hangzhoujournal3

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Today is my day off and the first chance to further explore the celebrated West Lake.
Situated at the geographical western edge of the city, but at it’s commercial and hospitality epicenter it is ringed to the west and south by a range of green hills with names like “Flying clouds over Yuhuang Hill”, “Jade Emperor Hill” and “The hill flown from afar”. Mainly because of these fortuitous geographical features Hang Zhou was regarded by Marco Polo, the legendary Venetian traveler, as the most beautiful and majestic city in the world during his visit in the 13th century. He remarked that because of it’s stunning lake, many canals and with it’s “12,000 bridges, mostly of stone” it reminded him of his hometown. As for myself, when I first visited Venice in the latter part of the 20th century, I thought that it was the most magical city in the world and still do.
Hang Zhou has a very rich and storied past. The city’s history is linked with the early development of iron smelting as well as rice cultivation in China with the Hemudu civilization nearly 7000 years ago. It’s place as a major tea and silk trading center in China is unrivalled. Most of this was facilitated by the location of Hang Zhou at the terminus of the longest manmade waterway in the world, the 1100 mile Grand Canal, a major commercial artery that runs north-south connecting Beijing and all points in between with the city. Hang Zhou is today the fastest growing city in China. That is no mean feat. Considering the pace and scale of developments in China it might well be the fastest growing city in the world.
The city has been ranked by Forbes magazine as the number one city for doing business in China.
My walk today will only take me along the eastern edge of the lake. I had decided that I would survey the lake and its attractions in long, leisurely stages rather than whirlwind effort. It was a calming, meditative experience even with the constant flow of tourists around me. Hang Zhou is a major destination for Chinese tourists with over 20 million visitors a year. The route along my stroll is punctuated with arched bridges, ceremonial doorways, pavilions and pagodas. The tresses of willow trees drape the edges of the paved pathways. Decorated stone relief work are placed at regular intervals along the pavement. I pause periodically to take photos of the architecture and these rich details. Lovers sit on benches at the waters edge and cuddle and kiss. This is a pleasant surprise to me. I had been informed that public display of affection between members of the opposite sex was taboo in China although it was not uncommon to see people of the same sex walking hand in hand. Families and groups of people enjoy meals at specially provided spaces and restaurants. The green grass on the lawns glisten in the afternoon sunlight. The Chinese love of brightly coloured flowers is evident - a million impatiens, peonies and carnations greet me along the way.
“Orioles singing in the willows” is the name of a willow grove in the lakeside park.
Today the orioles are away but it is not hard to imagine a chorus of birds chirping as if consoling the drooping trees. I paused here for a while and tried to imagine through my mind’s eye what it would be like in the time when some emperor from some dynasty or the other would be chilling out here with his court. But soon I return to the moment.
Sufficient to the day are the splendors thereof.



Henry got into an argument with the taxi driver as we headed out towards maya bar for
my first night out in Hang Zhou. He chatted on, berating the driver in what sounded like, if not fluent, confident mandarin, spitting his words as if he were speaking in any of his familiar African dialects. Africans are known to be some of the greatest polyglots in the world and was displaying his aptitude in no uncertain terms. The cabbie was trying to pull off the same old ploy of taking the longest possible route to any destination that anyone who appeared to be tourist desired to be taken to. It was obvious that Henry was not into being taken for a ride this time. He had lived in this city for four years now and knew it as well as any native. It was my first night driving out in the city and the first time away from my familiar pedestrian route between my apartment and the studio. I was impressed with the buildings that lined the city streets, the lights that glowed within them and on their facades, and the urbanscape, with its planted medians and landscaped sidewalks. One notable feature of the Hang Zhou streetscape was the rather generous bicycle lanes provided as this is the mode of transportation for the vast majority of Chinese.
We soon arrived at the club very early for a night out on a quiet Sunday evening.
It was barely 9 pm and just a couple of couples sat talking in subdued tones sipping drinks in the dimly lit bodega. The atmosphere inside was warm and cozy as the temperature dropped outside. Classic 70’s reggae music streamed out of the sound system.
As we sat on stools around a small circular table drinking, he coffee, me orange juice and continued our conversation a young Chinese man approached us and struck up another conversation with Henry. Henry introduced us to each other. Didn’t understand what they were saying, but Henry was very animated in making his point as he, by now, always seems to be. He would jump up every now and then, skip over to the dj booth, select some music and then return. “Any requests”, he offered, “No”, I said “that’s fine with me”.
He happens to be the resident dj here.
“That’s the owner”, he said after the man left to join a woman in another room.
“I’m trying to get him to understand that he needs to get more Chinese in here.
We have a lot of expats here but we need to get the locals in. when I first came here this place was dead now it’s packed on weekends”
“I am really impressed with your work Henry” , I said, maybe for the tenth time.
“It’s really powerful, I can tell that it comes from a very deep place, and it speaks to me in a very profound way”
“thank you, but I must tell you also that I am very impressed with you too. A black man, another African like myself teaching yoga in china. You must be very disciplined. I don’t have that kind of discipline”
“I think that this is a great discipline that you demonstrate here”, I said holding up the exhibition brochure with photos of his work that he had given to me when we entered the cab.
He had just returned from a two man exhibition in Shanghai that evening just before he joined me. He told me that he had exhibited in Poland and Germany and that he had a major show coming up in Brussels, Belgium soon that he was preparing for.
He was an art teacher in Kinshasha before winning a scholarship to study at the venerable Chinese Academy of Art.
We were then joined by Maurice an exuberant, rather loquacious young man from Togo
pursuing a MBA degree in Hang Zhou. “ A yoga master !!, oh my God I can’t believe it,
Just what I needed.
You really teach yoga”?
I chuckled. A feeling of déjà vu visited me. He reminded me so much of Kofi a Ghanian I met 25 years ago in Athens Georgia at the University of Georgia when I was a freshman there.
“Yes”, I said, “but I’m not a master”.
Well, I tell you that you are a master and I want you to teach me yoga”.
“Ok,”.i conceded, “anything you say”.
We exchanged numbers.
“Yes Ian teach this boy some discipline he doesn’t have any”, Henry interjected.
“You know I’ve seen this man’s work and I know that he is a great painter but I can’t understand his work.”, Maurice continued.
“That’s because there’s nothing to understand,” Henry calmly retorted. “You know, Ian, an Austrian man wants to buy some of my work, he tells me that it SPEAKS to him. That’s all I need to know it either speaks to you or it doesn’t”.
I told him that he needed to take his work to new york the center of the modern art world and that there was nothing really happening there now.
‘I think that your work is fresh and exciting”, I added.
“Yes, some other people told me the same thing. I want to do that”
‘how long have you been working in this expression’, I asked him
About 4 years” he said, “I started with this piece”, he said pointing a work in the brochure entitled “depth”, “ and from there I launched out and I am going to take it as far as I can”
“I think that in 5 years or less you can be one of the great young painters in the world”.
He smiled.


