As mad as a March Hare

Beihai Park on a chilly afternoon

新年快乐，恭喜发财！

Another Lunar New Year holiday 春节 is upon us. This one, which began on Sunday the 22nd, is the Year of the Rabbit 兔年. As you're probably (or should be) aware, there are twelve signs in the Chinese Zodiac, meaning that your turn will come around every dozen years. In 2023 it's my time (or that of my symbol) in the spotlight. You can do the math to calculate which age milestone I will be reaching this year (my birthday coming in late spring), but suffice it to say the rabbit is supposedly a symbol of longevity, peace and prosperity in Chinese culture, and therefore 2023 is predicted to be one of hope. Considering how a myriad of mental and physical health issues have intensified and coalesced during the latter half of the Year of the Tiger 虎年, turning to superstition in the belief that things will get better in the year of my celestial beast is a tempting option. 

For now, however, I'll let buproprion work its black magic, and try to focus on things positive. China's COVID crisis shows few signs of easing, but it's becoming more difficult to recall (no surprise, considering my memory struggles of late) that fewer than two months ago we were, for all intents and purposes, forbidden from traveling outside of Beijing 北京. If present trends continue, this blog will start first presenting posts on travels within China, followed by entries dedicated to excursions in the greater east Asian region (pending a return of reasonably-priced air tickets, that is). So perhaps "hope" 希望 is the word of this new Lunar New Year - if all goes as planned, I'll pay my respects to the Leporid deities around this time next year as the dragon steps up for its turn at the plate.

The decorations are up on the front door and inside the house:

"招財進寶" (Zhāocáijìnbǎo) says Caishen 財神, the God of Wealth and Prosperity, wishing us all wealth and success:

Hanging the character 福 ("good fortune; happiness; luck) upside down is intended to ensure that only the best of luck arrives in the home. We seem to be the only ones doing so in our housing complex, however, meaning one of two possibilities: a.) it's more of a southern Chinese/Taiwanese custom; or b.) most of the foreign families living here place the character right-side up on their front doors because they're unaware of the custom. Or, as it turns out, it could be option c.) you're only supposed to display the character upside down indoors, as my better half (the one who theoretically should know all about this) would only much later point out:

A nearby shopping center provided us with these rabbit-themed decals to adhere to all the windows in our townhouse. My wife and daughter dutifully did so, meaning we now have limited visuals on what's going on outside:

The Lunar New Year's Eve 除夕 dinner is of great significance (then again, is there anything in traditional Chinese culture that isn't?). The dishes we had that evening included steamed fish, because the word for "fish" yú 鱼 sounds similar to that for "surplus" yú 余; and turnip cakes, due to gāo being a homonym for "cake" 糕 and "tall" 高 - eating the former will ensure growth in the coming year:

The compound management gave each residence a bottle of Spanish wine (Veritas D.O.C. Palmea 2019), suitably packaged:

And to top off all the celebrations, Amber's 17th birthday happened to fall this year on the Lunar New Year's Eve, so following dinner it was time for some cake and presents, and concluding with the cash-filled red envelopes known as hóngbāo 红包:

(All celebrations aside, this kicking off of the Year of the Rabbit has been tinged with melancholy, as the reality begins to dawn that on the one hand the number of years I have in front of me are fewer in number than those in my rearview mirror; while Amber is only a year away from adulthood, and thus on the verge of leaving the proverbial nest to strike out on her own.)

Back to the here and now. On the first day of the Year of the Rabbit (Sunday) the three of us ventured outside to the SOLANA shopping mall in search of lunch: 

At Let's Burger I dared to order (a Lunar New Year's resolution, perhaps?) the Elvis Burger, a beef patty adorned with fried bananas, peanut butter and bacon, and supposedly a favorite of the late, great King of Rock and Roll. The verdict? Much better than it sounds, and who are we to question royalty?:

From SOLANA it was over to Chaoyang Park 朝阳公园, where the girls eyed the fun being had on the frozen lake:

Shu-E doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, with the lone exception that of cotton candy, especially when it's being whipped up with a seasonal twist:

Around the lake were photos of winter sports, presumably put up to promote the 2022 Winter Olympics. However, something went wrong with this poster - while the Mandarin 现代冬季两项 and the two photos would suggest one event, the English wording points to another sport:

After some indecision on my wife's part, she and Amber ventured out onto the frozen surface to do some ice carting. The woman in the red coat to the right of the lantern is Shu-E; Amber is to her right:

While the girls were zipping back and forth across the 26 centimeter- (10.2 inches) thick ice, your humble scribe took a walk around the lake. The three of us found ourselves in the same place and at the same time on the opposite side of the lake. Seeing as the ice was remaining firm under my bulk, I told myself I should give this ice cart thing a shot in the not-too-distant future:

I've been told that while winters are cold in Beijing 北京, snowfall is infrequent. After all, most of the snow you saw on the slopes during the Olympics was artificial. So it came as something of a mild surprise when I awoke on Monday morning to this sight. Apparently, the temperature during the early morning hours had dipped to -15°C/5°F:

By the time we were ready to go outside that morning, it had warmed to -6°C/21°F. I had on three layers of shirts, two layers of socks and thermal underwear - I don't do cold well:

Our destination that day was one that my wife had chosen, the Panjiayuan Market 潘家园古玩市场. However, upon reaching the market only to discover there were no open cafes or restaurants...:

…we retreated across the busy road to a Xinjiang restaurant for some lunch:

Afterward, we returned to the market only to find it somewhat deserted, most likely because of the Lunar New Year holiday (on the assumption many of the vendors had returned to their hometowns). Shu-E pointed out an interesting goings-on in one of the open shops - according to her, people buy rocks to later crack open in the hope there's a gem of some kind inside, in what appears to be a lottery-like form of gambling:

Many of the vendors at the market that day were selling intricately-carved walnuts (though they reminded more of testicles for some unfathomable reason). As my wife explained, people manipulate these in their hands as a form of stress relief, but I'll remain with the tried-and-true alcohol + medication method for the time being:

Not only was the market largely void of vendors, it was also freezing cold in the open stall areas. According to my weather app, while the temperature was "only" -5°C/23°F, with the wind chill it was feeling more like -11°C/12°F:

One shop had what appeared to be carved ivory for sale. Domestic ivory trading is banned in China, but law enforcement would seem to be a different matter. The piece on the left was priced at RMB3.5 million ($516,000)!:

The best thing about this shop was that it was heated inside:

A shrine to Guangong 关公, another God of Wealth, fronts a street of closed shops. The banner overhead means something akin to "Night trip to Panjiayuan":

An idea of some of the disparate items on offer at the market:

According to Lonely Planet, the Panjiayuan Market is most active on weekends, and presumably after the Lunar New Year holidays. We plan on going there again once the weather warms up. I have my eye on a certain seated Mao Zedong 毛泽东 figurine that I would like to add to my collection of mementos before we depart post in two years' time:

I woke up on Tuesday morning at around 0630 to answer the call of nature. After returning to bed and before drifting back off to sleep, I checked the weather app and saw that it was -16°C/3°F outside. Temperatures had "warmed" up to -12°C/10°F by the time I later rose from bed and went downstairs for breakfast, but the community WeChat forum was filled with messages from residents complaining of low water pressure due to frozen pipes. Still preferable to be mildly inconvenienced in central Beijing than dealing with the climate in China's coldest city, Mohe 漠河. 

