My first Chinese Temple Fair: Last year's visit to the Chang Dian (厂甸) Temple Fair

While I went to the Ditan Park Temple Fair last year, my first temple fair in 2008—and during my stay in China for that matter—was the one at Chang Dian. This temple fair is held on a small stretch of the Nanxinhua Jie (南新华街). This street is located south of the Nr. 2 subway line's Hepingmen (和平门) subway station. The part of the road closed off to traffic for the temple fair ran south from the subway station to the Luo Ma Dajie (骡马大街).

I went to the Chang Dian Temple with a Chinese friend. This person is a young lady named Li Na (李娜) who graduated last year from the Beijing Forestry University, where she studied human resource management. I got to know Li Na because she worked as an intern (实习生) in our company's HR (人力资源) department. This extremely bright and attractive young lady is now working for a rival company, the French integrated oil well and borehole services provider giant, Schlumberger.

Like the Ditan Park Temple Fair, the one at Chang Dian typically very, very crowded. The photo above shows the “people mountain, people sea” (人山人海) milling about on the Nanxinhua Jie. That shot was taken from an outside stairwell leading up to a Teahouse (茶馆) on the second floor of a building on the west side of the Nanxinhua Jie.

This particular point on the Nanxinhua Jie has two alleys running off it to its east and west. The first alley is home to lots of art galleries (画廊) and art bookstores (美术书店). You can see this alley in the middle of the photo at the top of this blog post. Li Na and I visited a couple of these galleries later on that afternoon. I found that the art and other items they had for sale were way out of my price range. Even the cheapest teacups (茶杯) and small, Chinese style handheld fans (折扇) cost 30 RMB ($4.40 at the current exchange rate). This stuff is a lot cheaper at most normal stores and shops.

The paintings and sculptures were even more exorbitantly priced. A small jade (玉) sculpture (雕) of a miniature lion (狮子) cost 50,000 RMB ($7,300). Most of the paintings Li Na and I saw were what the Chinese call “国画”. This art depicts traditional Chinese landscapes, namely misty mountains, trees, rivers and lakes. The average asking price for these paintings was 360,000 RMB ($52,600).

And of course no Chinese art gallery would be complete without some calligraphy (书法). I remember that the price for one piece of calligraphy that had just four characters (汉字) was 120,000 RMB ($17,500). As the Chinese would say, “这么贵!” or “so expensive!”

The other alley running off to the west mainly had teashops (茶店) and teahouses. Li Na and I walked into a couple of these teashops. In one of them, a Latvian (拉脱维亚人) fellow was trying to communicate with the shopkeeper, or “Laoban”, with hand gestures, as he couldn't speak any Mandarin (普通话). This man also couldn't speak any English, but like most people from the Baltic states he could speak German (德语). So I stepped in and put my rusty German to use and translated (翻译) from German to Mandarin and back. After we were done, the Laoban complimented me on my Chinese, saying it was “挺好”, or “pretty good.”

I bought some “pu'er” tea (普洱茶) at the other tea shop we visited while strolling down the alley. This type of tea is grown in southwestern China, mainly in Yunnan (云南) province. It's a very dark tea and is sold in chunks. I've tried many kinds of tea since coming here and think that pu'er is hands-down the Middle-Kingdom's best drinking (最好喝) tea. It has a really nice woodsy (木头) flavor (味道). I've also heard that drinking it is very good for your health.

Unfortunately, pu'er tea is rather expensive. I bought a not too small chunk for 20 RMB after Li Na informed me that this price wasn't too steep. Due to its good flavor and health benefits, more and more Chinese people are drinking pu'er tea. This consumer trend has made the folks who sell it quite rich.

One of my former Erwai teacher colleagues, tall and thin fellow from Seattle named Scott Searer who sold tea there before coming to China, knows one China's biggest pu'er merchants. Scott calls this fellow the “pu'er king” and informed me once that this merchant has a very rare antique Ming Dynasty (明朝) table (桌子) in his apartment. This table alone would fetch more money if it was sold than would the “pu'er” king's expensive luxury apartment. He could certainly afford to purchase that 国画 and 书法 sold in Chang Dian's art galleries.

The photo above was shot in the teahouse and teashop alley. While there were plenty of people strolling about there, it wasn't nearly as crowded as the Nanxinhuan Jie. I could actually walk up the street food vendors and buy some food. It was past noon by the time we started walking back down the alley and I was really hungry. So Li Na and I stopped and I bought a 煎饼果子, which is a thin pancake wrapped around a vegetable and egg filling. They're pretty tasty snacks and the photo below shows them being made.

Other kinds of food for sale included not only the usual grilled lamb kabobs, but a Xinjian Province specialty, 新疆糟糕, which is nuts and dried fruit, mainly raisins and apricots, held together by jujube paste. The vendors selling this snack did not have their own stands. They instead threaded their way through the 人山人海 and hawked their big slabs of 新疆糟糕—this stuff comes in slabs and the vendors cut off pieces of it for their customers—from pushcarts. They were thus 手推车卖盒饭人.

Like other temple fairs, lots of stuff was for sale at the Chang Dian Temple Fair. The stand in the photo below was selling Beijing Opera Masks (京剧面具). And people looking for a different and special kind of pet could buy live grasshoppers (蚱蜢) in a bottle.

By around 3:00 or 3:30 in the afternoon, Li Na and I had seen all we wanted to see at the Chang Dian Temple Fair. Rather than going right to the Hepingmen Subway station, we decided to stroll over to Tian’anmen (天安门) square. We first walked north up the Beixinhua Jie and then headed east along the Western Changan Jie (西长安街). While walking along the latter street, we passed by the outer wall of China's equivalent to the US White House, the so-called Zhongnanhai (中南海). This closely guarded compound is where the Middle Kingdom's top leaders have their villas and offices. It gets its name from being located around the small lake that lies just south of Beihai Park (南海 means south lake).

