An Italian birthday I shall have to match

2007 being his year of the golden pig, Mr M decided to throw a birthday celebration for all to remember.

After a dinner party at his very nice home (food was catered from an Italian restaurant, complete with a waiter on hand to serve wine) , the 20+ of us guests hopped into the 2 stretch limousines that the unbelievably generous Mr M had chartered to take us to our favourite Glamour Bar on the bund. Sipping champagne the entire way, it was a leisurely and rowdy ride in style through the busiest street of town...


This, we decided amidst boisterous chatter, was celebrity.

At Glamour, champagne (yes, more) and cake were waiting and the whole night was peppered with The Three Tenors (his goods friends) bursting into birthday songs spontaneously at least 20 times. And of course such a night could not just end at one location. A little past midnight, we left Glamour in style again in the limos for more inebriated dancing at Attica further down the bund...

This, I decided with absolute clarity at 1.30 am on a Thursday night (after 7 glasses at that), is a birthday I shall have to match. Preferably before but certainly no later than 36 years young!

落花有意

Postscript: A slightly eyebrow-raising Ms L asked me if the next line of 落花有意 is 流水无情。 Indeed it is, but thankfully for my heart, that was not the underlying intention - it was simply a small meditation on the petals of Moganshan :) But very nice to know that I can convey such subtle nuances in the future...

Considering a career change as a tour organizer

Dear Moganshan folks,

Continue to be good boys and girls by praying, but as of now, there is likely to be thunderstorms on Moganshan on Saturday PM, and the weather will turn quite cold indeed getting into Sunday.

2007年03月31日 24℃ /15℃

2007年04月01日 18℃ /7℃

(P.S. It is not just the mountain - everywhere, including Shanghai, is cold on Sunday and the cold will continue into next week.)

As such, please remember to bring an umbrella / raincoat, a warm jacket and a book. We may all be cuddling together reading over hot coffee or a glass of wine, looking over the misty mountain.... All very poetic! Card games and good story-telling skills welcome too.

To bring some good cheer to us on a rainy Saturday evening, I have taken the liberty to make a dinner reservation for us at the Moganshan Lodge. The dinner will be:

Boeuf Bourguignonne
Classic French beef stew, heavy on the red wine and garlic, and laced with thyme
Accompanied by newish potatoes, salad or greens

There is not really a choice of dishes, as the Lodge's philosophy is:

Produce is locally sourced or homemade (the bacon is cured by us from the excellent local pork), and we try to avoid waste so dinners for example are cooked to order. The idea is that you drop by during your stay, glance over the simple dinner menu and order in advance – preferably 24 hours(alternatively email “ahead” to info@moganshanlodge.com and we’ll send you the menu). We then buy in the ingredients from the local market and you all eat the same meal.

But if anyone of you does not take beef, please let me know as soon as possible so that I can inform the chef.

I would suggest that we make of the good morning weather to walk around Moganshan and then retreat back tot he Lodge when the weather threatens. Sleep in on Sunday morning, have breakfast served in bed if you wish, appreciate the smell of rain again and perhaps the weather will let up a bit for another stroll before we head back to Shanghai at around 5 pm...

Your friendly tour organizer,
Joanne

This is what we call the butterfly effect

Read on my favourite Spiegel Online today:

CHINA PREPARES FOR OLYMPICS
Drop in Executions Leads to Organ Shortage

With the Olympics in Beijing just 500 days away, China has begun cleaning up organ trafficking practices. Not only have exports been banned, but with fewer prisoner executions, a major source of organs has dried up. The result has been a kidney shortage -

In South Korea.

One more reason to love Glamour Bar

Glamour Bar is without a doubt my favourite bar in Shanghai - in part due to its gorgeous Bund location but mostly because of its never-dying atmosphere. (You know how some bars or clubs start going downhill after 12.30 am? At Glamour, it only keeps climbing up.) Oh, then there is that stylish M logo and irresistible postcards...

(Incidentally, I had met the designer of the M logo once through an acquaintance and we chatted over a few martinis (at Glamour of course). A young, humble and cool Chinese dude - what a great combination.)

I have now found one more reason to love Glamour - the »Shanghai Literary Festival.

