Jackhammering by night is now over.
The portion of the construction project for Yanan Road (West) devoted to redoing the street is over! Glory hallelujah! No more jackhammering starting at around 10:00 pm and continuing on into the wee hours.
That's the good news.
The not-so-good news is that the portion of the project devoted to redoing the "sidewalks" has now begun. Work on the street simply had to wait each day until evening and early morning hours because of the huge amount of motorized traffic on Yanan Road (one of the major east-west arteries of the Puxi side of Shanghai). Cars count, you see. Pedestrians and the other traffic (bicycles and motorized cycles of all kinds) using the "sidewalks" don't count, so the construction (whence the jackhammering) can be done during the day, to save money on the work crews. It simply does not matter if this is precisely the time for maximum impact on pedestrians.
I keep putting "sidewalks" inside those scare quotes, because it really doesn't seem like a sidewalk when, at any moment, you can expect to be mowed down — head-on or from behind — by a bicycle on a narrow strip of bricked area about 3-4 feet (0.9-1.2 meters) wide. It seems more like a combat zone. But that is the "normal" condition of these "sidewalks." For now, you can multiply that feeling by at least 1,000. On any given traversal, you may be "cordoned" onto a "walkable" strip of the "sidewalk" about 1 foot (.3 meters) wide. That can be nerve-wracking because you are walking just next to an open ditch about half a person's height deep, and just next to the workers making, or playing in that ditch, some using heavy equipment (shovels if you're lucky, jackhammers if you're not). Passing on that narrow strip is really interesting, especially if either person is carrying anything. Some people, understandably simply give up on the "sidewalk" and walk in the street. Of course, the entire "sidewalk" may simply be blocked off, and then you have to walk in the street, inviting the very audible ire of any car, truck, and bus traffic your thoughtless use of their lane happens to inconvenience. (It doesn't help much to cross the street and walk on the other side. For a start, it can take 5 minutes to do that, if the timing of the lights is against you. And the construction is going on both sides anyhow.)
All of this (and so much more) is all part of the preparations for Shanghai Expo 2010. Opening day is now just a tad over 4 months away — 1 May 2010. An incomprehensible amount of construction and renovation is underway, everywhere in Shanghai, all of which simply must be finished on time. And everyone knows that. So people put up with it. I think they actually take some pride knowing that their putting up with things like this represents an increment of doing their part towards this extremely important civic goal. For the expatriate, here only temporarily, it feels more like Shanghai's way of saying: time to go home!
19 December 2009
17 December 2009
Friday, 18 December 2009
T minus 4 days and counting...
Yesterday seemed like a good day to tackle a chore we knew (or thought we knew) we had to do: When I returned my rented piano back to the piano store, they refunded to me the sizable deposit I had put down (less rent and moving fee) — in cash, in Chinese rmb. Foreign nationals are only allowed to purchase a limited number of US dollars in exchange for Chinese currency per day — $500 to be precise. Of course, as currency controls typically are, this rule is quite porous, as it is enforced by recording your passport number at the exchanging bank — and no place else. The rule therefore actually applies only per bank per day. You can simply trot from one bank to the next, changing the equivalent of $500 in rmb at a time at each, all on the same day, and nobody says boo.
As the deposit was a little more than twice the limit, I had to find two banks nearby that do foreign exchange, and I would be set. I had good hopes for the bank down on the ground floor of our apartment building, but a sign on the door advised that, sadly, foreign exchange prestidigation is beyond the powers of those within, and would you please visit their more capable branch (about a mile away). On the way there, I passed two other banks that would do the exchanges, and about an hour later I had 10 crisp $100 bills, and about 70 fewer not-so-crisp 100¥ notes. If it hadn't been so cold and windy, it could have actually been a pleasant time that I had doing this.
Banks in China all work the same, which is to say, the same in the main, but completely differently in the finer details. On entering the bank you need to get a number. Without a number you will never interact with a teller. The thing is, each bank has a completely different scheme for sorting its customers out. You don't want just any number, but a number in the range of numbers for whatever it is that you want to do. Nobody beats the Chinese for inventive schemes for sorting things by type.
The first bank I went to was easy. There was a machine with around 10 different buttons labeled in Chinese and English. I got a number for "international cash transaction" and settled in for what proved to be 20 minute wait, and a further 20 minutes later, was ready to go find another bank. The second bank was harder. A similar machine, yes, but only three buttons, and only one had any English on it. That one simply said "VIP." While I was pondering, things were taken out of my hands, as another patron reached around from behind me, pressed the VIP button, and handed me the ticket produced, and then kind of pushed me out of his way for having his own go at the machine. I felt more "important" after that. With my VIP ticket, the wait was only 5 minutes. The exchange still took 20 minutes.
At both banks, much paper had to be produced, everything in multiple copies, and stamped, multiple times with multiple different stamps, and shifted from place to place before it was all over. At the first bank, some of the pieces of paper, I am not kidding, was actually folded into charming little origamis so that it would fit into the pigeonholes of the ancient desk the teller was manning. Astonishing really, when you realize that all of what was on each of those sheets of paper got there as the result of using some pretty cutting-edge high tech gear, including, at the first bank, a lightning-fast scanner that made pictures of everything to do with the transaction from my passport, to the exchange invoice, to the little pile of 100¥ notes I was exchanging. Nobody but me actually wrote by hand on any of those pieces of paper. One wonders what future lies in store for those pieces of paper, so carefully produced, stamped, and distributed?
After returning home to our apartment from my banking excursion, and thawing out a bit, it was time to tackle the next chore we knew we had to do: to arrange for two suitcases, one with winter weight clothes, the other with my music, to travel back to the states. You see, we are going home from Shanghai (average daily high temperatures this week in the low 30s F) to San Diego (average daily high temperatures this week in the high 60s F) via various countries in Indochina (average daily high temperatures this week in the 90s F). So methinks we won't need our woolly sweaters and other cold weather garb during our week in Thailand, Laos and Cambodia, or immediately on return, and we will surely enjoy our travels more with less baggage to shift.
Knowing what you want to do and why doesn't make it any easier, though, when you need help to do it, and the help has to come from someone who may work for a multinational corporation, but may nonetheless not speak much English. So began the web searches, the phone calls, the taxi trips to office branches that weren't really much help, or to others that are simply no longer there (because the entire office tower they were in is in renovations, a common occurrence in Shanghai these days).
After much exploration, we narrowed things down to two options: use one of the firms that claim to make the arrangements for you (but use FedEx themselves), or make the arrangements with FedEx yourself. It eventually turned out the leading firm who will do things for you — called Luggage Forward — is unable to arrange international service with less than 4 business days lead time. Of course their web site clearly states "same-day pick-up is available" if you call a number in the Boston area code. That number isn't staffed during hours convenient to China, though, and by the time I actually connected with a person there, I was given the bad news that we didn't have enough lead time. So, I obtained the number for the FedEx China "hotline." After a few calls I connected with a very nice man who was very helpful, and even told me that our shipment qualified for a 25% discount from the standard rate. Unfortunately, they are completely and totally unable to take an order for a pick-up with more than 1 business day of lead time. So yesterday the best he could do for me was to promise to save all my details and promise to call me back today to finalize the order, which he just did. Whew!
Just one thing, though. You'd think if you're dealing with FedEx it would be possible to make the payment by credit card. Not so. When the pick-up occurs next Monday afternoon, they will take our payment in cash in Chinese rmb. So about half the cash I changed to US dollars yesterday will have to be changed back. Of course, changing US dollars into Chinese rmb is much easier than the opposite and can be done even at the front desk down in the lobby of our apartment building.
Yesterday seemed like a good day to tackle a chore we knew (or thought we knew) we had to do: When I returned my rented piano back to the piano store, they refunded to me the sizable deposit I had put down (less rent and moving fee) — in cash, in Chinese rmb. Foreign nationals are only allowed to purchase a limited number of US dollars in exchange for Chinese currency per day — $500 to be precise. Of course, as currency controls typically are, this rule is quite porous, as it is enforced by recording your passport number at the exchanging bank — and no place else. The rule therefore actually applies only per bank per day. You can simply trot from one bank to the next, changing the equivalent of $500 in rmb at a time at each, all on the same day, and nobody says boo.
As the deposit was a little more than twice the limit, I had to find two banks nearby that do foreign exchange, and I would be set. I had good hopes for the bank down on the ground floor of our apartment building, but a sign on the door advised that, sadly, foreign exchange prestidigation is beyond the powers of those within, and would you please visit their more capable branch (about a mile away). On the way there, I passed two other banks that would do the exchanges, and about an hour later I had 10 crisp $100 bills, and about 70 fewer not-so-crisp 100¥ notes. If it hadn't been so cold and windy, it could have actually been a pleasant time that I had doing this.
Banks in China all work the same, which is to say, the same in the main, but completely differently in the finer details. On entering the bank you need to get a number. Without a number you will never interact with a teller. The thing is, each bank has a completely different scheme for sorting its customers out. You don't want just any number, but a number in the range of numbers for whatever it is that you want to do. Nobody beats the Chinese for inventive schemes for sorting things by type.
The first bank I went to was easy. There was a machine with around 10 different buttons labeled in Chinese and English. I got a number for "international cash transaction" and settled in for what proved to be 20 minute wait, and a further 20 minutes later, was ready to go find another bank. The second bank was harder. A similar machine, yes, but only three buttons, and only one had any English on it. That one simply said "VIP." While I was pondering, things were taken out of my hands, as another patron reached around from behind me, pressed the VIP button, and handed me the ticket produced, and then kind of pushed me out of his way for having his own go at the machine. I felt more "important" after that. With my VIP ticket, the wait was only 5 minutes. The exchange still took 20 minutes.
At both banks, much paper had to be produced, everything in multiple copies, and stamped, multiple times with multiple different stamps, and shifted from place to place before it was all over. At the first bank, some of the pieces of paper, I am not kidding, was actually folded into charming little origamis so that it would fit into the pigeonholes of the ancient desk the teller was manning. Astonishing really, when you realize that all of what was on each of those sheets of paper got there as the result of using some pretty cutting-edge high tech gear, including, at the first bank, a lightning-fast scanner that made pictures of everything to do with the transaction from my passport, to the exchange invoice, to the little pile of 100¥ notes I was exchanging. Nobody but me actually wrote by hand on any of those pieces of paper. One wonders what future lies in store for those pieces of paper, so carefully produced, stamped, and distributed?
After returning home to our apartment from my banking excursion, and thawing out a bit, it was time to tackle the next chore we knew we had to do: to arrange for two suitcases, one with winter weight clothes, the other with my music, to travel back to the states. You see, we are going home from Shanghai (average daily high temperatures this week in the low 30s F) to San Diego (average daily high temperatures this week in the high 60s F) via various countries in Indochina (average daily high temperatures this week in the 90s F). So methinks we won't need our woolly sweaters and other cold weather garb during our week in Thailand, Laos and Cambodia, or immediately on return, and we will surely enjoy our travels more with less baggage to shift.
Knowing what you want to do and why doesn't make it any easier, though, when you need help to do it, and the help has to come from someone who may work for a multinational corporation, but may nonetheless not speak much English. So began the web searches, the phone calls, the taxi trips to office branches that weren't really much help, or to others that are simply no longer there (because the entire office tower they were in is in renovations, a common occurrence in Shanghai these days).
After much exploration, we narrowed things down to two options: use one of the firms that claim to make the arrangements for you (but use FedEx themselves), or make the arrangements with FedEx yourself. It eventually turned out the leading firm who will do things for you — called Luggage Forward — is unable to arrange international service with less than 4 business days lead time. Of course their web site clearly states "same-day pick-up is available" if you call a number in the Boston area code. That number isn't staffed during hours convenient to China, though, and by the time I actually connected with a person there, I was given the bad news that we didn't have enough lead time. So, I obtained the number for the FedEx China "hotline." After a few calls I connected with a very nice man who was very helpful, and even told me that our shipment qualified for a 25% discount from the standard rate. Unfortunately, they are completely and totally unable to take an order for a pick-up with more than 1 business day of lead time. So yesterday the best he could do for me was to promise to save all my details and promise to call me back today to finalize the order, which he just did. Whew!
Just one thing, though. You'd think if you're dealing with FedEx it would be possible to make the payment by credit card. Not so. When the pick-up occurs next Monday afternoon, they will take our payment in cash in Chinese rmb. So about half the cash I changed to US dollars yesterday will have to be changed back. Of course, changing US dollars into Chinese rmb is much easier than the opposite and can be done even at the front desk down in the lobby of our apartment building.
14 December 2009
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
What a relief!
I woke up this morning thinking that it was Wednesday, but it's only Tuesday! There's a lot to be done before we can leave Shanghai, and we'll need every day we've got. I just got back from this morning's errand — getting a set of passport sized photos made. (When we leave Shanghai, we don't go home right away, we're going to Laos and Cambodia for a week of traveling first, and each of those countries requires you to present passport photos to get the visa that you get at the airport on entry.) Such a simple thing, you'd think, getting a set of passport photos made. I went onto the shanghaiexpat.com web site I've grown to rely on when seeking advice, and found there that many of the Shanghai subway stations have little bright orange booths that are just for the purpose of making sets of ID photos. Then I remembered seeing one right at our own local subway stop, so I set off there. Ordinarily this would be the end of the story, or actually, this is where there would have been no story. But this is China after all. I tried pressing all manner of buttons in the little orange booth but it seemed to be dead. It turned out that power to the booth has been cut temporarily, because there is a construction project in the station. But I was lucky. The station porter saw me attempting to make the booth work, and he found the station security guard — who speaks a few words of halting English — to explain to me about the power cut. It also turned out that there was a working booth very nearby, and his powers of explanation and mine of understanding him were just equal to the task of him conveying to me just where it was and how I could get there. The second booth was actually nicer than the first, or was supposed to have been. It promised to have a mode where it would present its interface in English. No such luck, at least I couldn't coax it into that mode, no matter what I tried. Still, the interface showed helpful pictures at each point where you had to make choices, and I believe I ended up with exactly what I needed — a set of four passport sized photos. All in all, a good morning.
I wouldn't say that Sunday evening's concert was a disappointment exactly, but it was uneven. Shaham, of course, played beautifully. It was the Sejong ensemble who were good in some things, not so good in others. As my violinist friend put it, there did not appear to be "a Latin bone" present on the stage, so it's perhaps understandable that they really didn't seem to "get" the Golijov piece, which begins with a tango movement full of anxiety and segues into a very subdued slow movement. The Mendelssohn octet was better, with Shaham taking the starring role of the first first violin. But the best performances by far came in the Haydn violin concerto. This is an early work of Haydn's from the 1760's. We tend to think of Haydn as one of those who reacted against baroque music and struggled to invent what would become the classical style. This work is not in that vein, and looks backward rather than forward. The violin soloist is set against a simple string ensemble plus keyboard continuo. Much as I enjoyed hearing this, it was somewhat jarring that the continuo part was played on an electronic piano using its "harpsichord button." One supposes that a real harpsichord was simply not obtainable in Shanghai for the occasion.