After we got to Tian'anmen Square, I asked Li Na to pose for a photo. She really has a lovely face and this shot got the skin tones just right!

That structure in the background of this photo is Tian'anmen Square's Monument to People's Heroes (人民英雄纪念碑). This particular monument was designed by the brilliant Chinese architect, Liang Sicheng (梁思成). Liang was China's first western trained architect, and he studied at the University of Pennsylvania during the 1920s. He remained in China after 1949 and was persecuted during the Cultural Revolution (文化大革命). Like many other people who suffered during this dark episode in China's history, Liang was subsequently rehabilitated (he died toward the end of the Cultural Revolution).

It was certainly good to go to Chang Dian not only to experience my first Temple Fair since arriving in China, but also to see the area, particularly its art galleries and teahouse and teashops. I look forward to making future visits to this place.

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

厂甸 (chang3dian3).
李娜 (li3na4).
实习生 (shi2xi2sheng1).
人力资源 (ren2li4zi1yuan2). The first two characters literally mean “human/person power,” while the latter two are the Mandarin word for “resources.”
人山人海 (ren2shan1ren2hai3).
茶馆 (cha2guan3).
画廊 (hua4lang2). The first character is the Mandarin word for “painting” and looks somewhat like a framed picture.
美术书店 (mei3shu4shu1dian4). The first two characters literally mean the “beautiful arts,” while the latter two mean “bookstore”. 书 is the Chinese word for book.
茶杯 (cha2bei1).
折扇 (zhe3shan4).
玉 (yu4).
雕 (diao1).
狮子 (shi1zi5).
国画 (guo2hua4). The first character means “nation/country” or “national.”
书法 (shu1fa3).
汉字 (han4zi4).
这么贵 (zhe4me5gui4). The last character is the word for “expensive.” If you’re haggling with shopkeepers (老板, lao3ban3), this is a very handy phrase!
茶店 (cha2dian4).
拉脱维业人 (la1tuo1wei2ye4ren2). The last character, which resembles a crude stick drawing of a human being, is the Chinese word for person. It's a classic illustration of what might be called a “picture” character.
普通话 (pu3tong1hua4). These characters should be literally translated as “common” or “universal” language/speech.
德语 (de2yu3).
翻译 (fan1yi4).
挺好 (ting3hao3).
普洱茶 (pu3er3cha2).
明朝 (ming2chao2). The first character means “bright” and is also the given name of China's most famous basketball star, the Houston Rockets center, 姚明 (Yao2 Ming2).
桌子 (zhuo1zi5).
煎饼果子 (jian1bing1guo3zi5).
新疆糟糕 (xin1jiang1zao3gao1). The first two characters form the name of Xinjiang province.
手推车卖盒饭人 (shou3tui1che1mai4hefan4ren2). The first three characters are “pushcart,” the fourth one is the Chinese word for “sell”. When 卖 is combined with the next two characters and the character for person, they together mean “food vendor.”
京剧面具 (jing1ju4mian4ju4). According to a Chinese friend, a more frequently way of saying Bejing Opera Masks, at least in oral speech, is 脸谱 (lian3pu3).
蚱蜢 (zha4meng2).
天安门 (tian1an1men2).
西长安街 (xi1chang2an1jie1). The middle two characters mean “eternal peace.”
中海南 (zhong1hai3nan2). This compound surrounds a pair of lakes just south of Beihai Park.
人民英雄纪念碑 (ren2min2ying2xiong2ji4nian2bei1). Monument to people's heroes.
文化大革命 (wen2hua4da4ge2ming4). 文化 means “culture/cultural,” 大 means big or great, and 革命 is the Mandarin word for revolution. Mandarin word order takes some getting used to!!

Another Spring Festival, Another Ditan Park (地坛公园) Temple Fair (庙会), VI: People (人民)

Alone among the four parks arranged around Beijing's four cardinal points, Ditan Park remains a functioning temple and place of worship for Daoist believers. While there are still a fair number of Daoists (道教徒) in China, Daoism (道教) has been largely eclipsed by Buddhism (佛教), Christianity (基督教), and Islam (伊斯兰教). However, unlike these other faiths, which were imported from outside of China, Daoism is the Middle Kingdom's only major home-grown religion.

During the Temple Fair, Ditan Park's sacrificial alter (祭坛) is open only to Daoist worshipers. The photo above shows these people engaged in worship (崇拜). They lighted incense sticks, bowed down to worship (鞠躬) and paid respects to the gods and their dead ancestors (祭祀).

However, well over 90 percent of the visitors to the Temple Fair go there to have fun, not to worship. That said, the folks I photographed below—they are definitely what the Chinese would call 老百姓, or “ordinary people”—seemed rather glum. I photographed them because they were holding those fake flowers (假花) and wheat sheaves (假麦秆) mentioned in that very recent post about things for sale at the Ditan Park Temple Fair. According to my good and very clever Chinese friend, 路红艳, the wheat sheaves are carried home because they symbolize a good harvest (丰收) and wealth (财富).

Finally, at both this year and last year's Temple Fairs, one could spot some odd local life here and there. A few of the younger teenage and twenty-something visitors put on garishly colored and spiked hairdo (爆炸式头发) style wigs.

Like many Chinese people who agree to be photographed by laowai, the fellow in photo below did the V for victory sign. If the photo were larger, you could easily tell that he was wearing a rug over his real hair—readers will just have to take my word for it here. In any case, he surely put on the spiked hair just for fun and as a joke; it certainly wasn't done to convey feelings of anger and alienation.

This is not to say that the “punk” (朋克) look and scene is entirely absent in China. One day, while riding the 107 bus back home from Hou Hai (后海), I spotted five or so “punks” standing on the Goulou Dajie (鼓楼大街). These people were the real deal—they had Mohawk (莫霍克) hairdos and wore black leather trousers (黑色的裤子) and jackets (黑色的夹克). This clothing had the trademark white metal studs.

