polymorphism

When I was a teenager, like many others my age, I was very much into music, video games, and cartoons. I didn’t understand why adults were so indifferent to them. I pondered if my interests would last when I grow up. My answer was, definitely yes, because this stuff is really good, those stupid adults just don’t get it.

It can be difficult for parents and children to communicate because of the generation gap. In a society like China where everything is expedited, the gap can be even wider and deeper. For every 5 years there is a whole new breed, living different lives, thinking different ways, facing different problems.

But I no longer play video games and read cartoons. I still think they’re fun, and I consider the gaming and cartoon industry as an interesting and promising career path.  I guess I just have found something else to do. I still am interested in music though. I am not as enthusiastic as before, and am not a fan of a specific artist. Sometimes, I’m just curious about the music that today’s youth is making and listening to.

I recently read an interview of Zhang Shouwang by Esquire magazine. Shouwang is a gifted musician, not only in rock music but also in other genre. The New Yorker named one of his performances last year number two of top 10 classical music events of 2008. I really like his music and music from other people of his age in general.

My first impression is that their music is very cool, like British or Japanese music. I’m amazed by their talent and what they have done. But when they talk about how they’re creating something real that fits their generation, I feel funny. I don’t find their music real. Instead, I find it unreal. They murmur meaningless lyrics.

I liked those old school rockers in ‘80s and ‘90s, because they had attitude and strength, and were honest and serious. They created something real for those decades. Just listening to Zhang Chu’s “Heaven Bless the Well Fed People” can drag me back into that year and that street, working like a time travel machine. The feeling of the song is exactly right. I can almost see how Zhang Chu stands in the street looking over the people. I can feel what he feels at the moment. However, I never felt those old rockers were cool. Why do bands have to be cool? These new bands are universally cool but unexceptionally soulless.

What I’m afraid of is that we’re losing some precious qualities. CCTV is filming Dream of Red Mansions again. Dream of Red Mansions is one of the Four Great Classical Novels. It was made into TV series in mid-‘80s by CCTV and was a huge success. Now doing it again will test the quality of today’s TV industry. Unfortunately, public confidence is not very high. It sounds sad to me. Consider this: how often do directors, actors and actresses have the chance to film something as great as Dream of Red Mansions? Probably every 20 or 30 years. If this team fails us, we’ll have to wait for another 30 years to see another Dream of Red Mansions presented by the next generation. Does this group even comprehend the pressure and expectation of the audience? Or are they happily satisfied with their creation and new interpretation of the classic? I have no confidence in them. I can imagine critics roaring at the team after the series’ broadcast, “Someone did it 30 years ago, and they did it better than you!”

But I must stop ranting about irresponsible commercial society. Now I’m criticizing today’s youth, but was I different from them when I was compared with my parents? Didn’t my parents frown when I was listening to those “noises,” like I frown upon the young bands today? My parents would say, “Why don’t you try Ode to the Motherland, and Up the Songhua River?” Didn’t I feel bored by old stuff, and now my stuff has become boring old stuff to teenagers? Maybe, their music is indeed real to them, only not being understood by me.

Before accepting the notion that new ideas should constantly replace the old ones as human society progresses, there is an alternative, in which youth will start to appreciate older generations as they grow up like what I have learned in these years. The differences between parents and children are not a gap between generations, but a gap between different ages. However, if that is true, that’s an even bleaker picture, in which people will never change and all eventually will retreat to old ideas and fight old wars when they become old.

This is the philosophic question for intellectuals and can be found in many people’s minds: how do we find the balance between tradition and progress? The question is more prominent in rapidly developing countries but it’s universal for everyone else as well. What do we want to or not want to change? What will or will not change regardless of our will? What is our place in history?

Music is universal. People speaking different languages find a shared language in music. It can be personal and also private, as well. Music is different, just like people are different. The Mainland, Taiwan, and Hong Kong are often referred as “Two Shores, Three Places,” because they’re divided by the Taiwan Strait and three different systems. The music in these “three places” is interlaced yet also unique to their region.

The Taiwanese music industry has consistently produced the finest pop music in the past three decades and talent seems to pass down to younger generations. In my opinion, they’re the best in female vocal music accompanied on the piano. Yet more importantly, many Taiwanese musicians don’t see music as a business, but as an art form to express themselves, and a media to record the dramatic changes in Taiwan. They have done it so gracefully and faithfully that I can feel a sense of historical responsibility and an inherent urge to seek higher wisdom in some of their music. Musician Luo Dayou is a good example; he combines keen observational social issues with his musical skills.

Luo Dayou was a brain surgery physician. The best brain surgery he did was not on a patient but on Taiwan itself. His first album “Zhi Hu Zhe Ye,” released in 1982, was the most significant album in Taiwanese music history. Among “The 100 Greatest Albums of Taiwan (1975 – 1993),” this album was ranked number one. Luo’s second album “The Protagonist of the Future” is even more mature and its lyrics were later included in school textbooks. Luo was controversial and was called a “protestor.” But his third album “Home” was a surprising return to his roots. Home, homeland, and parent’s love have been a structural theme throughout his music since then.

