Making the Numbers Add Up

The Chinese government has a number fetish.

It uses numbers to describe its economic development, with "year-on-year increase" as its favourite phrase, meaning a rise compared to the same period the year before.

Not only does the country have a gross national product reported constantly, but every Chinese province has one too.

Earlier this year President Hu Jintao floated the idea of calculating a green GDP, to show economic development at the cost of the environment. This would have been a world's first and Hu had hoped this would show local officials that sustainable development was more important than just economy.

But the idea was killed before economists could crunch the numbers; some officials and experts complained that since there was no formula in place, how could they even begin to calculate a green GDP.

And now the government wants to quantify harmony.

In 2004, the Chinese Communist Party adopted the idea of "building a harmonious society" as a way to judge its leadership.

According to the article in Chinese media, "a harmonious society is defined as a socialist democracy, with rule of law, social justice, honesty and credibility, balancing human activities and natural resources."

But since then, many Chinese citizens aren't feeling the love and are becoming more skeptical about the government actually serving the people's interests. And hence bureaucrats think quantifying social harmony in numbers might make the achievement seem more black and white.

However, experts quoted in the story don't think this can be done, saying social harmony has more to do with relationships between different social groups which can be difficult to measure numerically.

We'll have to see if this idea will also be shot down or reports will surface about an X per cent year-on-year increase in social harmony thanks to the government's policies.

Stay tuned.

The Congestion Conundrum

Today rush hour home was pretty bad.

I followed my new commute route, taking a bus to get onto the fourth ring road and then waited for the 101.

Then it turned out the 101 went the old route and I could have caught it in front of my office.

Never mind.

The 101 bus was absolutely packed. I squeezed in at the front of the bus, standing right by the windshield. And there were a few other bodies behind me too.

On top of that traffic inched along, and at points stood at a standstill for a while. It was not the most pleasant experience to be crammed like sardines for over half an hour.

Meanwhile, people in cars, usually only with the driver in it or another passenger, gave us smug looks as if to say: ha ha I don't have to take the loser cruiser anymore. I have a car.

But they too were caught in the same traffic jam as us.

Beijing is laid out like a square cobweb, with the Forbidden City in the middle. There are rings emanating from it, second, third, fourth, fifth and even sixth ring roads, with arteries crossing through them diagonally.

The only way to get around is to get onto one of these ring roads to the direction you want to go and then plunge into the web again to get to your destination. That's why traffic is horrendous.

On top of that, the capital has over three million cars on the road. That's at least a million too many.

The government doesn't stop people from buying cars and instead tells them not to drive so much. That's because it has a direct stake in the car industry. Granted more subway lines are opening up in the next few months leading up to the Olympics, but when the average salary is 3,000RMB (US$399) a month, taking the metro which is more than triple the bus fare, is not an option.

The government should really limit the number of cars on the road, and put more buses on so that commuters don't have to cram onto the bus, because they don't know when the next one will come.

But car owners think they have a right to drive their status symbol despite the effects it has on the environment. And yes, that's an attitude you'll find in developed countries too.

However, the Chinese government does have the power to fix things. Last month's four-day trial of taking half the cars off the road was executed swiftly and almost everyone obeyed. Ideally this exercise should be made into policy. But for now it doesn't seem like the government has the determination to improve the situation for the long term.

Set the Canary Free

For the past few days I have been watching with interest the latest developments in a South Asian country whose people are trying to create change.

What was most endearing was reading that the symbol of the country was able to see her people united in her cause.

But at the moment we don't know exactly where she is and now there is chaos on the streets.

Governments around the world have condemned the hard line action, but no one has proposed a solution.

One of this country's biggest financial investors is the one I am living in now. And it has been relatively silent.

It could have enough influence to stop the bloodshed, but it all it has done is called for "restraint".

The people are calling for change. They have had Buddhist-like patience up until now.

And the only person who they trust is hidden away.

I only hope this canary will be set free from her cage and fulfill her destiny to lead her people.

Commuter Confusion

Usually there are two buses I can take from my office to get home, the 101 and 201.

The 1o1 is an old rickety yellow bus whose gear box has gone through so many gear shifts it groans and grinds with frustration but shifts gears with resignation. In the summer it's hot because there's no air conditioning and makes you wish deodorant was a prerequisite for passengers.

The 201 has air conditioning, but if it's cool enough they open the windows instead which is fine, but is just as crowded. It's a more updated bus, that sometimes has a TV screen for bored commuters to stare at.

A few weeks ago these two buses started to veer off from the usual route. I asked a colleague about it and he said that maybe they were finishing their shift so they went another way. But during rush hour? They have to go home and eat, was the reply.

It happened a few times and I was tired of having to walk 20 minutes to get to the mall where I know which buses can take me home.