Later that morning I went up to my daughter's bedroom on the top floor, and while there noticed that the bottom half of one of the windows in her room was covered with frost...only that the ice was on the inside, and not on the exterior of the window!:

Seeing as it never rose above -6°C/21°F, it was probably for the best we stayed in Tuesday. On the other hand, it didn't get past -6°/21°F on Wednesday afternoon either, but we ventured outside at the behest of Shu-E, who wished to visit Wangfujing 王府井, one of Beijing's most well-known shopping streets. While I've been to the area a couple of times now since we arrived here last summer, for my wife it was her first time since we had a Peking duck dinner there following our day spent at the Forbidden City 紫禁城 on a cold December day back in 2013. At that time Wangfujing was famed as a "snack street", but since then has been transformed into a district of modern mega-malls:

Shu-E did find one restaurant located on what had been the snack street's main drag, and that is where we had lunch. It was the same temperature indoors as it was outside, as the only heat inside came from the dishes being served. It also didn't help that the only vacant table when we entered was located right by the entrance:

Beef noodle soup 牛肉面. The beef came in the form of soft, spongy cubes similar in texture to tofu:

Stepping out from the cold back into the chill on Wangfujing's main pedestrian street:

Posing in front of the Beijing Department Store 北京市百货大楼, which has been in business since 1955:

It turned out that this would be our primary destination for that day, as my wife revealed she wanted to check out a special event being held in the department store's basement. Google Translate renders the name 京味儿国潮会 as "Beijing Taste National Tide Club", revealing the limitations of current translation technology. What it turned out to be was a recreation of old Beijing in the form of various shops, like this calligrapher's:

In the room next door was a mockup of the kind of bell found in Buddhist temples, which the three took turns in giving a good thwack:

The giant Buddha head and hands seemed to evoke more an atmosphere of ruins than of a functioning neighborhood temple:

The poster on the right is for a 1935 film called China Seas, starring Clark Gable, Jean Harlow and Wallace Beery. And, no, I've never seen it:

A recreation of an advertisement for Réndān 仁丹, a mouth refresher lozenge that's been produced since 1935:

One section evoked Beijing's hutong 胡同 alleys:

With all the ersatz shops and stalls about, apparently it was necessary to point out the following: "Please note this is really a toilet":

This train mockup served as a rest area:

Of course there were various snacks for sale:

A stall selling sachets of various stripes and types:

 

吹糖人 - "sugar blower". Okay, here goes. The customer would tell the master which shape they wanted, and then they would blow when prompted into this sugary concoction while he would create the figurine:

Amber opted for the pig, and took her time devouring it:

COVID be damned - the old Beijing area was crowded with visitors (all wearing masks, fortunately). The atmosphere it was trying to evoke, interestingly enough, was that of the pre-Communist era, although Shu-E pointed out that in some of the shops, the feeling was more akin to that of Taiwan in the 1950's or '60's. Eventually, having seen everything there, we returned upstairs and checked out the rest of the department store, where it didn't take Amber long to make a new friend:

It was dusk by the time we left the Beijing Department Store:

We ventured into a couple of other busy shopping centers. In today's China the People's Commune sells souvenir biscuits to tourists:

This shop sold Buddhist items. I have my eye on a beautifully carved wooden Buddha figure. The only thing holding me back is the RMB13,500 price tag, which is almost $2000:

One of these things is not like the other, one of these things doesn't belong:

Time to leave Wangfujing and return home:

Back in our area, we went into a building with two restaurant floors. The only establishment open during the Lunar New Year was a Korean diner:

Thursday would turn out to be a bit warmer, as the temperature would hit a "high" of 0°C/32°F, though a bitterly cold wind would blow through at times to remind us that winter is a right bastard. On this day my wife wanted to visit Beihai Park 北海公园 for a second time, the first having been on an extremely windy day back in October. At that time it had been decided that we would return in the spring, to explore the western half of the park amidst blooming flowers. But Shu-E wanted to see what sorts of activities were happening on Beihai Lake, so off we went...along with many others, all sharing my wife's vision (which tends to happen quite often when she plans outings).