I woke up this morning thinking that it was Wednesday, but it's only Tuesday! There's a lot to be done before we can leave Shanghai, and we'll need every day we've got. I just got back from this morning's errand — getting a set of passport sized photos made. (When we leave Shanghai, we don't go home right away, we're going to Laos and Cambodia for a week of traveling first, and each of those countries requires you to present passport photos to get the visa that you get at the airport on entry.) Such a simple thing, you'd think, getting a set of passport photos made. I went onto the shanghaiexpat.com web site I've grown to rely on when seeking advice, and found there that many of the Shanghai subway stations have little bright orange booths that are just for the purpose of making sets of ID photos. Then I remembered seeing one right at our own local subway stop, so I set off there. Ordinarily this would be the end of the story, or actually, this is where there would have been no story. But this is China after all. I tried pressing all manner of buttons in the little orange booth but it seemed to be dead. It turned out that power to the booth has been cut temporarily, because there is a construction project in the station. But I was lucky. The station porter saw me attempting to make the booth work, and he found the station security guard — who speaks a few words of halting English — to explain to me about the power cut. It also turned out that there was a working booth very nearby, and his powers of explanation and mine of understanding him were just equal to the task of him conveying to me just where it was and how I could get there. The second booth was actually nicer than the first, or was supposed to have been. It promised to have a mode where it would present its interface in English. No such luck, at least I couldn't coax it into that mode, no matter what I tried. Still, the interface showed helpful pictures at each point where you had to make choices, and I believe I ended up with exactly what I needed — a set of four passport sized photos. All in all, a good morning.
I wouldn't say that Sunday evening's concert was a disappointment exactly, but it was uneven. Shaham, of course, played beautifully. It was the Sejong ensemble who were good in some things, not so good in others. As my violinist friend put it, there did not appear to be "a Latin bone" present on the stage, so it's perhaps understandable that they really didn't seem to "get" the Golijov piece, which begins with a tango movement full of anxiety and segues into a very subdued slow movement. The Mendelssohn octet was better, with Shaham taking the starring role of the first first violin. But the best performances by far came in the Haydn violin concerto. This is an early work of Haydn's from the 1760's. We tend to think of Haydn as one of those who reacted against baroque music and struggled to invent what would become the classical style. This work is not in that vein, and looks backward rather than forward. The violin soloist is set against a simple string ensemble plus keyboard continuo. Much as I enjoyed hearing this, it was somewhat jarring that the continuo part was played on an electronic piano using its "harpsichord button." One supposes that a real harpsichord was simply not obtainable in Shanghai for the occasion.
12 December 2009
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Our Shanghai music season officially closes today.
We have tickets this evening for one more concert in Shanghai: Israeli-American violinist Gil Shaham is appearing with the very international string ensemble Sejong (its members come from nine different countries: Australia, Bulgaria, Canada, China, Germany, Japan, Korea, Taiwan, and the United States) at the Shanghai Concert Hall. We're going along with my violinist friend. The program is supposed to be:
J.S. Bach: Violin Partita No.3 in E Major, BWV1006
I had a really great time on Friday.
My violinist friend here is also a teacher here, at a school for expatriate children. She directs the arts program at the school, and Friday was the Winter Concert for the middle and high school age students. She had a 6th grade kid, a violin student, who wanted to play at the concert but needed an accompanist, and I was happy to volunteer. He was really very good! We played one of Charles Dancla's Air and Variations — this one on a theme by Pacini. Very 19th century indeed!
The concert included 12 acts in total — everything from the String Orchestra (mostly beginners) playing "Theme from the Planets (Jupiter)" by Gustav Holst, to the Choir (all girls) singing "Can I Have This Dance" from High School Musical, to the Rock Band (all boys) doing "With Me" by Sum 41. What fun! There's video of this available. Because of privacy concerns, I can't post a public link here, but will be happy to share it with you individually; if you would like to see the video just add a comment on this post.
After the school concert, we went to see the Shanghai Acrobatic Troupe's "Huangpu Sensation" show at the Shanghai Center Theatre. This was really cool. If you're ever in Shanghai, be sure to check whether this troupe has a show on while you're there, and go see it if they do. They did some really incredible acrobatic routines, including one where the performers take a running start and dive through very small hoops attached to a table, doing somersaults either right before going through the hoop or right after. Another routine (shown in the picture) involves a duo who perform up in the air suspended by a pair of silk cloths. You may have seen acrobatic shows before, but this troupe's offering is a notch up, for sure. They are constantly inventing new routines, so when you go, you'll probably see different ones than we did.
We have tickets this evening for one more concert in Shanghai: Israeli-American violinist Gil Shaham is appearing with the very international string ensemble Sejong (its members come from nine different countries: Australia, Bulgaria, Canada, China, Germany, Japan, Korea, Taiwan, and the United States) at the Shanghai Concert Hall. We're going along with my violinist friend. The program is supposed to be:
J.S. Bach: Violin Partita No.3 in E Major, BWV1006
Golijov: Last Round for String Orchestra
Haydn: Violin Concerto No. 4 in G Major, Hob. VIIa-4
Mendelssohn: Octet in E-flat Major, Op. 20
Haydn: Violin Concerto No. 4 in G Major, Hob. VIIa-4
Mendelssohn: Octet in E-flat Major, Op. 20
We are especially looking forward to the Mendelssohn. Both Miles and I fell in love with this work when it was played by one of the ensembles at AlpenKammerMusik last summer. If you're not familiar with Mendelssohn's output, just know that this being his Opus 20 means that he wrote it when he was 16! Of course, we only heard the first movement at AlpenKammerMusik. It will be a pleasure to hear the complete work.
I had a really great time on Friday.
My violinist friend here is also a teacher here, at a school for expatriate children. She directs the arts program at the school, and Friday was the Winter Concert for the middle and high school age students. She had a 6th grade kid, a violin student, who wanted to play at the concert but needed an accompanist, and I was happy to volunteer. He was really very good! We played one of Charles Dancla's Air and Variations — this one on a theme by Pacini. Very 19th century indeed!
The concert included 12 acts in total — everything from the String Orchestra (mostly beginners) playing "Theme from the Planets (Jupiter)" by Gustav Holst, to the Choir (all girls) singing "Can I Have This Dance" from High School Musical, to the Rock Band (all boys) doing "With Me" by Sum 41. What fun! There's video of this available. Because of privacy concerns, I can't post a public link here, but will be happy to share it with you individually; if you would like to see the video just add a comment on this post.
After the school concert, we went to see the Shanghai Acrobatic Troupe's "Huangpu Sensation" show at the Shanghai Center Theatre. This was really cool. If you're ever in Shanghai, be sure to check whether this troupe has a show on while you're there, and go see it if they do. They did some really incredible acrobatic routines, including one where the performers take a running start and dive through very small hoops attached to a table, doing somersaults either right before going through the hoop or right after. Another routine (shown in the picture) involves a duo who perform up in the air suspended by a pair of silk cloths. You may have seen acrobatic shows before, but this troupe's offering is a notch up, for sure. They are constantly inventing new routines, so when you go, you'll probably see different ones than we did.
07 December 2009
Monday, 7 December 2009
Shanghai has a whole museum devoted to urban planning.
And it's really cool. We went there yesterday.
To begin with this is the building it's in:
Inside, there is a scale model of that part of Shanghai that lies within the so-called Middle Ring Road. The model is just amazing. It's so big, you simply can't take a picture of the whole thing. But I did take several pictures, each one focusing on a part. I thought you might have wanted to see the building that the Carrefour department store (where we go for food shopping) is in, so I have a picture of that. And there is a picture of our apartment building as well. Oh, and another of the China Pavilion of the Expo Site. Go here for those pictures.
I haven't really written anything about H1N1 in China. Maybe I should.
You've probably heard about the measures that the Chinese government has taken to protect its population against H1N1. I have seen some of these measures in action. Today for instance, I was going to one of the Shanghai schools for expatriates' children — doing some volunteer work in the form of serving as an accompanist to a student for his upcoming winter recital — and as I entered the gate to the school grounds, the guard used a device to take my temperature, and directed me to "wash" my hands with some germ-killing gel (this was not a "suggestion"). If I'd been running any fever at all, I would not have gotten in. Not only that. I would, in all likelihood, have been taken directly to an H1N1 testing station and have spent some time in some form of quarantine, while tests were done to see whether I had H1N1 or not. As another example, the Wash Bakery I've written about in previous posts has for a couple of weeks now posted signs stating that the handles of all the doors, as well as the trash can used by patrons who consume pastries on the premises, are disinfected once an hour.
China has produced its own H1N1 vaccine and innoculated upwards of 26 million people with it. You may have seen a headline that four people have died after receiving the innoculation. However, the deaths of three of those four have proved to be coincidental and unrelated to the vaccine. The fourth case is still being investigated. A few thousand of those receiving the vaccine have had some form of adverse reaction (fever, swelling, etc.). That's actually not a bad outcome, as these things go. The real problem is a shortage of the vaccine — there's only enough for some 7% of the population.
China has also produced an official public health awareness cartoon about H1N1. We've seen it on the planes we've taken inside China. It's kind of entertaining, but also kind of spooky. The characters in it are all pigs. If you're a kid, they just look cute. The messages are all the usual ones about washing your hands, covering your nose and mouth when sneezing or coughing, and even staying home if you're sick.
The jury is still out on whether all these measures were necessary, whether they have worked, or, indeed, whether any sort of measures could ever really have kept H1N1 out of China completely. China has taken some hard knocks in the press. They've run the risk of looking paranoid, xenophobic, or both. But some at the UN have said that it appears that the measures, intrusive and uncomfortable as they may be, seem to have helped. For example, they mave have bought enough time to get the vaccine developed.
Meanwhile ordinary citizens have responded to the H1N1 situation much as they always do, I suppose. They try things that can't possibly help, and don't do enough of the things we all know work. So, for example, there are reports that the price of garlic has been driven up, way up, actually, presumably because people are consuming it to try to avoid getting H1N1. (Read more about this here.)
You also see people wearing surgical masks in ordinary public places (i.e. not in operating rooms). Now people have actually done that here for a long time I'm told, and in all of Asia, not just in China. I do think there are more masks in use due to the H1N1 situation, though. Of course, people should be using the real surgical-quality 12-ply cotton masks that actually can prevent the spread of disease — and they should be using them once only, and disposing of the used masks properly afterward. Which is not the case. Especially not in Shanghai, where these masks have morphed into fashion statements. Many of the masks you see are clearly knitted or crocheted. They come in pastel "ice cream flavor" colors, stripes, plaids. I saw a woman on the subway today (this is what actually reminded me to write about this today) that was wearing a leopard pattern mask! Clearly these masks are not being thrown away after one wearing. They are probably being washed in cold water.
We in the west are not used to seeing people — other than surgeons and nurses — wearing surgical masks, so this calls for some "decoding." It's not tremendously common, just common enough to take note of. So, whatever motivates the act, it's not a universal condition, it's something particular. What could that something be? Are the people sporting these masks especially paranoid people who cannot bear to breathe other people's air without filtering it first? Or are they just people who might have "a little something" and are taking care not to spread it? One kind of hopes it is the latter rather than the former. But if it is the latter, why don't they simply stay home until they are better again, which is what public health recommendations always advise?
And it's really cool. We went there yesterday.
To begin with this is the building it's in:
Inside, there is a scale model of that part of Shanghai that lies within the so-called Middle Ring Road. The model is just amazing. It's so big, you simply can't take a picture of the whole thing. But I did take several pictures, each one focusing on a part. I thought you might have wanted to see the building that the Carrefour department store (where we go for food shopping) is in, so I have a picture of that. And there is a picture of our apartment building as well. Oh, and another of the China Pavilion of the Expo Site. Go here for those pictures.
I haven't really written anything about H1N1 in China. Maybe I should.
You've probably heard about the measures that the Chinese government has taken to protect its population against H1N1. I have seen some of these measures in action. Today for instance, I was going to one of the Shanghai schools for expatriates' children — doing some volunteer work in the form of serving as an accompanist to a student for his upcoming winter recital — and as I entered the gate to the school grounds, the guard used a device to take my temperature, and directed me to "wash" my hands with some germ-killing gel (this was not a "suggestion"). If I'd been running any fever at all, I would not have gotten in. Not only that. I would, in all likelihood, have been taken directly to an H1N1 testing station and have spent some time in some form of quarantine, while tests were done to see whether I had H1N1 or not. As another example, the Wash Bakery I've written about in previous posts has for a couple of weeks now posted signs stating that the handles of all the doors, as well as the trash can used by patrons who consume pastries on the premises, are disinfected once an hour.
China has produced its own H1N1 vaccine and innoculated upwards of 26 million people with it. You may have seen a headline that four people have died after receiving the innoculation. However, the deaths of three of those four have proved to be coincidental and unrelated to the vaccine. The fourth case is still being investigated. A few thousand of those receiving the vaccine have had some form of adverse reaction (fever, swelling, etc.). That's actually not a bad outcome, as these things go. The real problem is a shortage of the vaccine — there's only enough for some 7% of the population.
China has also produced an official public health awareness cartoon about H1N1. We've seen it on the planes we've taken inside China. It's kind of entertaining, but also kind of spooky. The characters in it are all pigs. If you're a kid, they just look cute. The messages are all the usual ones about washing your hands, covering your nose and mouth when sneezing or coughing, and even staying home if you're sick.
The jury is still out on whether all these measures were necessary, whether they have worked, or, indeed, whether any sort of measures could ever really have kept H1N1 out of China completely. China has taken some hard knocks in the press. They've run the risk of looking paranoid, xenophobic, or both. But some at the UN have said that it appears that the measures, intrusive and uncomfortable as they may be, seem to have helped. For example, they mave have bought enough time to get the vaccine developed.
Meanwhile ordinary citizens have responded to the H1N1 situation much as they always do, I suppose. They try things that can't possibly help, and don't do enough of the things we all know work. So, for example, there are reports that the price of garlic has been driven up, way up, actually, presumably because people are consuming it to try to avoid getting H1N1. (Read more about this here.)
You also see people wearing surgical masks in ordinary public places (i.e. not in operating rooms). Now people have actually done that here for a long time I'm told, and in all of Asia, not just in China. I do think there are more masks in use due to the H1N1 situation, though. Of course, people should be using the real surgical-quality 12-ply cotton masks that actually can prevent the spread of disease — and they should be using them once only, and disposing of the used masks properly afterward. Which is not the case. Especially not in Shanghai, where these masks have morphed into fashion statements. Many of the masks you see are clearly knitted or crocheted. They come in pastel "ice cream flavor" colors, stripes, plaids. I saw a woman on the subway today (this is what actually reminded me to write about this today) that was wearing a leopard pattern mask! Clearly these masks are not being thrown away after one wearing. They are probably being washed in cold water.
We in the west are not used to seeing people — other than surgeons and nurses — wearing surgical masks, so this calls for some "decoding." It's not tremendously common, just common enough to take note of. So, whatever motivates the act, it's not a universal condition, it's something particular. What could that something be? Are the people sporting these masks especially paranoid people who cannot bear to breathe other people's air without filtering it first? Or are they just people who might have "a little something" and are taking care not to spread it? One kind of hopes it is the latter rather than the former. But if it is the latter, why don't they simply stay home until they are better again, which is what public health recommendations always advise?