Spanning two weeks and hosting three dozen authors from all over the world, the event was a welcome reprieve from the usual activities of checking out new bars / restaurants / exhibitions. Nursing a glass of wine on a Sunday afternoon, sitting back and listening to the Irish-accented readings by the authors, eyes occasionally darting to look out to the Bund, the event could not have been better done. I really liked observing how Glamour transforms from a glitzy late-night dancer into a subdued and refined lady of the afternoons / evenings...

Even better was the fact that Ms P and I got the tickets to the Amy Tan session at the last minute. She is a true storyteller - absolutely captivating and well-worth the 90-minute stand. From the moment she started her talk reading from the »CliffsNotes of Joy Luck Club ("I thought CliffsNotes were only for dead authors! So imagine my horror when I found myself appearing alongside with Shakespeare in the bookstore... I just had to buy it to see what it said about me."), all were smitten by her outstanding storytelling skills. Perhaps, it is only through weaving her signature humour with the formal (in the sense of structural) art of storytelling that she is able to publicly relate the chaotic childhood she has had.

My only lament was that I could not attend the session with Dai Sijie (author of Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress) - it was in French :(


Postscript: Perhaps inspired by the Literary Festival, I went into a reading frenzy the weeks after and finished 3 books in 3 weekends. Tim Winton's »Minimum of Two, Marquez's »Of Love and Other Demons and Marina Lewycka's »A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian. I highly recommend the last. It is so funny (Toshiba apples!) and irreverent ("You no-tit woman! what you doing here?") at the same time as it is so observant and poignant. Comedy and tragedy are often only a fine line apart, but very few authors have the finesse to straddle it well.

Little red doves across my Singapore sky

(Courtesy of wireless@SG, this blog post is able to go up from a cafe at Clarke Quay minutes after watching the Chinese New Year fireworks... The Shanghai Mui adores the geek-friendly Singapore.)

Fireworks never fail to elicit oohs and ahhs from me, and even more so when I am not expecting them. I had unknowingly picked TCC at Clarke Quay to meet up with Mr E and it was the perfect spot when the showers of golden willows and zig-zag burst of stars came on with gusto.

But most of all, I love the new variety of fireworks this year -

Like little red doves released across my Singapore sky....

Happy New Year!

My charming little country

It's nice to be back in Singapore. Very nice.

And not having to work makes it even nicer.

Having days and nights at my disposal for two weeks has allowed me to enjoy the charms of my little country more than I ever had in a long time. A full-house Rachmaninoff concert, the new St James Power Station, Oosh and Cafe del Mar, blue skies, juicy big Sri Lankan crabs, super-fresh sashimi, warm sun, delicate little macarons with coffee, workouts in a nice empty gym, wireless headphones in a dentist chair, potable water, honk-less traffic, Chinese dragon dance one night followed by Indonesian dance the next morning...

My charming little country is quite cool indeed.

(Even if it gets a tad hot sometimes!)

Hurtling towards cruelty

Office. I settled into my inbox and saw the nauseating headline on the CNN news: Executed man's head "just snapped off".

I hated the sensationalism of that headline. But yet I clicked to read the article, breakfast threatening to back up on the oesophagus as I read it. (I did stop short of clicking on the video.)

φ

Bar Rouge. I saw midgets dressed in red John Travolta costumes, hired to dance on bar tops. I hated the gaudy objectification of a minority. But I couldn't help but steal furtive glances at their small bodies.

φ

Shanghai Circus. The finale was »the amazing feat of 8 motorcyclists racing in a cage. As I watched them a second time, my heart thumped and prayed for them. Then, in appreciation of their boldness, I clapped as loudly as I can, even though I know I was abetting the race towards the bigger, the louder, the scarier, the more absurd, the more dangerous, the more grotesque.

φ

Magazine. I read this artist's comment in an »exhibition write-up:

I am interested not in the violence itself but in the spectators who watch from a distance. In traditional China it was common to watch public executions, which were lively events.* This tradition has been passed down and assumed modern forms, whether watching a brouhaha in the street or enjoying cop dramas such as Oriental 110 (东方110) and Court Record (庭审纪实). I feel a lot of people watch others suffering. It has become something of a hobby.
- Shi Qing

φ

All around, it is easy to find the Bataillian instinct of wanting to stare at the sun (even though you know you shouldn't). Chinese parents who contort their children on the streets, Thai shows where women stick all sorts of things into themselves, and perhaps, even artists that purport to explore the theme of violence without falling prey to it.

