Mart-deBlog

If there is one thing that truly identifies China and Hong Kong it is the mass of people. Ask a random person what is the biggest problem of China and likely the answer will be "there too many people." I don't agree. The biggest problem here, is that the mass is a unified determining force of character. Identifying with the mass, thats the people's vice. Here, it is all about involving yourself in the masses, complying to the masses and agreeing with the masses; "they" are all caught up in the masses. Now, there is some socio-historical background as always, and naturally the communistic background and nationalistic present supposedly play their parts. There is just frustratingly little resistance. It is the sole reason why I couldn't live here.
For example, in my courses there is such a lack of voiced opinion, everyone must write essays on the same topics, my floormates dislike me because I don't participate in hall cheering (everyone sings and claps the same tunes) and formal dinners (everyone wears same black suit), there are practically no punkers, alternatives, gothics, or any other groups of adolescent rebels, there is just so little appreciation of differences, of the odd, the expression of anomaly. All these rules and all this willfully dancing to the rules.
Of course, I don't like to have a negative attitude. I think, well its not "their" fault, really it is only because the government smacks down opposing flies, or even swarms of them if necessary. There is literally no room for individuation while living in these recursive apartments. There is no time for individuation, surviving requires the "go with the flow." Differences are relative to culture, I don't recognize their differences. Every country has its swamps. They are just as individual as I am, they just express it less. I try hard, kicking my mind under his negative butt. But in the end, why do they make the mass even bigger, stronger, why do they themselves suppress the alternative, why is popularity equal to participation, why complain about the masses if they create it themselves and fiercefully join in?
For the sake of my own exclusion, I judge the mass.

Always been a person of Martial Arts.
I still remember all the fights, movies, and knocking games.
The endless stories with my brother, in which we created
worlds of battles and morals, heroism and superpowers.
Together we fought father's skilled PrikVinger, and he
gave us our training, made us ready for the rough world
by showing us our Icons: Bruce Lee, Van Damme and Conan.
Fifteen years of Judo classes, from the crying weakling
to the brown belt and the approving smile of my sensei.
And now, all so easily interpreted as expressing the struggle
against prenatal demons of low self-esteem and sadness,
and oversensitivity and insecurity and dark depressions.

How stupid to forget the battle when the war is won,
settle steady in conquered lands. The horrible moving of
age from the simple lessons and words of clarity:
to fight is what you must!

But here in Hong Kong, where nobody watches me,
I watch them: the Kung Fu classics of slicing and wise riddles,
not as pulp, not as camp but with a serious smile
and the slow rejuvenation of tempered drives to demolish and kill.
And with this reawakening of the raging urge to conquer
comes expression, egographed appearance,
and the beating Wardrums of vitality.

M.A.L.
Martial Arts for Life.

Now, I have always hated any kind of national feeling or artificial proudness within myself and, of course, especially in others. I don't believe one has to be defined by their background culture and I do not believe one is an automaton in social structure. As long as you valuate the outside influences yourself, you control almost all their influence.: Loving Dutch soccer makes you hate German soccer makes you not enjoy a bradwurst (put overly simple, i. know.) but then you can chose to like a bradwurst anyway. That is what I still believe and hope to believe until I die. However, being on exchange does put some nasty complexities in this nice and simple picture. Don't worry, I don't miss Holland at all but being completely outside a culture and outside a society - as I am here in hong kong - completely stagnated my indivual change. No matter how I act, it never feels like I am acting outside the box of my typical character. Here, it just seems I cannot act differently from "who I am." So, this thought: could it be that personal development happens only by pulling the cultural strings? by valuating the bradwurst? Do we need cultural bonds to be free?

Next to Hong Kong lies another post-colony, Macau. It is quite similar to Hong Kong, as it has also recently returned to China but remained politically "autonomous." One difference is that the colonialists in Macau were the Portugese and their cultural influence seems much stronger than in Hong Kong. It felt like a piece of Europe out of context. Especially its being out of context became clearer during our stay. The day started with medieval churches and ended with the dutch Grachtenpanden that were part of Macau's overwhelming Casinos. For a moment I felt like being in Europe again but this feeling soon evaporated along with the sun sinking back into the smog. Yep, I am really on the other side of the earth.

Every single child in China seems to hit a nerve. The children of the minority villages hit bundles of nerves. I dont exactly know what it is. Their wildness maybe? Maybe it is the environment that calls for my own inner child? Or is it the Chinese culture laid bare?
In any case, you gotta love them!

One of the many sides to the trip was the contact with the background of the Chinese eating habits. A list: cut open and roasted dogs, snakes rodents and turtles on restaurant displays, pigs and chickens in tiny baskets, the cumbersome harvest and drying of rice, etc etc. And to be honest, nothing of this appalled me. Actually, it makes clear the artificial eating culture of the west: we dont understand the nature of our food. In China every aspect of food is wide open and visible. That said, this understanding is not enough to eat half a chicken skull or any turtle soup. Interested observation, ok. Chewing on a pig hoof, can't do, no no no.

And after the Yau, there were the Dong people; wearing blue traditional clothes, living higher up and having a refined architectural culture. The Dong bridge of Water and Rain took 12 years to built starting in 1902 and now attracts increasing tourism. In general the villages sometimes felt a little Lord of the Ringish, as not one house was like another and subtle asymmetry made every piece of wood come alive. We stumbled upon a market wittle little piggies in baskets and a a dentist pulling teeth, in a pagoda the local old folks were smoking pipe and watching karaoke television above a fire. The Dong enclave, a little romantic paradise in own kind.

Travelling with little minibuses got us stranded in a little village on the way to Ping'an. We were picked up by pink dresses, big silver earrings and extravagant hair: people from the Yao minority. They brought us to the only guesthouse of the village, with big "Mama" welcoming us into her house, offering a place to sleep and supper. What seemed the whole female population of the village gathered at our stay, to watch us watch them watch us. A little shop down the road offered beer and then night got Yauwy. There was some hunting for our money but to me it just established them as a minority in present times, using what their culture offered them. There was traditional dancing, my uncle remarried, we had delicious food and many mutual smiles. Next day the "Mama" of the guesthouse took us up the rice terrasses and that night continued were we left of, with gambling and more bottom up beers.

After bustripping through eternity (16hrs in an open coffin), we found ourselves amidst the weirdo scapes of Yangshuo. Here, nature is definitely original. Long, tender peaks reach up into the air from the green lush of bamboo, fig trees and the famous Li River. Here and there random waterbuffaloes, tourists and shampooing Chinese somewhow fit in the classic scene; laidback and chillin'. This crisp vitality experienced as an unknown beauty was the perfect mind-opening start of the trip.