bands around the world

Oct. 4, 2006

A poster caught our eye in the Beijing subway: Rock and Beer Feast 2006. Almost all the poster was in Chinese characters, rendering the information useless to us, but we managed to figure out there was a week-long, all-day music (and beer) festival somewhere in town while we were there. (and calling it a feast, instead of the more conventional fest, just made it more appealing).


In the English-language mags we found a bit more information, although still tantalizingly little: yes, it was a week-long series of concerts starting at about 2 p.m. each day. More importantly, the venue (listed as "International Sculpture Garden") was accessible by subway, the only way we could navigate Beijing. And the entry fee was less than $10.
Wednesday, we lounged around the apartment all morning. Since most of the day was shot already, we figured we'd head out to the feast to make it sound like we hadn't squandered all our time. In our mind, we figured we'd lie on the grass, listen to a couple of bands (since we had no idea what to expect, we went in figuring the quality would be poor. No chance of disappointment) and then maybe leave and figure out something else.


We showed up about three o'clock. The venue was easy enough to find, since it was literally just outside the subway stop. The "sculpture garden" ended up being an airport-sized piece of fenced-in concrete; not the perfect place to hang out in the 80-degree sunshine. A group of maybe 100 kids sat in front of the stage at one end of the cement, watching a punk band fronted by a high-school aged girl. A few more sat by the two beverage tents in the middle of the area, about 300-400 yards from the stage. The far edge was ringed with tents selling food and merchandise. The crowd seemed to be primarily 16-22 year olds, with enough exceptions to make it interesting. All in all, pretty typical. Except we were the only white faces there (a few more, looking like international college students, showed up later in the evening). And the beer sellers, who were using some sort of purchase-tickets-then-exchange-tickets-for-beer system, didn't speak English. And I didn't understand a word the bands were saying (actually, I suppose that is pretty typical).

A few bands into the day (each band got about a half-hour set) we were treated to our first taste of the bizarre: a goth-metal band, lead singer dressed in what I'm guessing was a traditional western Chinese costume (to my eye, it looked a bit like Native American garb) and everyone else in full white face paint. A few power rock chords, then out comes the traditional Chinese violin. Nice touch.

The bands weren't bad, generally. We figured out how to buy beer (3 yuan, or about 35 cents, for a big bottle of beer; 5 yuan for a smaller bottle of water). A girl at the refreshment tent took the opportunity to practice her English, helped us navigate our way through the selection and translated the names of some bands. She also keep asking us if we liked the music, near incredulous as well as excited at our answer of yes.

Just after dark came our favorite act of the night. It didn't hurt when they broke into a pop-punk cover of "You Are My Sunshine," one of three English-language songs the whole day. (I honestly can't remember what the first one was, but the other one was "Cat Scratch Fever" sang by a hard-rocking Chinese who, I'm convinced, didn't know English or have any idea what he was saying).

Many, many beers and about eight hours later, we even managed to negotiate the subway properly and make it home.


Nov. 8

Since even before we left New Zealand, it seemed like we were continuously visiting cities where a band one of us wanted to see had just been or was just about to arrive; either way, not while we were actually there. In London, we checked the gig guides and the sites of several bands we knew were touring. Again, all of them were going to miss us by at least a few weeks.

Kirsten checked on one more band, and found it, too, would miss us, playing in London while we would be in Newcastle. Then we looked at their schedule, decided to see where Gateshead was, and found out it actually was in Newcastle, at the same time we were going to be in Newcastle. So, finally, a happy coincidence and a show we wanted to see.

The show was in the Sage Gateshead, a brand-new venue on the south side of the Tyne River. From the outside, the steel-and-glass structure looks a bit like a giant, shiny slug. From the inside, it offers a brilliant view of downtown Newcastle as well as three concert halls.

The show itself, the only one on our trip we bought tickets for ahead of time, was a bit of a disappointment. I've heard Yo La Tengo's album tracks before, and I generally like them. Live, I felt they should have taken the distortion pedals away from the lead singer. There was more noise than music, and from a band whose lyrics are probably the strength, when you can't hear the lyrics it's a problem.


Nov. 11

It looked like we'd have our usual problem as we headed to Ireland. There was a band our friend Ryan had introduced us to. We discovered they'd be playing in Dublin the first weekend we'd be in Ireland. However, plans changed and it turned out we were in County Cavan the night of the show, rather than Dublin.