I vaguely recall that these punks were all fellows. They certainly looked a bit fierce and scary (凶狠) and one clearly wouldn't want to have his/her daughter dating any one of them. Being in a crowded and moving bus, I didn't have the chance to take a photo, and I suspect that doing so would not have been a good idea anyway.

The numbers of young Chinese who are angry and alienated is certainly growing at the moment. People looking for a good literary depiction of such youth here in the capital should read Chun Sue’s recent novel, BEIJING DOLL, which has been translated from Mandarin by the estimable Howard Goldblatt (he has also translated the work of Su Tong and Mo Yan, who were mentioned in an earlier, very recent post). And the city has a thriving underground hard rock scene.

That said, fortunately the whole punk skinhead culture has yet to catch on here the way it has in parts of Europe and North America. China remains a rather socially conservative place, too conservative to tolerate that kind of thing. However, the Middle Kingdom is undergoing rapid social change and while most of these changes are for the better, some of them are not.

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

地坛公园 (di4tan2gong1yuan2).
庙会 (miao3hui4).
人民 (ren2min2).
道教徒 (dao4jiao4tu2).
道教 (dao4jiao4).
佛教徒 (fo2jiao4).
基督教 (ji1du1jiao4).
伊斯兰教 (yi1si1lan2jiao4).
祭坛 (ji4tan2).
崇拜 (chong2bai4).
鞠躬 (ju1gong3).
祭祀 (ji4si4).
老百姓 (lao3bai3xing4). As stated in an earlier post, this literally means “old one hundred names.” Since there are only about 100 commonly used family names in China, this term came to denote ordinary people.
假花 (jia3hua1). The first character means fake, the second means flower.
假麦秆 (jia3mai4gan3). Again, the first character stands for fake, the second two for sheaf of wheat.
路红艳 (lu4hong2yan4).
丰收 (feng1shou1).
财富 (cai2fu4).
爆炸式头发 (bao4zha2shi4tou2fa1). This literally means “exploding” (爆炸) style (式) hair (头发).
朋克 (peng2ke4).
后海 (hou4hai3). For those not familiar with Beijing, this area is the capital's new bar district and entertainment zone. It's centered around the two long and narrow lakes located north of Beihai Park.
鼓楼大街 (gu3lou2da4). 鼓楼 is the Mandarin word for Bell Tower, which lies at the end of the 鼓楼大街, or street. In ancient Beijing, the Bell and Drum Towers were the tallest structures in the city.
莫霍克 (mo4huo4ke4).
黑色的裤子 (hei1se4de5pi2ku4zi5).
黑色的皮夹克 (hei1se4de5pi2jia1ke4).
凶狠 (xiong3hen3).

Another Spring Festival, Another Ditan Park (地坛公园) Temple Fair (庙会), V: Entertainment! (文娱活动)

One big reason why Temple Fairs are a popular family outing here in Beijing is that they feature lots of entertainment and fun activities. The fun activities include being carried about in a traditional, red-colored sedan (轿子). While carrying sedan around a small circle, the carriers (轿夫) will rock it back and forth once or twice.

The rocking brought back to my mind that memorable opening scene in Zhang Yi Mou's (张艺谋) early classic film “Red Sorghum” (红高粱). Fellow Zhang Yi Mou film aficionados will remember that the movie opens with the lovely Gong Li (巩俐) being taken to marry the local winemaker. She does not love this man, who is old and a leper to boot, but her father has been promised a mule if his daughter marries the winemaker.

On the way over to the groom's house, the sedan bearers rock the sedan and sing raucous songs. When they get to the sorghum field—the local wine is made from sorghum—the area's most notorious bandit holds up the party and abducts the bride from the sedan. She is then rescued by one of the sedan bearers, only to then be raped (被强奸了) by him.

This fellow, incidentally, is the narrator's grandfather both in the film and the Mo Yan (莫言) novel. The film just draws upon a few incidents and parts of Yan’s novel, which is a big, complicated and sprawling work of fiction. The novel's narrative style is also quite a bit like the “magical realist” fiction done by Latin American writers such as Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Isabelle Allende (at least in her first novel, THE HOUSE OF SPIRITS), Jose Donoso, and the like.

Well, time to get off that tangent and back to the Ditan Park Temple Fair. At last year's Ditan Park Temple Fair, I saw young kids having loads of fun on an ice slide (冰滑梯). As the photo below shows, there was an ice carving (冰雕) of the five circle Olympic logo (奥运五环标志). However, this particular ride was missing in the 2009 Ditan Park Temple Fair.

There were also plenty of games (游戏), particularly around the fenced area below the worship alter (more on that in the next post). Lots of stuffed animals (布娃娃) were hanging down from top of these game stands. I would be willing to bet a month's salary that these stuffed animals were prizes (奖品) for winning contestants. These animals, I might add, included teddy bears (玩具熊).

In addition to all the games, this part of Ditan Park had a number of outdoor stages (户外舞台). Visitors to the Temple Fair could watch performers (演员) sing (唱歌) (at both the 2008 and 2009 Temple Fairs), juggle (玩抛杂耍) (2009 Temple Fair), toss tall wooden poles (扔木柱) to each other, and dance (跳舞). Speaking of the latter, the 2008 Temple Fair featured scantily clad (穿的衣服很少) Xinjiang (新疆) female dancers (女舞蹈演员). However, I didn't see such ladies dancing at this year’s Temple Fair; perhaps they performed (表演) another day.

The performance in the photo below was a two person act. A young woman sang folk songs, while a Mao (毛泽东) look alike walked about the stage and smiled and waved to the crowd. I suspect, my readers will have a hard time recognizing this fellow in the photo below. It is times like these that make me really regret not having a telephoto lens for my camera.