04 December 2009
Saturday, 5 December 2009
It's starting to look like Christmas!
I guess.
We're starting to see Christmas decorations all over the place in Shanghai, especially, but not exclusively, in neighborhoods and districts with lots of expatriates. I'm not too sure how much the locals get into the whole Christmas thing. The decorations seem mostly to be an exterior feature, but that may actually only reflect the interiors I've happened to be in. For the locals, it's probably mostly something they do for the kids. They're starting to do Hallowe'en as well, and for the same reason. Both Autumn Festival (around an autumn full moon) and Lunar New Year (generally sometime in January) are probably much bigger holidays for the more traditional Chinese.
Personally, I'm finding it difficult to get into the whole Christmas thing this year. This is the first year I can remember that we won't be sending out our usual flock of Holiday cards. Put it down to "technical difficulties." It's just too hard even to think about doing that from here. We may get a select few out via email. This weekend, I'm going to have to knuckle down and get on-line to do the small amount of Christmas shopping I'm going to do this year, but it all feels weird somehow, like I'm doing it from one of those control rooms where you manipulate things using mechanical hands. I can't really explain it. Other signs of the coming of winter are surely evident. Wonderfully sweet seedless Satsuma tangerines and navel oranges are in place in the fruit markets just as they should be by now. It's not very cold at the moment, but it sure has been — and we've even already had our first dusting of snow. But still something seems to be missing that is a vital Christmastime ingredient.
Maybe we should go back to that restaurant — Vegetarian Lifestyle I think it was — that was playing that tape of Christmas carol favorites back in September!
My Sonatina is finished.
I have no earthly idea why, but the third movement came out as a Tango. It started out as something quite different, perhaps more of a Tangle. Somewhere along the line, it inexorably morphed into something very insistently syncopated. I really just put it away for a day at that point. When I came back to it, I had to accept it, like it or not, it was a Tango that all my work had wrought to that point. It was easier to finish it from that point of view, although, I'm not sure I've truly accepted this whole Tango thing yet. Anyhow here it is.
In fact, here, in one place, for your convenience, is the whole set of links to my Shanghai work.
There's so much to do in the next two weeks as we prepare to leave Shanghai that I probably won't get to any more composition. Sad thought that, but I did at least get the opportunity to do a bit of work here — more than I've had time for, for several years!
I guess.
We're starting to see Christmas decorations all over the place in Shanghai, especially, but not exclusively, in neighborhoods and districts with lots of expatriates. I'm not too sure how much the locals get into the whole Christmas thing. The decorations seem mostly to be an exterior feature, but that may actually only reflect the interiors I've happened to be in. For the locals, it's probably mostly something they do for the kids. They're starting to do Hallowe'en as well, and for the same reason. Both Autumn Festival (around an autumn full moon) and Lunar New Year (generally sometime in January) are probably much bigger holidays for the more traditional Chinese.
Personally, I'm finding it difficult to get into the whole Christmas thing this year. This is the first year I can remember that we won't be sending out our usual flock of Holiday cards. Put it down to "technical difficulties." It's just too hard even to think about doing that from here. We may get a select few out via email. This weekend, I'm going to have to knuckle down and get on-line to do the small amount of Christmas shopping I'm going to do this year, but it all feels weird somehow, like I'm doing it from one of those control rooms where you manipulate things using mechanical hands. I can't really explain it. Other signs of the coming of winter are surely evident. Wonderfully sweet seedless Satsuma tangerines and navel oranges are in place in the fruit markets just as they should be by now. It's not very cold at the moment, but it sure has been — and we've even already had our first dusting of snow. But still something seems to be missing that is a vital Christmastime ingredient.
Maybe we should go back to that restaurant — Vegetarian Lifestyle I think it was — that was playing that tape of Christmas carol favorites back in September!
My Sonatina is finished.
I have no earthly idea why, but the third movement came out as a Tango. It started out as something quite different, perhaps more of a Tangle. Somewhere along the line, it inexorably morphed into something very insistently syncopated. I really just put it away for a day at that point. When I came back to it, I had to accept it, like it or not, it was a Tango that all my work had wrought to that point. It was easier to finish it from that point of view, although, I'm not sure I've truly accepted this whole Tango thing yet. Anyhow here it is.
In fact, here, in one place, for your convenience, is the whole set of links to my Shanghai work.
There's so much to do in the next two weeks as we prepare to leave Shanghai that I probably won't get to any more composition. Sad thought that, but I did at least get the opportunity to do a bit of work here — more than I've had time for, for several years!
| Composition | Link to .m4a File (for iTunes) | Link to .mid File (for QuickTime) |
|---|---|---|
| Prelude, September 22-23, 2009 | link | link |
| Barcarolle, September-October, 2009 | link | link |
| Prelude, November 10-16, 2009 | link | link |
| Sonatina, November-December, 2009, I. Allegro | link | link |
| Sonatina, November-December, 2009, II. Chaconne | link | link |
| Sonatina, November-December, 2009, III. Tango | link | link |
29 November 2009
Monday, 30 November 2009 (Updated!)
There are just about three more weeks left to us in Shanghai.
It's hard to believe we will be leaving here in just three weeks and one day. There's still a lot to be done before we leave.
This past Saturday, we took a tour of sites relevant to the history of the Jews in Shanghai. This was a really excellent tour, and we recommend it highly if you ever make your way to Shanghai. Here is the tour's web site:
http://www.shanghai-jews.com/
There were three waves of Jewish immigration to Shanghai. The first wave, in the early to mid 19th century brought a small number of families of Sephardic Jews from Iraq to Shanghai via India. Some of these families became extremely wealthy and influential in Shanghai and other cities of China. The second wave brought Russian Jews escaping the pogroms to Shanghai in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. This wave largely settled in the Hong Kou district. The third wave consisted of European Jews escaping the Nazis. If you could obtain exit papers, you would leave Europe by a Mediterranean port, transit the Suez Canal, cross the Indian Ocean and reach Shanghai. Shanghai, like Casablanca, was an "open port" where stateless persons could freely enter. The Japanese occupation did confine stateless persons to a few blocks of Hong Kou, and the immigrants of the third wave had to live in very cramped conditions.
Pictures from the tour are here.
I promised to share the movements of the Sonatina I've been working on as they come out. Well, I just finished the second movement — a Chaconne. If you aren't familiar with the chaconne form here's a link to the wikipedia page for it:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaconne
If you go there, be sure to read about the passacaglia form while you're at it. One person's chaconne is very often another person's passacaglia, and if you insist, my Chaconne can be either. The .m4a (for iTunes) is here; the .mid (for QuickTime) is here.
One more movement to go!
It's hard to believe we will be leaving here in just three weeks and one day. There's still a lot to be done before we leave.
This past Saturday, we took a tour of sites relevant to the history of the Jews in Shanghai. This was a really excellent tour, and we recommend it highly if you ever make your way to Shanghai. Here is the tour's web site:
http://www.shanghai-jews.com/
There were three waves of Jewish immigration to Shanghai. The first wave, in the early to mid 19th century brought a small number of families of Sephardic Jews from Iraq to Shanghai via India. Some of these families became extremely wealthy and influential in Shanghai and other cities of China. The second wave brought Russian Jews escaping the pogroms to Shanghai in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. This wave largely settled in the Hong Kou district. The third wave consisted of European Jews escaping the Nazis. If you could obtain exit papers, you would leave Europe by a Mediterranean port, transit the Suez Canal, cross the Indian Ocean and reach Shanghai. Shanghai, like Casablanca, was an "open port" where stateless persons could freely enter. The Japanese occupation did confine stateless persons to a few blocks of Hong Kou, and the immigrants of the third wave had to live in very cramped conditions.
Pictures from the tour are here.
I promised to share the movements of the Sonatina I've been working on as they come out. Well, I just finished the second movement — a Chaconne. If you aren't familiar with the chaconne form here's a link to the wikipedia page for it:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaconne
If you go there, be sure to read about the passacaglia form while you're at it. One person's chaconne is very often another person's passacaglia, and if you insist, my Chaconne can be either. The .m4a (for iTunes) is here; the .mid (for QuickTime) is here.
One more movement to go!
25 November 2009
Thursday, 26 November 2009
It's Thanksgiving in Shanghai!
And the nearly 20 million people we live amongst here neither know nor care.
It's a bit odd to feel that you have a holiday when nobody else does. Of course, I've been out of work since July (sabbatical is spelled U-N-E-M-P-L-O-Y-M-E-N-T for me), so essentially every day is a holiday for me. It might feel more like Thanksgiving if this Thursday morning were a bit quiet, like a Thanksgiving morning usually is (trust me, it's not here). Or if the Macy's parade was being shown on TV (trust me, it's not here). Or if the weather was still as cold today as it was last week here when we were under the influence of the "Siberian Express" weather system (nope, it's low 60s F, sunny, and dry). There's no turkey or yams or pumpkin pie in the oven. Turkey is very rarely encountered here (we've never seen it for sale in any market — even the ones catering for expats). Pumpkins are, and sweet potates are, but there's also no oven, and I don't think you can credibly make a pumpkin pie in a wok. We are going to have our Thanksgiving dinner today with the University of California Education Abroad students that Miles is teaching at Fudan University. And we are going to have it at a Howard Johnson's over near Fudan. There are actually quite a few HoJos in Shanghai — including one right across the street from us on Yan An Road. We are not too sure where they are going to get the turkey they are promising to serve. I just hope they don't serve us duck labelled as turkey (I'm allergic to duck).
To cap off this post, here's one third of a projected three movement Sonatina, fresh off the press. You'll get the remaining movements as I finish them. The .m4a (for iTunes) is here; the .mid (for QuickTime) is here.
Happy Thanksgiving!
And the nearly 20 million people we live amongst here neither know nor care.
It's a bit odd to feel that you have a holiday when nobody else does. Of course, I've been out of work since July (sabbatical is spelled U-N-E-M-P-L-O-Y-M-E-N-T for me), so essentially every day is a holiday for me. It might feel more like Thanksgiving if this Thursday morning were a bit quiet, like a Thanksgiving morning usually is (trust me, it's not here). Or if the Macy's parade was being shown on TV (trust me, it's not here). Or if the weather was still as cold today as it was last week here when we were under the influence of the "Siberian Express" weather system (nope, it's low 60s F, sunny, and dry). There's no turkey or yams or pumpkin pie in the oven. Turkey is very rarely encountered here (we've never seen it for sale in any market — even the ones catering for expats). Pumpkins are, and sweet potates are, but there's also no oven, and I don't think you can credibly make a pumpkin pie in a wok. We are going to have our Thanksgiving dinner today with the University of California Education Abroad students that Miles is teaching at Fudan University. And we are going to have it at a Howard Johnson's over near Fudan. There are actually quite a few HoJos in Shanghai — including one right across the street from us on Yan An Road. We are not too sure where they are going to get the turkey they are promising to serve. I just hope they don't serve us duck labelled as turkey (I'm allergic to duck).
To cap off this post, here's one third of a projected three movement Sonatina, fresh off the press. You'll get the remaining movements as I finish them. The .m4a (for iTunes) is here; the .mid (for QuickTime) is here.
Happy Thanksgiving!
23 November 2009
Monday, 23 November 2009
Hangzhou was really beautiful!
But you can judge for yourself. The pictures we took are here, here, and here.
The first westerner to see Hangzhou was Marco Polo (in the 13th century). He liked it, too. It has in the past been an imperial capital city, but that ended when the Mongols conquered China and choose to make Beijing their imperial capital. Today Hangzhou has a population of over 6 million and is one of the second tier cities of China, quite prosperous, but not a commercial center like Shanghai or Hong Kong. The leading feature of the city for tourists is Xi Hu (West Lake). About 3/4 of the circumference of the lake is unspoiled, with one of the downtown areas of Hangzhou meeting it along the remaining 1/4. For those 3/4, just about every view is like looking at a classical Chinese watercolor.
The train journey to and from Hangzhou went quite smoothly, although I'd have to say that the ultra-modern Shanghai South train station is not quite equaled by the somewhat tired and cramped Hangzhou Central train station. The trains are very fast "bullet" trains — with a top speed of around 150 kilometers per hour — and the trip takes just over an hour each way.
Upon arrival midday on Friday, we settled into our really posh room at the Hangzhou Shangri-La Hotel, had a quick lunch in the hotel "coffee garden" and then went out for a little walk. It was just a short way from the hotel (across the street, really) to the north shore of West Lake, and we spent a couple of hours walking to and then right around Gu Shan Island, one of the islands in the lake. After that, it was dark, and we were quite cold, so we quit touring for the day and had a nice dinner at the Chinese restaurant in the Shangri-La.
Saturday morning the weather had improved considerably — it was completely dry although still pretty cold. We took in the Mausoleum of General Yue Fei (right next door to our hotel). The general commanded the army during the Southern Song dynasty and successfully battled northern invaders. But he was betrayed by a prime minister, recalled to the Song court, and executed in 1142. Some 21 years later he was exonerated, a big mausoleum was built, and his body was moved to a new tomb there. After seeing the mausoleum, we trekked up the hill behind our hotel, seeing the Zi Yun cave, the Daoist Bau Pu Temple, and the Bao Chu Pagoda. After all that, it was high time for lunch! We thought of having our lunch at an Italian restaurant we had spotted the day before on Gu Shan island, and made our way there, only to find it functions just as a bar at lunch time. Oops. So, plan B. We had read in our guide about a grouping of shops and restaurants named Xi Hu Tian Di, modeled after a similar grouping we know in Shanghai called Xin Tian Di. We caught a taxi to try for Xi Hu Tian Di, but we pretty much completely failed to make the driver understand this destination (which was supposed to be 147 Nan Shan Road, according to our guide). This sometimes happens. Our pronunciation of Chinese names can be just far enough off as to be incomprehensible (at least to taxi drivers). We do somewhat better with addresses, but this sometimes doesn't work either. He got us about 2/5 of the way there, and put us out when he hit the first clot of traffic on Nan Shan Road. Hmmm. Catching a second cab, we tried again. This second driver was also pretty much at sea about where we wanted to go, but he got us to where I could see number 150 on Nan Shan Road (which should have been pretty much across the street from number 147, our destination). The driver was at that point busily conferring with someone by cell phone about our destination, and since I thought we were pretty much there, I told him to let us out. We weren't, however, pretty much there. Across the street from 150 Nan Shan Road, there was no 147 (and in fact not really any buildings at all, just the lake front of West Lake). It turns out we were still only about 3/5 of the way there from our original starting point. By this time, it was well time for some plan C. Miles spied an Indian restaurant nearby, and so we had our (rather mediocre) lunch there. Oh, well. After lunch, we went (on foot!) to an old market street (Qing He Fang Old Street) downtown and poked around a bit there. Still wanting to do more touring, but fed up with taxis, we took one of the buses that service simple loop routes set up for tourists that we'd read about in our guide over to the Lei Feng Pagoda, and enjoyed the 360 degree view of all of Hangzhou from the top. The original Pagoda dates to 977, but it collapsed in 1924. Today's pagoda is just called a tower and it was built in 2001. The Buddhist Jing Ci Temple was just across the street, but it was 4:30 by the time we got to the entrance, and it closes at 4:45, so we left that to the next day. Having cleared off nicely, the weather promised to be really fine for Sunday, but equally to be really cold for Saturday night, so we decided not to leave the Shangri-La and had a nice enough dinner in their Italian restaurant.
