles to Guangzhou, China's third-largest city, in the heart of the industrialized Pearl River Delta. That's 10 hours less than the conventional train takes.
While the United States has allocated $13 billion for the construction of high-speed rail over the next five years, China plans to spend $300 billion in the next decade to build the world's most extensive and advanced high-speed rail network.
Luxury At 220 Miles An Hour
In the first-class section of the train to Guangzhou, where tickets cost upwards of $100 — almost double the price of second-class seats — real estate company manager Yang Tao and his wife have swiveled the seats in front of them around and put their feet up. He says he's willing to pay extra for a comfortable ride.
"My wife is afraid of flying," he says with a chuckle. "Taking this train is more convenient than going to the airport, with all the security checks. The flights are often delayed and the airlines' attitude is arrogant."
Onboard video screens show off the train's advanced features. In the dining car, passengers eat roast duck gizzards and spicy noodles and watch the terraced fields and factory towns of South China slip past their windows at speeds averaging around 220 mph.
By 2012, China plans to have almost three dozen high-speed rail lines crisscrossing the country. Nearly 130,000 workers are now building the Beijing-to-Shanghai line, which at $32 billion will be China's most expensive construction project ever. The frenzy of construction is at the heart of China's massive fiscal stimulus to revive the economy.
Since entering service on Dec. 26, the new train between Wuhan and Guangzhou has forced airlines to reduce ticket prices on that route. Graduate student Grace Huang says it is completely different from the lumbering, claustrophobic boxcars Chinese train travelers are accustomed to.
"This train is a big improvement," she declares. "It's comfortable and spacious, not crowded like regular trains. Of course, there's nothing we can do about that — China just has too many people."
A Greener Option?
Critics argue that the bullet trains are overkill, and that what China really needs is affordable transportation for the masses. Xie Weida, a railway expert at Shanghai's Tongji University, disagrees.
"High-speed rail can ease our transportation bottlenecks," he says. "Migrant workers may not require high-speed trains, but if some passengers take the high-speed trains, that should relieve pressure on the ordinary ones."
Of course, that scenario will only work if the number of regular trains stays the same or increases.
China's leaders say their country will not follow the West's path of development — sacrificing the environment in order to industrialize. China's investment in high-speed rail is a part of this strategy, says Xie Weida.
"To solve the problem of public transportation in such a vast country," he argues, "rail transport is the only way to go. If we rely on airplanes and automobiles like the U.S., neither China nor the world will be able to handle such energy consumption."
In Guangzhou, passengers exit the train and board buses and taxis for the city center, to which the railway will later be extended.
For some Chinese, the high-speed trains have already begun to shorten the distances between cities in their minds. Some observers predict the fast new trains will have other effects on Chinese society, such as stitching together more closely China's patchwork of regional markets, dialects and cultures.
Monday, January 4, 2010
CHINA: Shenzhen Travel: Finding Culture in the New China
In part one of Finding Culture in New China, Sarika Chawla reported on her adventures in Guangzhou. In part two, she reports on how she found the unexpected in the bustling metropolis of Shenzhen.
Now, here’s a surprising fact: the vast majority of Shenzhen residents are under 30 years old.
As a result, you’re unlikely to find elderly folk waxing poetic about old Shenzhen, or generations-old restaurants with grandma standing behind the stove.
Did razing an entire village and replacing it with an instant city also erase the “authentic” experiences that American travelers seek?
Only 30 years ago, Shenzhen was an unremarkable fishing village; today it is the thriving financial and industrial hub of South China. Due to its proximity to Hong Kong, Shenzhen was singled out as the first Special Economic Zone and established as a city in 1979.
Today, it’s the biggest city in China when grouped with Hong Kong, and perhaps the richest in the country. Getting here is as easy as a short ferry or train ride from Hong Kong, or by train or road from Guangzhou.
Note that even though it’s also a part of the Guangdong province, the dominant dialect is Mandarin, not Cantonese, since most residents come from other parts of China.
In terms of urbanization, Shenzhen much further along than Guangzhou and a very carefully planned city. There is a surprising amount of green space and tree-lined streets, along with sleek and sophisticated bars and restaurants, and cultural offerings such concert halls, art galleries, museums, and book shops. While sipping evening cocktails poolside at the Ritz-Carlton or Shangri-La hotel, surrounded by imposing skyscrapers, it’s hard to distinguish this city from any number of sparkling metropolises.
But it’s the unexpected that really sets this city apart.
The first thing you might notice about Shenzhen is the proliferation of oddball theme parks. According to the locals, after China opened itself to the world in the 1970s, Chinese officials were so impressed by Disney and Six Flags-type entertainment that they considered it a necessary part of development.
As a result, theme parks include: Splendid China, which showcases miniatures of China’s famous sites and historical figures; the Chinese Folk Culture Park, which features villages of cultural performances, parades and artworks; Windows of the World, where visitors can check out replicas of the world’s greatest attractions—from the Eiffel Tower to Angkor Wat to the Sydney Opera House—as well as mind-blowing theatrical spectacles that put Vegas to shame; and Happy Valley, which is the closest experience to Disney you’ll get (apart from Hong Kong Disney and Beijing’s Shijingshan Amusement Park).
These parks are about as authentic to Chinese culture as Disney is to Anytown USA, but they are local institutions that shouldn’t be missed. If you’ve only got time for one experience, make it Windows of the World and cap the evening with a show and fireworks display.
A bit off the beaten path from Shenzhen is another unexpected gem that shouldn’t be missed. Dafen Oil Painting Village is an example in irony when talking about authenticity. Hundreds of artists have set up shop here and can copy virtually any painting you desire, even from a photo, and ship it to you.
Raphaelite cherubs? Chairman Mao? Former Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan? Your grandchildren? It’s all there.
However, if getting a cheap knockoff isn’t your style, Dafen is also home to dozens of original painters producing top-quality—and a good amount of mediocre—art.
Although the village has been remodeled over the years, it’s a refreshing throwback with squat buildings versus towering skyscrapers, and charming courtyards where visitors can sit down for tea.
Finally, there is a side of China that the tourists don’t always get to experience—Sunday in the park.
In Shenzhen, Lianhua Mountain Park (Lotus Mountain) is a sprawling, green oasis in the middle of the city. On Sunday morning, crowds gather to practice … everything.
Down one path a group of pajama-clad locals twist and bend in elegant tai chi moves. On another patch of grass parents and kids run along hoisting kites in the air.
But that’s the expected.
The unexpected is discovering Shenzhen’s middle-aged and elderly population in the form of embracing couples rehearsing ballroom dancing in the park, while somewhere down the lane, peels ring out from a session of laughter therapy.
Elsewhere, a collection of singers and musicians, led by an enthusiastic conductor, heartily belts out Chinese songs—and a special rendition of “Red River Valley” for their “foreign friends.”
And, my favorite of all, a group of hip-swiveling, arm-waving women belly dancing their way through Middle Eastern and Bollywood tunes, who beam when we join in to share the joy.
Dancing in the heart of Shenzhen, I felt as if I had discovered the heart of China.
Text and photos by Sarika Chawla for PeterGreenberg.com. Alan Greenspan photo by Zach Everson.
Now, here’s a surprising fact: the vast majority of Shenzhen residents are under 30 years old.
As a result, you’re unlikely to find elderly folk waxing poetic about old Shenzhen, or generations-old restaurants with grandma standing behind the stove.
Did razing an entire village and replacing it with an instant city also erase the “authentic” experiences that American travelers seek?
Only 30 years ago, Shenzhen was an unremarkable fishing village; today it is the thriving financial and industrial hub of South China. Due to its proximity to Hong Kong, Shenzhen was singled out as the first Special Economic Zone and established as a city in 1979.
Today, it’s the biggest city in China when grouped with Hong Kong, and perhaps the richest in the country. Getting here is as easy as a short ferry or train ride from Hong Kong, or by train or road from Guangzhou.
Note that even though it’s also a part of the Guangdong province, the dominant dialect is Mandarin, not Cantonese, since most residents come from other parts of China.
In terms of urbanization, Shenzhen much further along than Guangzhou and a very carefully planned city. There is a surprising amount of green space and tree-lined streets, along with sleek and sophisticated bars and restaurants, and cultural offerings such concert halls, art galleries, museums, and book shops. While sipping evening cocktails poolside at the Ritz-Carlton or Shangri-La hotel, surrounded by imposing skyscrapers, it’s hard to distinguish this city from any number of sparkling metropolises.
But it’s the unexpected that really sets this city apart.
The first thing you might notice about Shenzhen is the proliferation of oddball theme parks. According to the locals, after China opened itself to the world in the 1970s, Chinese officials were so impressed by Disney and Six Flags-type entertainment that they considered it a necessary part of development.
As a result, theme parks include: Splendid China, which showcases miniatures of China’s famous sites and historical figures; the Chinese Folk Culture Park, which features villages of cultural performances, parades and artworks; Windows of the World, where visitors can check out replicas of the world’s greatest attractions—from the Eiffel Tower to Angkor Wat to the Sydney Opera House—as well as mind-blowing theatrical spectacles that put Vegas to shame; and Happy Valley, which is the closest experience to Disney you’ll get (apart from Hong Kong Disney and Beijing’s Shijingshan Amusement Park).
These parks are about as authentic to Chinese culture as Disney is to Anytown USA, but they are local institutions that shouldn’t be missed. If you’ve only got time for one experience, make it Windows of the World and cap the evening with a show and fireworks display.
A bit off the beaten path from Shenzhen is another unexpected gem that shouldn’t be missed. Dafen Oil Painting Village is an example in irony when talking about authenticity. Hundreds of artists have set up shop here and can copy virtually any painting you desire, even from a photo, and ship it to you.
Raphaelite cherubs? Chairman Mao? Former Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan? Your grandchildren? It’s all there.
However, if getting a cheap knockoff isn’t your style, Dafen is also home to dozens of original painters producing top-quality—and a good amount of mediocre—art.
Although the village has been remodeled over the years, it’s a refreshing throwback with squat buildings versus towering skyscrapers, and charming courtyards where visitors can sit down for tea.
Finally, there is a side of China that the tourists don’t always get to experience—Sunday in the park.
In Shenzhen, Lianhua Mountain Park (Lotus Mountain) is a sprawling, green oasis in the middle of the city. On Sunday morning, crowds gather to practice … everything.
Down one path a group of pajama-clad locals twist and bend in elegant tai chi moves. On another patch of grass parents and kids run along hoisting kites in the air.
But that’s the expected.
The unexpected is discovering Shenzhen’s middle-aged and elderly population in the form of embracing couples rehearsing ballroom dancing in the park, while somewhere down the lane, peels ring out from a session of laughter therapy.
Elsewhere, a collection of singers and musicians, led by an enthusiastic conductor, heartily belts out Chinese songs—and a special rendition of “Red River Valley” for their “foreign friends.”
And, my favorite of all, a group of hip-swiveling, arm-waving women belly dancing their way through Middle Eastern and Bollywood tunes, who beam when we join in to share the joy.
Dancing in the heart of Shenzhen, I felt as if I had discovered the heart of China.
Text and photos by Sarika Chawla for PeterGreenberg.com. Alan Greenspan photo by Zach Everson.
CHINA: Guide to Food in Beijing
Whether you’re headed to China for the Olympics or beyond, one thing is for sure … “authentic” Chinese food is a world away from the stuff you probably get at the corner restaurant.
In China, there is no such thing as chop suey.
This is the real deal …
“Last month, I went to a noodle shop in Shanghai,” reported Erik Wolf, president of the International Culinary Tourism Association. “My friend told me to go into the kitchen. Though I was convinced that it was a ploy to get me in trouble with local health authorities, I went into the crowded and very hot kitchen.
A man took a ball of dough, pounded it a few times and began pulling it apart with his bare hands. The noodle-making process took about five minutes. When he was done, the noodles went into the steaming water to cook. A couple minutes later, I had a very tasty plate of home-cooked noodles with vegetables in sauce.”
Another lesson Wolf learned on the road: Watch out for those pot stickers!
“You cannot imagine how delighted I was to see pot stickers—lots of them—cooking on the streets. I absconded back to my hotel with four amazingly authentic Chinese pot stickers (costing all of about 40 cents). Ouch! They were incredibly hot, and watch out! The juice oozed down the front of my shirt. You think I would have learned after the first one to be careful, but oh no. Nothing a little laundry detergent can’t fix, right?”
Craving a familiar dish? Ask for gung bao ji ding, aka “Kung Pao chicken done the right way,” according to Wolf. Don’t ask for dim sum in Beijing—it’s a Cantonese thing.
But do ask for baozi, steamed dumplings that are usually available for breakfast in most establishments. And for an unusual dessert experience, try ba si xiang jiao—warm battered banana with sweet syrup. Take a piece and dip into the water provided, watch it solidify, and then eat.