Then I realized by reading the Chinese on the bus stop sign that the 201 didn't go by my place anymore.

OK fine. So from now on I was sticking to the 101.

But then yesterday I waited for half an hour for the 1o1 before I realized it didn't stop in front of my office anymore. I couldn't find the bus stop sign for it.

So I had to wait for the 201 (which was crowded), took that for two stops and then got off and waited for the 101. Thankfully it came after a short wait.

Another coworker explained that it was because the two buses went to the same stops that they had to change it. And also a new subway line will begin service near our office soon so some bus routes have been diverted to service this area, and perhaps that's what happened to bus 101.

But for me, now my commute home is more complicated.... I can either take two buses or walk over 10 minutes to get to the 101 bus stop.

What really kills me is that there was no notification on any of the signs that the routes had changed or that there was now no 101 bus stopping in front of my office.

Did I miss something?

The city is trying hard to get commuters to take more public transit for environmental and traffic congestion reasons. But when they keep changing routes without telling people, how are they going to know where to take it?

The Fruit of Patience

Here's a picture of a pomegranate tree on the grounds of the Lu Xun Museum.

Street vendors have been selling them as well as supermarkets.

And apparently the best pomegranates are from Xian, north east China. If you buy a whole box of them and keep them individually wrapped in plastic bags, they will keep for several months.

What's interesting about Chinese pomegranates is that when you slice them open, the colour of the pearly fruit range from a translucent creamy colour to light pink and ruby red.

In the last few days I've been trying to finish some pomegranates on my own. And this bejeweled fruit is definitely a test of your patience.

Probably the best way to eat them is plopped in front of the television and ever so slowly pick at the fruit, ruminate over them and then spit out the tiny pits. I think it takes me a good 45 minutes to get through one.

I wish there was a more efficient way to get at the tiny juicy bits, but perhaps that's part of this fruit's charm -- seducing you to delicately explore and be rewarded with what treasures lie beneath.

Two more pomegranates to go.

Software Reprogramming

My friend who is a flight attendant, flew in late yesterday afternoon.

We met up for dinner at Ding Tai Fung and had a fantastic meal.

The dishes we ordered included xiaolongbao or steamed pork dumplings that were absolutely delicious and delicate, fresh stir-fried vegetables, dan dan mian or noodles with peanut sauce and a tad spicy, and "lion's head" or a meatball with pork and minced water chestnut in a chicken broth with vegetables.

For dessert we had white steamed buns with ground black sesame paste inside.

Overall the service was friendly and fast, everything neat and tidy.

Then my friend went to the bathroom.

She came back and told me she saw a well-dressed mother holding her son sideways as he peed into the sink.

He was about five or six-years-old, old enough to stand on his own and do his business in the toilet.

My friend was so shocked she didn't know what to say.

Then the mother explained to her son that the taps at the sink were turned on by sensors and he said that he wanted to wash his hands himself. So while she is well-dressed and somewhat educated on hygiene, why is this woman holding up her son so that he can pee into the sink?

This is a perfect illustration of China at this moment: while everything looks great on the outside -- the decor, quality of food and relatively cleanliness -- the culture and thinking of the people need to change.

And with the Olympics coming next year, this software programming has to be updated.

The sooner the better.

A Scam of Olympic Proportions

Some relatives from Australia asked me to send them some Beijing Olympics merchandise for their kids.

And of course the fuwa or five "friendlies" are the perfect gifts for little ones.

But it's a drag buying these Olympics souvenirs. It's a scam that's driving me crazy.

First of all, if you want to get a T-shirt or a bag or pen with all five of the mascots on them, it's next to impossible. The marketing committee was too clever in creating five characters and so the merchandising department designed five different kinds of pens, bags, shirts, hats and so on.

It makes it hard to decide what to buy as I don't want to have to choose one fuwa over another. They all look the same to me.

Second, while there are many stands in department stores and even at the Silk Market selling Olympics souvenirs, each one sells slightly different merchandise.

You have to go to every single store to see if you like what they have. And if they have it, you have to buy it. Because there is no guarantee that the next store you encounter will have the same thing.

In the past three days including today I have gone to three different shops. And they don't have exactly what I'm looking for. Most of them have the coin and pin collections which are utterly useless for elementary school-aged girls. While one store has one style of mug, the other has a different design with different handles.

And the service varies with the stores too. They range from very friendly and try to be helpful to completely indifferent which I encountered tonight. How these staff are hired I have no idea. But if the Beijing Olympic Organizing Committee is spending so much time and effort training Olympics volunteers and staff, could they not put a little more training into the staff who sell souvenirs?

But more importantly, could someone please explain why every store has different merchandise? I feel like I have to visit every single one in the city to find what I want. And that's a frustrated shopper's nightmare come true.