Under too many demands from supporters and attacks from the other side, Luo left Taiwan and moved to New York in 1985 and then settled in Hong Kong in 1987. Living abroad made him not only think about Taiwan but also the entire Chinese race. He came back with one of his best albums, “Comrade Lover.” Luo established his studio Music Factory and released a string of more ambitious albums, “Queen’s Rd East,” “Yuan Xiang (Original Land),” and “Capital.” These albums coincidently used three geographic terms in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and the Mainland as their title. They touched upon China’s history, reality and destiny. They’re not as successful as Luo’s early works in term of commercial and artistic values, but they’re a bold experiment and valuable records for everyone who lived in that era.

Luo is no longer as prolific as before. But he can always give his followers a surprise. I consider his newest 2-CD album “Beautiful Island” to be his third best album. And his performance with friends in this year’s New Year Gala, the most watched show in China every year, brought back a lot of happy memories for the audience.

Mainland’s music development came later than Taiwan’s. Their music is much harder and stronger. Like Taiwan, the Mainland has many singers who use their guitar and voice to document what they see and how they think. But their approach is noticeably different from their Taiwanese cousins. While Taiwanese singers observe and tell people’s stories, the Mainlanders often tell their own stories to reflect the society. They are extremely candid, more involving and more personal. This creates a warm feeling. By listening to their music, you simply know them. Luo Dayou is a master, while Mainland rock musicians are heroes.

To understand more on Mainland music movement, please read my previous article “The Origins of Chinese Rock Music”.

Hong Kong is the most Westernized place among the three. Meanwhile it has become the stronghold of Cantonese culture. The best voice from Hong Kong is Faye Wong. I find it impossible to describe her character. If I had to choose one word to explain what attracts me, I would say “longing” – her longing for something that is so beautiful and precious that it can’t exist in the mundane world. She’s a little mysterious, barely talking about her feelings in the media. She’s extremely popular but doesn’t want to be bothered by others. She’s a little rebellious but not very much, because she doesn’t care about the absurd and ironic outside world after all. She’s happy for small things and doesn’t ask for more, even when she deserves much more. Should I say her life is wasted, or ultimately a healthy attitude to deal with real life? No matter. She can’t be judged.

That longing can only exist when one is living an illusion where nothing is real and nothing lasts. Maybe even Faye herself is an illusion. I can’t tell if what we see in her is her true self or a carefully manufactured persona. But does it even matter? Why don’t we just listen to her songs and enjoy the love in her music.

Faye was a Beijing girl. She moved to Hong Kong when she was 18. The most important man in her life was Dou Wei, her musical partner and first husband. When she moved back to Beijing and lived with Dou Wei in 1996, entertainment reporters from Hong Kong discovered that Faye, the superstar, was living in an old traditional alley that didn’t even have private toilets! There was a pretty woman with a beautiful voice and an attractive man with great talent, who had sacrificed anything for their love. Weren’t they a perfect couple? Faye and Dou Wei had one daughter; but then they later divorced. Dou Wei, a once prominent rock musician, has switched to a totally different domain: traditional instrumental music. Faye married a boring actor and formed a happy family. How interesting.

Taiwanese music is culture. Mainland music is heart. Hong Kong music is illusion. I don’t mean to stereotype them, for they cannot be stereotyped. They salute and enrich each other.

      I traveled to Europe this fall. Many times during the trip — when I was walking on La Rambla and it was teeming with people, florist shops, and street performers, when I was eating a piece of pizza bought from a street side shop — I felt so well and so right and couldn’t help comparing America with Europe. Why can’t we have such a life?

      Europeans seem slimmer, happier, and possibly poorer than Americans. Their cars are smaller. They walk and talk to strangers more often than we do.

      In America, streets are mainly for driving. In other countries, streets are primarily for walking.

      In America, wherever we go, we tend to drive. One day when I was driving, I noticed a simple fact that I had often seen but didn’t comprehend before: there was no single human face showing on the street at that moment. We’re living in a city of cars. These cars actually have personality. Some cars are friendly, some are not so much, some are snappy, and some are stocky. Cars are like our shells. We build a shell around us to carry us to a destination. There are no people on the streets, only shells floating around. Does it sound like a “daymare”?

      With cars, we move to suburbs, build a castle called home. Sometimes I even wonder, “Do Americans like people?” Why do we isolate ourselves like this? I prefer a condo or a flat, but I was scared when someone told me it’s a bad investment because they are difficult to sell.

      Every workday during lunch break, we drive to a nearby fast food restaurant, grab a hamburger and a soda, and finish them quickly. We can even eat in the car to save more time. I feel angry about fast food. They cook without thinking. They don’t think how to make food tasty. There are no cooking skills or styles involved whatsoever. They only think about how to make more money out of food.