And last but certainly not least, both this year and last year's Ditan Park Temple Fair featured an entirely different kind of entertainment. Needless to say, I didn't go in, as it seemed like a complete rip-off. But the posters (海报) provided me with some rather interesting and good photo opportunities.

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

地坛公园 (di4tan2gong1yuan2).
庙会 (miao3hui4).
文娱活动 (wen2yu2huo2dong4).
轿子 (jiao4zi5).
轿夫 (jiao4fu1).
红高粱 (hong2gao1liang5).
巩俐 (gong3li4).
被强奸 (bei4qiang2jian1). The first character is used in Chinese passive voice sentences, typically when something bad happens, as in “My bike was stolen” (我的自行车被偷了; wo3de5zi4xing2che1bei4tou1le5). 我的 is the word for my, 自行车 is the word for bike, while 被偷了 means stolen. This, of course, occurs routinely in Beijing.
冰滑梯 (bing1hua2ti1). 冰 means ice, while 滑梯 is the word for children's slide.
冰雕 (bing1diao1). The city of Ha'erbin (哈尔滨), which is way north of Beijing and has bitterly cold winters, holds a famous ice sculpture festival (冰雕节) every winter.
奥运五环标志 (ao4yun4wu3huan2biao1zhi4). 奥运 means “Olympic”, 五 is “five,” 环 is “ring”, and 标志 is the word for “symbol.”
游戏 (you2xi4).
布娃娃 (bu4wa2wa2). The first character has several meanings, two of which are “cloth” and “cotton.”
奖品 (jian3pin3).
玩具熊 (wan2ju4xiong2). Translated word for word, this means “toy (玩具) bear (熊)”.
户外舞台 (hu4wai4wu3tai2).
演员 (yan3yuan2).
唱歌 (chang4ge1).
玩抛杂耍 (wan2pao1za1shua3). According to a very good Chinese friend, since juggling isn't that popular in China, this English word is almost impossible to translate into Mandarin. 玩 means play, 抛 is one Chinese word for “throw,” while 杂耍 means “acrobatics.”
扔木柱 (reng1mu4zhu4). 扔 is one word for “throw” or “toss”, while 木柱 means pole.
穿的衣服很少 (chuan1de5yi1fu5hen3shao3). Translated word for word, this means “worn” (穿的) clothes (衣服) very few (很少)”. One problem with learning Chinese is getting used to a very different word order!
女舞蹈演员 (nü3wu3dao3yan3yuan2). 女 is the Mandarin word for “female.”
表演 (biao3yan3).
毛泽东 (mao2ze2dong1). The 泽 in the Great Helmsman's name can be either the noun “marsh” or the verbs “enrich” or “favor.” The last character means “east.” I think everyone can figure what Mao's parents had in mind when they choose this name for their son!
海报 (hao3bao4). For those readers who are curious, the Mandarin word for snake is 蛇 (she2) and a poisonous snake is a 毒蛇 (du2she2). These snakes were 缠绕 (chan2rao3)—wrapped around—these attractive and scantily clad women. I remember that one issue of China's closest thing to a Western style skin magazine, 男人装 (nan2ren2zhuang1), “For Him”, magazine did this kind of photo spread (I didn't buy it, a Chinese friend showed it to me!)

Another Spring Festival, Another Ditan Park (地坛公园) Temple Fair (庙会), IV: Things for sale (卖的东西)

As mentioned in the first blog post about the Ditan Park Temple Fair, lots of stuff is for sale here. The items range from fairly nice arts and crafts, like the wood carvings in the photo above, to the downright cheap and kitschy (as in the photo below). Readers will remember that the fellow with horns in front of the stand (摊子) from the earlier post about the year of the cow.

In addition to the crafts and kitsch, Temple Fair goers can purchase flowers and stalks of wheat (or is that barley? Who knows?). However, these flowers were not real, but paper flowers, and the wheat or barley stalks were made out of plastic. How fitting for a country literally swimming in fake things (很假的东西), ranging from Rolex watches to pirated DVDs!

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

地坛公园 (di4tan2gong1yuan2).
庙会 (miao3hui4).
卖的东西 (mai4de5dong1xi1). 卖的 means “for sale,” while 东西 is the Chinese word for “things/stuff.”
摊子 (tan1zi5).
很假的东西 (hen3jia3de5dong1xi1). The first two characters mean “very fake”.

Another Spring Festival, Another Ditan Park (地坛公园) Temple Fair (庙会), III: Lanterns (红灯笼) and fans (折扇) galore

As the photo from last year's Ditan Park Temple fair indicates, big lanterns, or 红灯笼, are strung up across the old trees over every path in the park. These lanterns are very much like the ones in Zhang Yi Mou's (张艺谋) classic film, “Raise the Red Lantern” (大红灯笼高高挂). They certainly lend a festival atmosphere (节日气氛) air to the Temple Fair. And this year's Ditan Park Temple Fair not only featured the Red Lanterns, but had lots of very large Chinese-style hand-held fans (折扇) as well.

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

地坛公园 (di4tan2gong1yuan2).
庙会 (miao3hui4).
红灯笼 (hong2deng1long2).
折扇 (zhe3shan1).
大红灯笼高高挂 (da4hong2deng1long2gao1gao1gua4). This film is based on a novel by the contemporary Chinese author, Su Tong (苏童; su1tong2), “Wives and Concubines” (妻妾成群; qi1qie2cheng2qun2). As readers who are familiar with that movie's story know, the novel's title is more indicative of the plot of the film.
节日气氛 (jie2ri4qi4fen1).