Sunday proved to be clear and warm enough to enjoy with just a sweater and no coat! We armed ourselves with several cards written by the front desk staff to show taxi drivers, and started our touring with the Jing Ci Temple that we had run out of time to see on Saturday. Then we took the tourist bus out to Ling Yin Temple — the biggest single tourist site of Hangzhou. The walk up to the temple itself passes by hundreds of buddhist rock carvings — some of which are very old. These are carved right into the rock of Fei Lai Peak "Peak Flying from Afar". There is a legend that says this mountain was magically transported here from India. Some of these carvings survived being damaged during the Cultural Revolution, presumably because of their locations inside caves or uphill by a considerable climb. The temple itself has, due to various wars, fires, and other disasters, been reconstructed 16 times. It is still impressive. After a simple vegetarian hotpot lunch, and a cable car ride up the hill behind Ling Yin Temple, we got to Bei Gao Feng (the Northern Peak). We saw another temple up there. I don't have the name, unfortunately. But we had really gone there for the view you are supposed to have of the entire city anyhow. But it was pretty hazy, so the view was not what we'd hoped for. After the cable car ride back down, it was time to catch a taxi and, hoping third time was the charm, make our way to Xi Hu Tian Di, to choose a restaurant for dinner. This time, the taxi driver understood our card and got us there just fine, but there was not much there there. We didn't really scout out any nice restaurant for dinner and left wondering a bit what all the fuss was about the place in the first place. But we found ourselves right by the pleasure boat piers, so we took a boat ride out on West Lake, arriving at a very picturesque set of small islands connected by causeways. The sun set for us out on those islands, and we got another boat back to downtown. The dock we landed at was not quite the one we'd left from somehow. By this time, in just our sweaters and no coats, we were no longer quite warm enough, so we ducked into the Hyatt Regency right by the docks that we did land at. After very civilized cocktails in the lobby bar, we found a really nice Chinese restaurant right in the same Hyatt and had our dinner there. It took a while, but we caught a taxi back to the Shangri-la and thus ended our touring Sunday.
There are some specialties of the local Hangzhou cuisine that we got to try. The most memorable was probably something called Dong Po Rou, after a poet of the Song dynasty called Su Dong Po. It is composed of fatty pork (something like what Americans call bacon) which has been cooked with Shaoxing wine and is served in one long slice that has been wrapped up into a pyramid shape. The pyramid sits atop a preparation of bamboo shoots that have been cooked in some sweet-salty sauce. This is served with something called "pancakes" that is more like a small delicate pita bread. You take the little bread and split it open, add some of the pork, and some of the bamboo shoots, and enjoy the whole thing something like a pita pocket. It's very rich, but very tasty.
But you can judge for yourself. The pictures we took are here, here, and here.
The first westerner to see Hangzhou was Marco Polo (in the 13th century). He liked it, too. It has in the past been an imperial capital city, but that ended when the Mongols conquered China and choose to make Beijing their imperial capital. Today Hangzhou has a population of over 6 million and is one of the second tier cities of China, quite prosperous, but not a commercial center like Shanghai or Hong Kong. The leading feature of the city for tourists is Xi Hu (West Lake). About 3/4 of the circumference of the lake is unspoiled, with one of the downtown areas of Hangzhou meeting it along the remaining 1/4. For those 3/4, just about every view is like looking at a classical Chinese watercolor.
The train journey to and from Hangzhou went quite smoothly, although I'd have to say that the ultra-modern Shanghai South train station is not quite equaled by the somewhat tired and cramped Hangzhou Central train station. The trains are very fast "bullet" trains — with a top speed of around 150 kilometers per hour — and the trip takes just over an hour each way.
Upon arrival midday on Friday, we settled into our really posh room at the Hangzhou Shangri-La Hotel, had a quick lunch in the hotel "coffee garden" and then went out for a little walk. It was just a short way from the hotel (across the street, really) to the north shore of West Lake, and we spent a couple of hours walking to and then right around Gu Shan Island, one of the islands in the lake. After that, it was dark, and we were quite cold, so we quit touring for the day and had a nice dinner at the Chinese restaurant in the Shangri-La.
Saturday morning the weather had improved considerably — it was completely dry although still pretty cold. We took in the Mausoleum of General Yue Fei (right next door to our hotel). The general commanded the army during the Southern Song dynasty and successfully battled northern invaders. But he was betrayed by a prime minister, recalled to the Song court, and executed in 1142. Some 21 years later he was exonerated, a big mausoleum was built, and his body was moved to a new tomb there. After seeing the mausoleum, we trekked up the hill behind our hotel, seeing the Zi Yun cave, the Daoist Bau Pu Temple, and the Bao Chu Pagoda. After all that, it was high time for lunch! We thought of having our lunch at an Italian restaurant we had spotted the day before on Gu Shan island, and made our way there, only to find it functions just as a bar at lunch time. Oops. So, plan B. We had read in our guide about a grouping of shops and restaurants named Xi Hu Tian Di, modeled after a similar grouping we know in Shanghai called Xin Tian Di. We caught a taxi to try for Xi Hu Tian Di, but we pretty much completely failed to make the driver understand this destination (which was supposed to be 147 Nan Shan Road, according to our guide). This sometimes happens. Our pronunciation of Chinese names can be just far enough off as to be incomprehensible (at least to taxi drivers). We do somewhat better with addresses, but this sometimes doesn't work either. He got us about 2/5 of the way there, and put us out when he hit the first clot of traffic on Nan Shan Road. Hmmm. Catching a second cab, we tried again. This second driver was also pretty much at sea about where we wanted to go, but he got us to where I could see number 150 on Nan Shan Road (which should have been pretty much across the street from number 147, our destination). The driver was at that point busily conferring with someone by cell phone about our destination, and since I thought we were pretty much there, I told him to let us out. We weren't, however, pretty much there. Across the street from 150 Nan Shan Road, there was no 147 (and in fact not really any buildings at all, just the lake front of West Lake). It turns out we were still only about 3/5 of the way there from our original starting point. By this time, it was well time for some plan C. Miles spied an Indian restaurant nearby, and so we had our (rather mediocre) lunch there. Oh, well. After lunch, we went (on foot!) to an old market street (Qing He Fang Old Street) downtown and poked around a bit there. Still wanting to do more touring, but fed up with taxis, we took one of the buses that service simple loop routes set up for tourists that we'd read about in our guide over to the Lei Feng Pagoda, and enjoyed the 360 degree view of all of Hangzhou from the top. The original Pagoda dates to 977, but it collapsed in 1924. Today's pagoda is just called a tower and it was built in 2001. The Buddhist Jing Ci Temple was just across the street, but it was 4:30 by the time we got to the entrance, and it closes at 4:45, so we left that to the next day. Having cleared off nicely, the weather promised to be really fine for Sunday, but equally to be really cold for Saturday night, so we decided not to leave the Shangri-La and had a nice enough dinner in their Italian restaurant.
Sunday proved to be clear and warm enough to enjoy with just a sweater and no coat! We armed ourselves with several cards written by the front desk staff to show taxi drivers, and started our touring with the Jing Ci Temple that we had run out of time to see on Saturday. Then we took the tourist bus out to Ling Yin Temple — the biggest single tourist site of Hangzhou. The walk up to the temple itself passes by hundreds of buddhist rock carvings — some of which are very old. These are carved right into the rock of Fei Lai Peak "Peak Flying from Afar". There is a legend that says this mountain was magically transported here from India. Some of these carvings survived being damaged during the Cultural Revolution, presumably because of their locations inside caves or uphill by a considerable climb. The temple itself has, due to various wars, fires, and other disasters, been reconstructed 16 times. It is still impressive. After a simple vegetarian hotpot lunch, and a cable car ride up the hill behind Ling Yin Temple, we got to Bei Gao Feng (the Northern Peak). We saw another temple up there. I don't have the name, unfortunately. But we had really gone there for the view you are supposed to have of the entire city anyhow. But it was pretty hazy, so the view was not what we'd hoped for. After the cable car ride back down, it was time to catch a taxi and, hoping third time was the charm, make our way to Xi Hu Tian Di, to choose a restaurant for dinner. This time, the taxi driver understood our card and got us there just fine, but there was not much there there. We didn't really scout out any nice restaurant for dinner and left wondering a bit what all the fuss was about the place in the first place. But we found ourselves right by the pleasure boat piers, so we took a boat ride out on West Lake, arriving at a very picturesque set of small islands connected by causeways. The sun set for us out on those islands, and we got another boat back to downtown. The dock we landed at was not quite the one we'd left from somehow. By this time, in just our sweaters and no coats, we were no longer quite warm enough, so we ducked into the Hyatt Regency right by the docks that we did land at. After very civilized cocktails in the lobby bar, we found a really nice Chinese restaurant right in the same Hyatt and had our dinner there. It took a while, but we caught a taxi back to the Shangri-la and thus ended our touring Sunday.
There are some specialties of the local Hangzhou cuisine that we got to try. The most memorable was probably something called Dong Po Rou, after a poet of the Song dynasty called Su Dong Po. It is composed of fatty pork (something like what Americans call bacon) which has been cooked with Shaoxing wine and is served in one long slice that has been wrapped up into a pyramid shape. The pyramid sits atop a preparation of bamboo shoots that have been cooked in some sweet-salty sauce. This is served with something called "pancakes" that is more like a small delicate pita bread. You take the little bread and split it open, add some of the pork, and some of the bamboo shoots, and enjoy the whole thing something like a pita pocket. It's very rich, but very tasty.
18 November 2009
Thursday, 19 November 2009
We're getting our first snow in Shanghai today.
It's not much — it's melting as it hits the ground — but it's definitely snowing rather than raining. Snow in Shanghai in the middle of November is really not supposed to happen. It's all part of a weather system coming straight from Siberia that has been bring lower than normal temperatures and earlier than normal snowfalls to much of China since the day we left Beijing (last Monday).
We're heading off tomorrow morning for a weekend in Hangzhou, returning on Monday. We're going by train, so that's another first. And we're going to try to tour Hangzhou without any guides (other than the printed kind), so that's yet another first. We'll need as much help as we can get from the weather gods. The forecast looks like things might be pretty bad on Friday, but may well improve by Sunday, or even by Saturday.
President Obama has now left China for South Korea on his Asian tour.
Coverage in the official Chinese media during Obama's time in Beijing has been subdued — to say the least. I would speculate that, for the average Chinese Joe, it's pretty much as if Obama were never there. There was nothing like the Town Hall Meeting for young Chinese students that was held here in Shanghai (and even that wasn't carried on official Chinese media). There was a press conference held after the talks in Beijing. The format was very, very formal. Hu Jintao and Obama both stood woodenly at their respective lecterns. Both spoke in the halting way one must do to accomodate simultaneous translation. Neither took questions from reporters. Reading between the lines, it appears that China's leaders are really anxious to avoid spotlighting the contrast between Obama's charisma and their own lack of it. Anyone who might have thought that China would take this opportunity to open up will simply have to nurse their disappointment.
Not much else to report, other than that I've started another composition. I've got a good start, but it's at the "needs more percolation stage." I'll get back to it when we've returned from Hangzhou.
It's not much — it's melting as it hits the ground — but it's definitely snowing rather than raining. Snow in Shanghai in the middle of November is really not supposed to happen. It's all part of a weather system coming straight from Siberia that has been bring lower than normal temperatures and earlier than normal snowfalls to much of China since the day we left Beijing (last Monday).
We're heading off tomorrow morning for a weekend in Hangzhou, returning on Monday. We're going by train, so that's another first. And we're going to try to tour Hangzhou without any guides (other than the printed kind), so that's yet another first. We'll need as much help as we can get from the weather gods. The forecast looks like things might be pretty bad on Friday, but may well improve by Sunday, or even by Saturday.
President Obama has now left China for South Korea on his Asian tour.
Coverage in the official Chinese media during Obama's time in Beijing has been subdued — to say the least. I would speculate that, for the average Chinese Joe, it's pretty much as if Obama were never there. There was nothing like the Town Hall Meeting for young Chinese students that was held here in Shanghai (and even that wasn't carried on official Chinese media). There was a press conference held after the talks in Beijing. The format was very, very formal. Hu Jintao and Obama both stood woodenly at their respective lecterns. Both spoke in the halting way one must do to accomodate simultaneous translation. Neither took questions from reporters. Reading between the lines, it appears that China's leaders are really anxious to avoid spotlighting the contrast between Obama's charisma and their own lack of it. Anyone who might have thought that China would take this opportunity to open up will simply have to nurse their disappointment.
Not much else to report, other than that I've started another composition. I've got a good start, but it's at the "needs more percolation stage." I'll get back to it when we've returned from Hangzhou.
16 November 2009
Monday, 16 November 2009
President Obama was in Shanghai briefly today.
While he was here, he hosted a town hall meeting with students from the many universities here in Shanghai. We were not able to attend in person, and had to make do with watching the coverage on CNN and the White House's live streaming site.
It's not clear how large a role the Chinese government played in the selection of the students. The questions, for the most part, were "soft lobs," although there was one pointed question about American arms sales to Taiwan, and another from a student wondering whether winning the Nobel Peace Prize will increase the pressure to make progress on long-standing global conflicts.
Chinese national TV did not carry the event live, although Shanghai TV did, and the Xinhua news agency is reported to have run a transcript on its Web site. There was even a rumor that Twitter was unblocked for the duration of the event, although yours truly is not himself a tweeter, so he did not verify this for himself.
The president had, and took, several opportunities to make the case for the freedom of speech that is still lacking in today's China, even after much progress towards openness. Here is one especially elegant statement:
To close this post, here is another of my Shanghai compositions. (If you've been counting you'll think it's my third, but it's really my fourth. The third was written especially for Miles' birthday last week.) It's another Prélude, and, if anything it is even more animated and intense than its predecessors. It's very short, so don't be surprised if your download starts playing right away. The .m4a version (for iTunes) is here and a .mid file (for QuickTime) is here.
While he was here, he hosted a town hall meeting with students from the many universities here in Shanghai. We were not able to attend in person, and had to make do with watching the coverage on CNN and the White House's live streaming site.
It's not clear how large a role the Chinese government played in the selection of the students. The questions, for the most part, were "soft lobs," although there was one pointed question about American arms sales to Taiwan, and another from a student wondering whether winning the Nobel Peace Prize will increase the pressure to make progress on long-standing global conflicts.
Chinese national TV did not carry the event live, although Shanghai TV did, and the Xinhua news agency is reported to have run a transcript on its Web site. There was even a rumor that Twitter was unblocked for the duration of the event, although yours truly is not himself a tweeter, so he did not verify this for himself.
