The New Beachhutman Blog

Beijing is back to its normal self today. We had to take a trip out to the south, to see a client company, and as we headed down the ring road the city smog lay heavy in the atmosphere. By the World Trade Tower test – if we can see it from our office, the city isn’t smoggy – it was a smoggy day.

Anyway, a good moan. To get to the company I had been arranged to meet (please note the unusual verb structure there) a colleague at Goumao at 9.15, which may normally be un pezzo di torta of a trip-ette, but during the “limpicks” it has become a night mare journey. You see, to make sure all the running and jumping people could breath in clean fresh air, the city closed factories and building sites and stuff like that, but also banned half the cars from the city, on an even and odd number plate process.

Result of this is that twice as many people as usual now use cabs and the subway each day. There is consequently a cab famine affecting many of the outlying residential areas. Such was the situation when I made my way down from Beachhutman Towers to the cab rank this morning. I hung around trying to get a cab for a good 20 minutes, but none even went past empty, let alone stopped.

There is another phenomenon that is occurring at present, and that is the illegal taxi. Knowing of the shortage of cabs, and having cars that are allowed in on half of the days of the week, some drivers are taking to touting for business outside the big residential compounds. They draw up at the cab rank, and say. “Psst! You want a ride mister?” (in Chinese actually) and you then negotiate a price, and if you dare, you take their car to your destination. If stopped by the law, you are just good friends, and no cash is changing hands, which is tough for a Laowai who doesn’t speak the language. So I don’t use them, despite their blandishments.

After 25 minutes waiting in the street, I gave up and legged it the kilometre or so  to the subway, which as I have mentioned is crowded as an EasyJet check-in and arrived hot a sweaty to get on a hot and sweaty train with a thousand other hot and sweaty people for the four stops to Goumao. Luckily I had time to sit in a shady corner to cool off and dry off before the colleague arrived, and we went off to the company.

Which is where, dear reader, if you came in at the t0p, I began……

Oh oh.

Waking I found the AC on, blowing over me. Admittedly, only on 27 degrees, which if it was central heating in England, would be considered insanely hot.  But by putting it on 27 overnight, it usually stays off until the early morning, when the temperature rises above that. However, it came on before I woke, and the result today seems to be a nasty hacking coff.

*hack hack*

It's silly really, because one gets colds here INDOORS more often than outdoors due to AC. I KNOW ... it's supposed to be a virus, I can't explain it, but you just do.

Stepping outside the door to dump my kitchen rubbish, it was like a damn sauna on the 17th floor landing. This is a bad sign; almost inevitablywetty sweaty arriving in work, then a day in an AC environment, then smuggy muggy evening trip home, and into AC again.

I had better dig out that cold cure............

When I was at college I remember an occasion when, after the long holiday, we all handed I our assignments at the start of a double lecture in the Science labs. While we were working on some foolish experiment, the lecturer took them out of the room. He returned them to us, with grades, at the end of the lecture. Eight weeks work (or work done over eight weeks) graded in an hour. We knew damn well he had not read them, we suspected he had weighed them. So was born the habit of putting little traps into our essays.

My dull life was made much merrier this morning as I graded some assignments for a client’s group of managers. The assignment was on team work, and the one I was reading had an almost tedious amount of data. However, on page 33, half way down, I encountered this. Trick or treat?

Q. What incentives do you provide for team success? Which of these has proved most beneficial to team success? Do you focus on rewarding good performance or punishing bad? Which approach works better? What specific rewards (punishments) have the biggest impact on team performance on your terminal?

A. I like to both punish and reward. I tried to present a program where the manager with the highest production received oral sex from the manager with the lowest production. This idea was scrapped because I was sometimes unclear which was the punishment and which was the reward.

My belly presses on the edge of the desk.` It’s a sort of odd feeling, as of late I have been getting a tad slimmer, and the belly has been retreating. Old friends will recall the infamous BHM GBIMDJ* diet of 2005 and its sad demise as I began to work again in hotels and suffer death by menu. But of late the reconstruction of the BHM corporation has proceeded reasonably well, with trousers becoming noticeably looser, and shoe laces being met at least half way each morning.

Today I bounded into the office, and after what seemed like mere moments, we were off to lunch. I was restrained at lunch, sharing just the one bottle of beer with the Boss, and mostly swiping R’s veggie nosh, although I did sneak a few SMALL lumps of sweet sour pork. But I kept my secret.