Nothing is enough for us anymore. We are all hurtling towards cruelty.


* But it is not just the Chinese. The French postcard set, Les Supplices Chinois (circa 1912), apparently contains a series of images of the lingchi (凌迟) which were widely circulated among westerners. Lingchi is death by slicing. Some say that the victim should not die before he suffered more than a thousand slices, or else the executioner himself would be put to death.

Hong Kong

只能用沸腾来形容

两次错过了去育音堂听 char si lang 音乐的机会，我决定这次就算自己一个人去都得去。

碰碰运气给上海的朋友发了电邮， 竟然有人问津。8点30分，三个女生开始打滴寻找重金属的足迹。

育音堂很隐秘，埋在深深的货舱区内，外面不挂招牌。路上问人，差点儿被骗到另一条不知名的小巷里。但到底不是特别难找。

我一向钟爱上海艺术与工业融合的成体，也出乎预料地喜欢这 char si lang 的音乐。

上海的地下演奏会，只能用沸腾来形容。

Our victory from 1968

3.30 am, Nanjing Lu
0 degrees, ears cold.
No warm wisp of breath in sight.

3.40 am, Xikang Lu
The women are out on the streets - solo.
Walking home,
Selling noodles,
Manning the convenience store.
Is that our victory from 1968?

3.45 am, Xinzha Lu
Sober from the cold,
Lucid from the walk.
The men are asleep
(even the security guard)
But the women are awake.

Right foot, wrong eye!

Played my first game of squash in Shanghai (and at 9 am at that for a sleepyhead like me) after arriving for 5 months. Starting the new year on the right foot, I thought to myself as I patted my imaginary shoulders.

Then this guy comes along to the squash court behind us, and in the tiny rest area between the two squash courts, starts changing out of his streetwear. For most people who wear their sports gear beneath their jackets and track pants, this is fine. But as I was picking up the ball and walking back to serve, I saw this guy strip to his bare skin at the top. (No, he was no hunk.)

Raise one eyebrow. Never mind, somebody's feeling hot, and maybe I missed the news that 2007 is the year of liberation.

A few more strokes and I missed the ball again. As I picked up the ball a second time, I saw this guy stripped to his briefs.

??

Wait a minute, is it now acceptable to treat a rest area like a men's room? Did I just sleep 2 decades away in the night? Sure, you have funky black briefs with sparkly silver stripes across, but seriously,we don't need to know that...

Starting the new year on the right foot, but certainly on a wrong eye...

Ciao 2006

Having decided not to pay the exorbitant 450 - 900 RMB (S$90-180) for entry into a bar, I decided to cook up a storm for people who were willing to brave it:

Soup of the Day
Piping-Hot Miso Soup

Chilled Amuse Bouches
Hmong Fish Sauce Noodles
Japanese Zaru Soba
Chinese Vermicelli with Sha Cha Sauce

Entrees
Out-of-the-Pot Spaghetti in Tomato and Mushroom Base
Singaporean Beef Rendang

Desserts
Lizzy's Amazing Fudge
Lizzy's Even More Amazing Ambrosia

Nibbles
Ross' Gorgeous Cheese, Olives and Breadstick Platter
Jose's Spanish Olives and Anchovies

Nightcap
Fireworks in the taxi on the way to the bund
A beautiful walk down the river for the buildings that kept their lights on for us
Topped off with gin and tonic when the lights went out...

The subsea dragon

We never think about subsea cables
Until we are left with only 1% internet access for 2 days and still counting.

We never think about Skype or phone card alternatives
Until it takes 8 tries to get 1 decent Paris-Shanghai phone call.
(And that is after abandoning Skype.)

We never think about Taiwan
(or Tibet or Myanmar or East Timor for that matter)
Until the subsea dragon lashes out in protest.