The president had, and took, several opportunities to make the case for the freedom of speech that is still lacking in today's China, even after much progress towards openness. Here is one especially elegant statement:
I have a lot of critics in the United States who can say all kinds of things about me. I actually think that that makes our democracy stronger and it makes me a better leader, because it forces me to hear opinions that I don't want to hear. It forces me to examine what I'm doing on a day-to-day basis to see if I'm doing the very best that I could be doing for the people of the United States.From Shanghai, Obama has by now already gone to Beijing, for high-level meetings, and some sight-seeing. He'll be taking tours of many of the same sights I saw last week, including The Forbidden City and The Great Wall.
To close this post, here is another of my Shanghai compositions. (If you've been counting you'll think it's my third, but it's really my fourth. The third was written especially for Miles' birthday last week.) It's another Prélude, and, if anything it is even more animated and intense than its predecessors. It's very short, so don't be surprised if your download starts playing right away. The .m4a version (for iTunes) is here and a .mid file (for QuickTime) is here.
09 November 2009
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Just a quick post today.
Sorry for a bit of terseness, but it's Miles' birthday today, and I have a lot to do, and it's not going to be easy, because it's really just pouring rain here in Shanghai.
We just got back yesterday from our quick four day trip to Beijing. While Miles was off being a gentleman and a scholar at something called the Beijing Forum, I went off on a pair of all-day bus tours. The first one took in sights in Beijing (The Summer Palace, The Forbidden City, Tien An Men Square, and The Temple of Heaven). The second one went out to one of the Great Wall sites (Badaling) and took in one of the Ming Emporer's Tombs on the way there. (If you've never heard of the Beijing Forum, it's a kind of academic extravaganza — with the theme The Harmony of Civilizations and Prosperity for All — put on annually since 2004 by Peking University with support from The Beijing Municipal Commission of Education and The Korean Foundation for Advanced Studies.) After the forum had wound down, we went together on a half-day tour sponsored by the forum to the Olympic Stadiums (Bird's Nest, Water Cube) and Beijing's 798 Art Zone. You can see pictures of all of this tourism here, here, and here. The forum also hosted the National Ballet of China for a dance recital at Peking University Hall: Journey into a World of Ballet. It was quite a busy time. All the more so, because I got sick (what started out as a hay fever type of allergy morphed into a cold or maybe the flu). I'm better now, but I'm going to take it a bit easy for the next few days.
Our way back from Beijing was not quite smooth, unfortunately. Our aircraft had some mechanical problem, could not take off, and they taxied us back to a gate where we were deplaned. Then all hell broke loose. Sadly, China Eastern didn't seem to have much of a procedure in place for dealing with the cancellation of a flight. The idea seemed to be to put half the passengers onto a flight within a half hour, and the other half onto a flight leaving an hour later. This message was not received by the passengers with equanimity. We thought it might come to fisticuffs between some passengers and the poor China Eastern staff, but the worst in the end was some mild form of battery committed with a boarding pass. But the shrieking! We stayed well out of it until most of it had died down, then got our boarding passes for the later of the two replacement flights and made our belated way back to Shanghai.
Sorry for a bit of terseness, but it's Miles' birthday today, and I have a lot to do, and it's not going to be easy, because it's really just pouring rain here in Shanghai.
We just got back yesterday from our quick four day trip to Beijing. While Miles was off being a gentleman and a scholar at something called the Beijing Forum, I went off on a pair of all-day bus tours. The first one took in sights in Beijing (The Summer Palace, The Forbidden City, Tien An Men Square, and The Temple of Heaven). The second one went out to one of the Great Wall sites (Badaling) and took in one of the Ming Emporer's Tombs on the way there. (If you've never heard of the Beijing Forum, it's a kind of academic extravaganza — with the theme The Harmony of Civilizations and Prosperity for All — put on annually since 2004 by Peking University with support from The Beijing Municipal Commission of Education and The Korean Foundation for Advanced Studies.) After the forum had wound down, we went together on a half-day tour sponsored by the forum to the Olympic Stadiums (Bird's Nest, Water Cube) and Beijing's 798 Art Zone. You can see pictures of all of this tourism here, here, and here. The forum also hosted the National Ballet of China for a dance recital at Peking University Hall: Journey into a World of Ballet. It was quite a busy time. All the more so, because I got sick (what started out as a hay fever type of allergy morphed into a cold or maybe the flu). I'm better now, but I'm going to take it a bit easy for the next few days.
Our way back from Beijing was not quite smooth, unfortunately. Our aircraft had some mechanical problem, could not take off, and they taxied us back to a gate where we were deplaned. Then all hell broke loose. Sadly, China Eastern didn't seem to have much of a procedure in place for dealing with the cancellation of a flight. The idea seemed to be to put half the passengers onto a flight within a half hour, and the other half onto a flight leaving an hour later. This message was not received by the passengers with equanimity. We thought it might come to fisticuffs between some passengers and the poor China Eastern staff, but the worst in the end was some mild form of battery committed with a boarding pass. But the shrieking! We stayed well out of it until most of it had died down, then got our boarding passes for the later of the two replacement flights and made our belated way back to Shanghai.
02 November 2009
Monday, 2 November 2009 (Updated!)
It's really cold in Shanghai today!
The thermometer would say it's in the mid-fifties Fahrenheit, but that doesn't tell the whole story. There is a really strong gale off the water that adds considerable damp wind chill to the equation. I guess our all too brief Autumn is making its inevitable segue into Winter.
Last night's concert at the Conservatory was really fascinating. This was the "closing night gala" of the 5th Shanghai International Piano Competition.
We were both prepared for just a concert, but the evening actually began with the official announcement (with both the jury and the contestants on stage) of the positions of the six finalists in the competition, starting with sixth place, and going up through first prize. Before this could happen there was a lengthy introduction of all of the members of the jury (in Chinese and English), and someone representing the Shanghai International Arts Festival droned on for about 10 minutes (only in Chinese), while most of the color drained from the faces (and probably the knuckles) of the contestants. Following this, each of the finalists played some of their competition entries. Talk about maalox moments! The sixth runner up not only had swallow any disappointments she may have had about not doing better, she also had to come out first to perform! The end of the program might have afforded a nice opportunity for all the runners up to get one more dose of applause for all their efforts, but after the first prize winner's bow, the house lights came up abruptly, and that was that!
Among the six finalists, there were four women and two men. China provided one of the women and both of the men. The other women were one each from Belgium, Kazakhstan, and Korea. Here was the roster of finalists:
Duanduan Hao really was impressive, both as to technique, and for his evident musicianship. His piece at the concert was the Ginastera Piano Sonata No. 1, Op. 22, which was presented complete. Before we heard him play a single note, we gave him high marks just for having the courage to program this "modern" piece (actually it was written in 1952, so it's hardly "new music"). Everyone else made far "safer" choices: one played the Bach-Busoni Chaconne in D minor, another played a Haydn Sonata and a Liszt concert etude, a third coupled the Chopin Polonaise-Fantaisie with the Bizet-Horowitz Carmen Variations — well, you get the idea. It seemed like about half the program was either a piece by Liszt, or a transcription by Liszt, or one by someone who was "the Liszt of his time."
There was, sad to say, more bad concert-going audience behavior — the usual cell phones bleeping, unabashed talking, and the ceaseless restless rustling of candy wrappers. We really had hoped for better at a Conservatory Hall. But, this time, Miles spotted a real drama (sadly, I missed it — I was too engrossed in the Ginastera Sonata, I suppose). One woman was visibly (if not for once audibly) arguing with another, in the denouement of which, she apparently knocked her opponent to the ground!
I guess they don't call it a Piano Competition for nothing.
The thermometer would say it's in the mid-fifties Fahrenheit, but that doesn't tell the whole story. There is a really strong gale off the water that adds considerable damp wind chill to the equation. I guess our all too brief Autumn is making its inevitable segue into Winter.
Last night's concert at the Conservatory was really fascinating. This was the "closing night gala" of the 5th Shanghai International Piano Competition.
We were both prepared for just a concert, but the evening actually began with the official announcement (with both the jury and the contestants on stage) of the positions of the six finalists in the competition, starting with sixth place, and going up through first prize. Before this could happen there was a lengthy introduction of all of the members of the jury (in Chinese and English), and someone representing the Shanghai International Arts Festival droned on for about 10 minutes (only in Chinese), while most of the color drained from the faces (and probably the knuckles) of the contestants. Following this, each of the finalists played some of their competition entries. Talk about maalox moments! The sixth runner up not only had swallow any disappointments she may have had about not doing better, she also had to come out first to perform! The end of the program might have afforded a nice opportunity for all the runners up to get one more dose of applause for all their efforts, but after the first prize winner's bow, the house lights came up abruptly, and that was that!
Among the six finalists, there were four women and two men. China provided one of the women and both of the men. The other women were one each from Belgium, Kazakhstan, and Korea. Here was the roster of finalists:
- First prize: Duanduan Hao (China)
- Second prize: Cunmo Yin (China)
- Third prize: Oxana Shevchenko (Kazakhstan)
- Fourth prize: Siqian Li (China)
- Fifth prize: Kang-Eun Cho (Korea)
- Sixth prize: Stephanie Proot (Belgium)
- Tigran Alikhanov (Russia)
- Lydia Artymiw (US)
- Pierluigi Camicia (Italy)
- Hyoung-Joon Chang (Korea)
- Guillermo González (Spain)
- Shikun Liu (China)
- Jean Bernard Pommier (France)
- Pierre Reach (France)
- Jerome Rose (US)
- Liqing Yang (China)
- Keng Zhou (China)
Duanduan Hao really was impressive, both as to technique, and for his evident musicianship. His piece at the concert was the Ginastera Piano Sonata No. 1, Op. 22, which was presented complete. Before we heard him play a single note, we gave him high marks just for having the courage to program this "modern" piece (actually it was written in 1952, so it's hardly "new music"). Everyone else made far "safer" choices: one played the Bach-Busoni Chaconne in D minor, another played a Haydn Sonata and a Liszt concert etude, a third coupled the Chopin Polonaise-Fantaisie with the Bizet-Horowitz Carmen Variations — well, you get the idea. It seemed like about half the program was either a piece by Liszt, or a transcription by Liszt, or one by someone who was "the Liszt of his time."
There was, sad to say, more bad concert-going audience behavior — the usual cell phones bleeping, unabashed talking, and the ceaseless restless rustling of candy wrappers. We really had hoped for better at a Conservatory Hall. But, this time, Miles spotted a real drama (sadly, I missed it — I was too engrossed in the Ginastera Sonata, I suppose). One woman was visibly (if not for once audibly) arguing with another, in the denouement of which, she apparently knocked her opponent to the ground!
I guess they don't call it a Piano Competition for nothing.
01 November 2009
Sunday, 1 November 2009
I think we've pretty much figured out classical Chinese gardens.
I'm generalizing from our viewing of the Yu Yuan Garden here in Shanghai last week, and the tour we made of three more classical chinese gardens in Suzhou yesterday, which may be too small a sample, but I would conclude that there are these four necessary elements:
The gardens we saw in Suzhou yesterday were:
In addition to these gardens, we also saw the Suzhou Museum — a small but nicely-displayed collection of classical Chinese art, housed in a building designed by I. M. Pei (who was born in Canton to a prominent family from Suzhou), as well as the Tiger Hill complex with its "leaning" Pagoda.
Pictures from all of this are here. Here's a couple I especially liked. They are little architectural ornaments from Tiger Hill.
As I write these blog posts, I often recall, somewhat at random, that I've been meaning to write about some aspect of Shanghai life for some time, but somehow never have done so yet. Today is no exception, and the topic of today's random observation is firecrackers.
Every so often, and far oftener than I would have expected, a really big and really loud noise will suddenly break out in whatever particular Shanghai neighborhood I happen to be in, a noise that sounds like a really big explosion. It usually goes on, intermittently, for a few minutes. The first time this happened, I happened to be up on the 31st floor in our apartment, and I simply had no earthly idea what could be going on. Was a building being demolished nearby? Had terrorists struck? Frantic, I looked out our windows for signs of fallout from the implosion of a building, or smoke from a bomb site — nothing. When peace reigned again, it was entirely as though nothing had happened. I finally figured out (maybe somebody told me) it was Chinese fireworks (we'd call them firecrackers). A big family occasion like a wedding will typically call for a heap of these as part of the celebration. When it happens (as it just did a few moments ago as I was composing the first part of this post) I now know it is meant as a joyful noise. I still find it unsettling though.
Tonight we're going to a concert at the Shanghai Conservatory's He Luting Concert Hall. It's the gala closing performance of the Conservatory's Fifth International Youth Piano Competition, and the top prize winners are supposed to be performing. Should be exciting!
I'm generalizing from our viewing of the Yu Yuan Garden here in Shanghai last week, and the tour we made of three more classical chinese gardens in Suzhou yesterday, which may be too small a sample, but I would conclude that there are these four necessary elements:
- water
- rocks
- plants
- buildings
The gardens we saw in Suzhou yesterday were:
- The Humble Administrator's Garden
- The Lion Forest Garden
- The Master-of-Nets Garden
In addition to these gardens, we also saw the Suzhou Museum — a small but nicely-displayed collection of classical Chinese art, housed in a building designed by I. M. Pei (who was born in Canton to a prominent family from Suzhou), as well as the Tiger Hill complex with its "leaning" Pagoda.
Pictures from all of this are here. Here's a couple I especially liked. They are little architectural ornaments from Tiger Hill.
As I write these blog posts, I often recall, somewhat at random, that I've been meaning to write about some aspect of Shanghai life for some time, but somehow never have done so yet. Today is no exception, and the topic of today's random observation is firecrackers.
Every so often, and far oftener than I would have expected, a really big and really loud noise will suddenly break out in whatever particular Shanghai neighborhood I happen to be in, a noise that sounds like a really big explosion. It usually goes on, intermittently, for a few minutes. The first time this happened, I happened to be up on the 31st floor in our apartment, and I simply had no earthly idea what could be going on. Was a building being demolished nearby? Had terrorists struck? Frantic, I looked out our windows for signs of fallout from the implosion of a building, or smoke from a bomb site — nothing. When peace reigned again, it was entirely as though nothing had happened. I finally figured out (maybe somebody told me) it was Chinese fireworks (we'd call them firecrackers). A big family occasion like a wedding will typically call for a heap of these as part of the celebration. When it happens (as it just did a few moments ago as I was composing the first part of this post) I now know it is meant as a joyful noise. I still find it unsettling though.
Tonight we're going to a concert at the Shanghai Conservatory's He Luting Concert Hall. It's the gala closing performance of the Conservatory's Fifth International Youth Piano Competition, and the top prize winners are supposed to be performing. Should be exciting!
28 October 2009
Thursday, 29 October 2009
This week has been calmer than last week.
Last Sunday, we went exploring a bit in the "Old Town" neighborhood of Shanghai, which is south and east of People's Square, right along the Huang Pu river on the Puxi side. As I neglected to take any form of camera, I'm afraid there aren't any pictures from our walk. We'll have to make do with some images I've garnered from the web. (They're much better than mine would have been anyhow.)
It turns that much of the Old Town neighborhood has been taken over by the Yu Yuan Bazaar, an unpleasantly crowded shopping mall for tourists, which is kind of sad. We did get to see some real sights though:
While trying locate some of these sights, we also got to see some of the old residential part of this neighborhood. With all the pressures exerted on this neighborhood by development on all sides, its quiet "Old Shanghai" way of life is probably not going to continue much longer.
