(Photo taken in Xi’an). 红被绿取代了。China is GREEN! Really though, four months in this country and I’m convinced the U.S. better pick up its earth-friendly habits. Here’s a brief list of some of China’s green-ifying techniques:

1. Want a bag? Pay up.

Go to any grocery/convenience store and regardless of how much you buy, the cashier won’t automatically give you plastic bags unless you specifically ask for some and hand over a few coins.

2. No heat in Beijing until November 15th.

Yup, currently suffering under the capital’s centrally-controlled heating policy. Whether or not you enter a cozy classroom on a brisk October morning is up to the government and unless temperatures prematurely drop significantly (as they did last year on Nov 1st), November 15th is the magical date when an official presses the button that sends heat to the homes, schools, and offices of all 22 million Beijingers.   http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-503543_162-20020269-503543.html

3. Hot summer sun? Cool off in 78 degree AC.

This policy isn’t heavily regulated, but the government encourages citizens to keep their AC units set no lower than 26 degrees Celsius, or 78 degrees Fahrenheit during the summer. Also, (according to my parents’ tour guide in Shanghai), if the temperature rises above 35 degrees Celsius in Shanghai, the government will take drastic measures to save energy– including temporarily shutting off lights in the entire city. http://www.shanghai.gov.cn/shanghai/node17256/node17261/node17290/node17303/userobject26ai4181.html

4. Carrying bottled water? Foreign give-away.

You can’t drink water from the tap in China, so the average foreign visitor takes the simple route and buys chilled bottled water daily. But most Chinese believe cold liquids aren’t great for your health and many (especially girls) cannot stomach them. For this reason (and to save money) the vast majority of Chinese boil water and carry large canteens to class or bring a re-usable glass bottle filled with tea to work every day.

… the list goes on. In addition to these little steps, China has recently prioritized renewable energy development and is consistently cited for its progress in focusing on alternative energy, most notably electric cars. Check out this op-ed:  http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/26/opinion/26friedman.html?src=me&ref=general

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The photograph above depicts a series of stone tablets in Shawan Ancient Village (沙湾古镇) erected during the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644). The 9-foot monuments were placed in the town square to commemorate the high marks of local citizens who participated in the Imperial Examination. With its first debut during the Sui Dynasty around 605, the Chinese Imperial Exam became the primary means by which administrative officials were elected to serve in the state bureaucracy. For those who may have lacked an interest in politics, the exam was also a way to improve one’s status in society— no matter how poor of a background a man came from, his level of intellect as demonstrated by his performance on the examination could win him respect and honor within his local community or even the nation at large. The Imperial Examination witnessed various alterations throughout each dynastic period but remained the primary means for social mobility until its termination in 1905.

By the time of the Ming Dynasty, the tests generally lasted between 24 and 72 hours. Test-takers sat in isolated examination rooms where they re-wrote entire ancient texts and poems from memory. The content of the test initially included the “Six Arts”– arts, music, arithmetic, writing, and knowledge of the rituals and ceremonies in both public and private life— before expanding to include the “5 Studies”— military strategy, civil law, revenue and taxation, agriculture and geography, and the Confucian classics. The examination content did not vary across regions and thus served to reinforce a nationwide consensus on Chinese cultural values and promoted a harmonious, unified empire. 

On average, no more than 5% of test takers scored well enough to receive titles of merit. Some men spent their entire lives in preparation only to return home time and again without a trace of recognition. The Chinese Imperial Exam is credited by historians as being the first standardized testing system in the world based solely on merit. The exam has also contributed to China’s consistent emphasis on education, which remains strikingly evident in the unparalleled respect granted to teachers in Chinese society today.

I’ve been trying to check out articles from one of China’s most famous (and liberal) journals lately, called《南方周末》, based in Guangzhou. The photograph above was featured in a news story I read yesterday, which discussed an international peace conference held at Tsing-hua University earlier this month. The meeting is the first of its kind to be hosted by China and marks an important development in China’s effort to secure international peace.