At the turn of the next corner: 上海弄堂

__

__

I love Shanghai at the turn of the corner

Most of the time, I like Shanghai.
(On a few occasions, I hate it.)
But some days, I really just fall in love with this city.
Days like this, when I stumble upon an exhibition,
in my favourite building on the Bund.
Art, vibrancy, Absolut Lomo.
Shanghai with a surprise at the turn of the corner -
That's my Shanghai.

This night of 20th December

This night of 20th December, the gazelle felt a little three-legged.

Returning to her savannah, a "Welcome back home!" greeted her in cheerful melancholy.

She staggered a little, finally able to stagger in the solitude of her own savannah after a whole day of striding. Out in the wild, striding was the only honourable way to walk, even if you are three-legged.

The gazelle staggered a few more steps towards the white haystack. But she forgot what she should have remembered before collapsing into it - the lingering scent of the lion in the haystack. (This gazelle has an incredible memory of smell. Smells for her are like the taste of madeleines for Proust.)

The scent that floated towards her was both comforting and debilitating at the same time. She could not even stagger anymore now. She burrowed her head into the softness of the haystack for a long time.

At long last, the gazelle got up and looked around. The savannah was lingering with the lion's presence. She decided to graze on some fresh grass. The nightingales decided to sang.

It was the lion's Bach in the solitude of the night.

Five degrees Celsius

Five degrees Celsius
Naked ears cold
Woollen neck warm.

Sunlight streaming through the leaves
Water dripping in the distance
I take each step,
Mindful
Mindful
Mindful.

The calf muscle awakes,
Yawns,
Then sets in motion:
Right –
Heel, arch, toes
Left –
Heel, arch, toes.

I stop in front of the cockroach
Shape barely discernible
Now a cold empty shell.
I close my eyes in prayer:
One day
We shall be Buddhas together.

The meditation bell chimes
The cold air reverberates
Three birds flutter through the sky.

One deep breath
Two gentle smiles.

Response to a taunt from Boris Vian via the mafia

« Le travail est probablement ce qu'il y a sur cette terre de plus bas et de plus ignoble. Il n'est pas possible de regarder un travailleur sans maudire ce qui a fait que cet homme travaille, alors qu'il pourrait nager, dormir dans l'herbe ou simplement lir »

Boris Vian
Mocking at me
Tired little Asian eyes
Too small now to be seen
Not reading L'Écume des Jours
Not hearing Duke Ellington
All because
Tomorrow starts 06:15.

French-cuff shirt fresh off the tailor
Pink on pink cuff links
Gray skirt, matching horsehair heels

They now seem
My sole raison d'etre
For work.

After fake eggs... now fake alcohol

So I thought fake eggs were already the most incredible thing in China... until I got really sick on Friday night from drinking at - check this out - the reputable Bar Rouge at Bund 18.

It was the first time I got so sick from drinking. I threw up big time on Friday, spent all of Saturday in bed head spinning and nauseous like anything, and basically couldn't think about eating anything till 9 pm. And even then, it was just flat bread and water.

A couple of people tried to diagnose my plight: "Ohh, mixing wine and hard liquor is not good", "maybe it was mixing vodka, bourbon etc together", or "you just drunk too much too fast"... But the point is this was not the first time I have had wine at dinner and cocktails further down the night. But it was definitely the sickest I have ever been from drinking. (And you folks know I hold my liquor quite well, so it can't be that.)

Revelation just now when I met Ms O for dinner (she was equally sick, but had been more sick before) - the alcohol was fake. (Read more »here or try googling for "fake / counterfeit alcohol china".) And no, it doesn't just happen at underground speakeasies in the 1920s. Even if the 80% of bars quoted by some is an exaggeration, the average is still probably about 50-70% - which includes perfectly reputable bars like Bar Rouge.

Welcome to China! (And keep me away from the alcohol for a while...)



Tip: A good remedy to feel better (I was so desperate that I asked my ayi for a folk remedy when she came over on Sat) is to drink vinegar. Sounds terrible, but balsamic vinegar doesn't taste so bad and you can dilute / add sugar to it if you want. It worked for me and looking it up on the internet, it is quite a popular remedy. About 30 - 50 ml of vinegar - spread it out a few times if you can't swallow it.