A few days ago I heard the familiar beep-beep, beep-beep from my cell phone, indicating a text message had come in. This is not uncommon here in UB; it's the cheapest way to communicate. But what was uncommon was the message itself: "Do you want a free trip to Beijing?" I almost junked it as spam until I saw who it was from. A coupla clarifying clickety-clicks back and forth -- like "Seriously?" and "Why?" -- and I thought, "Hmm. Maybe I'm going to Beijing next month."
Can't reveal details just yet, but let's just say that ain't the only thing going -- February is going to be a busy and exciting month. But I can talk about my sense that I've been provided with a welcome opportunity.
As I've said a number of times, I harbor a deep antipathy about modern China, stemming mostly from its ongoing, brutal occupation of Tibet. But this has always sounded a clashing note for me, as my practice is supposed to be about cultivating a compassionate view towards others, free of prejudice. So where could I turn to reconcile these feelings?
Well, where I've always turned: literature.
The local FPMT center has a cafe, in which they offer a small lending library of books in English. For some time I'd been dancing around a substantial volume, and now I plucked it off the shelf: Gao Xingjian's Soul Mountain. Man, am I glad I did.
The year 2000 was extremely turbulent for me, and as a result it didn't register that Mr. Xingjian was awarded that year's Nobel Prize for Literature. They chose wisely. I'm about 100 pages in and absorbed in a way that can only come from encountering consummate mastery. I've joined him on a gorgeous and profound linguistic excursion that can also be wickedly funny. He got me on the hook on page 18, when the narrator recalls this ditty from his childhood:
"In moonlight thick as soup
I ride out to burn incense
For Luo Dajie who burnt to death
For Dou Sanniang who died in a rage
Sanniang picked beans
But the pods were empty
She married Master Ji
But Master Ji was short
So she married a crab
The crab crossed a ditch
Trod on an eel
The eel complained
It complained to a monk
The monk said a prayer
A prayer to Guanyin
So Guanyin pissed
The piss hit my son
His belly hurt
So I got an exorcist to dance
The dance didn't work
But still cost heaps of money"
Now I want to learn Chinese just so I can sing this song. Why didn't I have such hilariously surreal things to sing as a child?
Anyway, my instinct was right. The best way to approach a new land is through its artists. I'm beginning to look forward to my first taste of China. Now excuse me while I make some tea, curl up with my critters, and read.
Who sent the sms?? Who!? Who sent it!?
What's going to happen in february?? What? What?
Posted by: Vedran | January 28, 2007 at 11:55 AM
I need a Floki update, please! Thanks,
Jan
Posted by: Jan Hughes | January 28, 2007 at 03:10 PM
you never sang girl scout songs as a child, i can tell, lol.
i can think of several that sound similar to that. my favorite was this: (bear with me, lol)
once there was a chinaman
his name was chickachaluchalan
his legs were short
his arms were long
and this is the way he moved a long
chickachaluchaluchalan
oloby joboly chickageology
chickachaluchaluchalan
oloby joloby chinaman.
in one breath. i still sing it to freak my teenage sons out, lol.
Posted by: minnie | January 28, 2007 at 08:56 PM
Bless you for finding the "Nobelness" in this tome. It took me forever to read. I found it derivative and self-serving. Give me any Ha Jin book or Dai Sijie (Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress.)
Best...
Posted by: Darinka | January 29, 2007 at 12:57 AM
In a recent PBS special, China is now riviling the US for consumption,however,
they are doing something. You can visit a bldg. there
w/over 100 conservation ideas for builders. PS-wear mask as 1 out of 4 persons in china will die from lung related causes due to polution. 1/4 of the smog in LA is directly related to China's polution. Have a safe trip.cw
Posted by: cyndie | January 29, 2007 at 10:29 AM
Pah! Beijing ain't got nothin' on UB, pollution-wise. The running joke here is that the city was misnamed. Instead of Ulaanbaatar (Red Hero) it should be Utaanbaatar (Smoky Hero). Thousands of coal-burning gers make this city a respiratory nightmare in winter. My eyes are stinging even as I'm typing this.
Posted by: Konchog | January 29, 2007 at 11:11 AM
Late in the morning,
Early at night,
Two dead boys got up to fight.
Back to back, they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot each other.
A deaf policeman, hearing the noise,
Got up and killed the two dead boys.
Love Minnie's, too. Maybe you just need a warped sense of humor for these things to stick.
Posted by: Teresa Thorne Hunter | February 02, 2007 at 03:57 AM