Another Spring Festival, Another Ditan Park (地坛公园) Temple Fair (庙会), II: Year of the Ox (牛年)

Since 2009 is the year of the ox in Chinese zodiac, a friendly blown up cow greeted masses as they entered Ditan Park for this year's Temple Fair. In keeping with the ox spirit, many people, such as the vendor in the photo below, wore little cow horns. And these are red-colored not to make them look like satanic horns, but because Chinese people believe that red (红) is an especially lucky color.

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

地坛公园 (di4tan2gong1yuan2).
庙会 (miao3hui4).
牛年 (niu2nian2).
红 (hong2).

Another Spring Festival, Another Ditan Park (地坛公园) Temple Fair (庙会), I: 今年的庙会更是人山人海

“Temple Fairs” are an important part of the Spring Festival celebrations in Beijing and most other places in China. With the exception of Shanghai—one of my Chinese friends who lives there informs me that Temple Fairs are not big in that city—lots of people here make going to these fairs a family outing during the Spring Festival. One could certainly call this behavior a 传统风俗, or custom handed down by tradition.

Temple Fairs offer something for every member of the family, adults and children alike. First, they typically have lots of different kinds of entertainment (文娱活动) and performances (表演) such as singing (唱歌), dancing (跳舞) (yes, the dancing includes “lion dancing” [狮子舞]), juggling, and the like. Families can also enjoy various games (游戏), amusements (游乐), and rides. And vendors set up lots of small stands (摊子) so people can purchase merchandise, especially arts and crafts. And last but certainly not least, there is always lots of street food for sale as well.

As the “Temple” part of “Temple Fair” implies, many temples, both Daoist and Buddhist, put on these fairs. For example, Beijing's oldest Daoist Temple, the White Cloud Temple (白云观), holds an annual Temple Fair during the Spring Festival. I visited this temple before the 2007 Spring Festival and while it's certainly very interesting and worth seeing, it's far from where I live and rather difficult to find. Since Ditan Park is very near Dongzhimen, I've opted over the past two years to go that particular Daoist Temple's Temple Fair. And in 2008 I attended another Temple Fair in Chang Dian (厂甸), which is located south of Tian'anmen Square.

I'll be talking about the Chang Dian Temple Fair in a future blog post. However, in this blog post and the next five which follow, I'll be doing what might be called a series of photographic essays on the Ditan Park Temple Fair.

The two photos above illustrate one defining feature of the Ditan Park Temple Fair: it is very, very, very crowded. Mandarin has lots of so-called chengyu(s) (成语), which are basically four character expressions that are similar to idioms in the English language. One great chengyu is 人山人海, which literally means “people mountain, people sea.” And as the two photos above make clear, the Ditan Park Temple Fair definitely has 人山人海.

The first photo, shot during this year's Temple Fair, shows the mountain and sea of people streaming into Ditan Park. I was in the middle of these hordes, shuffling slowly along. And yes, Chinese people normally tend to walk slowly—this can be very aggravating in subway stations, particularly if you're rushing to catch the next train—so a huge crowd will cause pedestrian movement to slow to a crawl. The other photo, shot from an Andingmen Road pedestrian overpass after I left last year's Ditan Park Temple Fair, shows the masses streaming out of the park's attractive west gate entrance.

So if you have any problem with being packed into a big crowd and being shoved and jostled about by other people, then going to a Temple Fair might not be your cup of tea. My good CNLC colleague Richard Janosy told me that an estimated 660,000 people attended the Ditan Park Temple Fair one day during last year's Spring Festival. To put that figure in perspective, the metropolitan area population of my Fresno, CA hometown is about 550,000 people. And these people are spread out over a 100+ square mile area, not compressed into a space the size of two or three medium sized city blocks.

That said, if you stay off the Ditan Park's main paths, you will have space to stand and walk about without bumping into other people. One such place is a building complex flanking Ditan's main sacrificial alter. As the photo below indicates, this place has a very nice moon-shaped gate.

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

地坛公园 (di4tan2gong1yuan2). 地坛 means temple of the earth, while 公园 is the Mandarin word for “public park.” Beijing has three other parks with the 坛 suffix in their names. The parks are arranged around the city's east, south, and west sides (地坛 is on the north side of the capital). They are 日坛 (ri4tan2; temple of the sun), the famous 天坛 (tian1tan2; temple of heaven), and 月坛 (yue4tan2; temple of the moon).
庙会 (miao3hui4). Temple Fair.
今年的庙会再是人山人海 (jin1nian2de5miao3hui4geng4shi4ren2shan1ren2hai3de5). 今年means “this year,” and the latter character is the word for year. 更是 means again. And as noted in the post's main text, 人山人海 stands for “people mountain, people sea.”
传统风俗 (chuan2tong3feng1su4).
文娱活动 (wen2yu2huo2dong4). Interestingly enough, when Mandarin speakers talk of going to watch entertainment, they use a different word, namely 演出 (yan3chu1). The phrase watch entertainment is thus 去看演出. The first two characters, qu4kan4, mean “go to see.”
唱歌 (chang4ge1).
跳舞 (tiao4wu3).
狮子舞 (shi1zi5wu3). 狮子 is the Mandarin word for lion.
游戏 (you2xi4).
游乐 (you2le4).
摊子 (tan1zi5).
白云观 (bai2yun2guan4). The first character is the Mandarin word for “white,” the second is the Mandarin word for “cloud”, and the last is one Mandarin word for “daoist temple.”
厂甸 (chang3dian4).
成语 (cheng2yu3).

Spring Festival at Nan Guan Park (南管公园):

Nan Guan Park is one of the many reasons why I really like living in Dongzhimen and continue to put up with the high cost of housing there. This small park is located just west of the Russian Embassy (俄罗斯大使馆) and is a five minute walk from my apartment community.

A good part of Nan Guan Park is taken up by a shallow pool located in the middle of the park. The pool's bottom is lined with concrete. As the above photo shows, this pool is drained during the winter. That's too bad, as the water would be frozen solid from December through February and would make for a nice outdoor ice rink. The area off to the side of tree on the left part of the photo has some grass, old trees, and walking paths. There's also a large plaza and play area.