The article summarized China’s emphasis on supporting global harmony while acknowledging the marked differences between the East and West. What I found most fascinating, however, was a quote from a graduate student of the National University of Singapore’s East Asian Studies program, which concluded the article by stating, “Western culture is like chess–it’s a zero-sum game; Chinese culture, in contrast, is like “Go”–it’s a win-win game. Chinese culture is the world’s only secular culture– it is inclusive, which makes China’s understanding of international relations different from that of Western countries. Chinese people emphasize harmony; they have a tradition of peace.”   ( 西方文化是象棋文化，是一种零和游戏；中国文化是围棋文化，相对而言是双赢游戏。“中国文化在世界上是唯一的世俗文化，有一种包容性，使得中国人对国际关系的理解不同与美国等西方国家不同，中国人非常强调和谐，有和平的传统。” http://www.infzm.com/content/78406)

There is typically only one winner in “Go”, which makes it difficult to describe it as a “win-win” game. Still, the student’s analogy is useful in understanding the difference in strategy and approach to conflict between China and Western nations. In “Go”, one’s objective is to claim as much territory as possible, while never directly “attacking” one’s opponent (although one can capture another’s territory by surrounding it). Thus, in “Go”, one is focused primarily on improving oneself–on expanding one’s territory. In contrast, the goal of chess is to eliminate one’s opponent completely–to capture their army and crown.

From the perspective of many Western countries (as evidenced by articles in the New York Times, the Economist, and the Wall Street Journal), China’s economic rise to power illustrates its desire to be the next world superpower–to replace the current position of the United States. If Western culture is like chess, as the Singapore graduate student suggested, the West would assume that China’s goal in international relations is to eliminate its opponent completely. One glance at the headlines of the New York Times would prove that this assumption does exist in the West– that is, we fear China’s rise and see it as a direct threat to our power.

But now let’s consider the situation from China’s perspective. If we continue using the student’s analogy (which has proved reasonably accurate thus far), it’s possible to conclude that China’s goal in economic growth and territorial expansion is pursued benignly or in a relatively non-confrontational manner. If Chinese culture is like “Go”, China will be more interested in improving its own position than in directly threatening the position of its opponent. Of course, in the process of expanding its territory and influence, China will undoubtedly come into contact with its opponent, and may even “capture” its opponent’s territories merely by default of its own vast expansion. But in the end, the mind-set and overall strategy required in “Go”–Chinese culture– is less confrontational and more self-reflective than that in chess– Western culture.

Bottom line: Acknowledging fundamental differences between the perspectives of the East and West is critical in securing future international peace. If we want to accurately predict the actions of our “opponent”, we need to first recognize that we’re currently playing two entirely different games.

There’s been a lot of press about Japan here lately, with the line “Think we’ll go to war?” sneaking into more than a few cocktail party conversations. For those who aren’t familiar with the historical relationship between China and Japan, just know that after two Sino-Japanese wars in which Japan invaded China, the “Nanjing Massacre” in 1937 (where Japanese troops raided, killed, and raped Chinese citizens in Nanjing) and WWII, which again brought Chinese troops face to face with Japanese, relations between the two aren’t exactly chipper.

Disputes regarding ownership of islands in the East China Sea are not a recent development— the photo above was taken in Xi’an in 2010 when the entire city mobilized to protest the Japanese claim of the Diaoyu Islands. Recently, protests and marches have again commenced in a number of eastern cities. Smashing Japanese cars is the newest form of protest, which many non-participants (myself included) find somewhat amusing as nearly 80% of cars here are Toyotas…

Still, aside from a few lively uprisings in Xi’an and other youthful cities, the urge to protest has yet to enter the mainstream— I have not personally witnessed any protests or disturbances of any kind (I’ve heard that southern China is more stable in general when it comes to these issues, primarily because the environment and lifestyle is more comfortable than that up north). I would like to share an article from Nanfang Zhoumo (南方周末) , the subject of which I also spotted on the news while riding to work today. The article examines why the word “reason” or “理性” has become the phrase most often used in tandem with news about the protests. It is a word embraced by both the government and people to direct the emotion of citizens during this time of conflict with Japan. According to the logic of most Chinese, animosity towards Japan for its historical wrongdoings is not juvenile by any means— on the contrary, it is a reasonable stance to take in order to defend the national rights of China that have frequently been challenged in the past.

Protest, according to the article, is a “double-edged sword”— all benefits gained are inevitably accompanied by the risk of immense loss. Counter to popular belief, in the case of Japan, the Chinese government does not restrict the voice of the collective populace— instead, it actively responds to their calls. In this age of modern protest, in order to prevent significant loss or harm to society, the collective voice must be expressed in a rational manner, i.e., there should be a complete set of system specifications to guide and direct the pursuit of personal interest and social justice. In the words of the article, “‘Reason’, simply put, at its most minimum standard does not harm the lawful rights and interests of others.”  (“理性”，简单地说，其最起码的标准是不损害其他人的合法权益). Yet reaching this standard, in our reality, is easier said than done.

