The Last Ditch

Some days restore your faith

Yesterday was my last night in China - for a while. I have learned a lot about business prospects here and not all of it was good. Still, I hope to come again. Shanghai is a great city. I visited professional colleagues to discuss business. Then I went shopping for Mrs Paine's present. I have never checked the original text, but she assures me it is law she must have a gift from a new city. Who am I to argue?

Then, in the evening, I had an excellent time. The young American who helped me out when I was stranded the other night had invited me out. First we went to the opening of a new apartment complex. I think his plan was to show me how good life in his adopted city could be. He succeeded. The first of my photos is of the view from the penthouse (which is 650 square metres and costs no more than my 200 square metre apartment in Russia). The second is of an upmarket shopping mall near my firm's offices.

Later we visited his fiancee's gallery. Formerly a journalist with the PRC's Xinhua News Agency, she has now become an art dealer. Her gallery features both contemporary Chinese and European art and was most impressive. I had promised to show them my own art gallery in Second Life. While the software downloaded, they took me to a neighbourhood restaurant. This was the sort of place no businessman staying in a 5 star hotel would find. It was a Cantonese "hot pot" restaurant. A hot plate was sunk into the table on which cooked throughout the evening something that started as a kind of chicken broth but morphed (as more and more ingredients were added) into a never-ending succession of flavours. As we talked, the people of Shanghai enjoyed themselves around us in the most affable, sociable and (at one point) musical way.

We chatted. We exchanged life stories. I ended up sending my best regards to her father (whom of course I have never met) who seems to have been a convinced Maoist at about the same time as me. In a sense, he still is, as he will still hear nothing negative of the Great Helmsman. Nonetheless, he is apparently very happy with the present economic reforms.

Jokes and stories were told; food was enjoyed and the world seemed - briefly - a much better place. I was not able to show them my gallery afterwards because, while I can access Second Life from my hotel room, it cannot be entered from a Chinese home. You can ignore all my previous comments about accessibility of websites from China - the hotels frequented by foreigners are on a different network. This would be an issue for me if I were ever to move there. I would miss my digital existence.

Tonight though, was not about barriers. It was a moment for a cynical, grumpy, middle-aged man to acknowledge that - while the arguments he may have with other grumpies of his vintage are important - the young are already building the world anew. As they do, every generation. As our generation did, so badly in many ways. Maybe they will get it right this time. Let's hope so. After all, who could have imagined such good things in our own time as the fall of the Soviet Union or the economic liberalisation of China? As a Cold War teenager, so many things have happened to me that I would have then regarded as ridiculously optimistic to hope for.

Hope is never foolish. Tonight reminded me of that. My new young friends are getting married on April 18th. Their cultural backgrounds are irrelevant. They are just two intelligent, cultured young people in love. I wish them well.

Second impressions of China

I am enjoying my visit to China. Unfortunately my ignorance of the language makes it difficult to escape the protective bubble in which I am living. The organisers of the conference I am attending bussed us to a way-too-cool for me night club last night. It will probably never recover its reputation after being taken over for an evening by real estate "suits".  I also had my first experience of being trapped by the Chinese language when they failed to provide transport back to the hotel. I could have found my way back to the hotel on foot, I guess. I could see it on the other side of a rather wide river. Or I could have swum the river. But I could more readily have performed heart surgery than obtained  a taxi home.

I didn't feel in any danger. I don't have that impression of Shanghai at all. My heart merely sank at the thought of a long walk home in the dark with the aid of an hotel concierge's freebie map.

Fortunately I had been chatting to a nice young bi-lingual American who provides commercial P.R. services to the Chinese Government.   I have always relied, dear reader, on the kindness of strangers. He placed the all-important call for me and gave instructions to the taxi driver who duly arrived.

While we were waiting, he performed similar services for a group of young expatriate ladies who had been invited to join a friend in the club, but could not get past the monoglot bouncer. When employers back home baulk at funding drivers for expatriate employees and their families, these are the sorts of thing they are failing to imagine.

I am dining in the hotel tonight rather than taking the river cruise. Sadly, I was engrossed in work and missed the bus. What a shame. There are few better ways of seeing most cities than from their river; London being a spectacular case in point.

I have not learned that much about the real estate business in China at my conference. I follow the industry press quite closely and have talked to clients who are active here. Frankly, I could have given most of the speeches myself. It's as well I didn't, however, as I always like to inject some humour and business is a deadly serious matter here. The occasional Brit who ventured a joke walked off to the sound of his own footsteps.

Chinese people are clearly not without humour. On Sunday I heard family groups uproariously enjoy themselves over food and drink. Last night I witnessed a strangely relentless enjoyment of dancing and music. In my 16 years abroad, I had already learned that few nations share the English compulsion not to "take themselves too seriously." Often, in fact, others take it as an invitation not to take us seriously either, though those who know us best (the French) will wincingly acknowledge what we are up to. An Austrian audience will smile politely if a Brit cracks a joke at a conference podium; even if they would never do it themselves. The assembled Chinese, Singaporeans etc. simply didn't react at all. Is this where the inscrutability myth comes from?

To be continued...

First impressions of China

It's not easy to come to China with an open mind. This is the oldest continuous civilisation on our planet (second oldest if you insist on counting the Australian Aborigines) and we all have firm ideas about it. For most of human history it was the leading nation. There were Chinese scientists, poets and businessmen when we were painting ourselves blue. I am told we seem like children to the Chinese. Sometimes we seem like children to me (at election times, for example).