      Europeans eat in small restaurants with colleagues. They chat and their lunch takes a longer time. Not as efficient. But which life would you call a happy life?

      Population density determines many aspects of life.

      I’m from Asia, a populous continent where people are forced to interact. For example, in college, six to eight students are assigned to the same dormitory and they would live together for several years. (The dorm condition might have improved by now.) I can honestly say that it’s not bad at all, as some might imagine. Strong bonds are built among these students. The power of growing up together is immense. My best friends are from my student years, from elementary school to college.

      Some may ask, but what if a jerk is assigned to be my roommate? In fact, there’re much fewer jerks in the world than we think. If you live with a supposed “jerk” under the same roof for four years, you will discover what makes him laugh and what makes him cry, how he talks to his mom, how he struggles for his dream, how he falls in love, and perhaps how he loses his love.

      During the process, one acquires a better understanding of people. It becomes easier, even a habit, to understand other people’s perspectives. Then we can talk about many things other than sports and weather.

      Population density determines urban shape as well. Suburban neighborhoods cannot afford restaurants and shops in walking distance. Small businesses won’t survive because there’s not enough customers. So people drive farther to find places for eating and shopping. When we get into the car, it doesn’t make a big difference whether we drive five minutes or 15 minutes. So we’ll end up in a warehouse store where parking is easier, and goods are cheaper and plenty. Colorful urban life cannot exist in suburbs, just like one-stop shopping at warehouse stores cannot exist without cars.

      Having complained so much, I don’t mean that I don’t like American life. Between America and Europe, I still prefer living in the U.S. Of course, as a tourist, I tend to admire rather than criticize what I see in Europe. And tourist cities might just look artificially happier than they really are. However, traveling abroad is an enriching experience. Seeing other cultures allows us to reflect on ourselves and see alternative possibilities for the future.

The TV drama series “The Courtyard of the Qiaos” tells the story of Qiao Zhiyong, the most powerful banker in the late Qing Dynasty. In one of his last days, when Qiao had become a slow and old man, he said to his wife, “I had a strange dream last night. I dreamed of this courtyard. There were a lot of strange people in the yard. They looked like us, but they were not us. They spoke Chinese but I could not understand them. They dressed differently and acted differently. I couldn’t recognize who they were.”

That is a well designed ending. The show doesn’t conclude with the end of this character’s life. It sets our eyes on the long history before and after him. The strange people Qiao dreamed about were us, people living today. Qiao knew the country was undergoing dramatic changes and the generations after him would be entirely different. His words raised an interesting question: What has changed since then and what has not?

I like reading classic Chinese poems and stories. I can connect with Chinese ancestry this way, although I am much different. Their time has long gone and can never be reached again. Even the rivers and mountains we live around and love today look different from the land they lived in and loved. I feel so connected, yet so disconnected to them.

Ancient Chinese were very proud of their civilization. They believed they had found the law and pattern of history, and they should follow the mandate of heaven. They believed they lived in the center of the world and wrongly called their neighboring countries “barbarians.” In Emperor Qian Long’s reply to British King George III, he wrote, “You, O King, live beyond the confines of many seas, nevertheless, impelled by your humble desire to partake of the benefits of our civilization, you have dispatched a mission respectfully bearing your memorial. … To show your devotion, you have also sent offerings of your country’s produce. I have read your memorial: the earnest terms in which it is cast reveal a respectful humility on your part, which is highly praiseworthy.”

Qian Long, arguably the second greatest emperor of Qing, might have valid reasons for his confidence and lofty tone. Obviously, he didn’t foresee the future of the island nation living “beyond the confines of many seas.” I don’t know if people are arrogant because they are ignorant, or they become ignorant for they are too arrogant to learn, then and now. I do know that this arrogance led to ultimate corruption and a century of disasters in China. The rest is history.

Today, the Forbidden City has become a public museum. People, like Qiao dreamed, dress differently and act differently. However, has everything really changed? I don’t think so.

Not everyone has read the Four Great Classics, but many know the stories of the four novels. Not many study the text of Confucianism, Buddhism, Taoism, Mohism, and Legalism, but people are familiar with many of their principles and quotations. Their teachings formed the Chinese culture and became the Chinese  language. In particular, the past few years were marked by the rise of “guoxue” (studies of national classics). Indeed, seeking one’s spiritual root is a natural consequence when one is materially satisfied.

The most ideal personality in tradition is called “Junzi”, which can be roughly translated as “gentleman.” What is a Junzi? What is not a Junzi?

Junzi is never about mediocrity. The “Book of Changes” described Junzi’s attitude. The “Book of Changes” is an arcane ancient book; most of its contents can only be comprehended by fortunetellers. Studying the law of the eight basic elements of the world, the book sheds light on what a Junzi should do to follow the profound design of nature. It reads: “Heaven’s movement is ever vigorous, so must Junzi strive without rest. Earth is ever low and stable, so must Junzi bear, with great virtue.”