With more than 30,000 restaurants in the metropolitan area, Beijing is an ideal but often overwhelming destination for the culinary adventurer. Pack along some of these handy tips:
FOR THE MORE ADVENTUROUS
Roast duck (sometimes served complete with head, wings and feet)
Raw sea urchin
Donkey meat stew
Duck bone soup
Braised sea cucumber
Stinky tofu (only the authentic versions are truly stinky)
Braised chicken Feet
Fat head fish soup
DO AS THE LOCALS DO AND EAT ON THE STREET
Street vendors offer good food, great value and a chance to mingle with local patrons. Try sticky fruit on bamboo skewers and Xinjiang lamb skewers. Be sure to try these street vendors as you meander Beijing’s avenues and alleys:
Gui Street, near Dongzhimennei Dajie in the Dongcheng District, is the largest and most famous food street in Beijing. Here you will find seafood specialties such as spicy lobster, spicy crab, pepper and chili prawns, and poached fish in pungent sauce.
Wangfujing Snack Street, south of Haoyou Department Store, is near Wangfujing Business Street in the Dongcheng District. Red lanterns light the street at night. If you’re really adventurous, sample the scorpion kebabs. Snack on crossing bridge rice noodles, smelled bean curd, sticky fruit on bamboo skewers and Xinjiang lamb skewers. The Uyghur people from Xinjiang, China’s most western province, often have portable barbecues on which they cook and sell their offerings. If you can’t find them on the street, look for Arabic words written on any restaurant sign and you will be at a Xinjiang restaurant.
Donghuamen Market, north of Donganmen Street in the Dongcheng District, offers an ambiance of beautiful red lamps at nighttime and smells of barbecued meats and vegetables, a true feast for the senses. Try stretched noodles, fish ball soup, smelly bean curds, muttons, prawns, skewered and grilled silkworms, boiled dumplings and caramelized fruits on sticks.
Longfusi Snack Street, north of Dongsi Longfu Mansion in the Dongcheng District, is the place to try soymilk, fried dough rings, sausage or fried squid. Sweetened baked wheaten cake is a traditional treat here.
Laitai Food Street, located across from Lady’s Street, is the newest food street in the city. Here you can sample foods from different regions and cultures: Cantonese, Sichuan, Japanese, Korean, Turkey, and Thai.
Chao Yang district near the Olympic Village is popular with business people and with Westerners (not a localist destination, just an ex-pat area that does have good street food).
CAN’T-MISS CULINARY ATTRACTIONS
Guo Li Zheng Restaurant is famous for its animal penis recipes.
Fang Shen Imperial Restaurant serves Court Cuisine, based upon 600+ year old recipes favored by China’s former emperors in the Ming and King dynasties. This is a truly “imperial” dining experience, with the option for an eight, 10, 12 or 36(!)-course dinner.
LAN is one of the hottest, trendiest spots in Beijing, complete with Philippe Stark decor and 35 private dining rooms.
Quanjude Roast Duck Restaurant, founded in 1864, is famous for its namesake dish.
CULTURAL TIPS ON DINING IN BEIJING
•Don’t expect molten chocolate cake or pie for dessert. Fruit, particularly watermelon or sometimes oranges, is normally offered.
•Vegetarians beware. Many vegetable dishes contain meat or meat sauces.
•Never stand your chopsticks straight up in your bowl of rice; it is an offensive gesture.
•Don’t be offended by locals slurping soup. They’re just enjoying themselves.
•MSG (wei jing) is alive and well. If you have an allergy, plan accordingly.
•There is no such thing as smoke-free eating in China. If you are allergic to cigarette smoke, consider eating outside if possible.
•Servers often stand next to you until you order. Don’t be offended, it is just the custom.
•Locals will often spit out or drop food onto the table, which is not considered rude.
•Eating out is a way to bring friends together, and most Chinese don’t go to bars. Alcohol is only consumed with meals. As such, you can usually find a couple of tables of rowdy people playing drinking games in restaurants.
•You will often see fish, shrimp and other seafood in a pond or fish tank when you enter a restaurant. This is the chef’s way to show you that the fish is fresh. Just point to the one you want.
•People may come over to your table and try to talk with you. If you are feeling like throwing yourself into the local mix, just walk over to one of the rowdy tables with a full beer, and say “Gan Bei” [gan-bay] (Bottoms up). They will probably throw you a cigarette and ask you to join their table.
•Watch out for Baijiu (clear hard liquor made of sorghum). This drink can be an acquired taste for Westerners and quality can vary widely.
From the International Culinary Tourism Association (www.culinarytourism.org). Check out ICTA’s new partner, FoodTrekker.com, a culinary travel Web site for consumers
In China, there is no such thing as chop suey.
This is the real deal …
“Last month, I went to a noodle shop in Shanghai,” reported Erik Wolf, president of the International Culinary Tourism Association. “My friend told me to go into the kitchen. Though I was convinced that it was a ploy to get me in trouble with local health authorities, I went into the crowded and very hot kitchen.
A man took a ball of dough, pounded it a few times and began pulling it apart with his bare hands. The noodle-making process took about five minutes. When he was done, the noodles went into the steaming water to cook. A couple minutes later, I had a very tasty plate of home-cooked noodles with vegetables in sauce.”
Another lesson Wolf learned on the road: Watch out for those pot stickers!
“You cannot imagine how delighted I was to see pot stickers—lots of them—cooking on the streets. I absconded back to my hotel with four amazingly authentic Chinese pot stickers (costing all of about 40 cents). Ouch! They were incredibly hot, and watch out! The juice oozed down the front of my shirt. You think I would have learned after the first one to be careful, but oh no. Nothing a little laundry detergent can’t fix, right?”
Craving a familiar dish? Ask for gung bao ji ding, aka “Kung Pao chicken done the right way,” according to Wolf. Don’t ask for dim sum in Beijing—it’s a Cantonese thing.
But do ask for baozi, steamed dumplings that are usually available for breakfast in most establishments. And for an unusual dessert experience, try ba si xiang jiao—warm battered banana with sweet syrup. Take a piece and dip into the water provided, watch it solidify, and then eat.
With more than 30,000 restaurants in the metropolitan area, Beijing is an ideal but often overwhelming destination for the culinary adventurer. Pack along some of these handy tips:
FOR THE MORE ADVENTUROUS
Roast duck (sometimes served complete with head, wings and feet)
Raw sea urchin
Donkey meat stew
Duck bone soup
Braised sea cucumber
Stinky tofu (only the authentic versions are truly stinky)
Braised chicken Feet
Fat head fish soup
DO AS THE LOCALS DO AND EAT ON THE STREET
Street vendors offer good food, great value and a chance to mingle with local patrons. Try sticky fruit on bamboo skewers and Xinjiang lamb skewers. Be sure to try these street vendors as you meander Beijing’s avenues and alleys:
Gui Street, near Dongzhimennei Dajie in the Dongcheng District, is the largest and most famous food street in Beijing. Here you will find seafood specialties such as spicy lobster, spicy crab, pepper and chili prawns, and poached fish in pungent sauce.
Wangfujing Snack Street, south of Haoyou Department Store, is near Wangfujing Business Street in the Dongcheng District. Red lanterns light the street at night. If you’re really adventurous, sample the scorpion kebabs. Snack on crossing bridge rice noodles, smelled bean curd, sticky fruit on bamboo skewers and Xinjiang lamb skewers. The Uyghur people from Xinjiang, China’s most western province, often have portable barbecues on which they cook and sell their offerings. If you can’t find them on the street, look for Arabic words written on any restaurant sign and you will be at a Xinjiang restaurant.
Donghuamen Market, north of Donganmen Street in the Dongcheng District, offers an ambiance of beautiful red lamps at nighttime and smells of barbecued meats and vegetables, a true feast for the senses. Try stretched noodles, fish ball soup, smelly bean curds, muttons, prawns, skewered and grilled silkworms, boiled dumplings and caramelized fruits on sticks.
Longfusi Snack Street, north of Dongsi Longfu Mansion in the Dongcheng District, is the place to try soymilk, fried dough rings, sausage or fried squid. Sweetened baked wheaten cake is a traditional treat here.
Laitai Food Street, located across from Lady’s Street, is the newest food street in the city. Here you can sample foods from different regions and cultures: Cantonese, Sichuan, Japanese, Korean, Turkey, and Thai.
Chao Yang district near the Olympic Village is popular with business people and with Westerners (not a localist destination, just an ex-pat area that does have good street food).
CAN’T-MISS CULINARY ATTRACTIONS
Guo Li Zheng Restaurant is famous for its animal penis recipes.
Fang Shen Imperial Restaurant serves Court Cuisine, based upon 600+ year old recipes favored by China’s former emperors in the Ming and King dynasties. This is a truly “imperial” dining experience, with the option for an eight, 10, 12 or 36(!)-course dinner.
LAN is one of the hottest, trendiest spots in Beijing, complete with Philippe Stark decor and 35 private dining rooms.
Quanjude Roast Duck Restaurant, founded in 1864, is famous for its namesake dish.
CULTURAL TIPS ON DINING IN BEIJING
•Don’t expect molten chocolate cake or pie for dessert. Fruit, particularly watermelon or sometimes oranges, is normally offered.
•Vegetarians beware. Many vegetable dishes contain meat or meat sauces.
•Never stand your chopsticks straight up in your bowl of rice; it is an offensive gesture.
•Don’t be offended by locals slurping soup. They’re just enjoying themselves.
•MSG (wei jing) is alive and well. If you have an allergy, plan accordingly.
•There is no such thing as smoke-free eating in China. If you are allergic to cigarette smoke, consider eating outside if possible.
•Servers often stand next to you until you order. Don’t be offended, it is just the custom.
•Locals will often spit out or drop food onto the table, which is not considered rude.
•Eating out is a way to bring friends together, and most Chinese don’t go to bars. Alcohol is only consumed with meals. As such, you can usually find a couple of tables of rowdy people playing drinking games in restaurants.
•You will often see fish, shrimp and other seafood in a pond or fish tank when you enter a restaurant. This is the chef’s way to show you that the fish is fresh. Just point to the one you want.
•People may come over to your table and try to talk with you. If you are feeling like throwing yourself into the local mix, just walk over to one of the rowdy tables with a full beer, and say “Gan Bei” [gan-bay] (Bottoms up). They will probably throw you a cigarette and ask you to join their table.
•Watch out for Baijiu (clear hard liquor made of sorghum). This drink can be an acquired taste for Westerners and quality can vary widely.
From the International Culinary Tourism Association (www.culinarytourism.org). Check out ICTA’s new partner, FoodTrekker.com, a culinary travel Web site for consumers
TAIWAN: Mining Taiwan's Darker History
October 14, 2009
By JOYCE HOR-CHUNG LAU
HONG KONG — The story usually goes like this: China was taken over by Chairman Mao and became a brutal Communist state. Taiwan broke free and became a vibrant democracy. The ugliness of the last half-century — persecution, martial law, mass execution — happened on the mainland.
“Prince of Tears,” the latest film by the Hong Kong-based director Yonfan (who goes by one name), turns that telling of the story on its head. It is the first major movie in 20 years to explore the “White Terror” that followed Taiwan’s separation from China in 1949. In Taiwan, the ruling Kuomintang, or Nationalist Party, staged anti-Communist witch hunts that killed thousands.
The gorgeously crafted film, set in the 1950s, refers only obliquely to larger politics. Instead, it focuses on daily life in a remote Taiwanese village where anyone — a schoolteacher, a housewife, a soldier — could commit a political faux pas and be sent to the execution squad.
The project originated with the real-life story of the actress Chiao Chiao, a longtime friend and collaborator of Yonfan, whom she met in Hong Kong when she was a starlet there from the ’60s to the ’80s. The actress, who uses only her surname, grew up in Taiwan, but hid her childhood memories of the White Terror for years until she found a confidant in Yonfan, who also grew up in Taiwan in the 1950s. Several years ago, they decided to make a film based on her memories.
“I never spoke of my past until I found someone I trusted,” Chiao Chiao said of Yonfan. “I was so young when it happened and children back then were not allowed to ask questions.”
The film opens with a scene of a perfect-looking family in Taiwan: a handsome air force pilot, his pretty, doting wife and their two girls.
But, after Kafkaesque political complications, the parents are dragged off and the father is killed in a field. As the executioners fire their shots, his daughters hide in the tall grass in a desperate attempt to get one last glimpse of him.
“It begins like a fairy tale, with this beautiful family playing music in the woods,” Yonfan said. “But it’s actually a black fairy tale set during the White Terror.”
The younger sister — the character representing Chiao Chiao — is sent to live with an eerie and physically scarred government agent nicknamed Uncle Ding, whom she suspects is the informer who turned in her father. In a strange turn of events, her mother is released from a prison camp and — under pressure to resume a normal family life and support her girls — gives into advances by Uncle Ding, whom she marries.
“My father really did play the accordion,” Chiao Chiao said in an interview, referring to the idyllic opening scene in which he serenades his daughters. “I remember my mother going away and coming back. I remember being separated from my sister and being sent to live with Uncle Ding in a warehouse. My mother really did remarry. She’s still in Taiwan today and 88 years old.”
While speaking, Chiao Chiao flipped through an album of old family photos and dabbed at her eyes. She had declined to be interviewed during the 2009 Venice Film Festival last month, where “Prince of Tears” had its premiere and was well received, because she found it too difficult.
“Of course there are changes to some details, and my memory is sketchy; but Yonfan captured those feelings,” she said.
In addition to Venice, “Prince of Tears,” which is currently beginning its release in Hong Kong and Taiwan, has also been screened on the festival circuit in Toronto and at the Pusan International Film Festival in South Korea, which runs through Friday. It has also been chosen as Hong Kong’s submission for the Academy Awards for best foreign language film.