Over the footbridge after lunch, talking of this and that, mostly that, that being food, I kept my secret.

All through the afternoon of the day I denied myself snacks, and I kept my secret.

And having an excuse to leave early (ie at 6.30) I snuck away without revealing my secret.

Pork. Roast Pork. I had in my apartment a roasting pork joint. To be served with roast potatoes, beans, courgettes, gravy, apple sauce……..

You see the other day at Lotus stores I had spotted these pork chunks. I won’t say joints, 'cos in China they don’t do joints, but I lingered, looking, and realised that if tied in a ring, together, they were pork joints. So I selected one, had it weighed and priced, and went upstairs to look for string. That was difficult, so I settled for good cotton from the sewing aisle. I bound the pork joint last night. Tonight I roasted it in a hot oven, and ate it.

Not all, obviously. There’s a small sad going-grey lump left behind, for, as the Italians would say, “Vergonia” - For shame. I’ll probably lose my will power and eat it cold with salt later.

After a while here, you do miss the sort of grub you’d eat “at home”. I’m pretty unsure about where “at home” is, but at present it’s somewhere between Europe and China. Not India.  I love the Chinese food, almost without exception, but loathe so much of what passes for food in the country of my birth.

At Heathrow I and a friend were forced to lunch recently, and for 38 quid, it was absolutely AWFUL. Many a time have I gone out to dinner in England, most recently in Durham for my girls graduation, and been utterly horrified at what they served and the prices they charged. In Spain I tend to eat fish and vegetables, maybe with some fish, or a few vegetables, unless I go for the pescado y verduras. Here, I eat much the same at night. Light. Restrained. And evidently, a bit slimming.

But I gorged on Roast pork tonight, crackling and all. With a glass of Rose wine.

Keep the secret will you?

*Get Back Into My Damn Jeans

Flags and anthems, flags and anthems. "God save the Queen" seemed SO out of place in Beijing.

**Boris, Bless him, clearly had NO idea how to behave at an even tlike this, he kept trying to sneak his hands into his jacket pockets! The London Logo still looks FOUL, like a .. a ... monsterous of Marxist collective farm sign, or a motorway service area you would not stop at.

**The London bus was pretty cool though, folding out to make the stage.`That did bring tears to my old rocker eyes, to see Jimmy Page and Leona Lewis doing "Whole Lotta Love" in the Beijing Stadium. Who would EVER have thought that one day a Led Zep classic would represent London?

**Beckam was there to boost his sponsorship earnings I guess, what he had a football for other than to remind people who he was - is anyone's guess.

**Then amazing Gymnastics. Lights, more anthems, more symbolism. Acrobats on a tower, synchronised human geometry, banners, lights, flags, culminating in a human sculpture of the 2008 logo, and more fireworks.I wonder if they were CG tonight?

**I can only assunme this act is China's finest Pop stars singing "Beijing Beijing". They are doing a good job. They represent the generation that inherits, the people who have to make the games count for the city. What will the young Chinese take away? Will they change anything? I hope so, I really do. This games was set up for a tired old Regime to demonstrate their legitimacy to the world; the world has also seen a young China,  who don't really give damn for the old rulers, but do desperately want to be part of the world. That could be the really hard-to-block legacy.

** Now we have some more traditional singers, in more traditional costumes.  I don't pretend to like whiney Chinese singing, but they look stunning.

** Followed by Placido Domingo, who like Sarah Brightman, has been saddled with a Chinese duettist for local colour, and with a pretty poor song. Just trying to look her up I found that the Internet Censors are working overtime tonight blocking links to the story, so I can't get any info on her. Aerial acrobats. Songs.  More fireworks. We can see them on shots from inside the stadium, so probabaly not CG.

and straight into a commercial for MILK!

and all the other official sponsor adverts.......

Amusing  to see the official BEER sponsors were not allowed to show people actually DRINKING the stuff! But the herbal tea drink sponsors were allowed to

Yesterday got wasted. I got up and had coffee over the newspapers then did a couple of hours with the manuscript, then the phone rang as planned. Off to Sanlitun to meet Renee and Simon, and away we whisked to an amazing veggie restaurant.