“You think so?” he inquired, running his fingers through his nascent dreadlocks.
“Yes, I know that”
Our conversation jumped from one topic to another like old friends hastening to catch up with the goings on with one another. I told him that I had my first walk along the west lake earlier that afternoon.
“Yeah”, he said, “how did you find it?
I told him that I found it quite beautiful.
“Oh man I don’t go there anymore during the day, it’s too much.”
I immediately understood what he meant - the inordinate attention like the panda at he zoo. Or maybe some other animal.
“I used to go a lot in the beginning when I first came here, but after I learned the language and understood what they were saying I don’t go there anymore during the day.
Sometimes I just go at night and meditate by myself”
I told him that I just tried to block it out and just enjoy scenery, but I learned that if I just smiled at them their faces would just light up as they smiled back at me and sometimes bowed.
“You might be wondering what life is like here for a Black man living in a foreign land like China,” he volunteered.
“Well, I guess that it’s the same as anywhere”.
“No brother, here it’s worst. Once you understand what they are saying it’s worst”.
Maybe, right now, I don’t want to understand what they are saying . At the end of my first week in China I am on a natural high. Ignorance is bliss.

“Let’s go and check out the Reggae Bar”, he suggests.
“It’s just down the road”.
“It’s kinda slow here on a Sunday night.”
I had learned earlier that it was the young expats favourite hangout so I was eager to see what this scene was like.
He and Maurice got into a conversation about dinner and somehow they started talking about dogs as a part of Chinese cuisine. They switched from French to English so that I could participate, but I was already unto what they were saying.
“Did you know that we eat dogs in Togo”, he said to me.
Startled, I confessed that I didn’t know that.
“yes”, we eat dogs he repeated with a grin on his face.
“it’s supposed to give you strength. And they make an oil from some part of the dog that
fighters rub on themselves to make them slippery and make them more powerful.
“So that’s why you are always making that sound ‘Ow, Ow’ that I don’t understand , huh?,” Henry said.
They laughed.
I was, I admit, a bit aghast at this revelation.
We arrived after a 10 minute walk.
“Here it is”
Reggae music is audible from the outside.
Inside the joint is already hopping. Henry is greeted like a regular and he makes the rounds greeting his acquaintances. He introduces me to a couple of Brazilian soccer players who play in the Chinese league. In one corner a Black couple is seated talking.
I immediately recognized the woman as Maurice’s sister. They have an uncanny resemblance even for siblings. They both have the visage of Benin masks - prominent foreheads and saucer like eyes that look at you like wise owls. He had told me earlier that she was here with him studying Communications. Maurice introduces me to the couple.
The walls and ceilings of the bar are decorated with reggae regalia. A huge mural of the Jamaican flag covers one half of the ceiling. Posters and paintings of reggae luminaries like Bob Marley and Peter Tosh, red, green and gold banners adorn the surfaces. I am a bit taken aback by my surroundings, amazed at the far flung reach and influence of the music of an island that most Chinese, even college educated, I have discovered, cannot locate on a map of the world.
Patrons continue to stream in, most of them Chinese college aged young people.
Maurice strikes up a conversation with the Brazilians in his jocular, talkative manner.
“we are going to the world cup, did you know that ?
yes, Togo is going to the world cup next year in Germany and we are going to whip your ass.
3-0 remember I told you that.”
Everyone in earshot smiles, but no one laughs, except Maurice. Stranger things have happened in the world cup.
“This boy”, Henry laments, “He just talks too much, but you know he’s just 22. I guess maybe when I was 22 I was like that so I just let him be”
I sipped on a bottle of mineral water, trying to evade cigar and cigarette smoke swirling around me, observing the scenario around me.
“Legalize it, and I will advatize it”, Peter exhorts from the sound system.
Although I’ve been on a sabbatical for a couple years now I kinda wished that the
smoke was “it” smoke.




