Every day for the past three weeks, I've said good morning and good night to that fire at the rim of the Bird's Nest. I could always count on seeing the distant glowing light from my elevator lobby, when I left in the morning and when I came back at night. And every day, that flame sent me off to work fired up and welcomed me home with its warm embrace. Yesterday morning, it didn't.
That's a brief synopsis for the upcoming Korean drama, "Please, BOCOG, Give Me A Little More Time" (working title). In all seriousness, it's been fun being in Beijing for the Olympics and I feel a little empty seeing it come to an end. Not to mention the closing ceremony hardly provided the catharsis that I needed to reach closure. What happened to the grandiose theatrics that we've come to expect and crave? Contemporary song-and-dance routines - yes, even with Wang Leehom and Rain - are just grossly inadequate now that I know I could be ooh-aahing over thousands of men in color-changing spandex suits forming crazy shapes. Olympics, come back! I'll be waiting for you in my elevator lobby ... until I go to Shanghai tomorrow.
But don't fret, fire, you are still burning and will always burn in my heart. I can feel you. Unless that feeling is from the disgustingly greasy Peking duck I had. Please, no more Peking duck.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
WANGSTRUCK (that's what she said)
Just when I thought I need to start pulling entries out of a hat to fill this space, awesomeness in the form of a Wang came along and slapped me in the face.
WATCH:
Yes be jealous, I even shook his hand. Friend is friends with his assistant who snuck us backstage, and we had to feign disinterest to stay below the staff's radar. Hence the surreptitiously shot footage. Dear employers, here is the seedling of a great investigative journalist. Hire me please.
He gave his assistant a scowl when she introduced us as her friends, but was nice enough to make about 25 seconds of small talk. "Northwestern? Great school. Great music theater program. A lot of Greek life, right? Uh oh, gotta go."
Anyway, he's supposedly in town to perform at the closing ceremony tonight. Coca-Cola took the opportunity to stage a massive self-congratulatory PR orgy (appropriately with enormous big-screen graphics of Coke bottles spraying out clusters of balls - see below), and had him and Jacky Cheung sing two songs each.
Two thoughts after the event: there is no limit to the shamelessness (and consequent awesomeness) of corporate masturbation. And where can I get a Coke right now?
WATCH:
Yes be jealous, I even shook his hand. Friend is friends with his assistant who snuck us backstage, and we had to feign disinterest to stay below the staff's radar. Hence the surreptitiously shot footage. Dear employers, here is the seedling of a great investigative journalist. Hire me please.
He gave his assistant a scowl when she introduced us as her friends, but was nice enough to make about 25 seconds of small talk. "Northwestern? Great school. Great music theater program. A lot of Greek life, right? Uh oh, gotta go."
Anyway, he's supposedly in town to perform at the closing ceremony tonight. Coca-Cola took the opportunity to stage a massive self-congratulatory PR orgy (appropriately with enormous big-screen graphics of Coke bottles spraying out clusters of balls - see below), and had him and Jacky Cheung sing two songs each.
Two thoughts after the event: there is no limit to the shamelessness (and consequent awesomeness) of corporate masturbation. And where can I get a Coke right now?
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Owls, Team America (f. yeah), and the corporate promised land
A brief stretch of the routine life in a summer of travels. Wake up at 9:30; angrily give directions to clueless cab drivers; make like a paparazzi and ambush Aussie athletes. Three mildly interesting places I've been to lately:
Hooters
"We are hooters, hooters of Beijing..." Fake birthdays abounded.
USA House
U.S. athletes' "home away from home." Country club-like setting with multiple open bars, a Wii lounge, lakeview terraces, masseuses, uniformed waiters, floor-to-ceiling windows and a Team USA souvenir shop reminiscent of a college bookstore, with all prices indicated in U.S. dollars. Complete with an enormous wall-sized photo reprint of U.S. athletes marching in the opening ceremony in their Ralph Lauren. Proved that Americans can be just as analcratic as the Chinese when guards barred me from re-entering, twice, after I took several steps outside the premise to take photos of the building's exterior. Which I was made to delete. Fries with your elitism?
(Waiters set up something in front of said photo reprint; Team USA store)
Olympic Green
Enormous outdoor plaza just north of Bird's Nest. Hardly green. A veritable Disneyland of transnational corporations, in fact. Companies like Coca-Cola and Lenovo set up multimillion-dollar pavilions with interactive exhibits, visual marvels and plenty of photo-ops to let Olympics visitors "experience" their brands. Lights everywhere, music everywhere, lights that play music everywhere. Walmart-sized Olympics souvenir "Super Store" made me about 3,000RMB poorer (come on, limited edition pins? EBay!). Not overcrowded and unpleasant like other Chinese tourist sites because government only allows ticketholders to Olympics events or those with day passes doled out on an invitational basis.