Last night, I went to a concert. Or I should say: half a concert. The first half was so excruciatingly execrable I didn't stay for the second half.
There's no other way to say it: this concert was a total fraud.
I was supposed to be hearing the same wonderful pianist (Behzod Abduraimov) that we heard last week playing Tchaikovsky's First Piano Concerto, this time playing Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. There were also to be a work by a Dutch composer (Rogier van Otterloo) and two by Chinese composers (Huang Yijun, He Luting) on the program, along with Mahler's Totenfeier and Strauss' Till Eugenspiegel. The orchestra was to be the "Philips Symphony" which I had never heard of, but which was billed to be "the best orchestra in Holland."
The Philips Symphony turned out to be an amateur group comprised of employees of Philips (you know, they make TV sets, etc.). They were passable as an amateur group, but not one I would advise to tackle the likes of the Rhapsody or Totenfeier or Till Eugenspiegel. Well, no matter. They didn't play the Rhapsody, they hacked their way through Tchaikovsky's First Piano Concerto instead. Oh, and it wasn't Behzod Abduraimov at all! I don't know who the impostor at the keyboard was, as he was never identified by name, but he was also (at best) passable. (The program still had Abduraimov and the Rhapsody on the bill. Some program changes were announced in Chinese and English, but the change of piano personnel was not. If I was Abduraimov, I'd definitely explore legal action.) The Chinese works were not played on the first half (where the program said they would be). Perhaps they played them in the second half I could not bear to stay for. I did get to hear van Otterloo's mercifully brief Soldier of Orange. As I really can't say anything nice about that, I won't say anything at all.
Miles must have sensed that this concert was one to skip, and he did. I know I wish I had. As I sat squirming in my seat, once it became brutally clear the evening would be no better than a total débacle, dying to walk out, but not daring to do so until the intermission (a recorded announcement forbade doing that), I decided to focus on the clinically interesting sounds produced by the man sitting just behind me, who snored during the entirety of the Tchaikovsky. Not even the tutti sections would rouse him. Nor, apparently, did his cell phone, which rang out loudly several times.
I guess I now know the best — and the worst — that the Shanghai classical music scene has to offer.
Weather permitting, we're thinking of taking a day trip out of town this Saturday. We want to explore the town of Suzhou with some friends visiting from Australia. Yesterday, the Saturday forecast was for rain, but that seems now to be moved to Sunday, so we may yet get to go. Fingers crossed!
Last Sunday, we went exploring a bit in the "Old Town" neighborhood of Shanghai, which is south and east of People's Square, right along the Huang Pu river on the Puxi side. As I neglected to take any form of camera, I'm afraid there aren't any pictures from our walk. We'll have to make do with some images I've garnered from the web. (They're much better than mine would have been anyhow.)
It turns that much of the Old Town neighborhood has been taken over by the Yu Yuan Bazaar, an unpleasantly crowded shopping mall for tourists, which is kind of sad. We did get to see some real sights though:
- The Taoist Temple of the Town Gods (originally from Ming dynasty, middle 15th century but much altered since)
- The Yu Yuan Gardens (also dating from the Ming dynasty, middle 16th century)
- The Buddhist Chen Xiang Ge Nunnery
While trying locate some of these sights, we also got to see some of the old residential part of this neighborhood. With all the pressures exerted on this neighborhood by development on all sides, its quiet "Old Shanghai" way of life is probably not going to continue much longer.
Last night, I went to a concert. Or I should say: half a concert. The first half was so excruciatingly execrable I didn't stay for the second half.
There's no other way to say it: this concert was a total fraud.
I was supposed to be hearing the same wonderful pianist (Behzod Abduraimov) that we heard last week playing Tchaikovsky's First Piano Concerto, this time playing Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. There were also to be a work by a Dutch composer (Rogier van Otterloo) and two by Chinese composers (Huang Yijun, He Luting) on the program, along with Mahler's Totenfeier and Strauss' Till Eugenspiegel. The orchestra was to be the "Philips Symphony" which I had never heard of, but which was billed to be "the best orchestra in Holland."
The Philips Symphony turned out to be an amateur group comprised of employees of Philips (you know, they make TV sets, etc.). They were passable as an amateur group, but not one I would advise to tackle the likes of the Rhapsody or Totenfeier or Till Eugenspiegel. Well, no matter. They didn't play the Rhapsody, they hacked their way through Tchaikovsky's First Piano Concerto instead. Oh, and it wasn't Behzod Abduraimov at all! I don't know who the impostor at the keyboard was, as he was never identified by name, but he was also (at best) passable. (The program still had Abduraimov and the Rhapsody on the bill. Some program changes were announced in Chinese and English, but the change of piano personnel was not. If I was Abduraimov, I'd definitely explore legal action.) The Chinese works were not played on the first half (where the program said they would be). Perhaps they played them in the second half I could not bear to stay for. I did get to hear van Otterloo's mercifully brief Soldier of Orange. As I really can't say anything nice about that, I won't say anything at all.
Miles must have sensed that this concert was one to skip, and he did. I know I wish I had. As I sat squirming in my seat, once it became brutally clear the evening would be no better than a total débacle, dying to walk out, but not daring to do so until the intermission (a recorded announcement forbade doing that), I decided to focus on the clinically interesting sounds produced by the man sitting just behind me, who snored during the entirety of the Tchaikovsky. Not even the tutti sections would rouse him. Nor, apparently, did his cell phone, which rang out loudly several times.
I guess I now know the best — and the worst — that the Shanghai classical music scene has to offer.
Weather permitting, we're thinking of taking a day trip out of town this Saturday. We want to explore the town of Suzhou with some friends visiting from Australia. Yesterday, the Saturday forecast was for rain, but that seems now to be moved to Sunday, so we may yet get to go. Fingers crossed!
23 October 2009
Saturday, 24 October 2009
Just a quick follow up to my last post.
First, two corrections:
Next, a brief report about Bang on a Can's gig at the Shanghai Oriental Art Center.
This was in the Performance Hall, a much smaller and more intimate setting than the Concert Hall. They did some of the same material I heard on Wednesday (the Nancarrow, the Reich, and Ziporyn's Shadowbang), but there were four works that were not repeats:
Wolfe's Believing was also written for the ensemble. It had a remarkably beautiful and passionate moment for the cellist to vocalize to her own tremolo accompaniment.
Lang's piece was the only one for which nobody gave any live description at the microphone, so I had to look it up on the web. It was written as a kind of response to how classical music seems only to be written to capture something positive. In the composers words: "in a comic way, I am trying to look at something dark. There is a swagger, but it is not trustworthy. In fact, the instruction in the score for how to play it says: Ominous funk." (More here.)
Gordon's I Buried Paul is a very effective (and affecting) work that takes as its inspiration, and point of departure, the strange ending to The Beatles' Strawberry Fields Forever from the Magical Mystery Tour album from 1967. (Yours truly at age 10 played his own LP so many times, the needle practically wore through the vinyl). The "real song" fades out, but not away, and when it comes back, you are kind of on "the other side of the looking glass" musically speaking. At some point near the true end of the track, John Lennon says "I buried Paul." America heard this and went a bit loopy thinking Paul was dead! People played the record fast, slow, and backward, and claimed to find all manner of revealed material. Gordon's version, eerily, brought me right back to 1967.
I end this post by reporting minor temblorettes from the category of cultural shocks.
When you attend an event at the Shanghai Oriental Art Center, you enter the hall with a ticket which is torn in two pieces. The attendant takes the stub. You keep the other part of the ticket. At the interval, if you wish to leave the hall, an attendant hands you one of the many stubs taken on the way in, but of course, not your own stub. On the way back in, you are to surrender the surrogate stub. If you happen to leave the hall by one door and re-enter by another (as is actually quite likely to happen with the Performance Hall, as the post-modernly conceived "center aisle" actually cuts across the hall on a diagonal) all hell breaks loose — this literally rends the social fabric, apparently. The attendant then points to some calligraphed character scrawled on the stub that indicates your crime of mixe-door-ation. Why they don't just rely on audience members showing the half of their ticket they retain is a mystery.
As you exit from the hall after the performance, you do so to some piped-in music whose meaninglessly happy (if intrusive) character is hard to describe, and whose purpose is even harder to ascertain. From our small sampling of concerts (just two), it may be unfair to infer that this piped in music will always be disturbingly jarring, juxtaposed to whatever one last heard on the program — but the score is definitely 2 for 2.
First, two corrections:
- MaiMai and Olaf Hochherz are not in fact connected. MaiMai turns out to be a guitarist here in Shanghai, but he was not present on Wednesday. Olaf's solo presentation was a substitution.
- Ben Houge's contribution Wednesday was in fact two pieces, not just one. They were: Lukou (Intersection) and Kaleidoscope Music. The one I took good notes on was Lukou, which is a sound installation that features manipulated recorded material (pretty much the traffic sounds that I thought I heard). But now that I think back, there was something distinctly different that I heard in the latter portion of his presentation, but that I didn't note down on my pad. That was the Kaleidoscope work, which takes a captured live audio signal and filters it various ways, with the filtering methods varying over time, as an aural analogue to what a kaleidoscope does with bits of "captured" visual data. This apparently exists in alternative versions where either a live person or software makes the decisions that determine the aleatoric destiny of the piece. You can read in Ben's blog about Lukou here and about Kaleidoscope here and here. (Thanks for the references, Ben!)
Next, a brief report about Bang on a Can's gig at the Shanghai Oriental Art Center.
This was in the Performance Hall, a much smaller and more intimate setting than the Concert Hall. They did some of the same material I heard on Wednesday (the Nancarrow, the Reich, and Ziporyn's Shadowbang), but there were four works that were not repeats:
- Tan Dun's Concerto for Six
- Julia Wolfe's Believing
- David Lang's Cheating, Lying, Stealing
- Michael Gordon's I Buried Paul
Wolfe's Believing was also written for the ensemble. It had a remarkably beautiful and passionate moment for the cellist to vocalize to her own tremolo accompaniment.
Lang's piece was the only one for which nobody gave any live description at the microphone, so I had to look it up on the web. It was written as a kind of response to how classical music seems only to be written to capture something positive. In the composers words: "in a comic way, I am trying to look at something dark. There is a swagger, but it is not trustworthy. In fact, the instruction in the score for how to play it says: Ominous funk." (More here.)
Gordon's I Buried Paul is a very effective (and affecting) work that takes as its inspiration, and point of departure, the strange ending to The Beatles' Strawberry Fields Forever from the Magical Mystery Tour album from 1967. (Yours truly at age 10 played his own LP so many times, the needle practically wore through the vinyl). The "real song" fades out, but not away, and when it comes back, you are kind of on "the other side of the looking glass" musically speaking. At some point near the true end of the track, John Lennon says "I buried Paul." America heard this and went a bit loopy thinking Paul was dead! People played the record fast, slow, and backward, and claimed to find all manner of revealed material. Gordon's version, eerily, brought me right back to 1967.
I end this post by reporting minor temblorettes from the category of cultural shocks.
When you attend an event at the Shanghai Oriental Art Center, you enter the hall with a ticket which is torn in two pieces. The attendant takes the stub. You keep the other part of the ticket. At the interval, if you wish to leave the hall, an attendant hands you one of the many stubs taken on the way in, but of course, not your own stub. On the way back in, you are to surrender the surrogate stub. If you happen to leave the hall by one door and re-enter by another (as is actually quite likely to happen with the Performance Hall, as the post-modernly conceived "center aisle" actually cuts across the hall on a diagonal) all hell breaks loose — this literally rends the social fabric, apparently. The attendant then points to some calligraphed character scrawled on the stub that indicates your crime of mixe-door-ation. Why they don't just rely on audience members showing the half of their ticket they retain is a mystery.
As you exit from the hall after the performance, you do so to some piped-in music whose meaninglessly happy (if intrusive) character is hard to describe, and whose purpose is even harder to ascertain. From our small sampling of concerts (just two), it may be unfair to infer that this piped in music will always be disturbingly jarring, juxtaposed to whatever one last heard on the program — but the score is definitely 2 for 2.
21 October 2009
Thursday, 22 October 2009
It's a very busy week!
And it's not over yet....
Tuesday night found Miles and me at the Shanghai Oriental Art Center in Pudong for a concert of the Sydney Symphony with conductor Vladimir Ashkenazy and young Uzbek pianist Behzod Abduraimov. It was an all-Russian program, beginning with an orchestration of Rachmaninoff's Vocalise, continuing with Tchaikovsky's B-flat minor Piano Concerto, and concluding with Prokofiev's Fifth Symphony. Abduraimov is 19, and looks even younger. But his playing is amazing. After taking Grand Prize at the most recent London International Piano Competition, he is surely going places. The Tchaikovsky is a great piece to showcase his command of the instrument: his delicate rendering of all the filigree-work passages made me remember how much I loved this work when I was younger. Ashkenazy's reading of the Prokofiev was really exciting. The Sydney Symphony may not be the strongest orchestra in the world, but Ashkenazy surely got some great playing from them. Abduraimov gave the Chopin C major Étude as his solo encore. The orchestra obliged with Elgar's Morning Song, a little bon-bon I'd never heard before.
The Shanghai Oriental Art Center is an ultra-modern affair architecturally. It's actually supposed to be a flattened orchid flower. I forgot to bring any sort of camera, so I didn't take any snaps. Here's something I got from the web:
It's a big complex. There are three separate halls: the Concert Hall (where we were Tuesday night), the Performance Hall (where we will be tomorrow night), and the Opera Hall. The acoustics in the Concert Hall were really good.
Yesterday was devoted to new music.
While Miles was busy at Fudan teaching, I spent the afternoon at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music, for an informal concert in their 2nd "International Electroacoustic Music Week." The concert's subtitle was: "Rear Window: Non-academic Style Electroacoustic Music." I'm not too sure what that title was meant to convey, so I just quote it, faithfully, except for the addition of what I hope is illuminating punctuation marks.
I got to this event after hearing about it from someone I met through one of those "oh, you're going to be in Shanghai? you must meet ..." email exchanges that starts with the email equivalent of friends of friends and precedes to increasing degress of separation. That someone — Ben Houge — is an expatriate American musician, sound designer, and composer, who works quite a lot on tracks for video games, and who was presenting one of the featured works.
There were six performances on the bill, all active artists, groups, or bands in the Shanghai new music scene:
New music was still the order of the day yesterday evening.
The great Bang on a Can All Stars ensemble are in Shanghai this week, giving a big concert (that is what we are seeing tomorrow night back at the Shanghai Oriental Art Center), and a smaller concert this evening at the Conservatory, as part of their Electroacoustic week. Lucky me, I got to see them last night for an informal free gig in the garden of the James Cohan Gallery (a New York gallery which has opened a Shanghai "branch"). Forewarned to do so, I got there half an hour early and snagged one of the very few real seats (most people had to stand). Here's a quick snap I took (sorry for the clumsy light glare):
They did some pieces as an ensemble, and gave some solo turns to some of the individual musicians.