The philosophy is always about two seemingly opposite yet interrelated things, yin and yang. One must mediate between the two. That is the relationship between Heaven and Earth, and between vigorousness and stability. Junzi is also an “Inner Saint and Outer King,” a harmony between mind and appearance, a consistence of motivation and behavior, and a unity of objective and method.

Junzi never retreats from society. Junzi should bring his ideals to society. Mencius told us, “In obscurity, one should pursue a private moral life. In times of success, one should nurture the world Under Heaven.” Junzi has great ambitions. There is balance between mission and personal life, too. Not everyone has the capability and opportunity to realize his ideals, though everyone can at least live a moral life and stand on their principles.

Junzi is not simply about being nice and caring. In the Analects of Confucius, someone asked Confucius, “What do you say concerning the principle that injury should be recompensed with kindness?” A common response to injury is often “an eye for an eye,” though should enlightened person treat viciousness with kindness? Confucius replied, “With what then will you recompense kindness?” Treating everyone equally with kindness is a common pitfall and logically a misconception. Doing that, one removes the line between right and wrong, and essentially loses moral standards. Confucius then pointed out the third choice. The Master said, “Recompense injury with justice, and recompense kindness with kindness.”

Reading the classics is a pleasure. Some universal questions, about life and death, about humanity and society, eternally puzzle every generation. I always feel puzzled. Our ancestry had their answers. These answers can be a guide to a peaceful and meaningful life in a very different world, too.

Good news! Two new Kung Fu movies are coming this summer: “Kung Fu Panda”, and “The Forbidden Kingdom”. Kung Fu Panda is an animated comedy film by DreamWorks, featuring Jack Black as the leading voice actor. The Forbidden Kingdom is a mythical adventure movie about a Boston boy who teleports to ancient China through a mysterious force and meets — guess who? — the Monkey King! For Jackie Chan and Jet Li fans, the movie is a must-see, because this is the first collaboration of the two actors.

Many Hollywood movies incorporate kung fu elements in them, including The Matrix, Kill Bill, and movies made by Jackie Chan and Jet Li for Hollywood. In the case of Kung Fu Panda and The Forbidden Kingdom, the stories are even set in China. Despite this, they are not typical kung fu movies. Yet, kung fu movie, as a genre, probably cannot be narrowly defined. It has been evolving and changing since its beginnings.

I know little about kung fu movies prior to the ’80s. Of course I know Bruce Lee and really liked some of his movies. Compared to later generations, I have to say the actions in old movies are much slower. Jackie Chan changed kung fu movies with his action comedies, which are often set in modern times. He is fast, strong and astonishingly flexible. Every ordinary place can become a battlefield for him. Everything in his hands can become a weapon. Chan’s sense of humor and popularity has transformed him into a cultural icon. Regardless of their age, fans in Hong Kong call him “big brother”.

While Jackie Chan is a trained kung fu master, not everyone can act like him. The film industry changed kung fu when it incorporated wired acrobatic technique into filmmaking. When the wire technique was combined with wide-angle camera and quick montage, filmmakers created a new and wild visual effect. It seemed very real. Actually it’s better and cooler than real! People could fly, and fight in a seemingly impossible way, as if gravity didn’t exist. The most successful ones from this period were Swordsman 2, and New Dragon Gate Inn, a remake of classic Dragon Gate Inn.

Moviegoers loved this new creation. But it rendered a new problem to actors. Their kung fu skills became more and more irrelevant, because everyone could instantly act like a master. Moreover, the market for kung fu movies had cooled down. Jackie Chan and Jet Li moved to Hollywood, leaving a vacuum in the Chinese film industry. Many don’t realize its profound consequence. To me, I see a gap between kung fu superstars. Bruce Lee was born in 1940, Jackie Chan in 1954, while Jet Li in 1963. Every decade has its own superstar. But this cycle was broken. In the nineties, there were notable efforts to create a new and younger superstar, though the industry failed in doing so because of the change in the market’s landscape. Will there be any more kung fu superstars? I hope so.

New opportunities in kung fu movies appeared from an unexpected director, Ang Lee (Sense and Sensibility, Brokeback Mountain). In many respects, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon was a strange movie. It was written, directed and performed by Chinese, but it was produced by Hollywood and targeted to the American market. Despite its success in the U.S., the movie received only a lukewarm response in China. Only many years later, I could imagine how much the movie inspired other Chinese filmmakers. Their conclusions seemed to be that Chinese film industry could operate like Hollywood, and kung fu was the key to entering the American market.

Zhang Yimou made “Hero” in 2002. And everything changed.

