Kosher Showers

Out of the woodwork they came, one by one, then in larger waves, like those ants who went marching or the teddy bears arriving at their picnic in the woods.  If you arrived a mere five minutes early, as we had done, the place was empty, tables neatly set for people that clearly weren't planning on showing up.  Show up ten minutes late, and you were fighting for a seat.  Before long, what started by feeling almost as if we were trespassing on something small and private, had turned into what must be one of the best kept secrets in town:  Shabbat in Shanghai.

Where did all the Jews come from?

Such was the first question I asked my friend Michelle upon sitting down to dinner after Shabbat services at the Shanghai Jewish Center.  We'd been talking about going to Shabbat here for a couple months now, primarily to appease Michelle's Jewish-guilt-flinging grandmother.  We weren't really sure what to expect, since neither of us know that many Jews in town.  It turns out, there are a lot, perhaps not in terms of relative numbers, but certainly in terms of cultural enthusiasm.  At least 70 people showed up to the services tonight, if not more.  Some of them live here, some of them were passing through -- all of them, however, were welcome and welcoming.

Like the telltale smell of grandma's matzo ball soup, wafting through the kitchen before a Seder, feelings of Jewishness, and the pride at our ability to share a festive meal with friends and strangers alike, came rushing back tonight.  The service was long enough to feel meaningful, and short enough to keep my limited attention span for these kind of things.  The singing was loud, exuberant, and almost entirely in tune.  The food was delicious and plentiful.  And most of all, the people were exactly as I remembered "them" -- it feels as if I left my Jewish self behind when I came to China, and found it again at dinner tonight.  They greeted me like an old friend, and asked where in New York I was from (before telling them I was even from the US).

Some highlights from the evening:

• When I arrived at the shul, it was empty.  I told the Chinese receptionist that I was there for Shabbat services and dinner, and he said, pointing to the staircase to my right, "Okay!  The show is downstairs!"  I assumed this was the Shanghai Jewish community's response to "Book of Mormon."  I descended to the sanctuary, and awaited the start of the "show."
• Chicken soup was served as part of the meal.  It tasted eerily like wanton soup.
• I forgot to pay for my meal when I arrived, and by the time I remembered it was already Shabbat, so I was barred from paying (not allowed to do business on Shabbat!).  I promised to pay next time, and I actually think I will.  Good to support these kind of things, I think.
• The rabbi, your classic big, burly, and bearded fellow, was your classic Jewish politician, roaming the room during dinner.  He greeted everyone with two bottles -- one whiskey, and one vodka -- and said, "And for you?"  When the guy across from me shook his head in decline, the rabbi said, "I wasn't asking yes or no, I was asking whiskey or vodka!"
• After the first round, however, the rabbi (who was awesome, and I don't begrudge him for this one bit) was way more interested in filling and re-filling his own glass than he was with making sure everyone else was full.  I must've said "le'chaim" about 10 times with an empty glass (and on each one, the rabbi took a shot).
• The rabbi interrupted the meal every now and then for prayer, song, and talk.  At one point, he had everyone new to the congregation stand up and introduce themselves.  I thought this was a particularly nice touch, and made me feel even more a part of the community than I already did.
• During another interlude, the rabbi quipped: "In response to all of the disturbing news about the contents of our river here in Shanghai, I have been asked a very troubling question in recent days: is it no longer kosher to take a shower in Shanghai?"

I'll be going back.

Bay of Pigs

Well, this is patently disgusting:

Pigs, Pigs, Pigs!

Apologies to those who were eating while reading this post (or, you know, were ever planning on eating or drinking ever again).  Alas, it's better to face the truth head on rather than avoid it: there are dead pigs in the Huangpu River, which not only meanders through downtown Shanghai, creating the coastline that forms the famous Bund, but also provides for the vast preponderance of Shanghai's water supply.  Now, it's not like any of us were drinking the water to begin with.  It's gross, and even the natives don't really mess around with the water too much if they can avoid it.  But it does make you wonder about, say, cooking food with the water.  My roommate, Serge, uses bottled water to cook with, which always made me raise my eyebrows in environmental sanctimony.  He used to work in the clean water industry, and isn't shy about citing the arsenic content in Shanghai's water, which never actually evaporates, even when the water is boiled (Dad, if you're reading this, please don't fret.  You will survive your trip to China.  I promise.).  I've always been happy to use the tap water when I cook (arsenic, shmarsenic, I always say!), but now....well, I dunno.  The government, bless them, says the water is safe again, now that 6,000 of Porky's cousins were fished (pigged?) out of the Huangpu over the past few days.  I'm not sure I buy it.