The article goes on to describe an ideal world for protest where demonstrators could unite and express their opinions in public without disturbing urban traffic or interrupting the work and lives of others. The finest “rational” we could imagine would consist of demonstrators processing in prescribed routes with police officers acting as “referees”— there to make a call when necessary but passive to the degree that protesters may not even feel their presence (警察仿佛一场精彩比赛的裁判，他们游弋在最需要他们出现的地方，但却几乎让人感觉不到他们的存在).

Although the ideal of a purely rational world is still a fair distance away, the article champions the high school students in Guangzhou who spontaneously cleared away garbage on the streets and the parade of college students shouting “Rationality!” over and over again for giving us the sense that “reason” is not that far away.

Now for my commentary: I think the terms “rational” and “reason” are extremely dangerous for the ease with which they can be defined or defended subjectively. Any criminal will tell you that his or her actions were “reasonable”, because what is rational for an individual may not be rational for others or for society at large. To have a universal consensus on what comprises “rational” action, every country, every government, every individual would need to stand on some common foundation of beliefs. But one look at the disconnect between facts regarding ownership of the Diaoyu Islands and the notion of common ground feels inconceivable.

Knowing that college students chanted “rationality” does not give me hope that Chinese society is nearing some utopian model of systemized, constructive protest. On the contrary, it brings me back to AP English, 1984, and a world of “doublespeak”.

It’s Sunday morning near Hong Kong’s Central Station. Hundreds of Filipino women gather on cardboard boxes and blankets to enjoy brunch together on their only day off from work. Shoes thrust aside, the women devour homemade flavors and reminisce moments with their own children who wait anxiously for their return thousands of miles away.

China has become one of the most popular destinations for Filipino maids seeking work overseas as Chinese families are willing to employ them for better household services and for their fluency in English. These women are often the primary breadwinners for their families and send most of their earnings back home to their husbands and children. There are around 200,000 Filipinos living in Hong Kong today.

For those interested, be sure to check out the documentary (Money and Honey, 2011) filmed and directed by the talented Lee Ching-hui. The film explores the lives of Filipino women working in a retirement home in Taiwan and dividing their time between speaking broken Mandarin, caring for elderly Taiwanese, and exchanging silly home videos with their loving husbands overseas. 

New-fangled feminism.

Above is an article published last spring on the Economist blog. It delves into the modern state of women in China, from calls for girls to wear more “modest dress” in public to avoid harassment to the dilemma of surface-level equality with women comprising 46% of a workforce still largely influenced by patriarchal management.

The Chinese generation growing up around the time of our baby-boomers faced a slightly different society than exists for women in China today. No small number of families required their daughters to give most if not all of their salary to the family, which could then be passed on to the sons of the family as needed. Indeed, having a son was considered to be good fortune to the extent that he was better able to provide for his parents and need not worry about things like marrying into a wealthier family. Thus, throughout Chinese history, giving birth to a son secured a woman more respect and support from her husband’s family. Announce that you are having a daughter, however, and you may as well announce the beginning of your doom.

Now, it may be surprising to hear that Mao Zedong, the infamous man who the West holds responsible for initiating mass starvation during the Cultural Revolution, was somewhat of a feminist. Mao once said that women “hold up half the sky”. During the May Fourth Movement, which refers to a social, political, and cultural movement that began on May 4th, 1919 when 5,000 students from Beijing University took to the streets to protest the Chinese government’s weak response to the Versailles Treaty, Mao joined the body of youth advocating modernization and an end to “Confucianism”— the philosophy that had governed Chinese society for thousands of years (and still underlies Chinese mentality today). Throughout the May Fourth Movement and New Culture Movement, the call for gender equality was consistently at play. Along with modern ideas of “freedom in marriage and love”, the notion that women deserved new clout in Chinese society and in the family was discussed in dozens of articles and journals, the most famous being the New Youth journal. Mao Zedong himself wrote a number of essays promoting the rights of women in his youth. Strongly opposed to Confucianism, a philosophy whose teachings were often compatible with a bourgeois and elitist society, Mao joined the New Culture Movement before going on to establish the Communist Party, where he succeeded as an extremely gifted and intelligent orator.