This was yet another surprise from an unlikely director. Zhang Yimou was not a commercial director at all. He made art films and was a frequent winner of different European film awards. With Hero, he defined an aesthetic standard. Equally importantly, he copied Hollywood business modes. Yes, it’s about money. Build an all-star cast from different regions, be it Hong Kong, Taiwan, Korea, or Japan. This will guarantee a movie’s success in overseas markets. Invest heavily in filmmaking and marketing alike. Big budget makes it possible for directors to pursue their perfectness, and generate lucrative profits. In this decade, we’re witnessing a wave of ever higher budgeted movies from the Chinese film industry. Some failed miserably; some won applause. Fairly speaking, they’re making good progress and have attracted more people back to the theatre.

Kung Fu Panda and The Forbidden Kingdom both promise to be good choices for summertime entertainment. Back in the Chinese market, this year will be dominated by war movies. The most anticipated one is Red Cliff, directed by John Woo. Its cost has approached US$100 million. I hope it is worth the money, and I am ready to feel the trembling.

The most popular and serious board games in China are chess and Go.

Chinese chess is very similar to European chess. In both games, you have an army and a king, you command your army to destroy your enemy, and capture the rival king to win the game. The two games bear some differences too. For example, Chinese chess doesn’t have queens and rooks. Instead, it has royal guards, artilleries, and war chariots. And the king and his guards must stay in the “palace”.

It’s not surprising that the two chess games resemble each other in many ways. They were both designed to simulate warfare. The fundamental ideas in them are the same. But the other game, Go, is in a whole different domain.

Go originated in ancient China. It’s not certain when exactly Go was invented. The earliest reference of the game found today was written in the fourth century BC. The game took a thousand years to reach Japan and Korea, and another thousand years to spread to the whole world. The English name “Go” is a translation from Japan. I personally don’t like the translation very much. Its original Chinese name “Weiqi” literally means “siege”, which presents the gist of the game very well.

Go gives me of a feeling of mysteriousness, primitive yet delicate. I often feel Go has a deep philosophy in it. The game is played on a 19 X 19 grid. Imagine this grid is the universe in which we live. Unlike chess which uses kings and soldiers, Go only has black and white stones. Every one of them is equal. Imagine these stones are lives, are yin and yang. When a stone is placed on the board, in order to live, it must have space to “breathe”. A common intersection on the grid has four surrounding intersections (the intersections on borders and corners, of course, have fewer adjacent intersections). If all four points are possessed by opponent stones, the stone in the center is considered “dead”, because it has no surrounding empty space to “breathe”. The dead stone should be removed from the board, leaving a new empty space for others. Isn’t the game marvelous?

It is lengthy to introduce Go’s rules and objective without illustrations. In general, the rules of Go are perceived as very simple. Nevertheless, it’s the most complicated board game in the world. The possible combination of chess is somewhere between 10⁴⁰ and 10⁴⁵, while Go creates 10¹⁰⁰ (1 followed by 100 zeros) combinations. Exhausting all possibilities by brute computing force helped Deep Blue, a super computer, defeated world chess champion Garry Kasparov in 1997. But Go’s complexity makes it impossible to solve the game with today’s computer technology.

Ancient Chinese classified Go players by nine ranks. I don’t know the formal translation of their titles. The best translations I came up with are: (from the lowest to the highest,) Conservation, Simplicity, Prowess, Finesse, Strategy, Enlightenment, Realization, Introversion, and Divinity. From the titles, one can tell that the game doesn’t encourage skills and calculation, but appreciates vision and cultivation.

Today, Japan, Korea and China have the best professional Go players in the world.

Japan has a strong tradition of Go playing. Most of the greatest Go masters of last century lived in Japan. But nowadays Japan’s youth are attracted more to video games and other modern entertainment than the ancient board game. The country is lacking a young generation of Go players.

The Koreans are playing a significant role. Lee Chang Ho, a world champion, is perhaps the strongest player of our time. Korean players are famous for their extreme calculation and accuracy.

Even though Go originated in China, the country gradually lost its position to Japan and Korea in recent centuries. Public interest in Go was revived in the 1980s during a series of dramatic arena matches between China and Japan. Now the country is catching up quickly, and already has seven world champions. China has a Go league tournament, just like a sport league tournament. This is indeed an interesting way to train players and inspire public enthusiasm at the same time. If history can predict, as the country gets richer and recruits more young players, we will see more talent and more exciting games. That would be good news to all Go fans.

Traveling around the world is an enlightening experience. But travel itself can be uncomfortable at times. You live in a hotel; maybe you can’t speak the country’s language; and if you lose your luggage, that would be a miserable day indeed. I felt very lucky when I went back to my hometown, Beijing, this past September. My parents arranged everything for me. Going back to Beijing is like going home. Meanwhile, because the city is changing so fast, I felt like a tourist in a different culture. This was a very strange and exciting feeling.