I must admit that I'm not sure which is more disturbing -- the fact that the Huangpu is hogtied with pig carcasses, or my reaction to hearing of the news.  I was pretty unmoved by it.  I believe my first response was "Oh.  Well, that probably shouldn't be the case."  But it certainly wasn't surprise.  Or outrage.  It was more like, "Yup.  That sure sounds like China!"  In just over six months of living here, I've already become quite desensitized to the seemingly endless parade of "China is gross" examples.  It just doesn't make me raise my eyebrows anymore.  And part of the reason why is because I know I won't be living here permanently.  Tolerating things like swine in the drinking water is just something I'm trading in exchange for an adventure -- not something I have to live with forever.

This is kind of a problem, isn't it?  China is acutely aware of and concerned by the slowing down of its economy.  While the absurd levels of growth that it enjoyed for the last decade or so certainly weren't sustainable in the long run, the maintenance of world-power status is priority number one for the newly inducted regime in Beijing.  But I'm not so sure the economy is the biggest issue that China must address.  Rather, I wonder whether it's more about maintaining the country's appeal to the rest of the world.

China can make it as hard for its own citizens to leave as it wants.  But as long as expats view the country as merely a temporary stomping grounds to have some fun, make some money, and wait out the economic troubles in the West, China's position as a major player in the world stage is at risk.  And as it stands, there are serious environmental and lifestyle barriers that predispose foreigners to write China off as unworthy of planting firm roots.  There are exceptions, to be sure.  My friend Tom, the Horde's guitarist, has been living here for over 5 years, has a Chinese girlfriend with whom he lives, and has no plans of leaving any time soon.  But when we were discussing the pigs-in-the-river kerfuffle this morning, his response was, "Yeah, I just assume I'm going to die from a really awful form of cancer at some point" thanks to living here for so long.

China can't really afford to cultivate that sort of outlook in its foreign residents.  I met a middle-aged teacher last month named Sean, who loves China.  He's been living here for 12 years, before Shanghai was Shanghai, back when there were only 3 Metro lines (there are 16 now) and Western food was very hard to come by.  He doesn't really travel abroad -- he spends the bulk of his free time exploring China itself, making his way through the endless countryside, villages, and "small" towns.  He has no interest in leaving.  But he has a five year old daughter now, who he was content raising in Shanghai until the pollution became too much of an issue for him to ignore.  The notion of his child growing up breathing air that equates to smoking a pack of cigarettes a day is too bitter a pill for him to swallow.  After seeing two colleagues die of esophageal cancer, which he says is the most prevalent form of cancer in China, Sean is moving his family to Moscow at the end of the school year.  "You think I want to go to fucking Moscow?!" I recall him shrieking at me.  But go he must, after building what he had assumed was a permanent home in China.

The River of Pigs incident will, surely, soon yield to another aspect of life in China that is abhorrent to Western temperaments.  And people like me, and Sean, and Tom will probably just shrug our shoulders and say "That's China for ya."  Until the proverbial "that" is no longer "China for you", China will have a hard time holding onto its already-tenuous position as a serious actor on the global stage.

Women's Day

This Friday is national Women's Day in China.  All women get a federally mandated half-day off from work. What the fuck?

The Release Party

When I look back, ten or twenty years from now, on my time living in China, I'll likely have retained various long-term memories about my experience abroad, grappling with the culture and language, the eclectic assortment of people I met, and the infinitely enticing travel opportunities of which I was able to take advantage.  These larger thematic memories tend to stick, with specific, singular, watershed events sprinkled throughout our recollection of yesteryear, in decreasing quantity as they fade away over time.  This Friday night was, I think, one such watershed moment.  It was The Horde's debut album release party at 390 Bar in Shanghai.  At the risk of hyperbole and cliche (that disclaimer should accompany this entire post, now that I think about it), it was an evening I will not soon, if ever, forget.

Since "officially" becoming the manager of the band at the beginning of 2013, I've developed a profound sense of ownership of my role in our little musical family.  Even though my managerial title is sort of silly -- my Rolodex of contacts in the musical scene here in China isn't nearly full enough to really call myself a "manager", though that is starting to change -- I do think the guys genuinely appreciate my unbridled enthusiasm for the music along with my eagerness to help with the logistic and financial side of the operation.  I have, from the very beginning, felt like a welcome member of the team.  Recently, I've even started saying "my band" or "we" when referring to the Horde's various conquests and exploits.