Many scholars write that Chinese experienced a period of quasi gender equality throughout the 1950s and 1960s under the rule of Mao Zedong. The poster above, however, which depicts China’s support for North Vietnam during the war with the United States, proves that the status of women at that time was perhaps not without its limitations. Female “red guards” were undoubtedly given important roles during Mao’s era, cutting their hair short and dressing more or less the same as men, but some argue that they were still being forced to adapt to a “superior image”— i.e., the male. Take a look at the poster above, for example. Replace the woman’s hair with a hat and roughen up her facial features and she is essentially a man. Sexual relationships were highly discouraged among red guards during the Cultural Revolution— romantic love was seen as infringing on one’s love for the country. Women were thus essentially de-sexualized and then embraced as “equals”. The debate about whether this period in Chinese history represents true progress for women is still active among academics today.

At the same time Mao’s country was desexualizing women, Mao had a number of intimate relationships with highly influential, intelligent women throughout his life. He is known for being a romantic, writing poetry to brilliant women who inspired him with their courageous spirit. His second wife and first true love, Yang Kaihui, was so taken with Mao that she gave her life in 1930 after being captured by the KMT (Nationalist Party, opposed to the Communists), saying “Even if the seas run dry and the rocks crumble, I would never break off relations with Mao Zedong… I prefer to die for the success of Mao’s revolution career”. Mao’s fourth wife, actress Jiang Qing, also took up Mao’s cause, forming the “Gang of Four” and playing a crucial role in the CPC Propaganda Department throughout the Cultural Revolution.

After Mao’s death, the country welcomed in a new leader, Deng Xiaoping, who opened the country to economic development, complete with western ideas of female elegance and grace. Today, China embraces femininity to the Nth degree— there are more shops selling cutesy bows, stockings, scarves, fake eyelashes, and short skirts than there are gas stations (okay, I admit that’s my own statistic). Really though, China has gone from foot-binding to red guards to girly headbands in one 100-year block of time. It is precisely this rapidity of social transformation that makes the role of women in modern Chinese society a crap shoot, at best, depending on who you talk to.

My conclusion: China is still decades behind the U.S. in terms of how it considers women. While many Chinese women are emerging as leading intellectuals, proving their ability on standardized tests, in the workplace, and in society, there is still an underlying sense that women do not have the same responsibilities of men, that somehow their lives are not as difficult. This is what I see as most dangerous. There is a recent trend in China where girls expect men to provide them with houses, cars, and designer bags before agreeing to date them. The Internet is overflowing with frustrated statements from males who are fed up with all the responsibility— they’re attempting to court selfish, materialistic girls who abandoned the idea of “love” long ago to secure their financial futures. So yeah, girls, there’s no way you’ll be equal in society with that attitude. Toughen up, find yourself a clear-thinking mind and then we’ll see how the world views us.

哦，卖糕– which in Chinese sounds like: oh, mai gao!– something like “Oh my God!”. It’s intentional. There’s no better reason to shout, “哦，卖糕!” than hearing that the Chinese government (or the court, technically, although the two are synonymous) forced a Han Chinese citizen to pay 160,000 RMB to a Xinjiang Uighur who ripped him off….. on cake. The story’s redder than the communist sun painted on the backdrop of China’s eight model operas, and 微博 (Weibo), the Chinese version of Twitter, is about to implode with millions of posts about this “cutting cake” escapade. To top it all off, “哦，卖糕” translates “Oh– sell cake!”… gotta love the brilliance of the Chinese language.

Our story begins with the words: “切糕”, which is now a well known phrase among Chinese for being a kind of synonym for “cheat”, although it literally translates “cut cake”.
The story takes an interesting turn thanks to the role of these guys featured below. They’re Uighurs from Xinjiang province who travel the streets of China selling cake. You may remember the conflict between Han Chinese (who comprise 91.5% of China’s population) and the Uighurs (one of China’s 55 minority groups, comprising only around 1% of the total national population) during the Urumqi Riots in July, 2009.
The socioeconomic status of Han Chinese far surpasses that of the Uighurs, contributing to frequent conflicts between the two nationalities that often result in the government stepping in on behalf of one of the two groups. It is precisely this economic strain that encourages Uighurs to sell the densest dessert on the planet (the average cake weighs over 5, 500 pounds!!!) and rip people off in the process.
Ask them for a small slice, and you’ll often find yourself with a slop of nuts and sugar costing over $100. While I assumed getting out of the deal would be a piece of cake, my coworkers informed me otherwise. Apparently, if you order a slice and realize it’s far above your budget or that they’ve heartlessly ripped you off in the clumsiest way possible, there’s no way to walk away empty-handed without a few cuts and bruises. These Uighurs are cake-sellers one moment, gang-members the next, and will call over a group of “friends” to put you in your place and put money in their wallet… no matter what. The police can’t control the situation and rarely intervene, save for particularly extreme conflicts, such as the one that occurred three days ago.