The plaza area has two large open spaces where people do ballroom dancing and hold aerobics classes both during the day and evening when the weather is warmer. As the photos below indicate, this part of the park also has lots of small concrete tables flanked by concrete pillars. Vine-covered concrete rafters vines span these pillars.

From mid-Spring through early Fall this part of the park is a very lively (很热闹) place indeed. But even in the middle of winter, during the day at least, you'll still find people out and about and enjoying themselves in the park. Most of them are older men: lots of retired (退休) people live in this neighborhood. The two chaps in the photo below are doing what many elderly Chinese men do in their spare time, namely playing “Go”, or Chinese encirclement chess (围棋).

Of course you can always find at least one group of people playing mahjong (麻将). The photos above and below were shot on second day of this year's Spring Festival (the one at the top of the post was taken last year).

During my stroll about the park that day, I did notice a game of cards, probably poker (扑克), being played at one of the tables. However, the light color of the table's concrete surface and bright sunlight made it impossible to take good photos of the cards being laid out. But I did get some decent shots of the fellow below, who was playing with special kind of yoyo. This yoyo went back and forth on the string connecting the two handles in this fellow's hands.

There were a few couples with small children strolling about the park. I noticed the little girl in the photo below while walking over to the park. Like me, this child and her parents were on their way to Nan Guan's southwest entrance. She looked really cute all bundled up in her pink wool cap (帽子) and scarf (围巾). I couldn't resist taking a shot this child and her parents were more than happy to let me photograph her. This little child struck and good pose and certainly appears to be a natural when it comes hamming it up! 非常非常可爱!

In a little a more than a month from now, the spring blooms will be out in Nan Guan Park. And with the better weather, a lot more of the locals will be enjoying this pleasant patch of greenery in central Beijing. I'll certainly be out there with my camera to record more of it.

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

南管公园 (nan2guan3gong1yuan2). The last two characters form the Mandarin word for “public park,” while the first is the word for “south.”
俄罗斯大使馆 (e2luo2si1da4shi4guan3). The first three characters for the Mandarin word for “Russia,” while the other three mean “embassy.”
很热闹 (hen3re4nao4).
退休 (tui4xiu1).
围棋 (wei2qi2).
麻将 (ma2jiang1).
扑克 (pu1ke4).
帽子 (mao4zi5).
围巾 (wei2jin1). This character pairing is yet another example of how Mandarin is a very logical language. By itself “围” means to surround/encircle, while “巾” means “cloth.”
非常非常可爱 (fei1chang2fei1chang2ke3ai4). Really, really adorable/cute/lovable.

Spring Festival Gifts and New Year's Money:

In addition to setting off lots of fireworks, eating plenty of dumplings (吃饺子), watching TV (看电视), and playing poker (扑克) and mahjong (麻将), Chinese people give each other gifts (礼物) during the Spring Festival. However, this gift giving differs from the kind of gift-giving that occurs back in the states around Christmas time.

The presents adults typically give to one another are depicted in the photo above. Yes, we're talking about fruit packaged in brightly colored boxes. This shot was taken in front of the small green-grocers shop near the Dongzhimen subway station that is a 10 minute walk south of my apartment community. I was on my way to the subway station when I noticed the boxes and decided to stop and take a picture of them.

While adults give each other fruit, children receive cash from their parents and older relatives. This money is called “New Year's cash” (压岁钱) or “lucky money.” I've read and been told that this practice dates back to an old Chinese folk legend. According to this legend, the money was used as a protective charm (护身符) to scare off a monster that tries to harm small children on the night before the Lunar New Year.

As time passed, this custom came to be seen as auspicious and lucky in other ways. In particular, the Chinese believed that people who give money will be very lucky (行大运) and more likely to become rich (发大财). Hence, the New Year's Cash is also called Lucky Money.

Chinese superstitions regarding numbers and colors are very much a part of Lucky Money gift giving tradition. Since red is seen as the most auspicious of all colors, the cash is given to the children in red envelopes. People also try very hard to ensure that the cash given is in crisp new bills. And the numbers on the bills also have to be in a rising sequence, so as to show that the recipient and giver's wealth and fortune will rise over time.

Finally, money is never given in denominations having the number four. Four (四) is a very inauspicious number because its pronunciation is quite similar to the Mandarin word for “death” (死). Both words are pronounced as “si”, which sounds kind of like an “s” sound, as in sing, followed by an “uh” sound. The only difference is that 四 is said in a falling tone, while 死 is said in a falling and rising tone.

Another interesting part of this custom is that children must give this money back to their parents if their mother gives birth to a new brother or sister within the New Year. The Chinese call this obligation 礼尚往来, which can be translated either as “courtesy demands reciprocity” or “what goes around, comes around.” Thanks to the one-child policy, this doesn't happen very much anymore.

Over the past few days, I asked a number of my Chinese friends what children here do with all their “lucky money”. As Chinese families become more affluent, the cash in those red envelopes often amounts to several thousand RMB. I wondered whether or not the children could freely spend these funds.

The answer everyone gave me to that question was “certainly not.” Rather than being spent, practically all of the “Lucky Money” is set aside and deposited in a real bank or secure piggy bank at home. The funds are then used to purchase school supplies and provide a fund for high school and, in many cases, university tuition (in China free universal education extends only through middle school [初中]; high schools [高中] charge tuition [学费]).

I really think the “Lucky Money” custom is something that should emulated in America during Christmas. I have to make a confession here: I've really come to loathe Christmas in my middle age. While I mainly resent all the contrived happiness that comes with season, I also find the whole gift-giving routine to be incredibly stressful. Since most American children, especially kids from affluent households who are often spoiled rotten as it is, already have everything, it's very difficult to buy them material things they will appreciate for any length of time.