At his Hong Kong studio, Yonfan traced a finger over the elaborate model of the set he built for the film, which included an entire village with homes and a school.
“I didn’t need a historic researcher,” said Yonfan. “This was my childhood — the traditional clothes, the handmade food. I remember visiting friends’ homes where relatives had disappeared for seemingly no reason.”
“Prince of Tears” veers between the dreamlike and the nightmarish. The village is painted in exaggerated, almost surreal colors — whether it’s the neon yellow of the killing field, or the electric-blue portrait of Chiang Kai-shek that looms over the village.
While the film is a creative work, and not a documentary, close attention was paid to re-create the sights and sounds of 1950s rural Taiwan.
Yonfan’s crew moved to Taiwan for several months to film the movie on location and hired all the extras locally.
As for the principal actors, Asian moviegoers may recognize a few names: Kenneth Tsang, a veteran Hong Kong actor, plays a cold-hearted Nationalist general, while the Taiwanese actress Terri Kwan is his doomed trophy wife. Chiao Chiao makes a cameo appearance as a prison interrogator.
But many of the cast members are relatively new Taiwanese names, like Joseph Chan, who plays a pilot, and Fan Chih-wei, who plays Uncle Ding.
Zhu Xuan, a Beijing native who had been working in Hong Kong television, has her big-screen debut in the film as Chiao Chiao’s mother, who had fled from the mainland to Taiwan.
“When I heard her voice, her accent, it was perfect,” Chiao Chiao said.
The assistant directors auditioned more than 1,000 rural schoolchildren before they chose Yan Xin-Rou and Cai Pei-Han to play the sisters.
“We wanted kids who were village-y, not professionals,” Yonfan said.
There are parts of “Prince of Tears” that leave the viewer guessing and some of the subplots are never explained.
Yonfan said he did this on purpose, as the tale is told from the perspective of the children, who don’t quite grasp the adult conflicts and motivations going on.
The “Prince of Tears” premiere in Venice coincided with the 20th anniversary of Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s “City of Sadness,” which is the last major film to portray Taiwan’s White Terror.
“Martial law was only lifted in 1987,” said Yonfan, when asked why the subject had been neglected for so long. “After that people wanted lighter films — comedies, romances, kung-fu flicks.”
“This period of history is a scar on the Kuomintang,” he added, referring to the Nationalist Party that regained power in Taiwan, after the Democratic Party lost the 2008 elections.
Yonfan waited until after the vote to release the film. “I didn’t want it to be used as a political vehicle for any party,” he said. “It’s not a film about correcting a political injustice; it’s a film about human frailty.”
The making of the film, and the real lives of the characters that inspired it, are tightly interwoven. In the film, Uncle Ding escorts his friend, the pilot, to his death. After the execution, the agent gets down on his knees and burns paper offerings to the man he felt he had betrayed. After making the film, Yonfan went back to the field where Chiao Chiao’s father is thought have been buried. With him were Chiao Chaio’s sister and Joseph Chang, the actor who played the pilot. “We burned paper offerings,” Yonfan said. “And we prayed to the heavens.”
Copyright 2009
By JOYCE HOR-CHUNG LAU
HONG KONG — The story usually goes like this: China was taken over by Chairman Mao and became a brutal Communist state. Taiwan broke free and became a vibrant democracy. The ugliness of the last half-century — persecution, martial law, mass execution — happened on the mainland.
“Prince of Tears,” the latest film by the Hong Kong-based director Yonfan (who goes by one name), turns that telling of the story on its head. It is the first major movie in 20 years to explore the “White Terror” that followed Taiwan’s separation from China in 1949. In Taiwan, the ruling Kuomintang, or Nationalist Party, staged anti-Communist witch hunts that killed thousands.
The gorgeously crafted film, set in the 1950s, refers only obliquely to larger politics. Instead, it focuses on daily life in a remote Taiwanese village where anyone — a schoolteacher, a housewife, a soldier — could commit a political faux pas and be sent to the execution squad.
The project originated with the real-life story of the actress Chiao Chiao, a longtime friend and collaborator of Yonfan, whom she met in Hong Kong when she was a starlet there from the ’60s to the ’80s. The actress, who uses only her surname, grew up in Taiwan, but hid her childhood memories of the White Terror for years until she found a confidant in Yonfan, who also grew up in Taiwan in the 1950s. Several years ago, they decided to make a film based on her memories.
“I never spoke of my past until I found someone I trusted,” Chiao Chiao said of Yonfan. “I was so young when it happened and children back then were not allowed to ask questions.”
The film opens with a scene of a perfect-looking family in Taiwan: a handsome air force pilot, his pretty, doting wife and their two girls.
But, after Kafkaesque political complications, the parents are dragged off and the father is killed in a field. As the executioners fire their shots, his daughters hide in the tall grass in a desperate attempt to get one last glimpse of him.
“It begins like a fairy tale, with this beautiful family playing music in the woods,” Yonfan said. “But it’s actually a black fairy tale set during the White Terror.”
The younger sister — the character representing Chiao Chiao — is sent to live with an eerie and physically scarred government agent nicknamed Uncle Ding, whom she suspects is the informer who turned in her father. In a strange turn of events, her mother is released from a prison camp and — under pressure to resume a normal family life and support her girls — gives into advances by Uncle Ding, whom she marries.
“My father really did play the accordion,” Chiao Chiao said in an interview, referring to the idyllic opening scene in which he serenades his daughters. “I remember my mother going away and coming back. I remember being separated from my sister and being sent to live with Uncle Ding in a warehouse. My mother really did remarry. She’s still in Taiwan today and 88 years old.”
While speaking, Chiao Chiao flipped through an album of old family photos and dabbed at her eyes. She had declined to be interviewed during the 2009 Venice Film Festival last month, where “Prince of Tears” had its premiere and was well received, because she found it too difficult.
“Of course there are changes to some details, and my memory is sketchy; but Yonfan captured those feelings,” she said.
In addition to Venice, “Prince of Tears,” which is currently beginning its release in Hong Kong and Taiwan, has also been screened on the festival circuit in Toronto and at the Pusan International Film Festival in South Korea, which runs through Friday. It has also been chosen as Hong Kong’s submission for the Academy Awards for best foreign language film.
At his Hong Kong studio, Yonfan traced a finger over the elaborate model of the set he built for the film, which included an entire village with homes and a school.
“I didn’t need a historic researcher,” said Yonfan. “This was my childhood — the traditional clothes, the handmade food. I remember visiting friends’ homes where relatives had disappeared for seemingly no reason.”
“Prince of Tears” veers between the dreamlike and the nightmarish. The village is painted in exaggerated, almost surreal colors — whether it’s the neon yellow of the killing field, or the electric-blue portrait of Chiang Kai-shek that looms over the village.
While the film is a creative work, and not a documentary, close attention was paid to re-create the sights and sounds of 1950s rural Taiwan.
Yonfan’s crew moved to Taiwan for several months to film the movie on location and hired all the extras locally.
As for the principal actors, Asian moviegoers may recognize a few names: Kenneth Tsang, a veteran Hong Kong actor, plays a cold-hearted Nationalist general, while the Taiwanese actress Terri Kwan is his doomed trophy wife. Chiao Chiao makes a cameo appearance as a prison interrogator.
But many of the cast members are relatively new Taiwanese names, like Joseph Chan, who plays a pilot, and Fan Chih-wei, who plays Uncle Ding.
Zhu Xuan, a Beijing native who had been working in Hong Kong television, has her big-screen debut in the film as Chiao Chiao’s mother, who had fled from the mainland to Taiwan.
“When I heard her voice, her accent, it was perfect,” Chiao Chiao said.
The assistant directors auditioned more than 1,000 rural schoolchildren before they chose Yan Xin-Rou and Cai Pei-Han to play the sisters.
“We wanted kids who were village-y, not professionals,” Yonfan said.
There are parts of “Prince of Tears” that leave the viewer guessing and some of the subplots are never explained.
Yonfan said he did this on purpose, as the tale is told from the perspective of the children, who don’t quite grasp the adult conflicts and motivations going on.
The “Prince of Tears” premiere in Venice coincided with the 20th anniversary of Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s “City of Sadness,” which is the last major film to portray Taiwan’s White Terror.
“Martial law was only lifted in 1987,” said Yonfan, when asked why the subject had been neglected for so long. “After that people wanted lighter films — comedies, romances, kung-fu flicks.”
“This period of history is a scar on the Kuomintang,” he added, referring to the Nationalist Party that regained power in Taiwan, after the Democratic Party lost the 2008 elections.
Yonfan waited until after the vote to release the film. “I didn’t want it to be used as a political vehicle for any party,” he said. “It’s not a film about correcting a political injustice; it’s a film about human frailty.”
The making of the film, and the real lives of the characters that inspired it, are tightly interwoven. In the film, Uncle Ding escorts his friend, the pilot, to his death. After the execution, the agent gets down on his knees and burns paper offerings to the man he felt he had betrayed. After making the film, Yonfan went back to the field where Chiao Chiao’s father is thought have been buried. With him were Chiao Chaio’s sister and Joseph Chang, the actor who played the pilot. “We burned paper offerings,” Yonfan said. “And we prayed to the heavens.”
Copyright 2009
CHINA: Wartime China’s Elegant Enigma
November 4, 2009
Books of The Times
By DWIGHT GARNER
THE LAST EMPRESS
Madame Chiang Kai-shek and the Birth of Modern China
By Hannah Pakula
Illustrated. 787 pages. Simon & Schuster. $35.
“The only thing Oriental about me,” Soong Mei-ling once wrote, “is my face.”
Soong Mei-ling, better known to history as Mme. Chiang Kai-shek, was exaggerating only slightly. Chinese by birth, American by education and cultural inclination, she was a seductive blend of both societies; for a time, no woman in the world was more powerful.
Mme. Chiang led a long, vastly complicated life, one that is richly detailed in “The Last Empress,” Hannah Pakula’s long, vastly complicated new biography. Ms. Pakula’s book is a yeoman work of historical research, with fact grinding against fact. It is also a monotonous piece of storytelling, one that has little pliancy or narrative push. Its 681 pages of text are at times as grueling as a forced march across the Mongolian steppe.
The story of Mme. Chiang’s life has lost none of its strange, piquant appeal, however. Born in Shanghai in 1898, she was the daughter of a peasant who had gone to America at age 12 and found work on ships and in printing shops. Her father, Charlie Soong, eventually graduated from Vanderbilt University and returned to China at 20, where he had six children and became rich publishing Bibles. He raised Soong Mei-ling and her siblings to appreciate almost everything Western, including mattresses (soft), food (American) and religion (Methodist).
Cutting against the grain of a staunchly patriarchal society, Mr. Soong expected big things from his daughters as well as from his sons. Soong Mei-ling’s two older sisters traveled to the United States to attend Wesleyan Female College in Macon, Ga. Soong-Mei-ling arrived in America at age 10, studying at a boarding school in New Jersey and a public school in Georgia before graduating from Wellesley College.
When she arrived at Wellesley in 1913, Ms. Pakula writes, Soong Mei-ling could lay on a “Scarlett O’Hara accent” she’d picked up in Georgia. (“Ah reckon Ah shan’t stay aroun’ much longer,” she reportedly told the freshman dean.) She was also, Ms. Pakula writes, “short, chubby, round-faced and childish in appearance, with a short haircut and bangs over her eyes that did nothing for her looks.”
By the time she left Wellesley, however, there was a sense of destiny about Soong Mei-ling. “She had not been given a Western education,” Ms. Pakula observes, “in order to spend her afternoons at the mah-jongg table.”
The Soong sisters married well. One, Soong Qing-ling, married Sun Yat-sen, China’s first president after the last emperor was overthrown in 1911. In a lavish ceremony in 1927, Soong Mei-ling married one of Sun’s former military aides, Chiang Kai-shek, a man who would become the head of the Nationalist government in China from 1928 to 1949, and later its leader while in exile in Taiwan.
He was a hardened soldier who “dressed simply in a plain cotton uniform with straw sandals,” Ms. Pakula writes, and neither drank nor smoked. Mme. Chiang was by now thin, glamorous and wore form-fitting clothes. Barely five feet tall, she had, Ms. Pakula declares, “a near-hypnotic effect on men.”
Because Chiang Kai-shek spoke virtually no English, Mme. Chiang became his de facto translator and the face China turned to the Western world. She wrote articles about China for The New York Times Magazine and The Atlantic Monthly in the early ’40s. She appeared on “Meet the Press” in 1958. She was Chiang’s closest adviser and she constantly buffed his — and the country’s — rough edges.
The pair were seen as a modernizing influence in China; Time magazine named them Man and Woman of the Year in 1938. The peak of Mme. Chiang’s fame arrived in 1943, when she toured America in support of the Nationalist Chinese cause against Japan.
During that tour she was the first private citizen to address the Senate and the House of Representatives, and in Los Angeles she gave a speech to a packed Hollywood Bowl. (While in America, Ms. Pakula suggests, Mme. Chiang continued a romantic involvement she had begun earlier with Wendell Willkie, the Republican who had lost the 1940 election to Franklin D. Roosevelt.)
