Monday, May 31, 2004
Chessmaster
This man was playing chess, as if for the millionth time. I saw him one day, when some friends of mine and I stumbled upon a beautiful garden in Kunming, the capital of Yunnan province. There were a pagoda, a tea shop, and lots of old people sitting around, filling up their time with hobbies.
I walked around with my camera looking for interesting things to photograph, and I saw this man’s wrinkles, his cigarette, and most importantly, the attention he devoted to his game.
Chinese Chess is different from its western variety in a number of ways. Some say that it’s more subtle. I certainly find that it’s easier to find yourself on the losing side without knowing how or why you got there, but maybe that’s just because I’m not very good at it.
In any case, I politely asked this man if he would mind my taking his picture. He didn’t respond. I asked him again, but all I got was something like a shrug that seemed to indicate contempt. Another man, younger than this player, although by no means “young,” who was apparently just watching the game, took notice of me, smiled, and gestured for me to go ahead and take my picture. If he hadn’t done that, I think I would have considered myself blown off and walked away.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is the power of Chinese Chess, a magical square of hypnosis into which old men can fall when they desire to escape from the world, its young people, and its digital cameras. It seemed to have developed in this man the power of concentration to such a degree that I was reduced to little more than a fly.
Or maybe he was just in a bad mood. Maybe he was deaf. In any case, his attitude surprised me, but also left me feeling like I shouldn’t be surprised, as if I had just started a game with him and found myself at a sudden disadvantage.
Even though one part of me felt as if I had been treated rudely, another part of me felt that there was something noble about him and his game. Or perhaps the nobility really came from the observing man at his side, who was kind enough to be polite to me on this man’s behalf.
Friday, May 21, 2004
Old Woman, New World
This is my favorite photo out of the 500 or so that I took last winter in Yunnan. It’s not the most beautiful from an aesthetic point of view, but it has a symbolic meaning to it that I was extremely lucky to catch. I was just walking down the street with my camera open, and as I saw this lady, I stealthily turned to snap a picture from my stomach-height as she walked by.
The woman clings to the past. The future is already here, and she seems almost ill and dizzy in a new world of shopping complexes and brand-name clothes. All of the modern age is caught up in this one blurry moment, and everything is so unclear to her. She clings to the hand of her grandson, who laughs and plays in a world he can understand but she cannot.
But she is the one with the keys to this new world dangling around her neck.
Photos • Yunnan • Way of Life • (59) Trackbacks • Permalink
Taking Humble Steps
As long as I don’t understand why I’m behaving in a certain way, I tend to feel guilty about it. I’ve felt guilty for not updating as often as I have wanted to in the last few weeks. Thinking about why this happens sometimes, I can of course blame it on being occupied with various things, but really I think it comes down to expecting too much of myself. I have tried to learn a lot about writing and web-design, and I have a number of goals in both of these fields that I’m still far from attaining. I have a pretty clear idea of what I like in good writing, but I often feel that I’m not in the right mood—too tired, too sick, too busy, or whatever—to put down writing that lives up to my own standards.
But the real mistake here is to let that stop me from trying—even with just a few words at a time. I need to remember, as many people do, that real progress comes about mainly through the little steps we take on the path towards our goals. The steps that count most are the ones that no one congratulates us for, when we tripped up a little or even just accomplished some small success. Countless little steps cover far more distances than great marathons ever will.
Whatever it is that may be taking place in my life or in the world around me, there is invariably something beautiful there waiting to be discovered… but the approach to that beauty requires humble steps, patient walking, and a steadfast resolution not to let expectations get in the way.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Old Man Tree
Many trees in the Forbidden City, and elsewhere in Beijing’s historic sites, are so old and weak that they need to be supported by these big green crutches. This one looks like an old man trying to bend over without falling over. It’s pitiful, and beautiful, too, in an old and gnarly kind of way.
It reminds me of the dryads, tree spirits of Greek myth. Even though dryads were usually young and female, they had a vulnerability that is still here in this old tree.
In most cases, it would be the old trees that sacrifice themselves for us, in the form of paper, lumber, or a host of other purposes. Tourism is a force, however, that makes us bend over backwards to protect the few trees that tourists will see. Vast forests people don’t see—or more particularly, don’t spend money to see—are also something people rarely spend money to protect.
Monday, May 03, 2004
The Shanghai Taxi/Shopping Problem
The thing about Shanghai is that it’s not quite like what you’d expect China to be. Standing on the pedestrian overpass, you see just how much light there is down there in the intersection and you wonder how China got to be this way. Major shopping centers, such as this one, feel like the beating heart of the city. This is where thousands of young people come each day to hang out, watch movies, eat pizza hut and buy new computers. You could buy an iPod here, eat some French-style vegetarian food, and then go shopping for underwear all without breaking a sweat—if you wanted to, of course.
People are everywhere in places like this, and getting a taxi feels a bit like cutthroat competition at best—if you wait in some sort of respectable line, you’ll never get where you want to go. The first time I tried to get a taxi in this intersection, I waited through about 40 minutes of frustration before a kindly Chinese gentleman finally noticed my plight and had pity on me. Later on, I got good enough at it so that I can go to the right place, cut some other people off, and get in my taxi like an old pro.
The only thing is: I still feel guilty about it. A real Shanghai pro would be past that.
This feeling represents the contradiction that Shanghai presents us with: modern China versus traditional China in all the little aspects of life. Somehow the proper Chinese gentlemanly spirit would be to look around you and see if there’s anyone who needs help getting a taxi, especially a foreigner, a mother, or an elderly person, and then assist them to get one. Even in a crowd, a Chinese gentleman would do that. Having to play along with the regular Shanghai big-city-rules feels very much like going against the civilized rules of greater China.
Is China growing to encompass new things, like shopping megacomplexes and busy city ethics, or does embracing such new concepts mean betraying the values that have always made China what it is?
China • Photos • Shanghai • (48) Trackbacks • Permalink
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