Beijing has a very long history. Its many historical sites attracts tourists: the Forbidden City, the Tiananmen Square, the Great Wall, the Summer Palace, and the Temple Of Heaven. They are ancient wonders that represent the highest achievements of traditional architecture.  Nowadays, several new world-class buildings are under construction. The most famous ones are the National Grand Theatre, the Olympic Stadium, and CCTV towers.

All three buildings are massive structures, and, to my eyes, in odd shapes. The National Theatre looks like a gigantic egg or a UFO floating on a water surface. The Olympic Stadium’s nick name is the “Bird’s Nest”. It indeed look like a nest wrapped in wild steel. The CCTV Towers are two leaning towers connected high in the sky without any supporting structure. They’re not like anything I’ve ever seen.

Another interesting place I visited was 798 Art Zone. It used to be an outdated military factory whose code name was 798. But some artists started setting up their galleries here in recent years, probably due to its low rental cost and ample space. The artists brought modernity to the space while preserving the industrial feeling of the old factory. Old workshops are transformed into exhibition halls. But you can still see huge red slogans painted on the ceiling: Long Life Chairman Mao! Don’t be fooled by its appearance. The art factory has actually gained serious reputation and won official support. When I was there, Sino-Japan Culture Exchange Exhibition, a quite high level international program, was taking place.

Not only the cityscape has changed. The economy is upgrading. The speed of wealth accumulation is astonishing. But I was more pleased to see that some corporations and people have developed a sense of social responsibility. One of China’s prominent social issues is the huge gap between cities and countryside, and between coastal and inland provinces. In China, you can see the most beautiful urban skylines in the world, but on the other hand, you can easily find obvious poverty in many villages. I was glad to see some examples of how people are helping the rural poor.

The new middle class likes hiking to the countryside in their leisure time. A program called “Carry 1 more KG” is born. In addition to their travel equipment, the program’s participants carry one kilogram of books in their backpacks, give the books to schools on their way, and spend some time with country kids.

Another example of help is something I saw advertised on TV. Some remote counties that produce healthy fruits are looking for business partners to set up food processing plants to add more value to their agriculture products. But how come these counties can pay for the expensive airtime on TV? The cost is paid by Sinopec, a big oil company, as charity. Here I see the shrewdness of the company. First, setting up business to let villagers improve their lives by their own hands is definitely better in long term than donating money and clothes directly. Second, the company obviously gets more public attention and appreciation by these ads than writing a check that few people know about.

 The feeling of living in a constantly changing country is hard to explain. There was a movie called Sweetheart that best explains my reaction. In the movie’s beginning, a girl was standing in a gray city and was screaming. The camera started to swirl around her. Behind her, things started to evolve. Skyscrapers popped up from the ground. Highways extended to the horizon. Banks were dropped from the sky. The camera swirled faster and faster, and suddenly, it stopped. The girl stopped screaming too. She had become a beautiful young woman, standing in the middle of a prosperous metropolis, feeling totally lost. Then, her story began.

The scene from the movie explains my feeling precisely. I often feel lost and confused. Nevertheless, I believe this is a happy story.

If you’re a fan of Japanese video games, anime, and manga, you surely have encountered some Chinese characters. Among them, the stories and characters from the Chinese classic “Journey to the West” written in the 16th century and “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” written in the 14th century are the most popular ones.

Wukong was a monkey monster in Journey to the West. The monkey had many names. He was born by a stone that was capable of absorbing the essence energy of the universe. This monkey was first called Stone Monkey. He joined other monkey fellows in the Mountain of Flowers and Fruits and was elected to be their king. By that time, he was called the Handsome Monkey King.

As his magic power and knowledge grew, he learned the existence of Heaven. Heaven didn’t like the monkey though. Gods lured him to Heaven and assigned him a low rank position. Monkey King enjoyed his days but didn’t like to obey anyone’s command. He went back to his home mountain and named himself the Great Sage Equal of Heaven to make fun of the gods. The grand title irritated the Court of Heaven. The conflict between Heaven and Monkey King was set off.

The part of the story is full of laughter. Every child loves it. Kids love seeing their dear monkey hero making fun of snobbish gods.

Heaven attempted every possible plot to control the insubordinate monkey, only to find that Heaven’s dignity seemed so ridiculous and irrelevant and in front of the monkey. All efforts were futile. The power of Monkey King surpassed Heaven’s.

The chaos in Heaven disturbed Buddha himself. Buddha condemned Monkey King and sealed him in a mountain. Monkey King was told that someone can save him from such imprisonment after 500 years.

Monkey King was contained for 500 years, and the person in prophecy finally appeared: a monk from the Middle Earth in his way to far west to obtain religious texts in India. The monk gave Monkey King the name Wukong, and a nickname “the Walker”. Wukong didn’t follow anyone’s order before, but he acknowledged the powerless mortal as his master and served him on his way to his pilgrimage.

