Thursday, September 18, 2014

Hospitality Under the Plane Trees




Shanghai at night.  Shanghai at a road side café.  A caffelitto where tapas are served whether or not you've ordered any and the wine is not necessary to request.  New dripping wet cold, dry white bottles arrive as soon as they are finished.  You’re the only ones who don’t seem intimately associated with the ownership structure and still, somehow, it sustains and it isn’t the first time you’ve been here and been treated so kindly.



Then duck out under the Plane trees and miss the first but grab the second cab.  Speeding around in the back of a cab that has both the rear windows rolled down.  The breeze is intense until you realize that it is an option.  You have the power to impose your will and close them both.  Considering the faces of the night people out here and then there in Shanghai.  Young Chinese people of means, and young foreign people of ephemeral confidence.  There is a man my who’s pulled back the opening on the public garbage can and is rifling through the waste materials in search of bottles or something of greater value.  A guy, who is presumably a guard, stripped down to a white tee, reclined in a chair on the street, beside a gate opening looking fast asleep.

I have to fight from falling asleep. It’s a Pee Wee Herman vs. Leon Spinx sort of bout where I, in a bow tie, have no chance.  My back of the cab mind wants to just let myself doze off, and we haven’t clarified where precisely it is I’m heading to.  “The People’s Park, my good man”, blink too many times and I might wind up in Berkeley.   It’s a big park and I’m two blocks off it in a direction I can’t easily articulate because north-south-east-west articulation in this city, that spins and turns like the bows in the rivers is never as easy as the square that radiates out from the emperors throne in Beijing.

Keep typing as the lights pass by and I regain consciousness, again.  I’ll leave in the next thought that I typed at the precise time.  “Thought” is too kind an assignation but it certainly less objectionable than “sentence: “b thcoices to one wher We hae a me in; u . . . ”  You got that?

A cough, an interjection . . . “ah, yeah just keep going straight ahead.”  “to Beijing Street?”  “Yes, indeed.”  And so it returns to me, the street I live on, and in parallel so does a memory of knowing from years ago that the street, appropriately, north of Nanjing Lu, is Beijing Lu.  Remember that.   



Flying down this morning, I had music on that might have kept me awake if I’d managed to pull it out in the cab.  The driving Lyman Woodard Organization, “Live At J.J.’s Lounge” from 1974 album reminds me of something a dorm mate might have turned me on to in 1984.  The tune “Kimba” is surging, jazz funk, anchored, driving and not the least bit fuzak-ian.  Apparently he was the Detroit organist, playing with Martha and Vandellas and then made the jazz funk scene there in the Motor City in the seventies.   He passed in Owosso Michigan; the same town he was born in, passing in 2009 at the age of 66.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyman_Woodard

Stepping on the plane, I grabbed, as I always do, the China Daily.  It’s that or the Global Times, which the Chinese airlines always provide as free-be English language newspapers.  It’s always helpful to see how the Party wants the news framed and sometimes there is even a surprise.  Front page, un-mis-able “news” today was the headline “Actress Stuck in Nation’s Conflict.”  It traced the story of the actress Yoshiko Otaka, aka, Yoshkiko Yamagushi, aka Li Xianglan, who died on September 7 at the age of 94.  During the Japanese invasion she was one of the biggest film stars in China.  http://usa.chinadaily.com.cn/china/2014-09/16/content_18603510.htm

Born of Japanese parents, she was raised in Japanese occupied Manchuria, and given a Chinese name, taught to sing by Russian expatriates, she answered an add for a Chinese girl who could read music and speak Japanese, she got the part.  From then on she was known to the public by her Chinese name and became famous as a “Chinese” actress who could speak both languages.  At the end of war she was captured and slated for execution as a collaborationist with all the other 乱臣贼子[1], but her Russian instructor somehow managed to produce her Japanese birth certificate and she was sent back to Japan.  She continued a film career through the fifties, and married a Japanese diplomat and then won a seat in the Diet where she served for eighteen years.  And she was a vocal critic of official visits to the Yasakune Shrine, speaking out for the reconciliation of her Fatherland Japan and her Motherland China, which obviously endeared her to the folks at China Daily. 






[1] luànchénzéizǐ:  rebels and traitors (idiom) / general term for scoundrel

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