As an ensemble, they played a fantastic transcription (by the ensemble's clarinetist, Evan Ziporyn) of a rhythmically complex piece by Conlon Nancarrow, called 4 Piano Studies. They also played some movements of music (also by Ziporyn) from Shadowbang, a colaborative project with a shadow puppet theater company.
The electric guitarist Mark Stewart played Steve Reich's Electric Counterpoint, a minimalist work where the performer plays live against multiple tracks of himself on tape. Ziporyn played an interesting piece written for him on bass clarinet — David Lang's Press Release. The piece consists of alternations of low and high notes, and the name is a bit of a pun. It's based on the conception that to play a low note you press keys down, and to play a high note, you release them. (This is actually a misconception, but ignore that.) The group's double bass player, Robert Black, also played a very impressive, even virtuosic, solo piece, but I'm sorry to report that I didn't catch what it was.
After the performance I went off to dinner at a Hunnan restaurant a short walk from the gallery with about a dozen people I met through Ben.
Today I have another duet session with my violinist friend. We are (probably) going to tackle the Schumann D minor Sonata together.
Tomorrow evening it's back to Pudong for Bang on a Can All Stars.
As I said, a busy week.
And it's not over yet....
Tuesday night found Miles and me at the Shanghai Oriental Art Center in Pudong for a concert of the Sydney Symphony with conductor Vladimir Ashkenazy and young Uzbek pianist Behzod Abduraimov. It was an all-Russian program, beginning with an orchestration of Rachmaninoff's Vocalise, continuing with Tchaikovsky's B-flat minor Piano Concerto, and concluding with Prokofiev's Fifth Symphony. Abduraimov is 19, and looks even younger. But his playing is amazing. After taking Grand Prize at the most recent London International Piano Competition, he is surely going places. The Tchaikovsky is a great piece to showcase his command of the instrument: his delicate rendering of all the filigree-work passages made me remember how much I loved this work when I was younger. Ashkenazy's reading of the Prokofiev was really exciting. The Sydney Symphony may not be the strongest orchestra in the world, but Ashkenazy surely got some great playing from them. Abduraimov gave the Chopin C major Étude as his solo encore. The orchestra obliged with Elgar's Morning Song, a little bon-bon I'd never heard before.
The Shanghai Oriental Art Center is an ultra-modern affair architecturally. It's actually supposed to be a flattened orchid flower. I forgot to bring any sort of camera, so I didn't take any snaps. Here's something I got from the web:
It's a big complex. There are three separate halls: the Concert Hall (where we were Tuesday night), the Performance Hall (where we will be tomorrow night), and the Opera Hall. The acoustics in the Concert Hall were really good.
Yesterday was devoted to new music.
While Miles was busy at Fudan teaching, I spent the afternoon at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music, for an informal concert in their 2nd "International Electroacoustic Music Week." The concert's subtitle was: "Rear Window: Non-academic Style Electroacoustic Music." I'm not too sure what that title was meant to convey, so I just quote it, faithfully, except for the addition of what I hope is illuminating punctuation marks.
I got to this event after hearing about it from someone I met through one of those "oh, you're going to be in Shanghai? you must meet ..." email exchanges that starts with the email equivalent of friends of friends and precedes to increasing degress of separation. That someone — Ben Houge — is an expatriate American musician, sound designer, and composer, who works quite a lot on tracks for video games, and who was presenting one of the featured works.
There were six performances on the bill, all active artists, groups, or bands in the Shanghai new music scene:
- Wang Changcun's compositions began with unpitched synthesized rhythmic material in the background, to which pitched material is gradually added in the foreground. His stuff was LOUD. (I was grateful I happened to have a set of earphones in my bag.)
- I think what was called MaiMai actually was a person named Olaf Hochherz (who also participated in the last performance, see below). His work was very delicate. There were little bursts of sound — like bird chirps.
- Next came Torturing Nurse, a "noise band." Their stuff was, well, amplified analog noise, and it was VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY LOUD (again, I resorted to the earphones, as did several others in the audience). The torturing part of their name is definitely truth in advertising, at least as regards their amplification equipment. About 4 minutes into their set, there began to be little wispy coils of smoke coming from one of the amps. At length, the wisps grew to be more of a real plume that was hard to ignore. Whereupon they stopped. They are definitely wild, crazy, and pretty much way out there.
- Ben Houge's piece was next up. It was a fascinating "sound installation" which I think began with recorded material (I think I heard trains, traffic, crowd sounds, ship sounds, sirens), which was then mixed and blended together. I only met Ben in person yesterday, and look forward to hearing more from him about his work. His web site is here. His blog ("Aesthetic Cartography") is here.
- Then came Yen Yi, who presented a couple of works, one of which featured an electroacoustic flute-like instrument played live against a track of bell-like synthesized sounds. The other was a really great audio/video work based on a typical scene of Shanghai traffic at an intersection. The sounds of of the beeping horns were remixed to last unnaturally long, and eventually they "took over" everything, while the video similarly seemed to freeze. The work develops like this for a time, and eventually a realistic flow of time re-emerges.
- The last act brought back Olaf Hochherz, this time together with Jun-Y Ciao, who, together, are Power Wood Quality. Ciao did some free improvisation on amplified analog instruments against a background track prepared by Hochherz. This was first on a bass clarinet, later on an alto saxophone. If not familiar with free improvisation, it's a little hard to describe. Whatever instrument is used, it is used almost accidentally. It is not "played" in the ordinary sense of the term. Sounds are made on it, but not necessarily in the way customarily intended for the instrument. The instrument may also be "prepared" in novel ways. Ciao used improvised "mutes" that looked like they were plastic bottles.
New music was still the order of the day yesterday evening.
The great Bang on a Can All Stars ensemble are in Shanghai this week, giving a big concert (that is what we are seeing tomorrow night back at the Shanghai Oriental Art Center), and a smaller concert this evening at the Conservatory, as part of their Electroacoustic week. Lucky me, I got to see them last night for an informal free gig in the garden of the James Cohan Gallery (a New York gallery which has opened a Shanghai "branch"). Forewarned to do so, I got there half an hour early and snagged one of the very few real seats (most people had to stand). Here's a quick snap I took (sorry for the clumsy light glare):
They did some pieces as an ensemble, and gave some solo turns to some of the individual musicians.
As an ensemble, they played a fantastic transcription (by the ensemble's clarinetist, Evan Ziporyn) of a rhythmically complex piece by Conlon Nancarrow, called 4 Piano Studies. They also played some movements of music (also by Ziporyn) from Shadowbang, a colaborative project with a shadow puppet theater company.
The electric guitarist Mark Stewart played Steve Reich's Electric Counterpoint, a minimalist work where the performer plays live against multiple tracks of himself on tape. Ziporyn played an interesting piece written for him on bass clarinet — David Lang's Press Release. The piece consists of alternations of low and high notes, and the name is a bit of a pun. It's based on the conception that to play a low note you press keys down, and to play a high note, you release them. (This is actually a misconception, but ignore that.) The group's double bass player, Robert Black, also played a very impressive, even virtuosic, solo piece, but I'm sorry to report that I didn't catch what it was.
After the performance I went off to dinner at a Hunnan restaurant a short walk from the gallery with about a dozen people I met through Ben.
Today I have another duet session with my violinist friend. We are (probably) going to tackle the Schumann D minor Sonata together.
Tomorrow evening it's back to Pudong for Bang on a Can All Stars.
As I said, a busy week.
20 October 2009
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
I love Garage Band!
I don't know why I didn't think of doing this before. Instead of publishing my latest compositions as .mid files (which end up playing in whatever middling-quality midi file player you happen to have on your system), I can import the midi files into the MacOS X Garage Band app, use its superior library of synthetic midi instruments, and export to .m4a (for which you are much more likely to have a high quality player, and which you can import directly into iTunes). Yes, the files will be bigger, but they should sound a lot better.
So that's what I've done, and the results are here:
I don't know why I didn't think of doing this before. Instead of publishing my latest compositions as .mid files (which end up playing in whatever middling-quality midi file player you happen to have on your system), I can import the midi files into the MacOS X Garage Band app, use its superior library of synthetic midi instruments, and export to .m4a (for which you are much more likely to have a high quality player, and which you can import directly into iTunes). Yes, the files will be bigger, but they should sound a lot better.
So that's what I've done, and the results are here:
18 October 2009
Monday, 19 October 2009
Autumn weather has come to Shanghai (at last)!
Daytime high temperatures have moderated, humidity is back to reasonable levels, and while it's still quite warm when you're in the sun, when you're not, there is even a bit of crispness in the air, especially in the mornings and evenings. It's what I like to call "sweater weather." But some locals have warned us that this is temporary. As one person put it: we're now in "the one good weather month of the year." Hmm.
The Anton Kuerti concert last Saturday was a wonderful experience musically — and, I'm afraid, an educational one as regards the Shanghai classical music audience.
Kuerti opened his program with quite a handful (especially as, at age 71, he is of a "well seasoned" age):
Kuerti's playing of the early classical composers is all about texture. His preference is clearly for the softer end of the dynamic spectrum. But he has a powerful command of his pianissimos, and his softest tones always firmly project. The Schumann was especially dramatic. I'll definitely have to study the score to the original last movement, which was completely new to me. It is much more interesting than the replacement.
After working his way forwards chronologically during the first half of his program, he proceeded to reverse course after the interval:
But, for me at least, the high point of the evening came in the final movement of the Beethoven sonata, from the point of the return of the Klagende Lied (Song of Lamentation) theme to the end. This lied passage only lasts about a minute, during which time the performer must convey the most profound emotional desolation (the precise marking: is "ermattet" — "exhausted" — but the rhythm given to the melody, distorted from its first appearance earlier in the movement, suggests a human voice broken with sobbing). Then comes the return of the fugue subject, inverted from its original appearance to fall rather than rise. During the fugue, Beethoven does just about everything possible on the piano of his day to revitalize the emotional state of the music — the soft pedal, used at the beginning, is lifted gradually; the tempo increases bit by bit, then wildly; the contrapuntal details of the fugue are first distorted rhythmically, lose their distinction, and finally pretty much fall away in the gathering rush of notes. The peroration at the conclusion of the movement brings a resounding A-flat Major arpeggiated chord that includes notes from six octaves, and lasts 4 full bars. Kuerti was like a sherpa leading one through all of this, and the finish was positively luminous.
Now the promised word about the Shanghai classical music audience. Perhaps this event was not well marketed. Perhaps other concerts we go to will be better attended, but the orchestra floor was nearly deserted for this one (the balcony was better populated). With a top price of just ¥350 (a bit over $52) I don't think it was money considerations keeping people away. Certainly we have paid higher prices for tickets for other performances at other venues. But there is worse to report. The printed program contained errors both of omission and commission, leaving off the Schumann entirely, and listing the Beethoven work bizarrely as "G Major Sonata, Op. 10" (there are 3 piano sonatas in Op. 10, none of which are in G Major). This was puzzling, since all of the web marketing had the program completely correct. (However, this prompted Kuerti to make some off-the-cuff explanatory comments in English to the audience from the keyboard, which we thoroughly enjoyed.) But there is still worse.... Kuerti had to begin both the Mozart and the Mendelssohn Variations twice. The Mozart, which begins quietly and mysteriously, was sabotaged by the insistent bleeping of a cell phone (despite at least three public announcements — in Chinese and in English — admonishing the audience to silence these daemons). The hiccup with the Mendelssohn came when some of audience were especially noisy in returning tardily to their seats after the interval. We hope this sort of thing won't be the Shanghai norm at classical music concerts.
The Shanghai Concert Hall itself was as ornate as promised. The vaunted acoustics were oversold, but certainly better than average. (Downtown San Diego should have such a nice concert hall, for instance.) But there is an interesting tale to tell about the building. It was built in 1934 as the Nanking Theatre, at least sometimes used for screening motion pictures. Here is a picture of it in 1934. You can just make out that there is a Tarzan movie ("Tarzan and his Mate") on the marquee.
As you can see, the building fronted right on Yan'an Road. I've been unable to confirm it but I believe that when they built the elevated highway above Yan'an Road it would have run right in front of the theater, which had, since 1959, morphed into the Shanghai Concert Hall, Shanghai's most prestigious venue for classical music. So I believe that the city planners were faced with a pressing dilemma in the early part of this decade (this is before Shanghai built the new Shanghai Oriental Art Center in Pudong, which I will report about later — we have two concerts there this week). In what we are gathering is a typical fashion for Shanghai, they decided to opt for a decidedly unconventional solution. Rather than build an entirely new concert hall (which we are told would have been cheaper) they preserved what they had, and simply moved the entire building to a new, more favorable location. It took two years (2002 — 2004) to do the work, which proceeded in three stages. The nearly 6000-ton building was first cut from its old foundations and lifted about 1.7 meters. Then hydraulics were used to move the building 66.4 meters to the south and east. Finally, the building had to be raised another 1.68 meters to be attached to its new foundations in its new location. You can read more about the engineering project to move the building here.
I'm going to close this post with a link to another composition, my second written here in Shanghai. Again, I apologize that I only have a synthetic midi file rather than a recording. Same lame excuse as before: it's pretty difficult, and I haven't had a chance to learn it yet. I hesitate more with this piece than I did with the last one, because it suffers more than that one did from being heard this way. Still, if you take it as given, that when played by a human being, it will have a much more delicate character, you can at least get a hint of how it is meant to sound. So, no more editorializing, my Barcarolle, written during September and October in Shanghai, can be heard here.
Daytime high temperatures have moderated, humidity is back to reasonable levels, and while it's still quite warm when you're in the sun, when you're not, there is even a bit of crispness in the air, especially in the mornings and evenings. It's what I like to call "sweater weather." But some locals have warned us that this is temporary. As one person put it: we're now in "the one good weather month of the year." Hmm.
The Anton Kuerti concert last Saturday was a wonderful experience musically — and, I'm afraid, an educational one as regards the Shanghai classical music audience.
Kuerti opened his program with quite a handful (especially as, at age 71, he is of a "well seasoned" age):
- Mozart: C minor Fantasy (K. 475, 1785)
- Haydn: E-flat Major Sonata (Hob. 52, 1794)
- Schumann: G minor Sonata (Op. 22, 1833 — 1838)
Kuerti's playing of the early classical composers is all about texture. His preference is clearly for the softer end of the dynamic spectrum. But he has a powerful command of his pianissimos, and his softest tones always firmly project. The Schumann was especially dramatic. I'll definitely have to study the score to the original last movement, which was completely new to me. It is much more interesting than the replacement.