Which brings me to my next story of how I bargained for a day pass onto the Green. I arrived at the gate at about 7:30 p.m., which is 30 minutes after the day pass is supposed to expire. I found a guy hawking one, and the following conversation ensued:
how much? 100. 20? 35 and you have a deal. come on that's only a 15rmb difference. 35 is final. (feign walk-away) fine, 25. okay but you're coming with me to the ticket entrance so i know i can still get in. trust me you can. (pumps chest) so just come with me, it's only a 2 minute walk. no no no. fine take it for 20. i'd rather give you the extra 5 for you to come with me. it's too far. how about 10rmb? that just tells me that i can't get in anymore. are you calling me a cheat? i swear on the lives of my two sons that you can still use the day pass. i will kill them with my own hands. okay i don't want you to kill your kids, i just want to get on the green. FINE just have it. what? really? remember my face because if you get in, next time you see me you have to call me uncle.
So that's the story of how I got a free day pass and a new uncle.
WATCH: ridiculous waterfall outside the GE pavilion
Crazy part starts at around :30. Hypnotized anyone who walked by. "Iiimmmaaagggiiinnnaaatttiiiooonnn...huan...ying..."
(Lenovo Showcase; Kodak/Coca-Cola pavilions; musical light pole; enormous McDonald's next to taiko-themed escalators; inside said McDonalds; Volkswagen monstrosity; sea of pins in Super Store)
Hooters
"We are hooters, hooters of Beijing..." Fake birthdays abounded.
USA House
U.S. athletes' "home away from home." Country club-like setting with multiple open bars, a Wii lounge, lakeview terraces, masseuses, uniformed waiters, floor-to-ceiling windows and a Team USA souvenir shop reminiscent of a college bookstore, with all prices indicated in U.S. dollars. Complete with an enormous wall-sized photo reprint of U.S. athletes marching in the opening ceremony in their Ralph Lauren. Proved that Americans can be just as analcratic as the Chinese when guards barred me from re-entering, twice, after I took several steps outside the premise to take photos of the building's exterior. Which I was made to delete. Fries with your elitism?
(Waiters set up something in front of said photo reprint; Team USA store)
Olympic Green
Enormous outdoor plaza just north of Bird's Nest. Hardly green. A veritable Disneyland of transnational corporations, in fact. Companies like Coca-Cola and Lenovo set up multimillion-dollar pavilions with interactive exhibits, visual marvels and plenty of photo-ops to let Olympics visitors "experience" their brands. Lights everywhere, music everywhere, lights that play music everywhere. Walmart-sized Olympics souvenir "Super Store" made me about 3,000RMB poorer (come on, limited edition pins? EBay!). Not overcrowded and unpleasant like other Chinese tourist sites because government only allows ticketholders to Olympics events or those with day passes doled out on an invitational basis.
Which brings me to my next story of how I bargained for a day pass onto the Green. I arrived at the gate at about 7:30 p.m., which is 30 minutes after the day pass is supposed to expire. I found a guy hawking one, and the following conversation ensued:
how much? 100. 20? 35 and you have a deal. come on that's only a 15rmb difference. 35 is final. (feign walk-away) fine, 25. okay but you're coming with me to the ticket entrance so i know i can still get in. trust me you can. (pumps chest) so just come with me, it's only a 2 minute walk. no no no. fine take it for 20. i'd rather give you the extra 5 for you to come with me. it's too far. how about 10rmb? that just tells me that i can't get in anymore. are you calling me a cheat? i swear on the lives of my two sons that you can still use the day pass. i will kill them with my own hands. okay i don't want you to kill your kids, i just want to get on the green. FINE just have it. what? really? remember my face because if you get in, next time you see me you have to call me uncle.
So that's the story of how I got a free day pass and a new uncle.
WATCH: ridiculous waterfall outside the GE pavilion
Crazy part starts at around :30. Hypnotized anyone who walked by. "Iiimmmaaagggiiinnnaaatttiiiooonnn...huan...ying..."
(Lenovo Showcase; Kodak/Coca-Cola pavilions; musical light pole; enormous McDonald's next to taiko-themed escalators; inside said McDonalds; Volkswagen monstrosity; sea of pins in Super Store)
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Ball in Hand
I scored a cheap ticket to two handball games three days ago, and the first thing I have to say is: y'all look the same.