Chiang Kai-shek’s government, increasingly besieged by China’s Communist Party as the 1940s went on, was also rotting from within. He was a ruthless, petty man and a dismal leader. As Theodore H. White and Annalee Jacoby observed, “The manners of the Kuomintang” — the Nationalist Party — “in public were perfect; its only faults were that its leadership was corrupt, its secret police merciless, its promises lies, and its daily diet the blood and tears of the people of China.”
Eleanor Roosevelt got a chilling glimpse of Mme. Chiang’s own dark side when Mrs. Roosevelt asked her how she would deal with a difficult labor leader like John L. Lewis of the United Mine Workers. “She never said a word,” Ms. Roosevelt wrote, “but the beautiful, small hand came up and slid across her throat.”
Chiang Kai-shek and his wife were forced into exile in Taiwan after the Communist victory in 1949; he presided for decades over Nationalist politics from there. After his death, in 1975, Mme. Chiang moved to New York City, where she led a reclusive life, dying in 2003 at 105. She had no children. Her husband had contracted venereal disease before their marriage, Ms. Pakula writes, and was probably sterile.
“The Last Empress” bogs down in overly long discursions into the intricacies of China’s political history. Indeed, Mme. Chiang’s own story often recedes far into the background. But Ms. Pakula’s book comes alive in its pepperings of telling detail about Mme. Chiang’s chaotic life.
Ms. Pakula notes the way Mme. Chiang loved to deploy esoteric words (“indehiscence,” “ochlocracy”) in her speeches in English, sending reporters scrambling for their dictionaries. She observes that President Harry S. Truman, tired of Mme. Chiang’s appeals for money, began to refer to her husband as “Cash My-check.”
She details Mme. Chiang’s final years at 10 Gracie Square, an elegant apartment building on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. There she kept three dogs (two bichons and a Yorkshire terrier) and employed 24 servants. There were reports that neighbors complained about the cooking odors and cockroaches in her 18-room apartment, and that Mme. Chiang kept a closet filled with gold bars.
Ms. Pakula is also the author of “The Last Romantic: A Biography of Queen Marie of Roumania” (1985) and “An Uncommon Woman: The Empress Frederick: Daughter of Queen Victoria, Wife of the Crown Prince of Prussia, Mother of Kaiser Wilhelm” (1997). She views Mme. Chiang’s life with interest and occasionally, when warranted, with sympathy. She is clearly in agreement with Eleanor Roosevelt, who summed up Mme. Chiang’s striding performance on the world stage by remarking that while she could “talk beautifully about democracy,” she did “not know how to live democracy.”
Copyright 2009 The New York Times Company
Books of The Times
By DWIGHT GARNER
THE LAST EMPRESS
Madame Chiang Kai-shek and the Birth of Modern China
By Hannah Pakula
Illustrated. 787 pages. Simon & Schuster. $35.
“The only thing Oriental about me,” Soong Mei-ling once wrote, “is my face.”
Soong Mei-ling, better known to history as Mme. Chiang Kai-shek, was exaggerating only slightly. Chinese by birth, American by education and cultural inclination, she was a seductive blend of both societies; for a time, no woman in the world was more powerful.
Mme. Chiang led a long, vastly complicated life, one that is richly detailed in “The Last Empress,” Hannah Pakula’s long, vastly complicated new biography. Ms. Pakula’s book is a yeoman work of historical research, with fact grinding against fact. It is also a monotonous piece of storytelling, one that has little pliancy or narrative push. Its 681 pages of text are at times as grueling as a forced march across the Mongolian steppe.
The story of Mme. Chiang’s life has lost none of its strange, piquant appeal, however. Born in Shanghai in 1898, she was the daughter of a peasant who had gone to America at age 12 and found work on ships and in printing shops. Her father, Charlie Soong, eventually graduated from Vanderbilt University and returned to China at 20, where he had six children and became rich publishing Bibles. He raised Soong Mei-ling and her siblings to appreciate almost everything Western, including mattresses (soft), food (American) and religion (Methodist).
Cutting against the grain of a staunchly patriarchal society, Mr. Soong expected big things from his daughters as well as from his sons. Soong Mei-ling’s two older sisters traveled to the United States to attend Wesleyan Female College in Macon, Ga. Soong-Mei-ling arrived in America at age 10, studying at a boarding school in New Jersey and a public school in Georgia before graduating from Wellesley College.
When she arrived at Wellesley in 1913, Ms. Pakula writes, Soong Mei-ling could lay on a “Scarlett O’Hara accent” she’d picked up in Georgia. (“Ah reckon Ah shan’t stay aroun’ much longer,” she reportedly told the freshman dean.) She was also, Ms. Pakula writes, “short, chubby, round-faced and childish in appearance, with a short haircut and bangs over her eyes that did nothing for her looks.”
By the time she left Wellesley, however, there was a sense of destiny about Soong Mei-ling. “She had not been given a Western education,” Ms. Pakula observes, “in order to spend her afternoons at the mah-jongg table.”
The Soong sisters married well. One, Soong Qing-ling, married Sun Yat-sen, China’s first president after the last emperor was overthrown in 1911. In a lavish ceremony in 1927, Soong Mei-ling married one of Sun’s former military aides, Chiang Kai-shek, a man who would become the head of the Nationalist government in China from 1928 to 1949, and later its leader while in exile in Taiwan.
He was a hardened soldier who “dressed simply in a plain cotton uniform with straw sandals,” Ms. Pakula writes, and neither drank nor smoked. Mme. Chiang was by now thin, glamorous and wore form-fitting clothes. Barely five feet tall, she had, Ms. Pakula declares, “a near-hypnotic effect on men.”
Because Chiang Kai-shek spoke virtually no English, Mme. Chiang became his de facto translator and the face China turned to the Western world. She wrote articles about China for The New York Times Magazine and The Atlantic Monthly in the early ’40s. She appeared on “Meet the Press” in 1958. She was Chiang’s closest adviser and she constantly buffed his — and the country’s — rough edges.
The pair were seen as a modernizing influence in China; Time magazine named them Man and Woman of the Year in 1938. The peak of Mme. Chiang’s fame arrived in 1943, when she toured America in support of the Nationalist Chinese cause against Japan.
During that tour she was the first private citizen to address the Senate and the House of Representatives, and in Los Angeles she gave a speech to a packed Hollywood Bowl. (While in America, Ms. Pakula suggests, Mme. Chiang continued a romantic involvement she had begun earlier with Wendell Willkie, the Republican who had lost the 1940 election to Franklin D. Roosevelt.)
Chiang Kai-shek’s government, increasingly besieged by China’s Communist Party as the 1940s went on, was also rotting from within. He was a ruthless, petty man and a dismal leader. As Theodore H. White and Annalee Jacoby observed, “The manners of the Kuomintang” — the Nationalist Party — “in public were perfect; its only faults were that its leadership was corrupt, its secret police merciless, its promises lies, and its daily diet the blood and tears of the people of China.”
Eleanor Roosevelt got a chilling glimpse of Mme. Chiang’s own dark side when Mrs. Roosevelt asked her how she would deal with a difficult labor leader like John L. Lewis of the United Mine Workers. “She never said a word,” Ms. Roosevelt wrote, “but the beautiful, small hand came up and slid across her throat.”
Chiang Kai-shek and his wife were forced into exile in Taiwan after the Communist victory in 1949; he presided for decades over Nationalist politics from there. After his death, in 1975, Mme. Chiang moved to New York City, where she led a reclusive life, dying in 2003 at 105. She had no children. Her husband had contracted venereal disease before their marriage, Ms. Pakula writes, and was probably sterile.
“The Last Empress” bogs down in overly long discursions into the intricacies of China’s political history. Indeed, Mme. Chiang’s own story often recedes far into the background. But Ms. Pakula’s book comes alive in its pepperings of telling detail about Mme. Chiang’s chaotic life.
Ms. Pakula notes the way Mme. Chiang loved to deploy esoteric words (“indehiscence,” “ochlocracy”) in her speeches in English, sending reporters scrambling for their dictionaries. She observes that President Harry S. Truman, tired of Mme. Chiang’s appeals for money, began to refer to her husband as “Cash My-check.”
She details Mme. Chiang’s final years at 10 Gracie Square, an elegant apartment building on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. There she kept three dogs (two bichons and a Yorkshire terrier) and employed 24 servants. There were reports that neighbors complained about the cooking odors and cockroaches in her 18-room apartment, and that Mme. Chiang kept a closet filled with gold bars.
Ms. Pakula is also the author of “The Last Romantic: A Biography of Queen Marie of Roumania” (1985) and “An Uncommon Woman: The Empress Frederick: Daughter of Queen Victoria, Wife of the Crown Prince of Prussia, Mother of Kaiser Wilhelm” (1997). She views Mme. Chiang’s life with interest and occasionally, when warranted, with sympathy. She is clearly in agreement with Eleanor Roosevelt, who summed up Mme. Chiang’s striding performance on the world stage by remarking that while she could “talk beautifully about democracy,” she did “not know how to live democracy.”
Copyright 2009 The New York Times Company
CHINA: Tips to Banish Culture Shock in Beijing
If you’re one of the lucky travelers heading to China for the Olympic games, you already know that there’s a certain amount of culture shock involved with going halfway around the world.
If this is your first trip to China, take these travel tips with you to minimize the shock and maximize the enjoyment of your trip.
1.Brush up on your bargaining skills. Shopping in Beijing (outside of the high-end stores and hotels) is an exercise in haggling, so be prepared to argue a bit over price. Don’t show too much interest in an item if you want to keep the upper hand in the bargaining process. Bear in mind that almost everything for sale in the markets are fakes and forgeries, so you definitely shouldn’t pay too much for them. Be friendly, but be firm!
2.Don’t get scammed. Some local con artists will hang out near art displays and Beijing attractions and offer to “help” you buy tickets or show you out-of-the-way art galleries. Don’t fall for these hucksters! The “help” with ticket purchasing means you’ll pay more for the tickets, and the art galleries will contain cheap, poor-quality pieces that you’ll be pressured into buying. Stay on the beaten path and with the other visitors to Beijing and simply wave a “no, thank you” to the con men.
3.Try new things, especially new foods. As noted in The Travel Detective Bible, as long as the food is cooked, boiled or peeled, you should try it, even if it’s unrecognizable to you. You will discover some amazing delicacies this way. The street vendors are some of the best sources of local fare, and as long as the vendor doesn’t look filthy and the food doesn’t appear to have been sitting there for a long time, give it a try!
4.Alter your definition of “rude.” In China, it’s not rude to belch, shove, spit and shout. You don’t have to do as the locals do, but keep in mind that they don’t mean any offense to your Western sensibilities.
5.Try your hand at a few Chinese words. The language isn’t as scary as it seems, and knowing a few key phrases will help you get around and conduct transactions more smoothly. Here’s one to get you started: “tai gui le” (”too expensive”).
6.Don’t fear the toilets. In the past, China’s public restroom situation was not one for the weak-stomached. But in preparing for the Olympics, Beijing has put major effort into overhauling public facilities, building new ones, and improving comfort and sanitation. The three-year, $57 million (in U.S. dollars) investment has ensured that Beijing’s 5,333 public toilets are clean, flushable and easily-accessible to all parts of the city. Several hundred more are being built in or near the Olympic venues, as well. After all, clean and sanitary restrooms are an indicator of a city’s civilizaton and living standards, Chinese officials say. As for the complaints that the Asian squat-toilets will be difficult for Westerners to use, the Chinese are busy installing sit-down toilets to accommodate those who prefer that style.
If you embrace the local culture and put these tips into practice, your travels to Beijing should be full of wonderful new experiences and very few headaches. Have a great trip!
By Erica Adams for PeterGreenberg.com.
If this is your first trip to China, take these travel tips with you to minimize the shock and maximize the enjoyment of your trip.
1.Brush up on your bargaining skills. Shopping in Beijing (outside of the high-end stores and hotels) is an exercise in haggling, so be prepared to argue a bit over price. Don’t show too much interest in an item if you want to keep the upper hand in the bargaining process. Bear in mind that almost everything for sale in the markets are fakes and forgeries, so you definitely shouldn’t pay too much for them. Be friendly, but be firm!
2.Don’t get scammed. Some local con artists will hang out near art displays and Beijing attractions and offer to “help” you buy tickets or show you out-of-the-way art galleries. Don’t fall for these hucksters! The “help” with ticket purchasing means you’ll pay more for the tickets, and the art galleries will contain cheap, poor-quality pieces that you’ll be pressured into buying. Stay on the beaten path and with the other visitors to Beijing and simply wave a “no, thank you” to the con men.
3.Try new things, especially new foods. As noted in The Travel Detective Bible, as long as the food is cooked, boiled or peeled, you should try it, even if it’s unrecognizable to you. You will discover some amazing delicacies this way. The street vendors are some of the best sources of local fare, and as long as the vendor doesn’t look filthy and the food doesn’t appear to have been sitting there for a long time, give it a try!
4.Alter your definition of “rude.” In China, it’s not rude to belch, shove, spit and shout. You don’t have to do as the locals do, but keep in mind that they don’t mean any offense to your Western sensibilities.
5.Try your hand at a few Chinese words. The language isn’t as scary as it seems, and knowing a few key phrases will help you get around and conduct transactions more smoothly. Here’s one to get you started: “tai gui le” (”too expensive”).
