May 30, 2007

  By Ann Crotty

I wish people would stop asking me if I saw the Terracotta Warriors while I was in China. "You were in China for two months and you did not see the Terracotta Army?"

What can I say? I was busy.

I had meant to. I had planned to schlep to Xian to check out these 2200 year-old life-size soldiers, which had been built by the first emperor of a unified China back in about 220 BC to protect this allegedly paranoid tyrant in his travels through the next world.

I really had intended to brave the enormous throngs of holiday travellers in that first week of May. But I realised that the huge throngs of Chinese tourists that overwhelmed me at the stone forest in Kunming weeks earlier would be nothing compared to the masses on the move during this May holiday.

The 12-hour train trip from Beijing to Xian would be just the start of the challenge. But this was, after all, just one of the 35 must-sees in the 1270-page Rough Guide to China.

Then I found out about the Midi Rock Festival that runs for four days during the May holiday in Haidian Park, northwest Beijing.

The entertainment is provided by local and international acts performing anything from rock to dance music to punk, and included some extremely avant-garde stuff - think Yoko Ono. The only requirement of the music seemed to be that it has not been, nor ever could be, copied by Westlife.

The festival began quite modestly back in 2000 but has grown steadily each year. In 2006 over 10 000 Beijingers attended and the numbers for 2007 are believed to have been considerably higher.

The thought of spending the day with live Chinese punk rockers seemed infinitely more compelling than spending time with clay warriors. Anyway, I thought, I could probably get a DVD - pirated perhaps - of the Terracotta Army.

So on a beautiful sunny May day, I met up with some of my new Beijing friends and we headed off to the Midi Festival. Apart from the irritation of having to offload all of our whisky and rice wine at the entrance, because the event had been partly sponsored by Tsingtao Beer, it turned out to be a wonderful day.

As I gazed around me at all the pink-mohawked young Chinese, the committed rockers and the ordinary folk, and as I occasionally inhaled what might have been the delicate aroma of marijuana, I found, for the umpteenth time during my China visit, that I was having to rework some tired old stereotypes.

I could have been at a rock festival anywhere else in the world, except that here in Haidian Park the atmosphere seemed far more relaxed and friendly.

Apparently the Beijing authorities are a little perplexed about how to handle the Midi Festival but have opted for low-key involvement. There was talk of undercover cops. Perhaps they were the guys with the really outrageous mohawks? The only security guys I saw were playing frisbee with some of the crowd.

China was full of such great surprises. One arrives there with thoughts of the Tiannamen Square massacre, the brutal suppression of the Falon Gong, the oppressive treatment of Tibet, censorship, and the seeming ever-present role of government in people's lives. All of this combines to create the presumption of a people that are dour, hostile, one-dimensional, oppressed and relentlessly willing to work.

The reality seems utterly different. Two months is of course a very brief time in which to try and get a feel for this massive and complex country. But in that time I was treated with nothing but kindness by everybody I came across.

They tried to assist me; they tried to understand what I was attempting to say and those who spoke English were delightfully friendly.

There was little sign of a dour or oppressed people on the streets of Beijing or, with the exception of Lhasa, any large city I visited.

They do seem to have a huge appetite for work but their appetite for fun and socialising seems as large.

The pavements and parks are full of people chatting, eating, exercising, singing, dancing or playing any one of a multitude of games. And everyone is welcome to stand by and watch or join in.

I decided to spend the second day that I was not spending visiting the Terracotta Warriors back at Factory 798 - Dashanzi, where I had spent a few hours some weeks earlier. Until recently this suburb in northeast Beijing was entirely comprised of factories. Now about half of the 20 000m2 space is home to galleries and studios and the public is free to stroll around and check out the art.

I know little about art but I do know that some of the photo exhibitions on that day were amazingly thought-provoking.

An artists' hand with the little finger cut off in protest against Tiannamen Square was the backdrop to a number of amazing photos at one studio.

At another, a series of photos told the story of how a beautiful young girl drifted from poverty-stricken rural life to the money and bright lights of prostitution, first in Shanghai and then Beijing.

The text recounted her thoughts about the brusque, wealthy new Chinese and the slightly less brusque Communist Party cadres who made up much of her clientele.

The "golden bricks" exhibition was a moving tribute to the migrant workers who have rebuilt much of Beijing over the past 10 years or so, working a 12-hour day, six days a week for about 500 yuan (R500) a month.

The exhibition's text told the story of the appalling conditions they are forced to live in and the disdain with which they are treated by the Beijingers.

If I return to this complex and multidimensional country I will of course attempt to get to the warriors. But only after I have checked out the concerts and Factory 798.