Journey to the West is probably the most retold story in the world. Goku is the Japanese translation of Wukong. You can easily find over twenty Japanese manga books loosely or loyally based on the classic. The extremely popular Dragon Ball borrowed some basic storylines and characters in its early episodes. In this story, Goku is a talented warrior from an alien gorilla race. Same as the classic, he also rides a piece of cloud and waves a golden stick.

The monk Xuanzang (602? – 664) was a scholar, traveler, and translator in history. Other than that, Journey to the West is mostly a book of fantasy. But Romance of the Three Kingdoms is a mix of true history and folklore.

The Three Kingdoms era (220–280) was a chaotic period that consisted of endless wars. The destinies of greatest leaders, politicians, generals, warriors, scholars, doctors, wizards were intertwined in this short but complicated history. Their ambitions, believes, desires, and struggles are heart-touching even today.

Lu Bu, the most vicious bastard who dominated the battlefields of pre Three Kingdoms era, was inarguably the greatest warrior of all time. His life was full of betrayals. He betrayed two masters whom he served and was eventually betrayed by his own men. Riding his horse “Red Hare”, he could go anywhere he wanted; with his halberd “Sky Scorcher”, no one could stop him.

In front of the Gate of Tiger Cage, Lu Bu was challenged by the three vowed brothers Zhang Fei, Guan Yu, and Liu Bei.

Guan Yu is considered the Martial Saint. He is also the embodiment of courage, brotherhood, and loyalty. In many Hong Kong movies, you can see a red-faced god sitting in the shrine, worshipped by all policemen and gangsters. That’s Guan Yu, a half god half human figure.

But in the battle at the Gate of Tiger Cage, Lu Bu proved to be simply invincible. Guan Yu’s equally powerful younger brother Zhang Fei was overwhelmed by Lu Bu. It didn’t take too long for Guan Yu and Liu Bei to join the fight. Under the combined attack of the three brothers, Lu Bu retreated. Evidently, the battle was more like a victory of Lu Bu rather than of the three brothers.

In his last days, Lu Bu indulged into alcohols and women. His strength waned. Unlike other warlords, he was lack of strategy to survive in the turbulent world. Because of his bad reputation of betrayal, no one would accept him as a general. Seeing no future following him and afraid of his bad temper, Lu Bu’s two officers stole Red Hare and Sky Scorcher, tied him up when he was asleep drunk, and rendered him to his enemies, who ended the sad story of Lu Bu.

Dynasty Warriors is my favorite Three Kingdom game, in which you could try Lu Bu’s aggressive, taunting, powerful, and somewhat dumb moves.

“Your bases are belonged to us.” The sentence, which originally came from a video game, is a classic mistranslation. Now as people travel to China, they find the vast world of Chinglish, or Chinese English. Don’t feel offended by the “Racist Park”. All it means is, “Ethnic Minorities Park”. Don’t be surprised by a road sign reading “To Take Notice of Safe; The Slippery are Very Crafty”. And please be assured that the “Government Abuse Chicken” on your dinner menu doesn’t involve any government or abuse.

The Chinese can’t speak English. That’s a stereotype, but is also an embarrassing fact for many of us. The problem is mainly in China’s English education. Take my own experience as example.

English was a major course like Chinese and Math in my middle and high school. Even though we had English class every day, the language was almost non-existent in our lives. In the class, we learned a few words and sentences, and grammar rules, but we rarely had a chance to use them to express ourselves. The education mainly focused on reading and less time on writing, listening, and speaking. “English is useful. You will read a lot of English papers and technical references. A lot!” So said my teachers. Obviously, they never expected us to communicate with foreigners.

After I graduated from college, I decided to continue my education in the United States. To apply to a US college, I had to pass TOEFL (Test of English as a Foreign Language) and GRE (Graduate Record Examinations). So I went to New Oriental, a then private English school. The market of English education outside the public schools was, and still is, huge. A lot of students were eager to study abroad, and New Oriental was their first choice to polish their English skills. The school was so successful that they went public in the New York Stock Market last year.

The teacher of the school said they offered many programs, but the goal of the TOEFL and GRE programs, to be very clear, was to pass the examinations, not to improve our English. The school had studied the exams thoroughly and exhaustively. “You only need to follow a few rules and immerse yourself in the language in order to succeed. The answers will reveal themselves in front of you.” So they said.

It sounded like advertising, but it worked on me. There were a few times I selected the right answer without even knowing the question. I came to the US, not surprisingly, with high scores and very limited English. That was the beginning of my “real” English education.

After all, what is the Government Abuse Chicken I mentioned earlier? It’s nothing other than the familiar Kung Pow Chicken. To understand why the name is so badly translated, you’ll need a little basic knowledge of Chinese language.