At the same time, the Horde has been around for a while -- three years, to be exact.  They've written over thirty original songs, and have performed them at various venues around Shanghai, the surrounding suburbs, Beijing, and even Mongolia.  They've been in the process of recording several EP projects for over a year.  The vast majority of their oeuvre and success was founded long before I came onto the scene.  Because of this, I've been eager to assume as much responsibility for the band's present activities as I can, particularly considering I won't be living here forever.

I therefore inserted myself directly helping to produce and releasing of "Considering Yourselves Conquered," the Horde's first studio album.  This process, which took over a year of recording, mixing, and mastering (none of which I was around for), as well as the designing and printing of the album copies themselves (which I negotiated with a production company in Shenzhen), culminated in an album release show this Friday night.

The week leading up to the show was marked with palpable twinges of anxiety and self-consciousness on the part of the band.  We had 1,000 album copies printed - when they arrived, and we all realized what 1,000 CD cases actually looks like, we were blown away.  There was no way we would ever be able to sell (or even give away) all of them!  We had decided to eschew an opening band at our show -- most music gigs in Shanghai of this ilk have at least two, if not several bands -- so that we could have time to play 3 full sets ourselves.  Were people really going to show up for over 2 hours of Horde music, without any other bands?  We had set the ticket price at 50 RMB (about $8.50), which is on the high end for this type of show, and even though we were throwing in a free copy of the album, the guys convinced themselves (and me) that the price would deter people from coming.  Even though all of us had gotten the word out to friends and various event websites, and had a lot of good press leading up to the show (interviews and music reviews), all of us, I think, arrived at the bar for sound check on Friday night with a slight sense of impending doom.  Images of an audience of only 10 people, half of them significant others of the band whose attendance was required by relationship laws, flitted through our minds.  The Horde has played sparsely attended shows before, and it didn't matter.  But for the album release party?  We wanted it to be epic.

And it was.  The pre-show jitters were entirely unwarranted.  Before they played a single song, the bar was abuzz with congratulatory hugs and anticipatory cheer.  Dozens of people flowed in, most of them friends and colleagues, but more than a few new faces as well.  And when I stepped on stage to introduce the band (the manager agreed to say a few words as the manager to kick off the show), people actually left the bar area and crowded the stage and dance floor to listen.

Halfway through the first set, Tom, the guitarist, broke two of his strings.  This happens to him literally all the time (something we give him a lot of shit for...he brings a whole knew meaning to the term "shredding a guitar"), so he was prepared with spare strings.  But it necessitated a fifteen minute lull in the show, risking the amazing energy that had been pumping through the room since the first song.  But the audience didn't budge.  Some got drinks, some made conversation, but all  of them just waiting for the band to start playing again.  We had expected people to leave after the first set, to carry on with their nights elsewhere rather than spend the entire night in one place.  Nobody left.  By the end of the show, some three hours later (that only felt like 45 minutes), you got the feeling that the crowd would've stayed for at least another hour.

All told, over 250 people came to the show on Friday.  The proceeds from the ticket price paid for the entire cost of the album printing...twice (we had hoped to just break even).  But far more important than the money (even to me, the Suit) was the euphoria that dominated the room for the entire night.  The Horde's music -- a combination of folk and bluegrass -- is incredibly easy to listen to.  It is happy, and optimistic, and fun -- proven on Friday night by the dozens of people who came primarily just to show support, and who ended up toe-tapping and head bobbing throughout the performance.  Normally, I take a lot of pictures a

For the five Horde members -- only one of whom, Nick, is a full-time musician (he plays for several other bands, and only occasionally with us) -- it was a night celebrating three years of playing music together.  None of them has earned any money for their efforts.  All proceeds from shows in the past have gone towards band-related endeavors, as will the roughly $2,000 we made on Friday night.  They do it because they genuinely love it, and that is apparent in their music.

For me, it was a humbling reminder of the pride that comes from seeing friends succeed, and have hard work pay off.  It offered sobering evidence of how lucky I am to be bouncing around the world, living in a place where strangers become close friends in literally seconds, and how a guy with virtually no business or music experience can become the manager of a bona fide band of talented musicians in less than six months.  There's a very good chance I won't be here in another six months.  Shanghai was never a long-term solution; it was always just part of the ride.  There are times, Friday night being one of the more powerful, when I'm just floored by the whole thing.  I'll look back at the release party at 390 one day, and not be able to remember how I ended up there.  But be pretty darn happy that I did.

Franco and Tom (from left to right) in the foreground.  Johnny, sitting on the cajon drum between them, and Nick on the accordion to the left.  Not pictured is George, standing to the right of Tom, wailing away on his harmonica.

For those interested, the album is available (for free) online here (I'm listed in the thank you section, as "Pajama Josh.")