When Daughter No. 1 first arrived in Yunnan Province’s capital city Kunming, she felt a mix of relief and fear. After all, her first time in China was 1991, a study abroad in Beijing, and her recent return was met with an unfamiliar sanitized, glass and steel, Olympic-ready version of the capital city (more later). Therefore, Kunming was worth a short stay, as a stopover to other landmarks like Shi Lin (stone forest) (two hour drive away through the old Burma Road) and the perfectly preserved Ming Streets of LiJiang city (a 45 minute flight away). It was also worth a stop in Kunming to see how parts of modern Chinese used to look like 20 years ago, left to develop at an inconsistent pace: amid one or two nice hotels, there were dilapidated and dirty but functional high rises rimmed with generous balconies stacked with personal belongings, people squatting and hanging out on sidewalks, rays of saliva surprising foreign pedestrians in the ancient rituals of public spitting, and vendors setting up crockpots and grills along dusty and crowded roads to feed a moveable clientele. A black and shallow canal wound along the highway, a reflection of unregulated dumping, the tour guide said, always ready to save face: “a shame on the city.” Daughter No. 1 noted these details not to look down Kunming’s residents, or comment on the governments’ mismanagement of public works, but instead to again show her nostalgia for the past.
She wanted to say to the group, see, this is the China I remember, and then corrected herself, remembering how her former Chinese language teacher scolded her when she complained about the modernity of China in 1992. The Teacher, a former Red Guard who regretted her actions, but retained some aspects of the philosophy, said, “You Americans always want to think of China as stuck in antiquity. However, you do not recognize that China is a developing country that will quickly catch up to the rest of the world. Why must we live in old cities? You go to China to see the past, but the people want to be in the future.” With that voice carving out her conscience, Daughter No. 1 tsk’ed away at the gloomy sight of a city groaning against its adjustment. Perhaps in another 6 months, all this would be gone, and replaced with something new, and obviously, better.
Although it is much father west, Kunming and all other Chinese cities must follow Beijing time, so it stayed light out there much later than in the eastern cities. Electricity seemed limited, and after shops closed, whole buildings fell to darkness, a sight not usually seen in security-conscious downtown areas of America, which boast excessive energy use, and yet are emptied of people after evening rush hour. In contrast, even late at night, the streets of Kunming were alive with humanity; with many places open for food, and people lingering outside, embracing and socializing. Although she does not feel her safety at risk, Daughter No. 1 senses that something else exists beneath the surface. She notices an unusually high number of saunas and spas in the area, two in her own hotel, as a matter of fact. They are advertised with huge neon signs and names based in symbolic fruits and colors of China: golden lotuses, dragonfruit, jade drops, among others. Although her hotel is part of a larger, highly esteemed chain of establishments devoted to business travelers, there are little flourishes in the room that offer hints of additional options. In the room she finds a condom and another foil sealed package of squishy substance encased in a plastic box labeled “For Purchase Only,” and a pink bilingual brochure educating the hotel guests on risks of AIDs and HIV. So many mixed messages! Daughter No. 1 half expects that she will receive the nightly phone call from a soliciting woman. It used to be the case in past trips, that in spite of her gender, a female would call nightly, asking in a slight Chinese drawl if the guest needed company. But the phone remained silent. No, China is not exactly Thailand, but it wasn’t a far cry either. Male visitors always know the option exists for paid favors and companionship, and for some, that knowledge is reassuring. Daughter No. 1 wondered what a Chinese prostitute looks like. Were they blatantly sexual in their presentation, or did they merely try to blend in, aware that their customers would have their own means of recognition, know the password. In the hotel lobby, she eyed pairs of women walking through the lobby and gaggles of businessmen laughing together, seemingly relieved to be with those of their gender. It was nearly midnight, and the two genders never seemed to mix. She wondered how these transactions really took place, and at what frequency. Why wasn’t it more blatant? Only advertising and innuendo; little more observed. In spite of her voyeuristic need to learn more about these participants in the underground economy, the city disappointed her, and like others, presented Daughter No. 1 with a “face” that betrayed nothing.