OK. That doesn’t sound much. But this was a Chinese restaurant, I mean a veggie restaurant in Beijing, and it was fantastic., The only thing I noticed was that unlike UK veggie places, this was openly crasomorphic. (I invented it) (It means vegetables pretending to be meat) (I think)

Anyway, we had a fantastic lunch for three. Veggie meat balls, veggie Hedgehog, veggie fish in Chilli soup, veggie sweet sour pork, dumplings in two varieties,  rice, salad, and beers. The only oddity was to discover the mayonnaise on the papaya salad was condensed milk. As I said, fantastic. Three of us cost about 18 Euro equivalent, and there was enough for Renee to take off in a selection of doggie bags for dinner. Several I reckon.

Then down to the art shops for Simon to collect stuff to take back to family in UK, rolls of canvas, wooden hands (?) cartooning pens, drawing pens, acrylics, etc. etc. ON down to Wangfujing for toy shopping, then cab back to the apartment for some beers. After an hour I popped down to the shop for ten more. Around 8.00 we decided to eat, just a Spanish omelette and salad, a few beers…….

And then after a few beers Simon went back to the Meeja Village, and I had a beer

And went to bed.

But as I said, the day was a total waste.

So this morning I had to get on with revising the next book, because I promised it would be in by the end of August, and although I’ve done the first draft, I have to knock it into shape. Which means cutting it down to about 17,000, and getting the punch lines in at the end of passages.

So eight hours later, I looked up and realised it was Sunday, and I ought to eat something, so I went to the supermarket, which is where I found they are now doing French Bread. This is a sign of the gentrification of the area, first cheese, then decent wine, then Italian coffee, now French sticks. So, suspicious and doubtful, I bought one.

I am pretty sure The French would hate Vegemite, and also fairly sure that French bread and Vegemite was not what the lyrics meant, but let me just say that after half of the stick I have decided it’s a pretty good combination.

Anyway, back to that MS……

A few years ago when I was in the middle of my Harrogate departure period, which I had expected to be my “blue period” but turned out, not least – this sentence is going on a bit – because of the new job in Beijing, from where I am writing, to be my “in the pink” period, anyway…………….

So there I was packing and stuff, and a bright new future opening up when a certain Mr Cha0tic of P27/20six fame rang on my portable telephone, and being a number one nice guy, asked me if I wanted to have  couple of tickets from a source he did not name to see the Who at Harewood house. And I thought for a while, and then with a certain hesitancy, turned the offer down a politely as I could. For  I have seen Old Pete, and heard Old Roger, and Keith, who has gone to the great drum kit in the sky, and the Ox has hauled his last bass off stage, and I remembered, god how I remembered that and Live at Leeds, the soundtrack of my college years and much longer, and I still play “Meet the new boss, same as the old Boss”…..

I didn’t want to see them sipping mineral water in the grounds of a Stately home, Zimmers parked off stage, and smelling of embrocation.

Chapter two

(Yes, I know there isn’t, but I just thought of it)

Late last night, about five after Famous Grouse, the portable telephone rang. As it happens, it rings Primal Scream, “Country Girl”, except for the morning call, when it rings, “Another Girl Another Planet” by the Only Ones (Taste? I got it)

(where was I?)

Ah yes, the ringer rang, at five after Grouse, and  it was my colleague and friend Magic, with two Olympics tickets to give away.

Now, transferable Olympics tickets are as rare as hen’s teeth, despite the obvious lack of spectators at the events, as visa restrictions have stopped many people coming, and to fill the games the Party (IS ALLEGED TO) have given away thousands to loyal supporters who simply haven’t come to Beijing, and because of security can’t even pass them on. And certainly NOT seel them. Oh NO.

But it took a mere moment to refuse, as I would be the one in the stand saying (a) When does it finish? (b) Why is that man jumping over that stick? And (c) Look, there’s a sparrow on the hand rail.

In short, I couldn’t give a flying gymnast for a pair of tickets.

Instead they went to R in my office, who was today able to take her hard working husband T to see an Olympic (is there a singular like that?) as a reward for all his overtime and hard work, without a chance to see any of the games. Boy, does he deserve it., he’s a really nice guy…….

....who happens to be a policeman.

....and, I am pretty sure, something to do with, err, internet controls…..

We near the end of the school sports, and then have a bit of a break before the "Specials" start, during which period I am told all the restrictions will remain in place. I say "Grrr"

However, looking out on the wet streets this morning - raining again - and comparing the weather to last August, it is obvious things have been better.We have had more blue sky days by far, albeit some of them  a very pallid blue, but compared with this:

it's been really clear.  These days it looks more like this several times a week:

That's our office block.