Here's Game 1, Croatia vs. Poland:
And here's Game 2, Denmark vs. Iceland:
A little hard to see, but notice that all of their uniforms are red and white, because all of their national colors are red and white: Croatia has red-and-white checkers, Poland has red-and-white stripes, and Denmark and Iceland have red crosses with white borders.
(Croatian fans, Norwegian fanchild)
And, here's a run-down of the players' names:
Denmark: Knudsen, Boldsen, Hansen, Jensen, Boesen, Joergensen, Christiansen, Henriksen, Nielsen
Iceland: Petersson, Sigurdsson, Gustavsson, Gunnarsson, Hallgrimsson, Gudmundsson, Gudjonsson, Atlasson, Sigurdsson (again), Jakobsson, Giersson, Stefansson, Ingimundarsson, Asgeirsson
So the main obstacles for us clueless Chinese peoeple sitting among a sea of red and white were 1) figuring out which freakin' team is which, and which team the audience is cheering for, and 2) telling one sson from another sen.
The game itself was interesting. I showed up about 30 minutes prior and shadily walked up to every person standing around to ask for tickets. Some white guy tried to scalp me for 300RMB a pop, but I held out and lo and behold, a nice Chinese guy came with extra ones and sold me one for 50RMB. My new full-fledged membership in the Chinese society continues to pay unexpected dividends.
It's a funny mix of soccer, basketball and dodgeball, and at first it's ridiculous how intense the players are. Essentially it's soccer played with hands. Players have to dribble once for every three steps they take with the ball, and they must shoot from a specific distance or farther, designated by an arc that looks like a three-point line. The court is basketball-sized, which makes the pace similar to an NBA game. Passes and shots are dodgeball-like, taken with one-handed overhead throws. The ball is easily palmed.
It's easy to get into, even if you don't know the rules, because it's so simple. Players get physical around the arc, where the shooter has to find an opening, jump above the defenders and put his entire body into throwing. Passwork around the perimeter is fast, and there's little dribbling except when the ball is being moved across court or when the player is posting on or trying to get around the defenders. I was thoroughly entertained for a good two hours, which, for an infrequent sportswatcher, says a lot.
The one thing that stayed as ridiculous the fifth time as it was the first time was the penalty shot. The shooter stands about 8 feet from the goalie. Because it's so close, the goalie is forced into a kung-fu-like stance, with all of his limbs stretched out and moving, including one of his legs. The shooter feigns a few attempts, and generally makes the shot, which compounds humiliation on the goalie, as if the flying crane stance and the fact that he plays handball for a living wasn't enough.
Despite it being the Olympics, the atmosphere was essentially like an ordinary sporting event. Beer flowed freely (a months-old baby next to me sipped on Tsingtao - see below), hot dogs sold liberally (albeit the pigs-in-a-blanket type found only in Asian bakeries) and fans cheered loudly, especially the Danes behind me that had one of three things to say: "Ayyy!", "YAH!," or "Ayayayayay, YAH!"
All in all a worthwhile time for 50RMB, especially now that I have a ticket stub to keep. But if I were the handball PR, I would be working a little harder, first by changing the name of the sport from something that can be easily confused with an elementary school game played against a wall, and then probably also swapping out the big swirling soccer ball in the big-screen "GOAL!" graphics:
Here's Game 1, Croatia vs. Poland:
And here's Game 2, Denmark vs. Iceland:
A little hard to see, but notice that all of their uniforms are red and white, because all of their national colors are red and white: Croatia has red-and-white checkers, Poland has red-and-white stripes, and Denmark and Iceland have red crosses with white borders.
(Croatian fans, Norwegian fanchild)
And, here's a run-down of the players' names:
Denmark: Knudsen, Boldsen, Hansen, Jensen, Boesen, Joergensen, Christiansen, Henriksen, Nielsen
Iceland: Petersson, Sigurdsson, Gustavsson, Gunnarsson, Hallgrimsson, Gudmundsson, Gudjonsson, Atlasson, Sigurdsson (again), Jakobsson, Giersson, Stefansson, Ingimundarsson, Asgeirsson
So the main obstacles for us clueless Chinese peoeple sitting among a sea of red and white were 1) figuring out which freakin' team is which, and which team the audience is cheering for, and 2) telling one sson from another sen.
The game itself was interesting. I showed up about 30 minutes prior and shadily walked up to every person standing around to ask for tickets. Some white guy tried to scalp me for 300RMB a pop, but I held out and lo and behold, a nice Chinese guy came with extra ones and sold me one for 50RMB. My new full-fledged membership in the Chinese society continues to pay unexpected dividends.