Upon entering the park, we began strolling along the western side of the lake, which we hadn't done on our prior visit. First up was the Western Elysium 西天梵境, with its magnificent Hall of Great Mercy and Truth, originally a Ming-era lamasery that was later rebuilt during the Qing dynasty: 

Unfortunately, visitors aren't allowed inside the cedar structure. Doors were open to allow us to "see" the Buddha statues within, but they were virtually invisible deep within the dark interior. Shu-E took a liking to the exterior lattice work:

Next up as we continued our walk was the Nine Dragon Screen 九龙壁. The 5.96-meter (19.56 feet)-high, 25.52-meter (83.73 feet)-long "spirit wall" was erected in 1756, and proved difficult to photograph in the shadows of a fading winter sun:

On both sides of the wall are writhing dragons formed of glazed tiles:

The girls would frequently stop to look at the ducks. I would wonder why they (the ducks, not the girls) didn't fly south to somewhere much warmer for the winter, the stupid fowl:

The Kuaixue Tang Courtyards 快雪堂  date from 1746:

Present-day Beijing felt like a distant memory within the innermost courtyard:

Beihai Park is dominated by the 36-meter (118 feet) -high, Tibetan-style White Dagoba 白塔:

Built way back in the Yuan Dynasty (when the Mongols ruled China), the Iron Screen Wall has seen several homes, arriving in Beihai Park in 1947. The screen is carved out of volcanic rock, but its iron-like appearance gave it its name. There are animals and cloud patterns on both sides:

The old and the new in Beijing:

Amber made friends with several of the park's resident felines:

Alas, Little Western Heaven 小西天, the largest square pavilion-style palace in China (according to Lonely Planet), is currently closed for renovations. Which of course gives us a reason to go back to Beihai Park for a third time:

We finally reached the southeastern corner of the park, where visitors were being allowed to venture out onto the ice for some fun. My wife sniffed that Chaoyang Park looked more interesting, and so we were done for the day at Beihai Park:

We ended the day having dinner at the Goose Island brewpub in SOLANA. For some reason, the Beijing location isn't listed on the brewery's website:

My Lunar New Year holiday officially came to an end on Friday, when the embassy reopened for business after a four-day break. However, as my classes won't resume until Monday the 30th, 星期五 was designated for "self-study". Which, believe it or not, I actually did...a little of, as well as stopping by the office to catch up on email messages. For my daughter, though, the day was another holiday, so she and her mother went to a temporary "snow park" for some ice sliding fun. I would've joined them, except that "the elderly" and people with "heart conditions" were advised not to join in the fun, according to the park's website. At least that's what my wife told me. Watching the video she shared with me, I suspect I may have been the victim of a misinformation campaign:

At least it looked as if the girl had some fun:

Saturday - technically, just the start of another weekend for me, but for Amber the penultimate day of her LNY break. With the water in our compound being turned off in the afternoon for maintenance work on the pipes, we went our for lunch at a teppanyaki 鉄板焼き restaurant. As is often the case when Shu-E takes the lead on ordering, we ended up with far too many red meat dishes:

This was probably the most exciting thing that happened to us the entire day:

In order to do something about all that animal flesh in our digestive systems, my daughter and I went for a long walk after lunch along the Liangma River (my wife going home to fall into a carnivorous coma), eventually eschewing the path for the frozen river. It may have warmed up to 5°C/41°F on Saturday, but the ice was still plenty thick enough:

In addition to skaters and people on ice carts, several fishers were out hoping to catch something under the ice:

At one point, Amber said I walked "funny" on the ice, and made a brief video to show me. So now I'm officially an old person afraid of slipping and breaking a hip:

The first week of the Lunar New Year went out with a whimper and not a bang on Sunday as we didn't do anything of a particular note. Not to mention the lethargy and blurred vision I've had all day didn't lend themselves for an active outing, though at least an at-home COVID test this evening turned up a negative result.

Tomorrow it's back to classes for my daughter and me, while my wife will work on a couple of ongoing projects involving automobiles and felines. From this point going forward, let's see if bunnies turn out to be more auspicious than endangered cats.

If you've been wondering why I refer to the "Lunar New Year" instead of "Chinese New Year", this CNN article might be enlightening. Suffice it to say anything that raises the ire of Chinese nationalists ("We can see that the 'Lunar New Year', led by Koreans, is an ideological attack on Chinese culture by Western countries...") is enough to settle the argument for me.

Wishing you all prosperity and wealth, and a Happy (Lunar) New Year! 