By contrast, the Chinese “Lucky Money” custom teaches children some important lessons about life. Those who will be joined by a new sibling are taught the importance of reciprocity and how different generations should be obligated to help one another. And those who get to keep their money are taught at an early age the values of thrift and saving. In particular, they are told early on that it's better to defer immediate consumption and gratification in order to pay for things that will yield much bigger benefits over the long-term.

Indeed, if what my friends told me is anything to go on, China's young children do acquire something of a “saving mentality” early on. For example, when I asked them if Chinese kids resent not being able to quickly blow all their cash, they all told me that wasn't the case. Indeed, the children are typically quite happy to have this money set aside.

Thus Chinese people become militant savers at a very early age. I'll be talking more about this behavior and how it contrasts with Americans’ free-spending habits—well up to the latest recession that is—in a later blog post. Stay tuned!

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

吃饺子 (jiao3zi5). The first character is the Mandarin word for “eat,” while the other two characters is the word for “dumpling.” There are three kinds of 饺子: 水饺 (shui3jiao3), or boiled dumplings; 蒸饺 (zheng1jiao3), or steamed dumplings; and 锅贴 (guo3tie1), or pan-fried dumplings. The first character in the last category actually means pot/pan, while the second means to stick, so Chinese name is actually very similar to the name commonly given to these dumplings by American English speakers, i.e. “pot-stickers.”
看电视 (kan4dian4shi4). The first character means “watch” or “read.” The Chinese word for television combines the character for “power/electric power” (电) with the word for “vision” (视). Very logical!
扑克 (pu1ke4).
麻将 (ma1jiang1).
礼物 (li3wu4).
压岁钱 (ya1sui4qian2).
护身符 (hu4shen1fu2).
行大运 (xing2da4yun4).
发大财 (fa1da4cai2).
礼尚往来 (li3shang4wang3lai2).
初中 (chu1zhong1).
高中 (gao1zhong1).
学费 (xue2fei4).

Chinese New Year's Debris

The above photos were shot in my apartment community's inner courtyard. Yes, all these tiny bits of paper and red plastic wrappings in the top two photos were from firecrackers (鞭炮) that had been lit during the previous evening(s). The bottom photo, of course, is all the boxes and garbage from the firecrackers, piled against the community's small guardhouse.

If last year's Spring Festival is any guide, this mess will be cleaned up quickly enough. But from January 25th through the end of the month, the firecracker wrappings literally covered the ground like shell casings from some fierce wartime battle. And during that week, my neighborhood sounded like a war-zone.

Actually, I really didn't mind the noise all that much. And the fact that so many people were setting off firecrackers in the courtyard and on the streets lent a distinctively disorganized Chinese air to the whole proceedings.

Moreover, the cold snap, which I wrote about in an earlier blog post, finally eased a bit on the evening of the 26th. I finished watching THE HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS (十面埋伏) a bit before midnight and went out to the enclosed balcony that off my master bedroom to watch the show (since the enclosed balcony's walls are very thin, it can be quite chilly during really cold weather).

I'm on the third floor, so I had a pretty view of the fireworks (焰火) exploding over the siheyuans (四合院) on the opposite side of the Dongzhimen Beixiao Jie. The show matched or exceeded any 4th of July celebration I have ever seen back in the states. And that’s really not surprising—the Chinese did, after all, invent gunpowder and firecrackers, so why should I have expected anything less than the spectacular?!

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

鞭炮 (bian1pao4).
十面埋伏 (shi2mian4li3fu2). These characters mean “10” (十), “face/sphere/area” (面), and, according to a Chinese friend, 埋伏 can be translated as ambush. In any case, the Chinese and English names for this Zhang Yi Mou (张艺谋) film are completely different.
焰火 (yan4hou3).
四合院 (si4he2yuan4).

Hutong/siheyuan urchins (小淘气)

When I did that Chinese New Year's Eve hutong/siheyuan walk, I didn't bring my camera along. Deciding to go there was done on the spur of the moment, and I was too lazy to go back to my apartment and get my camera. But since I'm on the subject of hutong/siheyuan life and haven't included any of my own photography in recent blog posts, here are some earlier photos of neighborhood children.

The little girl was sitting on the entrance steps of a Dongzhimen Beixiao Jie store across the street from my apartment complex. I think some fellows in that store or an adjacent one were playing mahjong (麻将). She was very into whatever it was she was doing and didn't notice me as I took her picture.

I shot this picture while walking along the Dongsi Bei Jie (东四北街) one October morning last fall. For some reason, many Chinese children and adults like to do the “V for Victory” sign when posing for us laowai photographers. The older girl, standing behind younger child making that sign was trying, without much success, to get the child on the left to pose for the shot.

This photo was taken last summer, about a month before the Olympic Games started. A good friend and old colleague from my Henan days, Jacqueline Baker, came to Beijing and stayed with me for a couple of days. We were walking toward the café, 喜鹊咖啡馆, that was mentioned in my December 1, 2008 blog post. These three children had just been playing a game and the little girl in the middle was clearly directing the activity. In China girls rule!!!

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

小淘气 (xiao3tao2qi4). Actually, this word has more of negative meaning, denoting a naughty child. I suspect that none of these children are very naughty.
麻将 (ma2jiang4).
东四北街 (dong1si4bei3jie1). The first characters mean “east” and “fourth”, while the last two mean “north” and “street.”
喜鹊咖啡馆 (xi3que4ka1fei1guan3). As was mentioned in the December 1, 2008 post, the first two characters mean “magpie”. While a Western person might not want to go to a place called “magpie coffee”—the third and fourth characters mean “coffee” and when combined with the last one, you have the Chinese word for coffee café—these birds are seen by Chinese people as being magical little critters. By contrast, Westerners see them as being thieving and obnoxious little critters.