After working his way forwards chronologically during the first half of his program, he proceeded to reverse course after the interval:
- Mendelssohn: a tryptych consisting of the Variations Sérieuses (Op. 54, 1841), the Scherzo a Capriccio (written for inclusion in a compilation called the Album des Pianistes, there is no opus number, but the work dates from 1835 — 1836), and the Rondo Capriccioso (Op. 14, 1828 — 1830)
- Beethoven: A-flat Major Sonata (Op. 110, 1821)
But, for me at least, the high point of the evening came in the final movement of the Beethoven sonata, from the point of the return of the Klagende Lied (Song of Lamentation) theme to the end. This lied passage only lasts about a minute, during which time the performer must convey the most profound emotional desolation (the precise marking: is "ermattet" — "exhausted" — but the rhythm given to the melody, distorted from its first appearance earlier in the movement, suggests a human voice broken with sobbing). Then comes the return of the fugue subject, inverted from its original appearance to fall rather than rise. During the fugue, Beethoven does just about everything possible on the piano of his day to revitalize the emotional state of the music — the soft pedal, used at the beginning, is lifted gradually; the tempo increases bit by bit, then wildly; the contrapuntal details of the fugue are first distorted rhythmically, lose their distinction, and finally pretty much fall away in the gathering rush of notes. The peroration at the conclusion of the movement brings a resounding A-flat Major arpeggiated chord that includes notes from six octaves, and lasts 4 full bars. Kuerti was like a sherpa leading one through all of this, and the finish was positively luminous.
Now the promised word about the Shanghai classical music audience. Perhaps this event was not well marketed. Perhaps other concerts we go to will be better attended, but the orchestra floor was nearly deserted for this one (the balcony was better populated). With a top price of just ¥350 (a bit over $52) I don't think it was money considerations keeping people away. Certainly we have paid higher prices for tickets for other performances at other venues. But there is worse to report. The printed program contained errors both of omission and commission, leaving off the Schumann entirely, and listing the Beethoven work bizarrely as "G Major Sonata, Op. 10" (there are 3 piano sonatas in Op. 10, none of which are in G Major). This was puzzling, since all of the web marketing had the program completely correct. (However, this prompted Kuerti to make some off-the-cuff explanatory comments in English to the audience from the keyboard, which we thoroughly enjoyed.) But there is still worse.... Kuerti had to begin both the Mozart and the Mendelssohn Variations twice. The Mozart, which begins quietly and mysteriously, was sabotaged by the insistent bleeping of a cell phone (despite at least three public announcements — in Chinese and in English — admonishing the audience to silence these daemons). The hiccup with the Mendelssohn came when some of audience were especially noisy in returning tardily to their seats after the interval. We hope this sort of thing won't be the Shanghai norm at classical music concerts.
The Shanghai Concert Hall itself was as ornate as promised. The vaunted acoustics were oversold, but certainly better than average. (Downtown San Diego should have such a nice concert hall, for instance.) But there is an interesting tale to tell about the building. It was built in 1934 as the Nanking Theatre, at least sometimes used for screening motion pictures. Here is a picture of it in 1934. You can just make out that there is a Tarzan movie ("Tarzan and his Mate") on the marquee.
As you can see, the building fronted right on Yan'an Road. I've been unable to confirm it but I believe that when they built the elevated highway above Yan'an Road it would have run right in front of the theater, which had, since 1959, morphed into the Shanghai Concert Hall, Shanghai's most prestigious venue for classical music. So I believe that the city planners were faced with a pressing dilemma in the early part of this decade (this is before Shanghai built the new Shanghai Oriental Art Center in Pudong, which I will report about later — we have two concerts there this week). In what we are gathering is a typical fashion for Shanghai, they decided to opt for a decidedly unconventional solution. Rather than build an entirely new concert hall (which we are told would have been cheaper) they preserved what they had, and simply moved the entire building to a new, more favorable location. It took two years (2002 — 2004) to do the work, which proceeded in three stages. The nearly 6000-ton building was first cut from its old foundations and lifted about 1.7 meters. Then hydraulics were used to move the building 66.4 meters to the south and east. Finally, the building had to be raised another 1.68 meters to be attached to its new foundations in its new location. You can read more about the engineering project to move the building here.
I'm going to close this post with a link to another composition, my second written here in Shanghai. Again, I apologize that I only have a synthetic midi file rather than a recording. Same lame excuse as before: it's pretty difficult, and I haven't had a chance to learn it yet. I hesitate more with this piece than I did with the last one, because it suffers more than that one did from being heard this way. Still, if you take it as given, that when played by a human being, it will have a much more delicate character, you can at least get a hint of how it is meant to sound. So, no more editorializing, my Barcarolle, written during September and October in Shanghai, can be heard here.
11 October 2009
Monday, 12 October 2009
Our Shanghai music season has officially begun.
The Sandra Shen recital last week was actually free, but we now have tickets that cost actual money, for a piano recital in an actual Shanghai concert hall, this coming Saturday night. In fact, the name of the hall is, precisely that: "Shanghai Concert Hall." It's on our very own street (Yan'an Road) but some distance east of here, over in the People's Square area. It's an ornate, European style hall, built in 1930, and it's reputed to have great acoustics. We are going to hear a Canadian pianist born in Vienna, Anton Kuerti, playing Mozart, Haydn, Schumann, Mendelssohn, and Beethoven.
Miles has a quick trip this week — to what is supposed to be a beautiful resort island off South Korea. I was originally going to go, but I'm going to skip this one, partly because we couldn't get a cheap air ticket for me, partly because I'm still a little pooped out on travel from our recent trip to those interior Chinese provinces, and partly because I really want to make some progress on a certain composition I've been working on. So he's going to make it a real quick trip and come right back in good time for the recital Saturday.
All of Shanghai appears to be back in town now, after the combined, eight-day 60th Anniversary National Day / Autumn Moon Festival extravaganza.
The eight day period actually ended officially last Thursday, but many people appeared to take Friday off as well, so as to have an extra three-day weekend to recover. This "recovery" phenomenon has been taken notice of officially with articles about it in the China Daily, with specific advice about eating light after all the holiday meals, what to do about insomnia if it strikes just as you need to rest up, and the like.
It was really eerily quiet last Thursday and Friday, less so Saturday, almost normal yesterday, and now it's back to the usual level of cacophony and energy today. Jack-hammering by night on Yan'an Road reappeared Saturday night, and right now there is a veritable rhapsody for automobile horn and pneumatic drill being performed right outside my window as I type this up above it all on the 31st floor.
I've written a bit about this energy and bustle before, but I've probably failed to convey properly just how intense the combined effect of it is. I'm not even sure I can convey it properly. An unvarnished description of our stretch of Yan'an Road might help, though.
Our part of Yan'an Road is a double-decker affair. The lower part is at street level. At the widest part, just in front of our building, made a bit wider than "normal" by some dedicated turn lanes, you have 6 lanes each way, and they are usually quite full of vehicles, straight across, except perhaps in the slackest time of the day, or at night. As I've written before, lanes here are quite wide, wide enough for a smidgen more than 1.5 car widths, so that people can driver centered on a lane or centered on a lane dividing line. This lower level carries the traffic that is willing to be patient with stopping every couple of blocks or so to wait at a very long traffic light. Or that isn't patient but just hasn't made it to an entrance ramp that goes up to the express lanes above yet. You can tell the patient from the impatient by horn usage. People honk with no discernible purpose, just to let off the steam that rises up from the kettle where they are stewing their soup of impatience.
The lights are very long, partly because it takes quite a long time to cross all of that real estate as a pedestrian, at those places where this is sanctioned, and partly because once you've got all the traffic stopped, you may as well keep it stopped long enough for all other officially opposing traffic to have its opportunity to go. Of course it takes even longer than it should to cross because, once your green light comes, you find yourself pelted from several directions with all the traffic that doesn't obey traffic lights or rules at all, full stop — in fact, this traffic appears to wait for the precise time when pedestrians have just got their green signal to go themselves, knowing that the cars are (mostly) stopped — this traffic consisting of the bicycles and motorized cycles. Some of the motorized cycles are especially eerie because they are not gas-powered, and are consequently nearly silent. This leads to some heart-stopping moments as a pedestrian, as you suddenly see one of those quiet motorized cycles barreling down, aiming directly at you, and you had no advance warning because of their silence. That silence will be broken, at the last moment, when the driver of that quiet motorized cycle beeps its rather pathetic, chihuahua-pitched, horn at you mercilessly, because you are in his or her way.
The express lanes up at the top level occupy four lanes each way. Again, the top level is mostly full at rush hour, less so in between. This upper level is much like a freeway, except that all on- and off-ramps take you to a different level.
At "major" intersections, such as the meeting of Yan'an Road and Jiangsu Road near us, pedestrians are banished from the street level entirely by fence railings just high enough to make it impractical for anyone but an acrobat to get over. Pedestrians then get their own dedicated interchange, in the shape of a quadrilateral with curved corners, on its distinct level, midway between the street level lanes and the express level lanes. You climb steps up to that level and descend from it on steps. (Shanghai is not yet a friendly place for the disabled pedestrian.)
Finally, while you are walking on the fairly narrow sidewalks along side of any of the major roads, such as Yan'an or Jiansu Road, you must be constantly vigilant, because bicycles and motorized cycles (including the silent kind) frequently use the side walks whenever they are too lazy to use the street. This starts out with a kind of legitimate rationale, since these side walks provide the only "official" parking spaces for these vehicles. It is intended that the driver dismount to park, but very few do, and actually many more than those who are parking, or who have just left a parking space, use the side walks.
Perhaps you get a kind of picture.
I could also attempt to describe the really huge interchanges of the subway system, such as at People's Square, where three lines come together, but this is simply beyond my powers of description.
All of the energy implied by this traffic and other activity boils up every day. And this isn't just in our neighborhood, but everywhere in the city.
All this seething energy can't help but have its effects. We are lucky to live 31 floors above it all, but that is only an insulation layer, not an isolation chamber.
I definitely notice its effects in the rather frenetic music I've been writing here. It is very busy stuff, churning with notes every which way. I keep trying to comb through it, pruning out thickness and complexity, but the notes just keep coming.
But don't misunderstand. Here's where you hear me saying in my best "Seinfeld" voice: not that there's anything wrong with all this energy....
The Sandra Shen recital last week was actually free, but we now have tickets that cost actual money, for a piano recital in an actual Shanghai concert hall, this coming Saturday night. In fact, the name of the hall is, precisely that: "Shanghai Concert Hall." It's on our very own street (Yan'an Road) but some distance east of here, over in the People's Square area. It's an ornate, European style hall, built in 1930, and it's reputed to have great acoustics. We are going to hear a Canadian pianist born in Vienna, Anton Kuerti, playing Mozart, Haydn, Schumann, Mendelssohn, and Beethoven.
Miles has a quick trip this week — to what is supposed to be a beautiful resort island off South Korea. I was originally going to go, but I'm going to skip this one, partly because we couldn't get a cheap air ticket for me, partly because I'm still a little pooped out on travel from our recent trip to those interior Chinese provinces, and partly because I really want to make some progress on a certain composition I've been working on. So he's going to make it a real quick trip and come right back in good time for the recital Saturday.
All of Shanghai appears to be back in town now, after the combined, eight-day 60th Anniversary National Day / Autumn Moon Festival extravaganza.
The eight day period actually ended officially last Thursday, but many people appeared to take Friday off as well, so as to have an extra three-day weekend to recover. This "recovery" phenomenon has been taken notice of officially with articles about it in the China Daily, with specific advice about eating light after all the holiday meals, what to do about insomnia if it strikes just as you need to rest up, and the like.
It was really eerily quiet last Thursday and Friday, less so Saturday, almost normal yesterday, and now it's back to the usual level of cacophony and energy today. Jack-hammering by night on Yan'an Road reappeared Saturday night, and right now there is a veritable rhapsody for automobile horn and pneumatic drill being performed right outside my window as I type this up above it all on the 31st floor.
I've written a bit about this energy and bustle before, but I've probably failed to convey properly just how intense the combined effect of it is. I'm not even sure I can convey it properly. An unvarnished description of our stretch of Yan'an Road might help, though.
Our part of Yan'an Road is a double-decker affair. The lower part is at street level. At the widest part, just in front of our building, made a bit wider than "normal" by some dedicated turn lanes, you have 6 lanes each way, and they are usually quite full of vehicles, straight across, except perhaps in the slackest time of the day, or at night. As I've written before, lanes here are quite wide, wide enough for a smidgen more than 1.5 car widths, so that people can driver centered on a lane or centered on a lane dividing line. This lower level carries the traffic that is willing to be patient with stopping every couple of blocks or so to wait at a very long traffic light. Or that isn't patient but just hasn't made it to an entrance ramp that goes up to the express lanes above yet. You can tell the patient from the impatient by horn usage. People honk with no discernible purpose, just to let off the steam that rises up from the kettle where they are stewing their soup of impatience.
The lights are very long, partly because it takes quite a long time to cross all of that real estate as a pedestrian, at those places where this is sanctioned, and partly because once you've got all the traffic stopped, you may as well keep it stopped long enough for all other officially opposing traffic to have its opportunity to go. Of course it takes even longer than it should to cross because, once your green light comes, you find yourself pelted from several directions with all the traffic that doesn't obey traffic lights or rules at all, full stop — in fact, this traffic appears to wait for the precise time when pedestrians have just got their green signal to go themselves, knowing that the cars are (mostly) stopped — this traffic consisting of the bicycles and motorized cycles. Some of the motorized cycles are especially eerie because they are not gas-powered, and are consequently nearly silent. This leads to some heart-stopping moments as a pedestrian, as you suddenly see one of those quiet motorized cycles barreling down, aiming directly at you, and you had no advance warning because of their silence. That silence will be broken, at the last moment, when the driver of that quiet motorized cycle beeps its rather pathetic, chihuahua-pitched, horn at you mercilessly, because you are in his or her way.
The express lanes up at the top level occupy four lanes each way. Again, the top level is mostly full at rush hour, less so in between. This upper level is much like a freeway, except that all on- and off-ramps take you to a different level.
At "major" intersections, such as the meeting of Yan'an Road and Jiangsu Road near us, pedestrians are banished from the street level entirely by fence railings just high enough to make it impractical for anyone but an acrobat to get over. Pedestrians then get their own dedicated interchange, in the shape of a quadrilateral with curved corners, on its distinct level, midway between the street level lanes and the express level lanes. You climb steps up to that level and descend from it on steps. (Shanghai is not yet a friendly place for the disabled pedestrian.)
Finally, while you are walking on the fairly narrow sidewalks along side of any of the major roads, such as Yan'an or Jiansu Road, you must be constantly vigilant, because bicycles and motorized cycles (including the silent kind) frequently use the side walks whenever they are too lazy to use the street. This starts out with a kind of legitimate rationale, since these side walks provide the only "official" parking spaces for these vehicles. It is intended that the driver dismount to park, but very few do, and actually many more than those who are parking, or who have just left a parking space, use the side walks.
Perhaps you get a kind of picture.
I could also attempt to describe the really huge interchanges of the subway system, such as at People's Square, where three lines come together, but this is simply beyond my powers of description.
All of the energy implied by this traffic and other activity boils up every day. And this isn't just in our neighborhood, but everywhere in the city.
All this seething energy can't help but have its effects. We are lucky to live 31 floors above it all, but that is only an insulation layer, not an isolation chamber.
I definitely notice its effects in the rather frenetic music I've been writing here. It is very busy stuff, churning with notes every which way. I keep trying to comb through it, pruning out thickness and complexity, but the notes just keep coming.
But don't misunderstand. Here's where you hear me saying in my best "Seinfeld" voice: not that there's anything wrong with all this energy....
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