Those hēi gǒu 黑狗 days of winter

The writing is on the wall

Life in Beijing 北京 these days, it seems, has turned into a medley of Led Zeppelin songs. I'm often dazed and confused, finding it difficult to remain focused on tasks at hand. Communications with Mandarin teachers have broken down as I struggle in class to remember vocabulary, sentence patterns and grammar structures that I should've mastered by now. And throughout the weeks and months a black dog that a certain wartime leader often made reference to has been an unwanted faithful companion, a loyal Hachikō that I would prefer be put to sleep (sorry 忠犬ハチ公). If you've been wondering why the first blog post of 2023 (or the last of the current Lunar New Year) hasn't appeared sooner, it's because the desire to venture outside (other than to reluctantly attend classes) in the evenings and on weekends hasn't been there. 

But this is where the Zeppelin references will cease for now. Diagnoses have been confirmed, consultations have been initiated and medication hopefully will soon be meted out. And while the next few months are going to be a struggle to get through language training (and then the start of a job for which I've had no prior experience doing), the continual opening up of China in a post-Zero-COVID world holds out the hope that summer will finally provide the long-awaited opportunity to immerse myself once again in a culture that has meant so much personally, one that I'm long overdue in visiting. 

There's a light shining at the end of the tunnel, provided it isn't the kind of glow that drew General Westmoreland to his career doom. It was that feeling of 希望 that finally got me out of the house on Sunday (yesterday), though the bone-chilling weather and the stupid decision to ride a bicycle instead of taking a bus resulted in much second-guessing on my part, no matter how much my daughter reassured me otherwise. Despite it being -4°C/25°F (with a windchill of -9°C/16°F), the deceptively sunny weather and the Apple Maps data insisting it was the quickest form of transport convinced me that Amber and I should visit the 798 Art District 798艺术区 via Beijing's shared bike system (my philistine spouse opted to stay indoors). It was a choice of transport soon regretted - after only ten minutes into the ride, my hands were in pain from the chill, despite the thick gloves I was wearing. It was at this point that we stopped for a much-needed lunch break at a rāmen ラーメン restaurant, a chance to briefly get out of the cold:

ラムネ乾杯！

Unfortunately, as Apple Maps indicated there were no convenient buses to hop on in the area, we had no choice following the meal but to finish the bike ride to our destination. The 798 Art District is a gallery complex located on the site of the decommissioned "718 Joint Factory", built in the 1950's with East German assistance:

Since the late 1990's the factory site has been home to artists, designers and publishers, and the galleries displaying their works. The most famous of the latter is UCCA (Ullens Center for Contemporary Art 尤伦斯当代艺术中心):

There were three exhibitions going on as my daughter and I paid the admission and went inside (out of the cold!), two of which were of only mild interest. Zhang Ruyi: Speaking Softly was one of those two:

The "highlight" of the exhibit was Water Stain, the pink tiles of which resembled the exterior of an old Taiwanese apartment building being covered for some reason by a plastic film. An "individual emotional transformation, constantly shaped by postmodern industry"? The call is yours to make:

Fortunately, the old bathroom was only the warmup act for the headliner, Somewhere Downtown: Art in 1980's New York:

Apparently, Keith Haring was quite the scenester in the Big Apple during the 1980's, at least judging by the number of his works on show at UCCA. 1982's Untitled (face) was spraypainted on the roof of a postal truck:

In my vast media-shaped ignorance, New York City was a crime-ridden, trash-strewn, graffiti-covered hellhole during the 1970's and '80's (I wouldn't make my first visit there until the summer of 1998, when I was pleased to discover that virtually all of my stereotyped biases were thoroughly mistaken). I wondered what impressions the 20ish-early 30ish Chinese visitors in attendance on Sunday were forming as they were introduced to a world that must have been thoroughly alien to them (as it was also to someone like yours truly, who spent most of the Eighties on the other side of the country, in northern California):

This multimedia installation was playing loops of commercials from the era. Amber was stunned that I could recall the dialog to the Mikey Life cereal commercial, especially when I pointed out where the subtitles were mistaken:

For those of you who have no clue as to what the hell I was going on about above:

The Pop Shop was a store owned and operated by guess who? Keith Haring:

My retro Los Angeles Kings jersey took on a literal shine in this blacklight-lit room, making me a part of the exhibition:

My daughter found herself drawn (her words) like a moth to a candle flame (mine) to the Asian-themed works on display, like these oils on canvas by Nam June Paik:

Jean-Michel Basquiat collaborated with Haring and others on these fiberglass vases. Amber is familiar with him both from when we visited the Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh, and from a hoodie of hers that features his crown motif design. Kids these days, am I right?:

Viewing the Moon, 1884-1894 by David McDermott and Peter McGough, an oil on canvas imitating the style of British Orientalist copies of Japanese prints from the Meiji era 明治時代:

The woman in white asked the gallery worker to film her looking at a painting. I don't think this was going out live, but it isn't uncommon to see Chinese livestreamers in action at popular tourist sites:

I refrained from making any snarky comments on the above photograph because soon after I had my daughter pose in front of Julian Schnabel's Alas, with it's "Kabuki theater backdrop". Parents, am I right?:

 

The Future that Never Happened by Kenny Scharf imagines pop culture characters such as those from The Jetsons in some nightmarish scenarios:

My favorite pieces were the inkjet prints by Tseng Kwong Chi entitled It's a Reagan World! It sure was back then. While looking at them, I was somewhat surprised that Amber knew of trickledown economics, the most infamous of the disastrous Reagan-era experiments that ended up worsening the rich-poor divide in the U.S. It's Mourning in America!*:

Yes, Amber did ask if TV's were really that big and bulky back in the day, instantly causing my rheumatism to act up:

Overall, I was quite impressed with Somewhere Downtown, though it certainly didn't evoke any sense of nostalgia for that bygone time in American history. In contrast, I was less than inspired by the third exhibit, Geof Oppenheimer: People in Revenge, not even remembering to make note of the name of this installation:

On the other hand, the ginormous mural Map of the Art World by Qiu Zhijie could not be missed, especially as it was mounted on the wall by the lavatories, close to the gift shop:

Somewhere Downtown came with its own soundtrack. At the listening station I introduced my daughter to Bela Lugosi's Dead, risking putting her on the path to becoming a goth by doing so:

Again, for those of you little 'uns too wee to know of that which I write:

Jeff Koons selling his soul to BMW:

Following our visit to UCCA the two of us stepped back into winter, and strolled through a part of the 798 Art District complex:

All those industrial chimneys, factories and workshops beg further exploration (especially as many of the galleries appeared to be closed - hopefully some will reopen as the economy recovers from the government's mishandling of the coronavirus). I can already picture ourselves strolling around on a warm weekend afternoon, or people watching while sitting outdoors in a café (my philistine wife opting to stay at home). Early January isn't quite the right time to immerse oneself in musings on how Chinese artists maneuver under an authoritarian political system. 

So for now I'll seek solace over the hills and far away as I anticipate those thoroughly legal prescriptions taking me on a misty mountain hop. Until then, here are a few recent photos taken on those rare occasions the past few weeks when I forced myself to go outside. Like this thoroughly overwrought sculpture outside the entrance to a condo complex, an example of the poor taste that comes with sudden wealth, and a common sight in China's large cities:

A local park that I had passed on my way back from hospital visits. I was hoping to see a pantheon of Socialist heroes, but was sadly disappointed:

Beijingers enjoying themselves on the ice. The next day was the onset of a warm spell, temporarily putting a halt to such activities as the frozen sheets retreated. It looks (and feels!), however, the ice will be back to full strength soon:

A can of Old Qingdao (Tsingtao?) 老青岛 beer that Shu-E purchased from a local supermarket. Like many of the Chinese beers I've been sampling recently, the taste wasn't bad, a sign that the 啤酒 situation has greatly improved since the last time we were in China almost eight years ago:

Until the next post, I have no choice but to leave you with this...

*Historical disclaimer: I voted for Ronald Reagan in 1984, the first presidential election in which I was eligible to vote. But what did I know? I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.