Our Irish friends told us they'd be taking us to Galway the next night, to see the reuniting show of one their brother's bands - they were opening for a touring band at a Galway pub. (Unfortunately for me, the name of their band has left my mind. Sorry, Alan.) We arrived in Galway a little late, and the band we came to see was off the stage. We decided to head in anyway, since two of us were on the guest list and the remaining cover wasn't that bad split between all of us.

We walked in the pub and saw chaos on stage. There were nearly 30 people up there, most of whom had no instruments (save kazoos) but were singing, blowing bubbles, throwing confetti and dancing like mad. I figured they'd grabbed a bunch of fans out of the audience. The crowd was into it, the music was catchy. It also sounded a little familiar.

Now, Ryan had only given us I'm From Barcelona's music. We had no idea what the band make-up was. So after a couple songs, when a very familiar song starts playing, Kirsten leaned over to me: "They're covering I'm From Barcelona!" Then we started to wonder. I leaned over to one of the Irish boys: "Who is this band?" "Barcelona something!"

We'd stumbled across the show of the band we'd meant to see, without any idea we were going to. It also ended up being one of the best shows we'd ever seen.

beijing haircut

It's never in any of the guidebooks - where to get a decent, cheap haircut and how to deal with any language or cultural barriers to getting one.
Even in New Zealand, it took a while to find a good place to get my hair cut. In Beijing it wasn't hard to find one - there's one across the street from where we were staying - but it was a bit more difficult to deal with an utter lack of English.

I needed a haircut, so I chanced it. The initial bit was easy - I walked toward the shop and a girl outside said, 'Haircut?' I nod, she leads me inside and through the salon to the back where she proceeds to give me a shampoo and head massage for 25 minutes. It was actually two of what I assume were shampoo cycles, each followed by a massage of the head and neck, then another (conditioner?) cycle, followed by not only another round of massage but also an ear-cleaning. I have never had anyone else's fingers that far into my ears, which was a bit disconcerting. I wasn't sure if this was part of the normal routine, or if she just found my ears particularly offensive.
The whole affair was quite relaxing, other than the ear bit, and then I was led over to a standard hair-cutting chair, where the same girl briefly gave me a shoulder massage.
While sitting there, I was approached by a couple of other girls. The first tried, even though I don't speak Chinese and she didn't speak more than five words of English, to sell me a frequent-user discount card. The second came over, talked for a while, saw my blank look, stopped, then brought over a menu of services. I think she was trying to sell me the optional extras (I made out senior styler), but I couldn't read the menu any more than I understood what she was saying. Thankfully, on the door it read in English 'Haircut 38 yuan' and 38 was the first bit on the list.

The actual stylist had a few phrases of English, enough so we could make ourselves understood when he asked what I wanted and I pointed to my head and made motions for the length. The cut itself turned out well, although after I assumed he was finished he spent another 15 minutes trimming individual hairs he decided weren't sufficiently conforming to the overall effect.
I was slightly distracted as this was going on, since the original washing girl wandered over. I think she was satisfied I couldn't understand what she was saying, so was talking with the stylist about this crazy Westerner. She was certainly amused by my earring, and curious about my eyelashes. Curious enough about the last bit to get me to close my eyes so she could inspect them close up.

The whole thing took more than an hour and a quarter. I ended up with a clean head and a decent haircut.
It all cost me about $5.

filling up the passport...

Left London today to fly into Germany, where we'll be for the next week and a half.
It's my second time in Germany, although the first time around two years ago was mostly just a brief stop in the middle of a long train ride from Amsterdam to Prague. On that trip Germany seemed like a very foreign destination. Now, after six weeks in Asia and 14 months away from the States, Germany seems like a very easy place to travel. Sure, a lot of things aren't written in English (although quite a bit is). But at least you can figure out a bit of what is going on with German, or at least pretend you can, which is something you can't do with Chinese.

It's one aspect of a larger difference I'm noticing after a few months of solid traveling. On my first trips to Europe, and even when arriving in New Zealand, there was a serious feeling of displacement. Even London, on arrival after a long flight when you have`t been abroad, seems like a very foreign place. When I first got into London the jetlag and culture shock froze my brain; it took at least a day to even recognize the language people were speaking to me was English and I should be able to parse their meaning and perhaps even respond.
I haven't had quite as much of the displacement buzz when we've arrived at our last few destinations - probably not since Bangkok. Switching languages, surroundings and cultures is starting to seem like the ordinary manner of things, rather than a huge abrupt change requiring a serious mental effort to accommodate.
This is a good thing, I suppose, in that it means I've traveled around enough to deal with different environments much faster. But I do miss the feeling of arriving into a complete unknown. Not just the unknown of a place you haven't been, but the unknown of a mental shift and adjustment you haven't made anywhere before. Just landing in London that first time set off a buzz in my brain for a few days, and that's always fun.