6.Don’t fear the toilets. In the past, China’s public restroom situation was not one for the weak-stomached. But in preparing for the Olympics, Beijing has put major effort into overhauling public facilities, building new ones, and improving comfort and sanitation. The three-year, $57 million (in U.S. dollars) investment has ensured that Beijing’s 5,333 public toilets are clean, flushable and easily-accessible to all parts of the city. Several hundred more are being built in or near the Olympic venues, as well. After all, clean and sanitary restrooms are an indicator of a city’s civilizaton and living standards, Chinese officials say. As for the complaints that the Asian squat-toilets will be difficult for Westerners to use, the Chinese are busy installing sit-down toilets to accommodate those who prefer that style.
If you embrace the local culture and put these tips into practice, your travels to Beijing should be full of wonderful new experiences and very few headaches. Have a great trip!
By Erica Adams for PeterGreenberg.com.
CHINA: Exploring the New China: Guangzhou & Shenzhen Travel
Traveling to Guangzhou and Shenzhen instead of Beijing and Shanghai is akin to visiting Dallas over New York or Los Angeles.
These aren’t “show cities” with tour buses ready to transport travelers to cultural excursions; instead, these are “overnight cities” that are abundant in shiny skyscrapers and construction cranes.
Sarika Chawla reports on her experiences finding authentic local experiences that lurk underneath New China’s glossy exterior.
If you’ve never heard of Guangzhou or Shenzen, you’re not alone. Located in southern China in the prosperous Pearl River Delta (PRD) these cities have sprung up from old farming and fishing villages over the past three decades, but are often overlooked by leisure travelers and tour groups. Sure, it’s seen as a shopping extension of Hong Kong, worthy of a day or overnight trip—but as a destination for Americans, this region isn’t given a lot of credit as a city with history, culture or attractions.
The PRD, which also encompasses nearby Hong Kong and Macau has flourished as a center of manufacturing and exports, and its growth has been dizzying. Guangzhou, formerly known as Canton, is a dynamic port city and the capital of the Guangdong Province. China Southern flies directly into Guangzhou, but for many U.S. travelers it’s more common to enter from Hong Kong or Shenzhen. Nonstop flights to Hong Kong depart several times daily via Cathay Pacific, United Airlines and US Airways. Guangzhou is easily accessible from Hong Kong on Dragonair or by train, or from Shenzhen by road or rail.
Whichever way you arrive, it’s impossible to miss the rapid urbanization, as the few remaining three- and four-story buildings are drowned out by modern structures and towering skyscrapers.
Note that English isn’t commonly spoken in this region. Have your hotel concierge write down the sights that you want to see—including the name of the hotel so you can return safely—in Chinese characters to show your taxi driver.
Better yet, talk to the hotel concierge to arrange your excursions with a driver and/or translator. Right now, the only American-branded hotels are the luxury Ritz-Carlton Guangzhou, and the more moderately-priced Marriott (aka China Hotel), Westin Guangzhou, and Grand Hyatt Guangzhou.
For a quick and easy cultural excursion, head to the Nanyue Royal Tomb Museum. Dating back more than 2000 years, this tomb was uncovered in the 1980s, revealing the remains of the king who killed himself, along with 15 others. Visitors are welcome to enter the tomb; indoors, various other antiquities, semi-precious jewelry, and even the king’s gold-embroidered jade burial suit are on display.
One area where Guangzhou really holds onto its history is through its food: namely, Cantonese cuisine. This style of cooking is all about simplicity, the goal being to let the ingredients shine instead of being gussied up by sauces and spices.
Heavy Cantonese migration into the U.S. has made this type of cuisine more familiar to American palates than other Chinese styles. But, unlike your corner Chinese restaurant, true Cantonese cooking relies on seafood and animal parts that we’re not used to seeing. Pig’s feet and sea slug soup, anyone?
To experience some old-fashioned foodie culture shock, head to the Huangshan Aquatic Products Wholesale Market on the west side of town. Fish-mongers in thigh-high boots wade through puddles of water in this outdoor market, showcasing tanks of writhing, wriggling seafood. PETA supporters need not apply as the sight of lobsters and turtles stuffed into plastic bins—as many as can fit, and then some—can be disturbing. But the array of exotic seafood is astonishing, from hairy crab to slippery sea cucumbers to rock-like abalone (and the occasional thrashing snake or tank of scorpions), along with more familiar-looking salmon and flounder swimming along happily.
Perhaps nothing satisfies American-style cravings for “authentic” Cantonese than dim sum. The term applies more to the style of eating than the food itself, as there is no such thing as a set dim sum menu. Often served from 6 a.m. on weekdays and as brunch on weekends, dim sum involves copious amounts of small bites—dumplings, pancakes, buns, to name a few.
Dim sum restaurants abound throughout the city, but check out Lai Heen Cantonese restaurant inside the Ritz-Carlton Guangzhou, which serves dim sum paired with teas selected by the in-house tea sommelier. Another good option is Bei Yuan Restaurant, a gorgeously designed space built around a tranquil garden and pond and all-day dim sum.
What’s a trip to China without some tea? The Fang Cun Tea Market isn’t just any tea shop—it’s perhaps the largest tea-vending complex in the world, packed with more than 1,000 vendors from all over China selling loose leaves, tea sets and ceramics.
If navigating the construction and chaos of ultra-developed Guangzhou becomes overwhelming, travelers can find respite in Shamian Island.
This tiny sandbank is separated from Guangzhou by a small canal, and served as an important center for foreign merchants. As a result, quiet, pedestrian-friendly streets are lined with grand Colonial-style buildings.
A Starbucks, a youth hostel and trinket shops give it something of a touristy edge, but architectural gems such as Our Lady of Lourdes church and the occasional glimpse of a local doing tai chi under a banyan tree make it a worthwhile visit.
(As a bonus, if you’ve ever had questions about adoption in China, you might find answers inside Shamian Island’s White Swan Hotel. Because it’s located down the street from the American consulate, this luxury hotel tends to attract adoptive families, earning it the nickname, “White Stork Hotel.”)
For much of the year, Guangzhou suffers from heavy pollution, most of which can be traced to the ceramics industry in nearby city of Foshan.
To get away from the oppressive air, take a short taxi ride to Baiyun Mountain just north of the city.
Baiyun, which is Cantonese for “white clouds,” is made of up dozens of mountain peaks, the tallest of which stands more than 1,200 feet.
Fresh air, gorgeous greenery and crowds of locals picnicking and playing the Chinese version of hacky-sack round out this truly authentic experience. Trolley buses are available to transport visitors up the mountain, but if you’ve got the energy, do as the locals do and start walking.
Much of Guangzhou’s claim to fame is the abundant, and downright affordable, shopping. Being so close to Hong Kong, travelers will often hop over for a night to explore the goods—everything from silk to porcelain to electronics.
Guangzhou is especially known for its jade industry, which is mostly centered around the Jade Market on Hualin Street. The space is packed with stalls of jade vendors, selling everything from dinky green-dyed rocks to exquisite jewelry. If you can hire an interpreter to help with the haggling, all the better—but at the very least, arm yourself with a few key Cantonese phrases! (Perhaps the most useful is “Tai Gui,” or “too much.”) If you’re purchasing a necklace, check the clasp—some vendors are actually selling the stones on a string, not a proper necklace.
For the non-shopper, however, the biggest surprise is 500 Arhat Hall in Hua Lin Temple, which appears unexpectedly in the middle of the market. Follow your nose to the source of incense, and you’ll be greeted by a dark and solemn room filled with more than 500 golden statues, each representing a different manifestation of Buddha. There’s something eerie about the hundreds of statues peering down at you, but also oddly peaceful.
Guangzhou boasts several other renowned religious spaces, notably the ancient Temple of the Six Banyan Trees on Liurong Road, a multi-faceted pagoda original built in the 6th century, and the Huaisheng Mosque, noticeable for its distinctive pointed minaret and thought to be one of the oldest mosques in the world.
And, because it always has to go back to food (at least in my world) … keep strolling through the Jade Market until you come out onto Shang Xia Jiu Road.
The scent of frying oil will light up your senses as you jostle through crowds past stall after stall of street food. Chinese teens gather here to chatter and snack on everything from bowls of pitch-black sesame seed paste to skewers of fried squid.
And just a few steps away is a bustling pedestrian square, with hordes of storefronts emblazoned with Chinese characters, save for the dueling McDonald’s sitting kitty corner from one another with a KFC in between.
By Sarika Chawla for PeterGreenberg.com.
These aren’t “show cities” with tour buses ready to transport travelers to cultural excursions; instead, these are “overnight cities” that are abundant in shiny skyscrapers and construction cranes.
Sarika Chawla reports on her experiences finding authentic local experiences that lurk underneath New China’s glossy exterior.
If you’ve never heard of Guangzhou or Shenzen, you’re not alone. Located in southern China in the prosperous Pearl River Delta (PRD) these cities have sprung up from old farming and fishing villages over the past three decades, but are often overlooked by leisure travelers and tour groups. Sure, it’s seen as a shopping extension of Hong Kong, worthy of a day or overnight trip—but as a destination for Americans, this region isn’t given a lot of credit as a city with history, culture or attractions.
The PRD, which also encompasses nearby Hong Kong and Macau has flourished as a center of manufacturing and exports, and its growth has been dizzying. Guangzhou, formerly known as Canton, is a dynamic port city and the capital of the Guangdong Province. China Southern flies directly into Guangzhou, but for many U.S. travelers it’s more common to enter from Hong Kong or Shenzhen. Nonstop flights to Hong Kong depart several times daily via Cathay Pacific, United Airlines and US Airways. Guangzhou is easily accessible from Hong Kong on Dragonair or by train, or from Shenzhen by road or rail.
Whichever way you arrive, it’s impossible to miss the rapid urbanization, as the few remaining three- and four-story buildings are drowned out by modern structures and towering skyscrapers.
Note that English isn’t commonly spoken in this region. Have your hotel concierge write down the sights that you want to see—including the name of the hotel so you can return safely—in Chinese characters to show your taxi driver.
Better yet, talk to the hotel concierge to arrange your excursions with a driver and/or translator. Right now, the only American-branded hotels are the luxury Ritz-Carlton Guangzhou, and the more moderately-priced Marriott (aka China Hotel), Westin Guangzhou, and Grand Hyatt Guangzhou.
For a quick and easy cultural excursion, head to the Nanyue Royal Tomb Museum. Dating back more than 2000 years, this tomb was uncovered in the 1980s, revealing the remains of the king who killed himself, along with 15 others. Visitors are welcome to enter the tomb; indoors, various other antiquities, semi-precious jewelry, and even the king’s gold-embroidered jade burial suit are on display.
One area where Guangzhou really holds onto its history is through its food: namely, Cantonese cuisine. This style of cooking is all about simplicity, the goal being to let the ingredients shine instead of being gussied up by sauces and spices.
Heavy Cantonese migration into the U.S. has made this type of cuisine more familiar to American palates than other Chinese styles. But, unlike your corner Chinese restaurant, true Cantonese cooking relies on seafood and animal parts that we’re not used to seeing. Pig’s feet and sea slug soup, anyone?
To experience some old-fashioned foodie culture shock, head to the Huangshan Aquatic Products Wholesale Market on the west side of town. Fish-mongers in thigh-high boots wade through puddles of water in this outdoor market, showcasing tanks of writhing, wriggling seafood. PETA supporters need not apply as the sight of lobsters and turtles stuffed into plastic bins—as many as can fit, and then some—can be disturbing. But the array of exotic seafood is astonishing, from hairy crab to slippery sea cucumbers to rock-like abalone (and the occasional thrashing snake or tank of scorpions), along with more familiar-looking salmon and flounder swimming along happily.
Perhaps nothing satisfies American-style cravings for “authentic” Cantonese than dim sum. The term applies more to the style of eating than the food itself, as there is no such thing as a set dim sum menu. Often served from 6 a.m. on weekdays and as brunch on weekends, dim sum involves copious amounts of small bites—dumplings, pancakes, buns, to name a few.
Dim sum restaurants abound throughout the city, but check out Lai Heen Cantonese restaurant inside the Ritz-Carlton Guangzhou, which serves dim sum paired with teas selected by the in-house tea sommelier. Another good option is Bei Yuan Restaurant, a gorgeously designed space built around a tranquil garden and pond and all-day dim sum.
What’s a trip to China without some tea? The Fang Cun Tea Market isn’t just any tea shop—it’s perhaps the largest tea-vending complex in the world, packed with more than 1,000 vendors from all over China selling loose leaves, tea sets and ceramics.
If navigating the construction and chaos of ultra-developed Guangzhou becomes overwhelming, travelers can find respite in Shamian Island.
This tiny sandbank is separated from Guangzhou by a small canal, and served as an important center for foreign merchants. As a result, quiet, pedestrian-friendly streets are lined with grand Colonial-style buildings.
A Starbucks, a youth hostel and trinket shops give it something of a touristy edge, but architectural gems such as Our Lady of Lourdes church and the occasional glimpse of a local doing tai chi under a banyan tree make it a worthwhile visit.
(As a bonus, if you’ve ever had questions about adoption in China, you might find answers inside Shamian Island’s White Swan Hotel. Because it’s located down the street from the American consulate, this luxury hotel tends to attract adoptive families, earning it the nickname, “White Stork Hotel.”)