The other factor in feeling better about the weather this August is that I am being a fat (ish) lazy (ish) Laowai and taking cabs more than the subway. The subway in Beijing, in summer, is too awful for words.With the government banning half the private cars every day, more people are using it, and it is truly ghastly. I have no desire to arrive each day at the office looking as though I have just emerged from a hot wash and spin cycle.`I still keep spare shirts at work for the days when I arrive sweaty, but have used them but once this August.

Anyway, it's time to go and try for a cab. With the Olympics, cabs have become hard to get - all those banned drivers using cabs, which is probably cheaper anyway - so there are fewer empty ones to hail.Yesterday it took 30 minutes just to catch one.

OK, so I borrow a catchphrase from a show I detest. I've never even found it approaching mild humour, much less the rip-roaring laugh a minute hilarity that addicts claim it to be. But I stray.

Of late I have become sufficiently confident of (a) my Chinglish and (b) my ability to determinedly read my book through anything, that I have taken to getting into the front seat of Beijing taxis, which marks one out as being a resident instead of a cowering tourist, and tends to create a better relationship with the driver, as it is easier to scream "TING JIELI !" and point frantically from the front seat just as he is about to whiz past your destination in the outside lane of a crowded three lane road than to lean over from the back and say, "I say, my qood man, but would you mind pulling over ?". 

Today I took another major step. It was time - in fact over time - to collect my new linen suit from Helen's Tailors. I'd had one made before I went to Europe, and was so pleased with it I'd ordered another on the spot to await my return.It was ready. I agreed to go with MM, who acts as my interpreter in matters of the cloth (joke). I had made it pretty clear that I was not going to walk from Dongsi shitaio to Sanlitun on an August afternoon, and we went down to get a cab, when MM said, "We could just get a bus".

Now long standing readers will recall that I have caught a bus on three other occasions ......... in the last eight  years of blogging. Once when I had to take my former car for a service, twice when I had to meet someone in Harrogate for a few drinks and the train station was a longer walk. In other words, I don't do buses.

But I have been looking at the Beijing buses, because the alternatives are: 

• Walk, impractical for most distances I need to cover, especially in Summer
• Taxi, which at present is difficult, on account of the bloody olympics
• Subway, which is always far too hot and crowded, and because of the bloody olympics subject to security problems 

But I said, and I still hear myself saying it, "Yes, OK, you lead" because never having taken one I had no idea what to do. I mean, "what to do", because I have several times hovered at a stop, watching, and thought about it, but you see, it's in Chinese, and I don't do buses, and, well, I'm just timid I guess. (Stop laughing at the back.)

So MM spied a 115 bus, and we headed for the front door to get on, where I touched the card reader with my subway card (I'd watched that happen furtively on my bus research) and it went "Beep", and MM popped a 1 kuia note (13 US cents) into the box by the driver, and we went off across Dongsi shitaio bridge, and up Gongti past the Workers Stadium, with the bus announcements were in English and Chinese at each stop, telling us where we were.  Piece of piss really, just as I knew it would be. (What are YOU giggling at? )

We got off at Sanlitun Yashow, and talked about whether indeed that 115 went all the way to our part of the sticks, 'cos it could be useful, and just went to look at the bus stop list on the stop.  I said, "Yes, look, Shilipu Lu" and MM said " and Qingnian Lu next!", which is our street, and as we went down the road to the tailors I suddenly realised we had just read the stops in Chinese,m and vertical Chinese at that. "Well bugger me!" I thought, feeling a bit proud, and just a bit more like a Beijinger.

The suit was excellent, perfect fit, fabulous, and I happily paid up. It worked out at 70 Euro. I asked them to get me some blue seersucker from their suppliers for a jacket. Oh, and to see if they have some pink too. I'm feeling pretty up today.

OK, I finally figured out how to track search terms that lead to this blog. I was expecting, well, you know I was expacting, say, Beijing, China, Beach hut, work in china, chiese restaurant, and OLYMPICS, blah blah.

I was NOT expecting: contemporary couches, Modern furniture design, mood lighting, minimalist fireplace, and small kitchens, which type of term accounts for most of the searches that led to the blog.

Can anyone explain?