People's Republic of...

Yes, that's what I just said: China is almost as popular as sex.

That's the only conclusion that can be drawn from the New York Times website, where its 'Most searched' section of the 'Most Popular' page, lists the keywords “most frequently searched by NYTimes.com readers".

As can be seen in the image below, the ancient civilization of China is listed as number two, while the ancient art of getting frisky is number one.



Curiously, this means that China is, in the eyes of the left-leaning cultural connoisseurs who are the typical NY Times readership, of more interest than domestic mishaps such as a psychotic gunman and an illegal war on Iraq. Hmmm...

Actually, I've long noticed that China is high in this top 10 list, it's just today that there seems to be a number of bizarre juxtapositions in the listings and their order.

One question: the number eight entry, "turkey", I'm not sure if it refers to the fat bird consumed at Christmas and Thanksgiving, or the country; and the lack of capitalisation is confusing. It could be either, really, given this list's randomness.

A couple of weeks ago I saw something that I've been trying to make sense of ever since. Here's what happened: I was on a bus here in Suzhou, which drew up to a set of traffic lights at an intersection. To my right, on the corner of the road, I noticed on old woman had fallen off her bicycle, and was sat in the road, unhurt, but somewhat dazed and bruised.

I'm not sure why the old lady's accident had occurred; but since her bike was in perfect shape, and she was unhurt, I guess she had just lost balance and come down to earth with a bump. None of the passing cars stopped to help, as can be expected in a culture where only immediate family is worthy of concern and intervention, as evidenced in the old Chinese story of the man who did not sweep the snow off of his neighbour's house while he was up on his own roof as his only concern was with his family.

Then, across the road, came two Chinese Buddhist monks, in their mustard-colour robes, grey felt slippers, and burgundy sling-bags. Ah, I thought, surely these two monks will come to the assistance of the old lady, as she still sat forlornly on the side of the road besides her over-turned bike. The two monks proceeded to walk past the old lady. One gave a cursory glance downwards. The other made no look in the old lady's direction.

Somewhat shocked, as I stood there inside the crowded bus, looking out on this curious cultural tableau, I wondered 'what is the point of the supposed “men of God” if they will not lend a helping hand to a human in need of assistance?'

It's often dangerous - or pointless - to make direct social comparisons across widely varying cultures, but I really could not see a vicar in England, or a venerable Thai Buddhist monk, failing to help up an old lady who had fallen. The idea of a 'good samaritan' may hail from the Bible, but it is not a concept exclusive to Christianity, and Buddhism's notions of altruism are embodied in the Bodhisattva as much as they are espoused by Jesus.

It's certainly noticeable in China that monks are often despised by ordinary people - this is in stark contrast to the devotion and high spiritual acclaim of monks in Thailand, and other Asian countries - and Chinese friends and acquaintances have often regaled me with stories of Chinese monks who possess cars, property, and fortunes which they have, allegedly, selfishly and thoughtlessly acquired. Indeed, the only contact that many people have with monks these days is when pestered to donate money in exchange for faux-golden buddhist cards. Where the money goes is not immediately clear.

With so many people in China in need of some well-meant charity - be it in the form of financial assistance, food, or moral support - it's not clear to me what role, if any, Buddhism is serving at the moment. Surely it is the more traditional, older folk - such as our old lady in this scene - who visits her local temple regularly, and slips bank-notes into the wooden boxes that sit prominently in every single building in every temple, who underpin Chinese Buddhism and the monk's devotional lives. And yet, when in need of some support - when in need of a very real helping hand - Buddhism in her own country failed her, and presumably many other people too.

NOTE: This was also crossposted on the Lost Laowai blog.

It's not often that you get a Chinese protester, actually in China, but when you see one, they certainly make an impact.



Earlier today the Microsoft chairman Bill Gates was at Peking University. While he handed out certificates to a line of students, one young man from the audience rushed the stage with a piece of paper daubed with “Free software Open source” in English, and shouting those words loudly, for good measure. Top-class pwnage!

Follow this link for the original news story (in Chinese) which also contains a clip of the young Chinese man's lil' demo. He is, officially, our hero of the day.

UPDATE: Here's a better-angled photo, showing Big Bill himself in the background, looking on with good humour.

A cat in a fridge; President Bush's situation in Iraq. They strike me as pretty similar. So here's my brand new cartoon of the week, inspired by the “im in ur...“ meme still flurrying around the internet.

Cartoon (2 panels, which will load below):

An ex-pat can expect to field a great variety of questions in their host country, and here in China the questions follow a similar pattern of curiosity. Random characters that we run into every day - taxi-drivers, shop-assistants, etc. - tend to ask the most banal questions, such as “can you use chopsticks?” and “where are you from?”.

More insightful queries tend to come from primary school-kids, acquaintances, and locals that I talk to on MSN or Skype, such as “why are you so hairy?”, and “how long will you stay?” Both those questions stump me every time.

Let's ignore the contentious matter of hairiness, and tackle the thorny issue of “how long will you stay?” I was asked this just the other day whilst chatting on MSN with a girl in nearby Yangzhou, and it dawned on me that I had been asked this same question - no exaggeration here - dozens and dozens of times before, during the course of my (thus far) four-year residence in China.

It also dawned on me that my answers to this question have been various, multitudinous, and have gradually evolved, too. No longer is my answer the carefree “at the end of my contract, I guess”, and no longer do I say “maybe one or two years more”, and instead I begin a mini-essay on looking into buying property and contemplate staying for the medium-term. Whatever I actually mean by that; can't say that I'm even sure myself.

Surely many other ex-pats have come to see their plans and intentions evolve over time, whether because of a relationship or their career. And surely many others see the uncertainty of making such proclamations in a country which has never before experienced or accepted immigration of any kind.

If I were to meet a foreigner of my age in the UK - let's call him Hamoun, 28 years old, from Iran, but now working in London - who appeared similarly settled with a girlfriend and an apartment, I would not ask him “how long will you stay?”; well, not if I didn't want to cause offense and risk starting a scuffle. And, if he were hairy, I would not ask him why he was so hairy, either. But I'm not complaining: this is a new cultural phenomenon for China, so curiosity and misunderstandings are inevitable, at this stage.

*NOTE: This was also cross-posted on the Lost Laowai blog.

**UPDATE: After some guidance, anyone can now comment! No email address needed (and definitely no sign-up).