For much of the year, Guangzhou suffers from heavy pollution, most of which can be traced to the ceramics industry in nearby city of Foshan.
To get away from the oppressive air, take a short taxi ride to Baiyun Mountain just north of the city.
Baiyun, which is Cantonese for “white clouds,” is made of up dozens of mountain peaks, the tallest of which stands more than 1,200 feet.
Fresh air, gorgeous greenery and crowds of locals picnicking and playing the Chinese version of hacky-sack round out this truly authentic experience. Trolley buses are available to transport visitors up the mountain, but if you’ve got the energy, do as the locals do and start walking.
Much of Guangzhou’s claim to fame is the abundant, and downright affordable, shopping. Being so close to Hong Kong, travelers will often hop over for a night to explore the goods—everything from silk to porcelain to electronics.
Guangzhou is especially known for its jade industry, which is mostly centered around the Jade Market on Hualin Street. The space is packed with stalls of jade vendors, selling everything from dinky green-dyed rocks to exquisite jewelry. If you can hire an interpreter to help with the haggling, all the better—but at the very least, arm yourself with a few key Cantonese phrases! (Perhaps the most useful is “Tai Gui,” or “too much.”) If you’re purchasing a necklace, check the clasp—some vendors are actually selling the stones on a string, not a proper necklace.
For the non-shopper, however, the biggest surprise is 500 Arhat Hall in Hua Lin Temple, which appears unexpectedly in the middle of the market. Follow your nose to the source of incense, and you’ll be greeted by a dark and solemn room filled with more than 500 golden statues, each representing a different manifestation of Buddha. There’s something eerie about the hundreds of statues peering down at you, but also oddly peaceful.
Guangzhou boasts several other renowned religious spaces, notably the ancient Temple of the Six Banyan Trees on Liurong Road, a multi-faceted pagoda original built in the 6th century, and the Huaisheng Mosque, noticeable for its distinctive pointed minaret and thought to be one of the oldest mosques in the world.
And, because it always has to go back to food (at least in my world) … keep strolling through the Jade Market until you come out onto Shang Xia Jiu Road.
The scent of frying oil will light up your senses as you jostle through crowds past stall after stall of street food. Chinese teens gather here to chatter and snack on everything from bowls of pitch-black sesame seed paste to skewers of fried squid.
And just a few steps away is a bustling pedestrian square, with hordes of storefronts emblazoned with Chinese characters, save for the dueling McDonald’s sitting kitty corner from one another with a KFC in between.
By Sarika Chawla for PeterGreenberg.com.
TRAVEL: Top Travel Gadgets and Gizmos for 2009
Thousands of new gadgets are introduced each year, but few rise above mediocrity.
Gadget guy Phil Baker shares some of the best products among the several hundred he’s tested this year.
From stocking stuffers to gifts of a lifetime, each one represents excellence in design and performance, a good value, and stands apart from competitive offerings.
Toshiba mini NB200 netbook – While Toshiba is late to the netbook market than many of its competition, the NB200 is a product worth waiting for. It has a near full-size keyboard, a rarity on netbooks. It weighs three pounds, gets more than five hours of real battery life, and has the highest environmental ranking for a PC. Its three USB ports remain on when the lid is closed making it a portable charger, as well. Best of all, it’s shipping with Windows 7. $350; www.Toshiba.com
Novatel MiFi – A stand-alone wireless card, sold by Sprint and Verizon, it combines 3G and Wi-Fi into a credit card-size device that provides a Wireless hotspot wherever you go. It allows up to five devices to be wirelessly connected to a 3G network and eliminates the need to install drivers in your devices. I use it with my notebook and iPhone, and share it with others in meetings. $100 plus $60/month; www.sprint.com and www.verizon.com.
TripIt Pro – The TripIt Pro app for computers and smart phones brings organization to all of your travel plans, making it a must for frequent business travelers. Simply forward your confirmations from airlines, rental car companies and hotels, and TripIt organizes each trip, adds the items to your calendar and provides you with timely reminders. $49/year; www.Tripit.com
Plantronics Voyager Pro Bluetooth headset – Among the dozens of Bluetooth headsets I’ve tried, the Pro is one of the very few that gets just about everything right. It provides very good clarity at both ends of the conversation, has a long battery life and is comfortable, even when worn all day long. Its controls are easy to use and understand, and it uses a standard micro USB charger. $99; www.Plantronics.com
Windows 7 – This long-awaited new Windows operating system puts Vista users out of their misery and brings a new level of usability to all PCs. It’s an example of where less is more: fewer interruptions, annoyances and quirks. It’s the first Windows OS that should give Apple some pause. If there’s one complaint it’s that there are too many versions, complicating what should be a simple purchase. $120; www.Microsoft.com
Palm Pre – This is the first smart cell phone that’s a formidable challenger to the iPhone. It uses a new operating system, WebOS, that’s superb, if a little slow. While it still can’t compete in all areas to the iPhone, the phone is smaller, has great call quality, and is on the much-preferred Sprint network. It’s complemented by its excellent line of well designed accessories, particularly its Touchstone inductive charger. $149; www.Palm.com
Motorola’s Droid Phone – This is the best Android phone yet and is Motorola’s best new phone since the RAZR. It runs Google’s new 2.0 OS; it’s a slim, attractive phone, about the size and weight of an iPhone. It has the best display of any phone, a slide out keyboard, and a replaceable battery. It has a built-in turn-by-turn GPS system, but proved rough around its edges. Two clever docks ($30 each), one for the car and another for home, transform the phone into the navigator and alarm clock modes. About $200; www.verizon.com and www.motorola.com
Pentax K7 – This compact semi-professional DSLR does everything well at a very competitive price. It has all of the features most pros need, yet can be used by beginners using its green setting. The K-7 has received rave reviews for packing so much into such a small a package that’s weatherproof and ruggedly constructed out of magnesium. That puts it ahead of competitive offerings that are larger and mostly plastic. About $1,050; www.PentaxImaging.com
Briggs & Riley 15.4″ Executive Expandable Rolling Brief (KR306X) – New this year, this is the most functional, well-designed, and durable rolling business bag I’ve found. It has useful pockets and compartments to hold everything in its place. It’s narrow enough to wheel down a coach class cabin, small enough to fit under most airplane seats, and big enough to carry most everything you need. $369; www.briggs-riley.com
Mindjet Mind Manager – This is a terrific software product for PCs and Macs that users can’t live without, yet most are unaware of it. It enables you to organize, manage, and communicate ideas and information using visual diagrams called a mind map. For some activities it’s much more effective than using lists. You begin with a central theme and add sub-topics on branches that can include notes, ideas, tasks or images. The latest version for the Mac, MindManager 8, adds much more functionality including integration with Mac apps, Excel and Word, and lets you link items on your map to Web sites, online information, documents and photos. $99-$249; www.Mindjet.com
Kensington Portable Power Adapter – Ideal for travelers, this is one of the best implementations of a portable outlet for charging multiple devices all at once. The slim device plugs into a single outlet and connects five devices at once with its three AC and two USB sockets. Its grounded cord wraps into a thin, lightweight package that’s easy to take everywhere. $25; www.Kensington.com
Bose Quiet Comfort 15 Noise reducing headphones – This new model works far better then their previous models, the QC 2 and QC3, and competitive products. Noise reduction is almost total, while comfort and fidelity are improved. The QCV15 has dispensed with clumsy rechargeable batteries and gone back to using a single AAA cells that lasts about 30 hours, making it much more convenient for travelers. $300; www.Bose.com
By Phil Baker for PeterGreenberg.com. Visit Phil on the Web at http://blog.philipgbaker.com, and check out his book, From Concept to Consumer: How to Turn Ideas into Money.
Gadget guy Phil Baker shares some of the best products among the several hundred he’s tested this year.
From stocking stuffers to gifts of a lifetime, each one represents excellence in design and performance, a good value, and stands apart from competitive offerings.
Toshiba mini NB200 netbook – While Toshiba is late to the netbook market than many of its competition, the NB200 is a product worth waiting for. It has a near full-size keyboard, a rarity on netbooks. It weighs three pounds, gets more than five hours of real battery life, and has the highest environmental ranking for a PC. Its three USB ports remain on when the lid is closed making it a portable charger, as well. Best of all, it’s shipping with Windows 7. $350; www.Toshiba.com
Novatel MiFi – A stand-alone wireless card, sold by Sprint and Verizon, it combines 3G and Wi-Fi into a credit card-size device that provides a Wireless hotspot wherever you go. It allows up to five devices to be wirelessly connected to a 3G network and eliminates the need to install drivers in your devices. I use it with my notebook and iPhone, and share it with others in meetings. $100 plus $60/month; www.sprint.com and www.verizon.com.
TripIt Pro – The TripIt Pro app for computers and smart phones brings organization to all of your travel plans, making it a must for frequent business travelers. Simply forward your confirmations from airlines, rental car companies and hotels, and TripIt organizes each trip, adds the items to your calendar and provides you with timely reminders. $49/year; www.Tripit.com
Plantronics Voyager Pro Bluetooth headset – Among the dozens of Bluetooth headsets I’ve tried, the Pro is one of the very few that gets just about everything right. It provides very good clarity at both ends of the conversation, has a long battery life and is comfortable, even when worn all day long. Its controls are easy to use and understand, and it uses a standard micro USB charger. $99; www.Plantronics.com
Windows 7 – This long-awaited new Windows operating system puts Vista users out of their misery and brings a new level of usability to all PCs. It’s an example of where less is more: fewer interruptions, annoyances and quirks. It’s the first Windows OS that should give Apple some pause. If there’s one complaint it’s that there are too many versions, complicating what should be a simple purchase. $120; www.Microsoft.com
Palm Pre – This is the first smart cell phone that’s a formidable challenger to the iPhone. It uses a new operating system, WebOS, that’s superb, if a little slow. While it still can’t compete in all areas to the iPhone, the phone is smaller, has great call quality, and is on the much-preferred Sprint network. It’s complemented by its excellent line of well designed accessories, particularly its Touchstone inductive charger. $149; www.Palm.com
Motorola’s Droid Phone – This is the best Android phone yet and is Motorola’s best new phone since the RAZR. It runs Google’s new 2.0 OS; it’s a slim, attractive phone, about the size and weight of an iPhone. It has the best display of any phone, a slide out keyboard, and a replaceable battery. It has a built-in turn-by-turn GPS system, but proved rough around its edges. Two clever docks ($30 each), one for the car and another for home, transform the phone into the navigator and alarm clock modes. About $200; www.verizon.com and www.motorola.com
Pentax K7 – This compact semi-professional DSLR does everything well at a very competitive price. It has all of the features most pros need, yet can be used by beginners using its green setting. The K-7 has received rave reviews for packing so much into such a small a package that’s weatherproof and ruggedly constructed out of magnesium. That puts it ahead of competitive offerings that are larger and mostly plastic. About $1,050; www.PentaxImaging.com
Briggs & Riley 15.4″ Executive Expandable Rolling Brief (KR306X) – New this year, this is the most functional, well-designed, and durable rolling business bag I’ve found. It has useful pockets and compartments to hold everything in its place. It’s narrow enough to wheel down a coach class cabin, small enough to fit under most airplane seats, and big enough to carry most everything you need. $369; www.briggs-riley.com
Mindjet Mind Manager – This is a terrific software product for PCs and Macs that users can’t live without, yet most are unaware of it. It enables you to organize, manage, and communicate ideas and information using visual diagrams called a mind map. For some activities it’s much more effective than using lists. You begin with a central theme and add sub-topics on branches that can include notes, ideas, tasks or images. The latest version for the Mac, MindManager 8, adds much more functionality including integration with Mac apps, Excel and Word, and lets you link items on your map to Web sites, online information, documents and photos. $99-$249; www.Mindjet.com
Kensington Portable Power Adapter – Ideal for travelers, this is one of the best implementations of a portable outlet for charging multiple devices all at once. The slim device plugs into a single outlet and connects five devices at once with its three AC and two USB sockets. Its grounded cord wraps into a thin, lightweight package that’s easy to take everywhere. $25; www.Kensington.com
Bose Quiet Comfort 15 Noise reducing headphones – This new model works far better then their previous models, the QC 2 and QC3, and competitive products. Noise reduction is almost total, while comfort and fidelity are improved. The QCV15 has dispensed with clumsy rechargeable batteries and gone back to using a single AAA cells that lasts about 30 hours, making it much more convenient for travelers. $300; www.Bose.com
By Phil Baker for PeterGreenberg.com. Visit Phil on the Web at http://blog.philipgbaker.com, and check out his book, From Concept to Consumer: How to Turn Ideas into Money.
CHINA & TAIWAN: Taiwan and China
October 7, 2009
By PHILIP BOWRING
Op-Ed Contributor
HONG KONG — Taiwan’s position as a de facto independent state seems to be morphing very slowly toward the “one country, two systems” status of Hong Kong. The process is not irreversible but the sentiments of those of mainland origin in the governing Nationalist Party, along with the self-interest of business groups and a widespread sense of economic vulnerability are all pushing the island toward accommodation with Beijing.
The trend could mean an erosion in the support Taiwan gets, albeit erratically, from the United States and Japan.