One other downside to becoming used to traveling is being totally unprepared for jetlag. Before, jetlag was an excuse to explain the brain's inability to keep up with all the new input. When I arrived in London, since it didn't seem particularly daunting, I also expected my body to adjust as easily as my mind. My body had other ideas.
We left Beijing around 11 a.m. (which meant a 6:30 a.m. wakeup call). It was a 10-hour flight across seven time zones, so we landed around 2 p.m. It was a long period of daylight, and by the time we got to bed, our bodies were at about 4 a.m. although the clocks were at 9 p.m. I figured a sleep would put me right, but all week I felt a wave of fatigue hit in the late afternoon.

the nomad's life

Since leaving Dunedin in mid-July (our last working stop in New Zealand) we've rarely spent more than a couple nights in the same spot. We've been seeing the must-see sights, taking the tours, having cultural experiences, meeting fellow travelers.
We've also been running on overload, both in terms of taking it all in and in terms of always being on the go. It's a little tough to relax, even when you're not doing anything in particular, when you can never unpack and have no real place to base out of for more than a few hours.

China was the exception. My cousin graciously gave us the run of his apartment in Beijing for the duration of our stay, along with its satellite TV and library of books and DVDs. We took full advantage, spending far too much time just sitting in the apartment. We saw plenty of Beijing sights, did the obligatory Beijing shopping, but we also slept in and occasionally wasted time just hanging around a place we didn't have to immediately leave. It was a much-needed respite.

Now we're in London and back on the move. For most of the next six weeks, we're hoping to hop from one friend to another, staying on floors for a few days and moving on before (hopefully) wearing out our welcome. The floor-surfing era has begun here (and we're very grateful to Ryan, who has allowed us to take up pretty much all of the unoccupied space in his dorm room for the next few days). Next Monday, on to Germany to hopefully stay with four or five different people we've met during the past year's travels. Then Scotland, northern England, Ireland and back to London. It'll be good to see all these friends again, and it'll be nice not to have the daily financial drain of always paying for places to sleep. But I don't think we'll really have a chance to relax again until we return to the States in December (and even then we'll be traveling around crashing with people until we sort out how and where to settle).

another photo post

Gate to the Forbidden City from Tianamen Square, Beijing

View of the Great Wall at Simitai

Marching into the distance

Skewers of street food, ready for cooking. The scorpions on the center sticks were still moving.

Tanks in Bangkok, a few days after the coup (the day we left).

Ronald gives a Thai greeting.

smog

It's the most constant feature of life in Beijing, at least since we've been here (and we have it on good authority it's always like this).
The air is usually a thick, grey soup. Yesterday it was thick enough you could barely make out buildings more than a block or two away. It's been the first thing we do each morning - look out the window to check whether we can see the building across the courtyard. If we can, it's a day worth being outside. If we can't, we go back to bed.

One of the few benefits to the smog are the sunsets. Sometimes the sun turns red around 3 o'clock, making the sunset about four hours long. This would be the place to be for a solar eclipse - by the afternoon, you can stare straight at the sun, no problem.

The official translations of signs here often leave something to be desired. Sometimes they add an entire new level of meaning, as well. With apologies to Stephen's Konglish files, here's a couple of Chinglish examples:

Fun signs seen on a trip to the Great Wall of China:

"Fire is heartless" (but the water, she will love you)

"Don't drive fatigue" (especially if it's hitchhiking)

China

After a month in SE Asia, we've moved north to China. In some ways, it's less foreign in Beijing than it was in Thailand, Laos or Cambodia. At least the areas we've been in Beijing are ultra-modern developed areas (I realize there are other parts of the city and certainly the country that are anything but).
However, as a tourist this is a harder area to function in, or at least there's more of a language barrier. Everywhere we went the past month people, at least the people who where involved in selling things, spoke English. English menus, english signs. There is far less English spoken or written here. And the various English translations are far harder to understand.