The story goes that a man got ripped off, like almost everyone else who tries to buy this cake, and then proceeded to retaliate, destroying the Uighur’s cake and motorcycle in the process. After taking the issue to court, the man was asked to compensate in the form of paying 160,000 rmb to the Uighur, who the government would then send back to Xinjiang. Apparently, damage to the motorcycle and all wounds inflicted accounted for about 40,000 rmb, while the cake that was destroyed would have sold for 160,000. The problem most people have with the court’s ruling is that it assumes the cake is truly worth that much money— about a third of the cost of a car. Moreover,  wasn’t it the Uighur who started the feud in the first place by ripping this guy off and sending thugs to beat him up?
The answer lies in the government’s desire to maintain harmony among Han Chinese and ethnic minority groups. Already, ethnic minorities enjoy legal privileges that Han Chinese don’t— such as receiving a boost in 高考 marks when applying for colleges or the right to have more than one child— all in an effort to compensate for any discrimination or disadvantages that they may experience as a minority group.  Situations like this with the cake are no different— the government has definite incentives to act on behalf of minority groups to preserve national stability.

To end on a happy note, the meaning of the phrase “切糕” has been transformed within the past few days to indicate great affection between loved ones. It goes something like this, “I would cut the cake for you”.

Southern China welcomed my parents to its humble shores this past week, leaving them with one critical question among many: Just how many red Chinese lanterns are produced every year for the holiday? I’m waiting for their thick roll of film to be developed into hundreds of fascinating images and lots and lots of red— every hotel, home, and highway are speckled with round paper lights during the New Year. My parents have always fallen into the “adventurous” category, if there was ever reason to sum people up by adjectives, and they continued to prove their endless love for the unknown on this trip, where a sketchy taxi ride, snake shops, and raw fish found their way into my mom’s travel journal and hopefully many future conversations. Thanks for making the trip guys!

Now on to the numbers… here’s a list of stats published recently that may give you a glimpse into what life’s like for the average, decently-educated Chinese citizen over here, according to a reader’s poll conducted by 南方周末. A translation follows below:

45.94% of readers fear that their friends and family will ask about their salary when they return home for the New Year.

65.15% of readers plan to return home to their parents’ house for the New Year.

84.13% of readers don’t know that trains can’t offer meals under ¥15.

78.96% of readers chose to buy train tickets online this year.

47.05% of readers are riding a train home for the New Year.

36.59% of readers plan to watch the New Year Gala on TV this year, even if Zhao Benshan (a popular sitcom actor and director) does not participate in the performance. (There was some conflict between Zhao and the new director of the show this year, leading to Zhao’s refusal to participate.)

88.14% of readers are not optimistic about future policies directed at air pollution.

82.95% of readers do not have a sense of security.

83.04% of readers don’t know how to apply for technical training (for their career) or public employment services provided by the government.

20.05% of readers believe that the biggest change brought about by China’s accession to the WTO is the growth of career opportunities in exporting.

64.75% of readers say that they come into contact with second-hand smoke nearly every day.

70.17% of readers say that today, eating enough is not a problem, but trusting what they eat is still difficult.

72.77% of readers are busy making a living and are rarely concerned with the drafting of legislation.

I’m not sure how many readers participated in the survey… it is good to note that this newspaper is one of the more sophisticated and liberal in China, so readers tend to be well-educated and better-off than average citizens. I have no doubt that the answers are a fairly accurate representation of the general consensus in Chinese society, though how such sentiment will influence future policy is still unknown.

Apologies for the lack of blog posts lately– this week will feature adventures from the past two weeks and I’ll do my best not to do or see anything noteworthy in the next couple days to get back on track ;). I had the chance to explore Shenzhen’s largest bookstore in Citizen Square two weeks ago (after Wenbo kindly recommended it in a comment) and enjoyed an afternoon with the company of coffee and modern Chinese poetry (or with the few comprehensible phrases I managed to extract from stanzas of indecipherable characters). Our office had the day off that Wednesday due to typhoon threats, though the brunt of the storm missed our location completely (southern China fared much better than Beijing, which suffered from deadly 100-year floods).