Kids Playing Marbles in one of the Hutongs across the street from where I live:

The Spring Festival came early this year in China. The timing of this event is determined by the lunar calendar and it typically falls around the middle of February. In 2009, however, the Spring Festival began on January 26th. Three days before the holiday started, the temperature here plunged, as a cold front from Siberia hit Beijing.

This freezing weather was accompanied by strong, gusty winds. Lying in my bed before going to sleep, I could hear the wind howling and whistling in between the high rise apartment buildings in the neighborhood. I would be massively understating things to say that during those three mornings, the trek from my apartment to the bus stop and short walk to the office after getting off the bus wasn't a very pleasant experience.

It was still cold and windy when I returned home from the office on Saturday, January 25th to begin my week-long Spring Festival Holiday. I thus headed over to a warm place, namely the nearby Oriental Kenzo Shopping Mall, to have some lunch and then spend several hours drinking coffee and reading a book. I had planned on having an early dinner at one of the neighborhood’s two Russian restaurants—the Russian Embassy is a 10 minute walk from my apartment complex—before heading back to my warm apartment to spend the night unwinding with a beer or two and a DVD.

However, while returning from the mall to my apartment, I noticed that it had become a bit warmer. More importantly, the wind had died down. And since I had spent most of the past week sitting on my butt in front of the computer, it occurred to me that it would be really good to take a walk and get some exercise.

Fortunately, my immediate neighborhood is a wonderful place to stroll about. In particular, I love walking through the narrow hutong (胡同) alleys and siheyuans (四合院) that are across the street on the north side of the Dongzhimen Beixiaojie, or 东直门北小街 (up through the 1990s, the area south of this street was also all siheyuans and hutongs). I hardly ever see any other laowai walking about there, even though lots of us live in the Dongzhimen area. That's really a shame because the street life there is always very interesting.

This particular late afternoon-early evening was no exception, even though many of the residents had clearly gone back to their old hometowns (老家) for the Spring Festival (春节). Normally, these hutongs are filled with pedestrians at this hour; however, on this particular day, just a few cyclists and pedestrians were out and about.

Nonetheless, I did see three locals, all of whom were small children, doing something which made me want stop and observe them for a bit. And seeing them clearly having a lot of fun doing what they were doing caused me to think about their lives vs. the lives of more affluent children in the West and here in China.

The three kids—two boys and a girl—were no more than 10 years old (more on their age in a minute). The girl and one of the boys were rather chubby; the Chinese often call such children “小胖” or “little fatty.” Much of the time, this is actually a term of endearment, as if to say the child is very cute and lovable (很可爱).

These children, who were bundled up for the cold weather, were certainly very cute and lovable. They were playing a game of marbles. They had just two marbles, and both of the marbles were small and scruffy “cats-eye” marbles (I recall from my now very distant childhood that such marbles weren't highly prized, particularly compared to big and bright “purie” marbles). They rolled the marbles down the alley and on to the sand and dirt near the adjacent siheyuan's outer wall and entrance.

Even though these kids had the simplest of toys, they were clearly have a wonderful time, running back and forth, talking in animated voices, and laughing loudly all the while. I stopped and watched them for a few minutes. Before leaving the scene, during a pause in their activity, I asked the girl, “你几岁?” (How are old are you?) She replied in English, “nine.” And when I told her, “你们都很可爱,” (you are all very cute/lovable), she again replied in English by saying “thank you.”

The families who live in these siheyuans are clearly not at all affluent. In fact, they're what the Chinese call 老百姓. Literally translated it means “old hundred names,” but it's really an idiomatic term for very ordinary people. Since there are only around 100 old family names in China—刘, 陈, 曾, 李, and the like—common folks who are neither well off nor really poor are called 老百姓.

After resuming my stroll through the hutongs, I thought some about the contrast between these children and kids from affluent families in the West and here in China. Unlike these siheyuan children, the latter have all kinds of toys and gadgets—game boys, palm pilots, you name it. They also typically have lots of cash to blow at the mall. Yet despite having all these things, many of them are bored and unhappy and lead fairly empty lives. I would bet that the trio I bumped into that day are more content and happier than most of their materially better off counterparts in both China and the West.

Now I don't for one minute want to glamorize siheyuan life. To be sure, there are some very nice siheyuans near the Confucian Temple on the 国子监 not too far from where I live in Dongzhimen. Indeed, such places have now become upscale housing for rich Chinese people and laowai. However, most of these structures are very cramped and have little privacy. And they also typically lack central heating and, in many cases, indoor plumbing as well.

It's thus not at all surprising that many young people prefer living in newer apartment buildings. For example, one evening my neighbors across the hall in my apartment community invited me over for tea and watermelon. They had several foreign visitors staying with them for a few days and wanted some translation help. We talked for several hours and they told me what the immediate area used to look like. Although the husband and wife clearly missed living in the old siheyuan, their teenage daughter, who is a cute and very pleasant young lady, said that she preferred their new digs.

As China continues to develop and modernize at a rapid pace, it faces many social challenges. As I see it, one of the biggest social challenges will be striking a balance between obtaining Western style affluence and avoiding some of the bad things that go with it. In the meantime I look forward to more strolls around those hutongs and siheyuan across the street.

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

胡同 (hu2tong2).
四合院 (si4he2yuan4) These characters literally mean “courtyard house.”
东直门北小街 (dong1zhi2men2bei3xiao3jie1).
老家 (lao3jia1).
春节 (chun1jie2).
小胖 (xiao3pang4).
很可爱 (hen3ke3ai4).
你几岁 (ni3ji3sui4).
老百姓 (lao3bai3xing4).
刘 (liu2).
陈 (chen2).
曾 (zeng1).
李 (li3).
国子监 (guo2zi3jian1).