It's a funny mix of soccer, basketball and dodgeball, and at first it's ridiculous how intense the players are. Essentially it's soccer played with hands. Players have to dribble once for every three steps they take with the ball, and they must shoot from a specific distance or farther, designated by an arc that looks like a three-point line. The court is basketball-sized, which makes the pace similar to an NBA game. Passes and shots are dodgeball-like, taken with one-handed overhead throws. The ball is easily palmed.
It's easy to get into, even if you don't know the rules, because it's so simple. Players get physical around the arc, where the shooter has to find an opening, jump above the defenders and put his entire body into throwing. Passwork around the perimeter is fast, and there's little dribbling except when the ball is being moved across court or when the player is posting on or trying to get around the defenders. I was thoroughly entertained for a good two hours, which, for an infrequent sportswatcher, says a lot.
The one thing that stayed as ridiculous the fifth time as it was the first time was the penalty shot. The shooter stands about 8 feet from the goalie. Because it's so close, the goalie is forced into a kung-fu-like stance, with all of his limbs stretched out and moving, including one of his legs. The shooter feigns a few attempts, and generally makes the shot, which compounds humiliation on the goalie, as if the flying crane stance and the fact that he plays handball for a living wasn't enough.
Despite it being the Olympics, the atmosphere was essentially like an ordinary sporting event. Beer flowed freely (a months-old baby next to me sipped on Tsingtao - see below), hot dogs sold liberally (albeit the pigs-in-a-blanket type found only in Asian bakeries) and fans cheered loudly, especially the Danes behind me that had one of three things to say: "Ayyy!", "YAH!," or "Ayayayayay, YAH!"
All in all a worthwhile time for 50RMB, especially now that I have a ticket stub to keep. But if I were the handball PR, I would be working a little harder, first by changing the name of the sport from something that can be easily confused with an elementary school game played against a wall, and then probably also swapping out the big swirling soccer ball in the big-screen "GOAL!" graphics:
Monday, August 18, 2008
PHELPSTRUCK! And then struck again
I encountered greatness, and I don't mean I looked in the mirror.
WATCH:
Watch again:
First one was at a Speedo party last night for all of the sponsored Olympic swimmers. I couldn't recognize any besides Ian Thorpe, Ryan Lochte and Dara Torres, but I'm pretty sure I was within feet of most big-timers. I'm also pretty sure Ian Thorpe, who didn't even compete this time, just came to get laid, because he came alone and left 20 minutes later not-so-alone (see below). We camped out for six hours outside the club until Michael Phelps made a late appearance at around 11:30 p.m. and refused to speak to the media. Apparently LeBron, Kobe and the rest of the U.S. basketball team came too, but they went through the back door. So close. Security was intense. I actually heard one security guard say to another, "If you see any Xinjiang types, just drag them away. Don't hesitate." Not surprising, but still pretty shocking when you hear it articulated.
(Drunk girl gets Thorpedoed, Mama Phelps)
Second one was at the post-events press conference just now. I wanted to ask him a question so I can say that Michael Phelps knows I exist, but precious time was lost on reporter-turned-comedians asking deep questions like "What is your definition of love?" and "I was just wondering, and I am sure your fans would also like to know, heh, what is your opinion on the debate about light being a particle and not a wave? Heh heh, what do you reckon?" To his PR team's credit, most answers ended up being about how much he loves his mother and how much orgasmic disbelief he's in.
BONUS REEL: Phelps answers a question about his future plans, looking toward London 2012
EDIT: I've been informed that the douchy guy I witnessed is indeed Grant Hackett. Bad information from another passer-by. My bad.
WATCH:
Watch again:
First one was at a Speedo party last night for all of the sponsored Olympic swimmers. I couldn't recognize any besides Ian Thorpe, Ryan Lochte and Dara Torres, but I'm pretty sure I was within feet of most big-timers. I'm also pretty sure Ian Thorpe, who didn't even compete this time, just came to get laid, because he came alone and left 20 minutes later not-so-alone (see below). We camped out for six hours outside the club until Michael Phelps made a late appearance at around 11:30 p.m. and refused to speak to the media. Apparently LeBron, Kobe and the rest of the U.S. basketball team came too, but they went through the back door. So close. Security was intense. I actually heard one security guard say to another, "If you see any Xinjiang types, just drag them away. Don't hesitate." Not surprising, but still pretty shocking when you hear it articulated.