Almost all Chinese characters have their own meanings, which are sometimes vague and ambiguous. They only become clear and specific when they are combined together to form words. People could select characters and form a new word to create a meaning and feeling. But the name of “Kung Pow” is confusing even to a native speaker like me. The most common meaning of “kung” is “palace”. I suppose that is to boast that the dish originated from imperial families. I can imagine that “government” is possibly listed as a translation to “kung” in a Chinese English dictionary, because the character could refer too many different things when combined with other characters. And “government” happened to be considered an excellent word by a small restaurant owner who knew nothing about English. For similar reasons, “pow”, which means “protection”, was translated as “abuse”. The end result is the mind boggling “Government Abuse Chicken” on the menu. Even the grammar of the name is wrong. Any English speaker would call it “Government Abused Chicken”, which would be a joke at least in correct grammar.

The fun part of translation doesn’t end here. When foreign companies enter China, they have to endow their brands some significance. The name of Google itself doesn’t mean anything. It’s only an invention. But when it’s translated into Chinese, the company had to consider it very carefully. Google’s Chinese name is Guge, which means “Songs from the Valley”. Out of the same marketing consideration, Yahoo calls itself Yahu meaning “Elegant Tiger”, and Coca Cola is Kekou Kele or “Tasty and Joyful”.

Because of language and cultural differences, some complain that English is so incompatible with our mother language, it’s much harder for a Chinese to master English than for a European. The argument has certain truth in it. But I have seen a growing number of Westerners who speak decent Chinese (and use chopsticks very well). That makes me believe the problem is how we learn the language.

The Chinese in the Mainland, Taiwan, and Hong Kong have lived a very different life. So has their music.

Even though Hong Kong does have many serious musicians, the music in the commercial hub city is more like products rather than art works. Influenced by Hong Kong’s economic might and its successful movie and music industry, Cantonese culture has become one of the most recognizable Chinese cultures. To many, Cantonese language is an equivalence of Mandarin.

Unlike Hong Kong, Taiwan’s culture is actually not a local culture. When KMT retreated from the Mainland to Taiwan after the civil war, a large number of populations from all regions of China migrated to the island, including refugees, soldiers, and intellectual elites. Taiwan’s culture is like a melting pot of Chinese culture on a smaller scale.

In 1980s, both Taiwan and Hong Kong had experienced unprecedented economic development. Cultures burgeoned. The Mainland started economic reforms and opened its door to the outside world. People absorbed a lot of fresh ideas from Taiwan and Hong Kong. A natural progress would be that people would copy the music from Taiwan and Hong Kong, maybe awkwardly in the first step, and then gradually develop music of similar style. But to many people’s surprise, a small group of underground musicians chose a very different path and made their voices first. The rock music.

In 1987, Cui Jian published his first album “The Rock on the New Long March Road”. It was primary, straightforward, and full of strength. His music was very heretical at that time, but meanwhile very Chinese, using a mix of traditional instruments. It was not only the first Chinese rock album, but also one of the best ever.

At the time, Cui Jian was a synonym of rock music. He was rock and rock was him. But more people started their own “Long March”, the pilgrimage to their dreams. Youth moved to Beijing, the capital city, with a guitar, and formed their communities. The unemployed youth rarely had income or financial supports. Some were homeless and lived on the streets. The music resources they could find and learn from were very limited. But they chewed every bit of it. The outcome, as people later found out, was by all mean astonishing and awe-inspiring.

In 1990s, a respected Taiwanese company Rock Record, the largest independent music company in Asia, sent their agents into the Mainland. They were overwhelmed by their discovery. When these underground singers and bands in Beijing were introduced to the public, their music combined with marketing and producing expertise of the Taiwanese company was extremely successful and won the hearts of a generation. This was called the New Music movement.

It was surprising that youth in the Mainland showed so much enthusiasm for rock music. But if we think through it, the phenomenon makes a lot of sense.

First, the political movements in the country planted rebellious spirits, which are very compatible with rock music. Second, the sheer geographic size and long history of the country make the youth think big and aim high. They are less interested in writing soft love songs. Lastly, the lack of commercial environment and education in their lives makes them less sensitive to market needs and the idea of exchanging their talents for money.

Is it a success story? Unfortunately not. Many of these bands couldn’t adjust their lives from underground bar bands to professional musical groups. After their successful debut albums, many released lackluster second albums in a relatively short time. Their supporters were mostly disappointed.

Taiwan and Hong Kong music still dominated. Many people regarded rock as a marginal music that was good to try but was fundamentally unpleasant. After the first wave of the New Music movement, people didn’t find enough exciting new bands to sustain their interests. The market cooled down.

The Mainland got back on the track of what we predicted: copy from Taiwan and Hong Kong, and then create their own popular music. That’s indeed what happened.

But rock music didn’t die. It will never die. Seeds have been planted and they will grow and bloom. To many older as well as younger musicians, rock is their life. They won’t give up due to market fluctuations. Not like in the early time when we could find several inspiriting albums every year, they do produce a steady number of releases with various styles. Their popularity is growing slowly and gradually.

The market shall prevail. Artists shall persist. I am a listener. I am with them, and I will always support them.