China’s bookstores are quite a riot for the same reason China’s IKEAs are able to steal headlines year after year–namely, they’re “occupied”. When I say occupied, I mean it’s difficult to maneuver between the hundreds of people sitting against bookshelves, heads buried in the latest mystery novel or SAT prep book. Within moments I had collected a handful of books that interested me and rejoiced at the fact that they sold for almost half the price of those in the U.S. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a sting of self-consciousness as I stepped over countless rows of delirious book-lovers on my way to the checkout line. It was suddenly an oddity to be purchasing books when I could just join the masses and surrender my afternoon to the fresh scent of newly turned pages.

The book featured in the photo above caught my eye for the sole reason that it translates “Bad Democracy”. The text contains reflections from an author who spent time in the United States and apparently decided it wasn’t his cup of tea. I had a brief urge to buy “坏民主” for the same reason I almost bought Bush’s “Decision Points”– to understand exactly how the “other side” uses evidence to string together what they consider a logical argument . Still, I imagine this book’s far from mainstream even by Chinese standards, given the comparatively liberal political stances of many Chinese I’ve chatted with and the fact that “坏民主” was sold next to titles like “In Defense of China” and “God Knows China: Let’s Talk About Politics”.

Stay tuned for later posts this week and learn the background story behind many of China’s Olympic athletes…

I sit on my bed at around 8:30 pm, wondering why, after devouring my nightly dark chocolate, there is still a nagging restlessness tugging somewhere deep within my stomach. And then it hits me— that old blog I used to write.
The thing is, this post was meant to be published right after the Mid-Autumn Festival last week, when I took a stroll from my apartment down to the oceanfront to snap a few photographs of the full moon. The walk turned out to be much longer than expected, and on the way, I had plenty of time to ponder just how ridiculous China would appear in the eyes of sane aliens. I say aliens because well, humans are exposed to far too many headlines related to China’s “booming economy and development” that we are essentially numb to the idea that construction in China is at all noteworthy. Yet perhaps the following account will cause some to stop and see the reality that is currently striking China as we speak, and striking hard.

Alright, this first photo’s no big deal, right, just more construction of a building that will soon block my once heavenly-like view of the Hong Kong mountains. Every morning at 6 am, the buzz from this construction project reminds me that all good things must slowly come to an end, level by level, beam by beam. It’s actually been one of the slowest, most dramatic experiences I can remember, but moving on…

Three BMWs sitting in a row; would be more, but my camera lack flo’. Truth is, this whole complex is wealthier than one can fathom. If not BMW then we have Rolls-Royce or Mercedes-Benz. Toyotas put their tails between their legs and called it a day long ago in this town. Saving on gas? Pshhh, c’mon, it’s showtime.

Here is a lovely real estate advertisement for a property in this area. 11,500,000 Chinese Yuan for a four bedroom, two living room, 176 square meter apartment. That’s one million, 800 thousand US dollars. (1,879,330.00 USD) 

Here it is, folks: the waterway leading to the ocean that lures all the big shots into wasting their money on mounds of concrete in exchange for a place to call home. Something like an Erie Canal equivalent, but here, it’s worth more than gold.

The above is another view of the walkway leading to the ocean, with Hong Kong mountains in the distance. I usually run along this path in the mornings, whenever I get around to it. You know.