(Drunk girl gets Thorpedoed, Mama Phelps)
Second one was at the post-events press conference just now. I wanted to ask him a question so I can say that Michael Phelps knows I exist, but precious time was lost on reporter-turned-comedians asking deep questions like "What is your definition of love?" and "I was just wondering, and I am sure your fans would also like to know, heh, what is your opinion on the debate about light being a particle and not a wave? Heh heh, what do you reckon?" To his PR team's credit, most answers ended up being about how much he loves his mother and how much orgasmic disbelief he's in.
BONUS REEL: Phelps answers a question about his future plans, looking toward London 2012
EDIT: I've been informed that the douchy guy I witnessed is indeed Grant Hackett. Bad information from another passer-by. My bad.
Friday, August 15, 2008
The huikou and the fury
It feels good to be on the other side.
For the past month and a half that I've been traveling through China, I've been a pseudo-foreigner. Pseudo-foreigner treatment, pseudo-foreigner topics of conversation, pseudo-foreigner prices. Yesterday, I was finally inducted as a full member of the Chinese society.
How? A little magical thing called the huikou. During a few hours of downtime, my white co-workers decided to go shopping at the biggest electronics market in town, and I tagged along as a translator. We were checking out cameras, looking around and asking for prices. When we walked into a booth and one of the white guys pointed at an HD camcorder he wanted, the salesperson turned to me and asked me if I was the translator. I said yes. He then asked me:
"Do you want huikou?"
I didn't understand. I've heard of the word before, but only in news reports about corrupt politicians. I asked him what he meant.
"You know, huikou." He was confused that I didn't know. I still didn't. He got annoyed.
"He pays us. We give you some."
All kinds of bells (and dollar signs) went in my head. KICKBACK! I can get some? This blew my mind. All those times we took miserable bus tours, we seethed helplessly with suspicions about the guides who "negotiated" our ticket prices and made us go to jade factories. Now, I was the one to be suspicious of. Spectacular.
I duly said no, but I didn't tell them what the salesperson said either. Now that I've been inducted, I reserve the right to kick around some Maos. I'm pretty sure that one's in the Chinese Bill of Rights.
For the past month and a half that I've been traveling through China, I've been a pseudo-foreigner. Pseudo-foreigner treatment, pseudo-foreigner topics of conversation, pseudo-foreigner prices. Yesterday, I was finally inducted as a full member of the Chinese society.
How? A little magical thing called the huikou. During a few hours of downtime, my white co-workers decided to go shopping at the biggest electronics market in town, and I tagged along as a translator. We were checking out cameras, looking around and asking for prices. When we walked into a booth and one of the white guys pointed at an HD camcorder he wanted, the salesperson turned to me and asked me if I was the translator. I said yes. He then asked me:
"Do you want huikou?"
I didn't understand. I've heard of the word before, but only in news reports about corrupt politicians. I asked him what he meant.
"You know, huikou." He was confused that I didn't know. I still didn't. He got annoyed.
"He pays us. We give you some."
All kinds of bells (and dollar signs) went in my head. KICKBACK! I can get some? This blew my mind. All those times we took miserable bus tours, we seethed helplessly with suspicions about the guides who "negotiated" our ticket prices and made us go to jade factories. Now, I was the one to be suspicious of. Spectacular.
I duly said no, but I didn't tell them what the salesperson said either. Now that I've been inducted, I reserve the right to kick around some Maos. I'm pretty sure that one's in the Chinese Bill of Rights.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
I TOUCHED A GOLD MEDAL
This guy's. It's heavier than it looks, and a piece of doughnut-shaped jade is embedded on the back. He came to our newsroom for a live interview, and we chatted with him while he waited. One intern couldn't contain herself and yelled "LET'S SEE THE GOODS!!!" as he walked in. He was a good sport and took it out for us to touch. I wanted to ask for pictures but my professionalism prevented me. I'm a professional, damn it.
I've been transferred to a partner network, and so far it's been a lot more interesting - chasing athletes, going to press conferences and such. The first time we were in the field, I was alone with a photographer and I was going to be the one holding the microphone and interviewing the Australian gold medalist. Alas, the athlete never came to the gate we were camped at.
Later, we went to a press conference of an Aussie cyclist who was going to speak out about Tibet. When a reporter asked him about it he said "I think I'll wait until I go home first." Pansy.
I've been transferred to a partner network, and so far it's been a lot more interesting - chasing athletes, going to press conferences and such. The first time we were in the field, I was alone with a photographer and I was going to be the one holding the microphone and interviewing the Australian gold medalist. Alas, the athlete never came to the gate we were camped at.
Later, we went to a press conference of an Aussie cyclist who was going to speak out about Tibet. When a reporter asked him about it he said "I think I'll wait until I go home first." Pansy.
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