She wanted to say to the group, see, this is the China I remember, and then corrected herself, remembering how her former Chinese language teacher scolded her when she complained about the modernity of China in 1992. The Teacher, a former Red Guard who regretted her actions, but retained some aspects of the philosophy, said, “You Americans always want to think of China as stuck in antiquity. However, you do not recognize that China is a developing country that will quickly catch up to the rest of the world. Why must we live in old cities? You go to China to see the past, but the people want to be in the future.” With that voice carving out her conscience, Daughter No. 1 tsk’ed away at the gloomy sight of a city groaning against its adjustment. Perhaps in another 6 months, all this would be gone, and replaced with something new, and obviously, better.
Although it is much father west, Kunming and all other Chinese cities must follow Beijing time, so it stayed light out there much later than in the eastern cities. Electricity seemed limited, and after shops closed, whole buildings fell to darkness, a sight not usually seen in security-conscious downtown areas of America, which boast excessive energy use, and yet are emptied of people after evening rush hour. In contrast, even late at night, the streets of Kunming were alive with humanity; with many places open for food, and people lingering outside, embracing and socializing. Although she does not feel her safety at risk, Daughter No. 1 senses that something else exists beneath the surface. She notices an unusually high number of saunas and spas in the area, two in her own hotel, as a matter of fact. They are advertised with huge neon signs and names based in symbolic fruits and colors of China: golden lotuses, dragonfruit, jade drops, among others. Although her hotel is part of a larger, highly esteemed chain of establishments devoted to business travelers, there are little flourishes in the room that offer hints of additional options. In the room she finds a condom and another foil sealed package of squishy substance encased in a plastic box labeled “For Purchase Only,” and a pink bilingual brochure educating the hotel guests on risks of AIDs and HIV. So many mixed messages! Daughter No. 1 half expects that she will receive the nightly phone call from a soliciting woman. It used to be the case in past trips, that in spite of her gender, a female would call nightly, asking in a slight Chinese drawl if the guest needed company. But the phone remained silent. No, China is not exactly Thailand, but it wasn’t a far cry either. Male visitors always know the option exists for paid favors and companionship, and for some, that knowledge is reassuring. Daughter No. 1 wondered what a Chinese prostitute looks like. Were they blatantly sexual in their presentation, or did they merely try to blend in, aware that their customers would have their own means of recognition, know the password. In the hotel lobby, she eyed pairs of women walking through the lobby and gaggles of businessmen laughing together, seemingly relieved to be with those of their gender. It was nearly midnight, and the two genders never seemed to mix. She wondered how these transactions really took place, and at what frequency. Why wasn’t it more blatant? Only advertising and innuendo; little more observed. In spite of her voyeuristic need to learn more about these participants in the underground economy, the city disappointed her, and like others, presented Daughter No. 1 with a “face” that betrayed nothing.
1 comment:
Perhaps I read too much Henry Miller at an impressionable age, but I too was fascinated with China’s underground economy. I am sure that if you had inquired at the desk as to how one might find company for the evening they would have been able to help you out. Or maybe not because you are a woman ??? I don’t know. You are better off without the phone calls though. I stayed at a Friendship Hotel in Lanzhou where the phone rang off the hook into the night! I finally disconnected it. Usually the women spoke in Chinese, or could only say a few stock phrases in English. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized why they were calling. Naïve, I know.
I think that in the new China, as in Thailand, the unregulated sex trade is regulated to certain areas of the city. That’s why you didn’t see lingerie clad hoes running through the hallways of your hotel! If you know where to go prostitution is not hard to find, otherwise, all you’ll see is the bight new face of China in the 21st century.
The environmental pollution, on the other hand, is much easier to hide.
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