The most striking evidence of a desire to please Beijing — at the expense of the liberal values which have gained Taiwan much praise in recent years — was the denial of entry to the exiled Uighur leader Rebiya Kadeer. This was done in the name of “national interest,” apparently linked to the finalization, expected soon, of a memorandum of understanding on cross-strait financial links.
For sure, the memorandum would be a major advance, enabling banks in particular to escape the confines of Taiwan, with its low growth and surplus savings, for the fast-growing mainland. And it would bring more mainland capital to local stocks and property. But the government of President Ma Ying-jeou may have forgotten that Taiwan’s national interest as an independent state, albeit one that may one day merge with the mainland, sometimes requires sacrifices. The degree of autonomy that Rebiya Kadeer has been seeking for Uighurs is a fraction of that enjoyed by Taiwan or even Hong Kong.
There is real benefit in increasing cross-straits financial links. Banks have much to gain by being able to service clients in Taiwan with business on the mainland. Cross-straits links may attract service industries to Taiwan that would otherwise go to Hong Kong. Mainland tourism is also an unqualified plus.
But Taiwan seems to be talking itself into believing that it is even more dependent on the mainland than need be the case. The island would be a more attractive place for foreign business if it removed the many restrictions that exist to protect local businesses, or stem simply from bureaucracy and outdated rules. Tax issues also tend to keep business offshore while not preventing a huge outflow of capital. The Ma government has made progress on these issues, but they get scant attention compared to cross-straits ones.
It is easy to blame a lackluster economy on being unable to take full advantage of the mainland. But in reality, Taiwan is a mature economy with minimal growth in its work force. Like Japan, its problems lie with an inefficient domestic services sector, not with an inventive export-manufacturing one.
Dependence on China is often overstated. While 40 percent of Taiwan’s exports go there, more than half are components for globally traded items like laptops and cellphones made by Taiwanese companies and then re-exported from China. The dependence is self-imposed for profit reasons, which may be shifting as mainland costs rise. There are alternatives.
Worrying too for friends of Taiwan’s liberal democracy is the vengeance being meted out to the opposition by powerful supporters of the governing Nationalist Party, or KMT. Former president Chen Shui-bian was found guilty of corruption and his conduct has left the opposition Democratic Progressive Party demoralized and frustrated. But given the pervasiveness of money politics and the past reputation of the Nationalists for corruption, the life sentence for Chen is extreme. Now, in the name of fighting corruption, there is talk of a witch-hunt against other members of the Chen administration. To some this smacks of an attempt by pro-unification elements to please Beijing by demonizing Chen, who supported independence and who suffered much in the cause of breaking the KMT’s authoritarian hold on power.
None of this is likely to help Taiwan’s relations with its main supporter, the United States. Chen upset a natural ally in George W. Bush by needlessly provoking Beijing in an attempt to score political points at home. Now the KMT seems to have gone to the other extreme. Taiwan has long disappointed Washington with unwillingness to spend money on arms. Now it may sense a lack of willingness to pay an economic price for the principles of independence and liberalism it claims to stand for. President Ma remains well-regarded abroad, but his grip on the KMT is uncertain. Taiwan lacks a strategic view of itself and how to balance relations with the Chinese mainland, the United States and the global economy with liberal democracy and de facto independence.
Copyright 2009
By PHILIP BOWRING
Op-Ed Contributor
HONG KONG — Taiwan’s position as a de facto independent state seems to be morphing very slowly toward the “one country, two systems” status of Hong Kong. The process is not irreversible but the sentiments of those of mainland origin in the governing Nationalist Party, along with the self-interest of business groups and a widespread sense of economic vulnerability are all pushing the island toward accommodation with Beijing.
The trend could mean an erosion in the support Taiwan gets, albeit erratically, from the United States and Japan.
The most striking evidence of a desire to please Beijing — at the expense of the liberal values which have gained Taiwan much praise in recent years — was the denial of entry to the exiled Uighur leader Rebiya Kadeer. This was done in the name of “national interest,” apparently linked to the finalization, expected soon, of a memorandum of understanding on cross-strait financial links.
For sure, the memorandum would be a major advance, enabling banks in particular to escape the confines of Taiwan, with its low growth and surplus savings, for the fast-growing mainland. And it would bring more mainland capital to local stocks and property. But the government of President Ma Ying-jeou may have forgotten that Taiwan’s national interest as an independent state, albeit one that may one day merge with the mainland, sometimes requires sacrifices. The degree of autonomy that Rebiya Kadeer has been seeking for Uighurs is a fraction of that enjoyed by Taiwan or even Hong Kong.
There is real benefit in increasing cross-straits financial links. Banks have much to gain by being able to service clients in Taiwan with business on the mainland. Cross-straits links may attract service industries to Taiwan that would otherwise go to Hong Kong. Mainland tourism is also an unqualified plus.
But Taiwan seems to be talking itself into believing that it is even more dependent on the mainland than need be the case. The island would be a more attractive place for foreign business if it removed the many restrictions that exist to protect local businesses, or stem simply from bureaucracy and outdated rules. Tax issues also tend to keep business offshore while not preventing a huge outflow of capital. The Ma government has made progress on these issues, but they get scant attention compared to cross-straits ones.
It is easy to blame a lackluster economy on being unable to take full advantage of the mainland. But in reality, Taiwan is a mature economy with minimal growth in its work force. Like Japan, its problems lie with an inefficient domestic services sector, not with an inventive export-manufacturing one.
Dependence on China is often overstated. While 40 percent of Taiwan’s exports go there, more than half are components for globally traded items like laptops and cellphones made by Taiwanese companies and then re-exported from China. The dependence is self-imposed for profit reasons, which may be shifting as mainland costs rise. There are alternatives.
Worrying too for friends of Taiwan’s liberal democracy is the vengeance being meted out to the opposition by powerful supporters of the governing Nationalist Party, or KMT. Former president Chen Shui-bian was found guilty of corruption and his conduct has left the opposition Democratic Progressive Party demoralized and frustrated. But given the pervasiveness of money politics and the past reputation of the Nationalists for corruption, the life sentence for Chen is extreme. Now, in the name of fighting corruption, there is talk of a witch-hunt against other members of the Chen administration. To some this smacks of an attempt by pro-unification elements to please Beijing by demonizing Chen, who supported independence and who suffered much in the cause of breaking the KMT’s authoritarian hold on power.
None of this is likely to help Taiwan’s relations with its main supporter, the United States. Chen upset a natural ally in George W. Bush by needlessly provoking Beijing in an attempt to score political points at home. Now the KMT seems to have gone to the other extreme. Taiwan has long disappointed Washington with unwillingness to spend money on arms. Now it may sense a lack of willingness to pay an economic price for the principles of independence and liberalism it claims to stand for. President Ma remains well-regarded abroad, but his grip on the KMT is uncertain. Taiwan lacks a strategic view of itself and how to balance relations with the Chinese mainland, the United States and the global economy with liberal democracy and de facto independence.
Copyright 2009
CHINA & TAIWAN: Untold Stories of China and Taiwan
October 6, 2009
By VERNA YU
HONG KONG — When Ying Meijun bade farewell to her 1-year-old son at the train station in September 1949, little did she know that it would be 38 years before she saw him again.
The baby was crying so much that she decided not to take him onto the overcrowded train, so she left him in the care of his grandmother.
Thinking they were only leaving China temporarily, she promised: “We’ll be back soon.”
By the time she saw her first-born child again in 1987, he was a 40-year-old man wearied by years of hard labor on a mainland Chinese farm. Fighting back tears, he told his elderly parents how, as a young child, he used to chase trains that went pass their front door, shouting, “Mother! Mother!”, thinking that she would be on them.
Ms. Ying and her husband, Lung Huaisheng, who was an officer in the military police under Chiang Kai-shek’s Kuomintang government, fled with his family to Taiwan a few months after the Communist Party declared itself the new ruler of China on Oct. 1, 1949.
Even in his old age, Lung Huaisheng often wept as he took out the shoe soles that his mother knitted and gave him when they saw each other for the last time at the train station.
These family memories are just some of the heart-wrenching stories told by their daughter, Lung Yingtai, a Taiwan-born author and University of Hong Kong professor, in her latest book “Da Jiang Da Hai 1949” (“Big River, Big Sea — Untold Stories of 1949”). The book is published by Taiwan’s CommonWealth Magazine and Hong Kong’s Cosmos Books.
Ms. Lung, who was born two years after the family moved to Taiwan, is a leading cultural critic, well-known for her sharp and candid writing. Her book of social-political criticism, “The Wild Fire,” published in 1985 when Taiwan was still under Kuomintang’s one-party rule, was seen as influential in the democratization of the island.
Her new book is a tribute to the tens of millions of people “who were trampled on, humiliated and hurt by the era.” It tells the story of the many Chinese families that were broken up by the civil war that ended in the Kuomintang’s defeat in 1949, with some two million escaping to Taiwan. Many, like her own parents, hastily said goodbye to loved ones in mainland China and would never see them again.
Apart from the stories of her own family and other Chinese people born in that era — including President Ma Ying-jeou of Taiwan — there are tales of elderly people who as young men fought for the Kuomintang, the Communist Party, or both, and even Japan (which ruled Taiwan from 1895 until 1945).
Many have not openly talked about their experiences. One 89-year-old man who was held by the Japanese as a prisoner of war told Ms. Lung he waited all his life to tell his story.
Ms. Lung’s book has become an instant best seller — more than 100,000 copies have been sold in Taiwan and 10,000 in Hong Kong since its publication in early September. Ms. Lung, who will be giving a talk at the Frankfurt Book Fair on Oct. 15, said the book did not have an English-language publisher yet. Although Ms. Lung had expressed a wish to publish it in mainland China, it seems almost impossible now, as the government has banned all Internet articles and discussions on the book.
Ms. Lung hopes to break down her readers’ preconceptions about events around 1949. Under Communist rule, many mainlanders regard Taiwan as a renegade province that should be taken back by force if necessary.
“I want to give them a different perspective,” she said.
As the Taiwan-born offspring of mainland refugees herself, she wants mainland readers, particularly political leaders like President Hu Jintao of China, to learn about the pain and sufferings of the people of Taiwan.
“When will there be no war? It’s when you can see your enemy’s wounds, then you won’t be able to pick up your gun,” she said.
She hopes the book will make people in China and Taiwan abandon long-held suspicions and prejudices regarding each other.
“If all that the leaders can think about are political negotiations” and economic interests “and there is no genuine understanding of emotions, then the foundation of peace would not be solid enough,” she said.
While researching her book, Ms. Lung discovered that residents of Changchun in the northeastern province of Jilin had not heard of the People’s Liberation Army’s five-month siege of that city in 1948, which resulted in between 150,000 and 650,000 people dying of starvation.
Instead, what they learn about in mainland Chinese history textbooks is the P.L.A.’s “great victory” when it “liberated” that city.
Mainland China is not the only side to edit its version of history.
The Kuomintang, which lost 470,000 troops in the northeastern battles and later fled to Taiwan, did not mention its defeat in the textbooks of Taiwan, either.
Ms. Lung wanted to tell this history through the tales or ordinary people.
She claims to make no political or moral judgment in her book. There is no “right side” or “wrong side” in the stories, she says. The Kuomintang troops, the People’s Liberation Army and the Taiwanese soldiers fighting for their Japanese colonial masters are given an equal hearing. To her, those individuals were just young people caught up in history.
“In this book I don’t care about who is on the right side, the victorious or the defeated side. I just want to show you that when you dismantle the apparatus of state, what’s inside are these individuals.”
Parts of Ms. Lung’s book also detail the stories of families amid wars and conflicts in the West, including the loving letters written by her German mother-in-law’s first husband before he died in a Soviet prisoner of war camp during World War II.
Ms. Lung said she included these because she wanted her Chinese readers to see their own history in perspective.
“Chinese people on both sides of the straits tend to see history from their own national scope,” she said. “But actually who is righteous or unrighteous? It’s a very complicated matter.”
“If we continue to be the unthinking cogs in a machine,” she said, “then how do you know whether these tragic misfortunes would not be repeated?”
Copyright 2009
By VERNA YU
HONG KONG — When Ying Meijun bade farewell to her 1-year-old son at the train station in September 1949, little did she know that it would be 38 years before she saw him again.
The baby was crying so much that she decided not to take him onto the overcrowded train, so she left him in the care of his grandmother.
Thinking they were only leaving China temporarily, she promised: “We’ll be back soon.”
By the time she saw her first-born child again in 1987, he was a 40-year-old man wearied by years of hard labor on a mainland Chinese farm. Fighting back tears, he told his elderly parents how, as a young child, he used to chase trains that went pass their front door, shouting, “Mother! Mother!”, thinking that she would be on them.
Ms. Ying and her husband, Lung Huaisheng, who was an officer in the military police under Chiang Kai-shek’s Kuomintang government, fled with his family to Taiwan a few months after the Communist Party declared itself the new ruler of China on Oct. 1, 1949.
Even in his old age, Lung Huaisheng often wept as he took out the shoe soles that his mother knitted and gave him when they saw each other for the last time at the train station.