OPENING DAY

I arrive at the studio today to find it buzzing with a flurry of activity. Final preparations are being made for our official opening day. A number of people from the local yoga community along with client/students, and the media have been invited to participate in the festivities.
The owners, sales and marketing managers and other office personnel from Shanghai are already present, seated on the sofas are milling about admiring the space. The local staff
are fully attired in the chic custom designed outfits that is their uniforms and posted at strategic places within the space to welcome guests and respond to any questions or requests.
Duncan, the director of the teaching program, bursts out of the office moving at the speed of the wind. Based in Shanghai, he is here to perform a demonstration of yoga asanas and entertain questions from the press. He will also conduct a few classes
over the next few days.
It’s always good for me to see Duncan even if he’s just breezing by.
“Anyone care to join me for coffee. I need a cup of coffee to get me started here.
Anyone care to join me”?.
It is already almost midday close the start of the official program and he had already being up since early morning.
There are a few takers and they hurry into the elevator with admonition from Tobie,
one of the managers to return on time.
I am officially introduced to the personnel, a few of whom I had already met in Shanghai.
The caterers have tastefully arranged their spread in the lounge area and everything appears ready for blast off. Final touches are made to detailing the décor and Japanese flute music streams through the air from an adjoining room.
“ I wonder if they know that it’s Japanese flute” I said to one of the teachers sitting next to me tongue in cheek..
Let’s not tell them” he replied jokingly.
It has been a particularly turbulent past couple of years in China/Japan relations especially because of what the Chinese regard as their neighbors’ callous disregard for their sensitivities over historical wrongs such as the Manchurian invasion/occupation and
WW11 atrocities committed by the Japanese.
Someone told me that a Japanese acquaintance of his had been spat upon in the streets.
But none of that is visible here today. The flautist plays on the Japanese is made to feel quite at home.

Anecdotes on this and that.

I am watching a program on one of the half dozen or so local television stations. The format as I have observed so far is dominated by period dramas based mainly around the time of some ancient dynasty or the time of the nationalist/communist struggles, and soap opera type offerings. Production is evidently low budget, but in my humble estimation the acting is outstanding and of a high quality- convincing. Generally of a higher caliber than what I see on American television. I have always been fascinated by the Chinese script or ideogram and watching t.v. is one way of familiarizing myself with it or absorbing it subconsciously. Almost all program are subtitled in Mandarin ideograms.enthralls me like Chinese shufa or calligraphy. I spend most of my free time trying to learn as much as I can of this intriguing art.
This flowing, graceful way of writing that moves like a dance has always been a source of mystery to me. Of course there are numerous exquisite scripts of different culture around the world- Ethiopian Amharic, Sanskrit, Arabic, Hebrew etc etc but none enthralls or “speaks to me” as this.
There is some sports on t.v. , well there is actually a sports channel that I watch quite a bit of. Here there are no shortages of Yao Ming clips. Yao is of course the celebrated Chinese basketball player with the Houston Rockets of the NBA.
Must mention something seemingly trivial but I think that it reflects a little on the Chinese psyche. There were highlights of a friendly international soccer match recently played between China and Germany. The Chinese held there own until the Germans won a penalty which turned out to be the only goal of the match. The film showed the German player stepping up to kick the ball, but not the actually entry of the ball into the net.
Not the actual goal being scored. Made me think a little. One of those things that make you say “Hmmmm”.
Advertising is dominated by Olay and Lux “regenerist’ ads showing snowy white Chinese women, their skin shining like porcelain. There is also a fair share of Pantene ads.



Struck up a conversation with a Hangzhouese, as they call themselves, a woman named Kui Ma . She told me that it meant “sunflower horse”. I instantly remarked on how similar it sounded to a Native American name. She, a travel agent who has traveled quite a bit, said that that was the same response she got when she west the American Southwest.
“Oh yeah, those “Indians” were you same people who just hopped across the Bering some time ago” I said.
“Oh yes” she concurred.
“They actually think that I am one of them.”
Small world.


Kept hearing the women at the studio talking about “negga” this “negga” that.
Didn’t think for a minute that it was any racial epithet directed at me. Was kinda curious but didn’t ask what it meant. Honestly I thought that it sounded kinda cute.
Then one day Sean, the Hang Zhou teacher director volunteered the info to me that the Mandarin word for demonstrative article”that” is neige in Pinyin, pronounced nay-gur.
So what’s in a word?. Depends on what the word is in - context so to speak.

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