A’ight. So modern China is all about liberal economic policies and “socialism with Chinese characteristics” (a phrase that is so overused and misunderstood it makes me sick). Front page news today was that Shanghai announced plans of allowing Facebook access in the hope of “making foreigners feel more at home”. Well that’s nice. One thing China can’t seem to give up, however, is its obsession with “be-good” signs. I invented this term while writing the previous sentence, but I think it’s a great catch-all translation. See, since the founding of the PRC on October 1st, 1949 (remember to celebrate National Day next Tuesday!) promotional, inspirational, and instructional slogans or banners have worked to unify and harmonize the 56 ethnic groups that make up the enormous, diverse country of China. Hung in schools, offices, dance studios, construction sites, subways, bus stops, and even on crumbling brick walls in the middle of God-knows-where (like what I saw in Ningxia), these colorful “be-good” signs are relentless. Whenever I raise my head above my personal headphone-cell phone-thought consumed bubble to read the signs and actually register their meanings, I’m struck with immense guilt at my failure to, well, “be-good”. The phrases on the signs relate to everything: one’s study habits, family relationship, personal hygiene, work ethic, moral behavior, citizenship, and even environmentally-friendly habits, which I’ll get to in a moment. The sign in the photograph above reads, “劳动” or “labor”. The side characters translate: “Chinese energy; Chinese image, Chinese culture; Chinese expression”. The bottom line, “最美的旋律” translates “the most beautiful melody”. In a sense, China is encouraging its people to believe that “labor” is a uniquely Chinese cultural element to be proud of. As I walked by the sign, situated perfectly in front of a massive construction site, I couldn’t help but wonder how labor could make China proud when most citizens I speak with can’t wait for factories to move OUT of China— to less-developed countries with even lower costs of labor. Sure, China’s 劳动力 or “labor power” is huge because of its large population, making it difficult for the country to progress from a primarily industrial economy to a service-oriented economy, yet apparently, Chinese should be proud of this fact… or at least learn to accept the reality while it’s happening.

“A drop of sweat is worth a piece of grain.” There is also a short poem by the bottom right, written by someone with the same name as one of my coworkers: “一日不吃饿得慌, 一季不收饿断肠。手拍胸膛想一想，节约粮食理应当。” The poem in Chinese rhymes quite cleverly, but the English is intriguing enough without rhyme: “Don’t eat for a day and you’ll be nervously hungry; don’t harvest for a season and you’ll be devastated by hunger. Beat your chest and think for a moment; economize food as you should.”
And the last one (well, last “be-good” sign featured here, there are over 20 different slogans along that particular road): “地球只有一个：There is only one Earth.” The bottom part reads: “Protect the environment; it starts with me”. I really like this sign. I think it’s great that China tries to spread positive behavior via reminders on large billboard-like signs. It’s better than private advertising, right? Just a bit contradictory, again, given all the construction in the background.
The above is a photograph of construction workers’ temporary dorms set up during the duration of a project. Most are required to live in close proximity to construction sites, as the work day usually spans from 6am-10pm and doesn’t pay well enough to enable workers to afford transportation for a daily commute. These workers toil under the hot Shenzhen sun every single day (save the holiday last week, though I did catch one man climbing the rafters in the afternoon). I sometimes watch them from my window, moving back and forth like little lemmings on a mission. During my morning runs, I always find a group of construction workers having breakfast together on the street— fried egg tortillas and cartons of soy milk. They chat happily, and I always look forward to running past that corner, letting the rich aroma of freshly-cooked eggs and hot sauce overwhelm my morning senses.
On my walk to the ocean shore during the Mid-Autumn Festival, I noticed some construction workers walking along too, sharing the night with coworkers and friends, unable to make a trip home.

 “Expect Sunny Seaside”. Still under construction, one shouldn’t only expect sun but should look forward to apartments sold for over 2 million US dollars. I really wonder what the construction workers think when they walk by Shenzhen’s real estate price advertisements. I mean, an Ivy-League college grad is doing well to buy a house for $300,000, right? But 2 million? What the hell is the world coming to? These are not mansions, these are 175 square-meter APARTMENTS. This is a world that seems functional only in dream.
The next photos show the “irresistible” oceanfront view that is supposedly the cause of such high housing prices— I’ll let readers decide whether China’s facing a real-estate bubble or not.

Whew, finally made it to the full moon pics. Here’s Shenzhen Bay Park at dusk, when dozens of families came to enjoy the night together under the round, warm light of the moon. The bridge in the photo above leads straight to Hong Kong, and the view of the mountains (not visible in this photo) is incredible.
That night, walking back home, everything felt a bit jumbled. The full moon seemed to be creating a kind of “eye of the storm” optical illusion, in which the pure insanity of China’s development stopped for 24 hours while everyone enjoyed the holiday break together. At Shenzhen Bay Park, I watched as the families living in million-dollar high-rises stood side by side with construction workers under one full moon, looking up. The tradition weaved into a country hanging by the threads of a unifying nationalism may be fading under the spotlights of construction sites while modernity, materialism, and money flash like disco lights on the horizon, but on that night by the waterfront, watching a sea of dark heads bob together in unified awe, it sure felt like the moon shone brightest of all.