These family memories are just some of the heart-wrenching stories told by their daughter, Lung Yingtai, a Taiwan-born author and University of Hong Kong professor, in her latest book “Da Jiang Da Hai 1949” (“Big River, Big Sea — Untold Stories of 1949”). The book is published by Taiwan’s CommonWealth Magazine and Hong Kong’s Cosmos Books.
Ms. Lung, who was born two years after the family moved to Taiwan, is a leading cultural critic, well-known for her sharp and candid writing. Her book of social-political criticism, “The Wild Fire,” published in 1985 when Taiwan was still under Kuomintang’s one-party rule, was seen as influential in the democratization of the island.
Her new book is a tribute to the tens of millions of people “who were trampled on, humiliated and hurt by the era.” It tells the story of the many Chinese families that were broken up by the civil war that ended in the Kuomintang’s defeat in 1949, with some two million escaping to Taiwan. Many, like her own parents, hastily said goodbye to loved ones in mainland China and would never see them again.
Apart from the stories of her own family and other Chinese people born in that era — including President Ma Ying-jeou of Taiwan — there are tales of elderly people who as young men fought for the Kuomintang, the Communist Party, or both, and even Japan (which ruled Taiwan from 1895 until 1945).
Many have not openly talked about their experiences. One 89-year-old man who was held by the Japanese as a prisoner of war told Ms. Lung he waited all his life to tell his story.
Ms. Lung’s book has become an instant best seller — more than 100,000 copies have been sold in Taiwan and 10,000 in Hong Kong since its publication in early September. Ms. Lung, who will be giving a talk at the Frankfurt Book Fair on Oct. 15, said the book did not have an English-language publisher yet. Although Ms. Lung had expressed a wish to publish it in mainland China, it seems almost impossible now, as the government has banned all Internet articles and discussions on the book.
Ms. Lung hopes to break down her readers’ preconceptions about events around 1949. Under Communist rule, many mainlanders regard Taiwan as a renegade province that should be taken back by force if necessary.
“I want to give them a different perspective,” she said.
As the Taiwan-born offspring of mainland refugees herself, she wants mainland readers, particularly political leaders like President Hu Jintao of China, to learn about the pain and sufferings of the people of Taiwan.
“When will there be no war? It’s when you can see your enemy’s wounds, then you won’t be able to pick up your gun,” she said.
She hopes the book will make people in China and Taiwan abandon long-held suspicions and prejudices regarding each other.
“If all that the leaders can think about are political negotiations” and economic interests “and there is no genuine understanding of emotions, then the foundation of peace would not be solid enough,” she said.
While researching her book, Ms. Lung discovered that residents of Changchun in the northeastern province of Jilin had not heard of the People’s Liberation Army’s five-month siege of that city in 1948, which resulted in between 150,000 and 650,000 people dying of starvation.
Instead, what they learn about in mainland Chinese history textbooks is the P.L.A.’s “great victory” when it “liberated” that city.
Mainland China is not the only side to edit its version of history.
The Kuomintang, which lost 470,000 troops in the northeastern battles and later fled to Taiwan, did not mention its defeat in the textbooks of Taiwan, either.
Ms. Lung wanted to tell this history through the tales or ordinary people.
She claims to make no political or moral judgment in her book. There is no “right side” or “wrong side” in the stories, she says. The Kuomintang troops, the People’s Liberation Army and the Taiwanese soldiers fighting for their Japanese colonial masters are given an equal hearing. To her, those individuals were just young people caught up in history.
“In this book I don’t care about who is on the right side, the victorious or the defeated side. I just want to show you that when you dismantle the apparatus of state, what’s inside are these individuals.”
Parts of Ms. Lung’s book also detail the stories of families amid wars and conflicts in the West, including the loving letters written by her German mother-in-law’s first husband before he died in a Soviet prisoner of war camp during World War II.
Ms. Lung said she included these because she wanted her Chinese readers to see their own history in perspective.
“Chinese people on both sides of the straits tend to see history from their own national scope,” she said. “But actually who is righteous or unrighteous? It’s a very complicated matter.”
“If we continue to be the unthinking cogs in a machine,” she said, “then how do you know whether these tragic misfortunes would not be repeated?”
Copyright 2009
ASIA: Asia Comic Art Makes It to the Museum
January 5, 2010
By SONIA KOLESNIKOV-JESSOP
SINGAPORE — The term “Animamix” was coined in 2006 by the Taiwanese art critic and curator Victoria Lu to describe a new aesthetic trend she had observed in Asian contemporary art, one that incorporates the visual language of animation and comics.
Ms. Lu helped organize the inaugural Animamix Biennial in 2007 at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Shanghai, and the event has now expanded to four museums in the first major cross-straits international biennial, which began in December.
Exhibitions around the Animamix theme are being staged at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Shanghai (until Jan. 31), Today’s Art Museum in Beijing (until Jan. 10), the Museum of Contemporary Art in Taipei (until Jan. 31) and the Guangdong Museum of Art in Guangzhou (Jan. 21-Feb. 28).
Ms. Lu, who is the creative director of the MoCA Shanghai and the artistic director of the biennial, said that Animamix’s characteristics include the worship of youth and the pursuit of an idealized youthful beauty; strong narrative texts and images; and the use of vivid and colorful visuals derived from electronic media.
Yang Na, based in Beijing, is one of the 300 or so artists selected for the Animamix Biennial. She paints doll-like women with pouty mouths and perfect porcelain skin; yet their eyes are empty, hinting at the superficiality of their beauty and the artist’s reflection on her generation’s obsession with appearance and consumption.
The new generation of Asian artists may have been influenced by a diet of Japanese manga, anime and computer games, but Ms. Lu is quick to point out that Animamix goes beyond a straightforward incorporation of those media.
She argues that, unlike the pop artists of the 1960s and ’70s, who simply appropriated visual symbols from comics and animation, Animamix artists are already completely immersed in their aesthetic. They like to blur the distinctions between high-brow and low-brow art. They are also engaged in various creative fields and often integrate those fields into their works, she said.
One of this trend’s leaders is the prolific Japanese artist Takashi Murakami, who, like Andy Warhol, has successfully repackaged low-brow culture and promoted it to high art. But he has also gone a step further than Warhol by making his art available on everything from T-shirts and plush dolls to Louis Vuitton handbags.
Many Animamix artists are creating their own comics-style characters that regularly reappear in their works. The Korean artist Kwon Ki-soo uses a computer-like graphic lexicon characterized by pared-down parameters with his artistic alter-ego, “Dongguri” — a black-and-white line-drawn figure with a permanent grin that roams across simplified, colorful traditional Korean landscapes. Dongi Lee, another Korean artist, created “Atomaus,” a cross between the Japanese animation character Atom and Mickey Mouse, who has adventures in real and imaginary settings.
The Taiwan-based jewelry designer and artist Jeff Dah-Yue Shi conceived Zha long, a cherubic, tattooed boy who is a combination of the martial artist Bruce Lee and Na Cha, a character from Chinese mythology often depicted flying with a wheel of fire under each foot.
Each exhibition features different Animanix artists, with some overlaps. In Taiwan, the MoCA Taipei’s “Visual Attract and Attack” features about 50 artists, not all of whom are from Asia: along with pieces by Mr. Murakami and Yoshitomo Nara from Japan are works by Angelo Volpe of Italy, Virginie Barré of France, Inbal Shved of Israel, Lelya Borisenko of Russia and Maya Lin of the United States. The aim of the exhibition is to show the international spread of the Animamix language, as Maple Yujie Lin, MoCA Taipei’s chief curator, explained in her essay for the exhibition.
Ms. Lu said that, thanks to higher funding, the MoCA Taipei was able to show more international artists, whereas the other venues are focusing more on Asian artists.
“The Beijing venue has the largest number of Chinese artists participating, while the Shanghai venue has more younger, newer artists,” she said, adding that the Guangdong venue would focus on local artists.
Ms. Lu said that Hong Kong had already expressed interest in joining the next Animamix Biennial and that she was hoping to get Japan, South Korea and Singapore to participate in the future.
Mila Bollansee, the gallery manager of Beyond Art Space in Shanghai, which often shows Animamix artists, believes that during the latter part of the 20th century, aesthetics was neglected “in favor of more intellectual artistic preoccupations,” she wrote in an e-mail.
“But new developments in global culture like the ‘manga craze’ all over the world and the growing impact of animation on our daily lives have led to a new trend in aesthetics, aptly coined ‘Animamix.’ It is the living proof that now artistic trends can develop in Asia and spread to the rest of the world as we notice that a multitude of international artists are participating in these exhibitions.”
Ms. Bollansee said she believes that Animamix will be one of the sources of inspiration for the global art scene because of its ability to combine life and virtual reality. “It is the kind of art that will allow the artists to maximize their creativity level and the audience to have access to a world of dreams and fantasy,” she said.
Copyright 2010
By SONIA KOLESNIKOV-JESSOP
SINGAPORE — The term “Animamix” was coined in 2006 by the Taiwanese art critic and curator Victoria Lu to describe a new aesthetic trend she had observed in Asian contemporary art, one that incorporates the visual language of animation and comics.
Ms. Lu helped organize the inaugural Animamix Biennial in 2007 at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Shanghai, and the event has now expanded to four museums in the first major cross-straits international biennial, which began in December.
Exhibitions around the Animamix theme are being staged at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Shanghai (until Jan. 31), Today’s Art Museum in Beijing (until Jan. 10), the Museum of Contemporary Art in Taipei (until Jan. 31) and the Guangdong Museum of Art in Guangzhou (Jan. 21-Feb. 28).
Ms. Lu, who is the creative director of the MoCA Shanghai and the artistic director of the biennial, said that Animamix’s characteristics include the worship of youth and the pursuit of an idealized youthful beauty; strong narrative texts and images; and the use of vivid and colorful visuals derived from electronic media.
Yang Na, based in Beijing, is one of the 300 or so artists selected for the Animamix Biennial. She paints doll-like women with pouty mouths and perfect porcelain skin; yet their eyes are empty, hinting at the superficiality of their beauty and the artist’s reflection on her generation’s obsession with appearance and consumption.
The new generation of Asian artists may have been influenced by a diet of Japanese manga, anime and computer games, but Ms. Lu is quick to point out that Animamix goes beyond a straightforward incorporation of those media.
She argues that, unlike the pop artists of the 1960s and ’70s, who simply appropriated visual symbols from comics and animation, Animamix artists are already completely immersed in their aesthetic. They like to blur the distinctions between high-brow and low-brow art. They are also engaged in various creative fields and often integrate those fields into their works, she said.
One of this trend’s leaders is the prolific Japanese artist Takashi Murakami, who, like Andy Warhol, has successfully repackaged low-brow culture and promoted it to high art. But he has also gone a step further than Warhol by making his art available on everything from T-shirts and plush dolls to Louis Vuitton handbags.
Many Animamix artists are creating their own comics-style characters that regularly reappear in their works. The Korean artist Kwon Ki-soo uses a computer-like graphic lexicon characterized by pared-down parameters with his artistic alter-ego, “Dongguri” — a black-and-white line-drawn figure with a permanent grin that roams across simplified, colorful traditional Korean landscapes. Dongi Lee, another Korean artist, created “Atomaus,” a cross between the Japanese animation character Atom and Mickey Mouse, who has adventures in real and imaginary settings.
The Taiwan-based jewelry designer and artist Jeff Dah-Yue Shi conceived Zha long, a cherubic, tattooed boy who is a combination of the martial artist Bruce Lee and Na Cha, a character from Chinese mythology often depicted flying with a wheel of fire under each foot.
Each exhibition features different Animanix artists, with some overlaps. In Taiwan, the MoCA Taipei’s “Visual Attract and Attack” features about 50 artists, not all of whom are from Asia: along with pieces by Mr. Murakami and Yoshitomo Nara from Japan are works by Angelo Volpe of Italy, Virginie Barré of France, Inbal Shved of Israel, Lelya Borisenko of Russia and Maya Lin of the United States. The aim of the exhibition is to show the international spread of the Animamix language, as Maple Yujie Lin, MoCA Taipei’s chief curator, explained in her essay for the exhibition.
Ms. Lu said that, thanks to higher funding, the MoCA Taipei was able to show more international artists, whereas the other venues are focusing more on Asian artists.
“The Beijing venue has the largest number of Chinese artists participating, while the Shanghai venue has more younger, newer artists,” she said, adding that the Guangdong venue would focus on local artists.
Ms. Lu said that Hong Kong had already expressed interest in joining the next Animamix Biennial and that she was hoping to get Japan, South Korea and Singapore to participate in the future.
Mila Bollansee, the gallery manager of Beyond Art Space in Shanghai, which often shows Animamix artists, believes that during the latter part of the 20th century, aesthetics was neglected “in favor of more intellectual artistic preoccupations,” she wrote in an e-mail.
“But new developments in global culture like the ‘manga craze’ all over the world and the growing impact of animation on our daily lives have led to a new trend in aesthetics, aptly coined ‘Animamix.’ It is the living proof that now artistic trends can develop in Asia and spread to the rest of the world as we notice that a multitude of international artists are participating in these exhibitions.”
Ms. Bollansee said she believes that Animamix will be one of the sources of inspiration for the global art scene because of its ability to combine life and virtual reality. “It is the kind of art that will allow the artists to maximize their creativity level and the audience to have access to a world of dreams and fantasy,” she said.
Copyright 2010
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