The first thing to say was that it was quicker, easier and more pleasant to pass through immigration than it is for me to go "home" to Britain. At Manchester airport (my usual port of entry to the English Protectorate of the Peoples' Republic of Scotland) surly state employees with faux-FBI badges are determined to give themselves airs to which their attainments do not entitle them. They give every impression of being disappointed not to have cause to arrest you. In contrast, a pleasant young lady from Chinese immigration welcomed me to her country with every impression of sincerity and waved me through in less than 20 seconds.

An old hand in the former Soviet Bloc, I was not going to base any opinions on the pristine condition of the airport, nor on the impressive vistas from the route into town. Every Communist state focussed resources on deceiving visitors arriving by air. Still the Chinese do seem - if that is their game - to play it to Olympic standards. Shanghai's approaches are more impressive than Moscow's or London's.

Let's leave aside the warmth of my reception by hotel employees. Yes, I was greeted by name at the kerbside and shown straight to my room. Yes, I was checked in at my own desk by yet another charming female. You get what you pay for in this department. Even in England, the employees of the right class of hotel can pretend to be pleased to see you.

I wanted to have an open mind. I didn't want to bring prejudices with me, but I didn't want to be duped. I am as anti-Communist as the next man, but I am also well aware that China has changed - economically if not politically - since I waved my "little red book" as a teenage Maoist. I watched the morning scene from my hotel window and determined to plunge in. Pausing only to verify my internet connection and access to my blog, I set out for a walk. It is chilly and overcast today, but the streets were thronged with people taking the air by the river. They talked and laughed animatedly and seemed positively scrutable. My only problem was to pause to take photos without someone trying to sell me a fake watch or a massage. I didn't pause to ascertain if the latter was therapeutic or euphemistic, but the pictures on the proferred cards suggested the latter. My rebuffs were accepted cheerfully enough, although one persistent watch vendor did have to be shown a real Patek Philippe before accepting that I didn't want a fake one, however cheap it might be.

At 3pm I was looking across the river at the Bund and talking to Mrs Paine on my mobile when the Customs House clock chimed. It makes the most beautiful noise; beginning with something that sounds like Westminster Chimes but morphs into a Chinese tune. Mrs Paine adores the sound of bells and we stopped talking so she could listen. Apparently, during the Cultural Revolution, this clock was adapted to play "The East is Red."

Returning to the luxurious cocoon of my hotel, I people-watched in the bar while smoking my favourite Cuban cigar (cut for me by yet another charming Chinese lady - they don't seem to come in any other variety). There is something exhilarating about being in a country where you don't have even one word of the language. I had forgotten what that felt like. I couldn't listen to conversations; only to the music of the language. It's very pleasant indeed but seems to be always at a volume that a softly-spoken Englishman may find uncomfortable to attain. Or maybe the family group nearest to me were just a particularly rowdy bunch. The matriarch of the family had a voice like a foghorn, but she smiled and laughed continuously and what she was bellowing seemed to be humorous.

It's far too soon to form any conclusions, of course, but the only city I liked better on first impression was Venice. To be continued....

Truth and illusion in Vegas

I don't know why, but the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas makes me sad. It's a tribute, in its way, to the most beautiful city in the world but something about it is troubling. Imagine the chutzpah of building a "Grand Canal" on the first floor. Very Vegas. It would have been way too easy to build it on the ground, right?

They came close to pulling off something truly magnificent here. I don't "get" gambling, but I can accept the slot machines in all the lobbies. Bugsy Seigel's ghost would haunt the owner otherwise (if he doesn't already). The Venetian is after all built on the site of the Sands, where Frank and the Rat Pack played. Did they really need a "food court" in their "Grand Canal Shoppes" (sic) though? It makes their Venice" reek not of - well, Venice - but of congealed fat.

Even in the "fine dining" establishment overlooking the canal, classic Italian food is spoiled by extra fat. it's hard to enjoy the food while watching obese people go by who need motorised wheelchairs to get to their next burger. They look like Jabba the Hut on a skateboard.

I don't golf, gamble or frequent night clubs. So, I can only think of two reasons I would ever want to live in Las Vegas. Firstly, although I am built on a fairly lavish scale, I would never feel fat again. Secondly, I would never be tempted to be unfaithful to my wife. I don't understand why the famously powerful cosmetic effects of wealth don't work in the flyover states of the USA.

As a real estate guy born and bred, I admire Steve Wynn immensely. This isn't his hotel, but he is Bugsy Siegel's successor as the genus loci of Las Vegas. He is the business genius who, with his Mirage and Bellagio hotels, single-handedly saved a seedy mob gaming town from decline. He invented the "destination hotel," a concept which has since been adapted to make culture, art and history-free Dubai another unlikely tourist destination. The Arabs do it with more style though.

I am glad to have seen Mr Wynn's town, but I don't think I will be back. I am looking forward to returning on Sunday night to the dirt and reality of Moscow.

Las Vegas

I am visiting this remarkable place for the first time, attending a conference and staying in the Venetian Hotel. It is a strange combination of elegance and crassness. To get to my room from reception involves walking through a sea of slot machines, with (as far as I can tell) zombies sitting at them. At least they might as well be zombies for all they seem to be enjoying their strange solitary gambling. Give me a flutter on the gee-gees any day. Still, each to his own.

The hotel is like Venice the day after the builders finished. Everything is slightly too gaudy, too perfect. On the other hand, reception felt the need to apologise that this was the only room available. What on earth are the others like? It's nice to be back in America, if that's where I am.

Russian Campanology

We visited Sergeiv Posad today. It is a beautiful, peaceful place. I will put pictures in the sidebar album shortly. In the meantime, here is a short movie of the bells being rung at the monastery (click on the picture to play).

This is a guy working hard for his religion.

My mysterious offshore reader

Link: Recent Visitor Map [The Last Ditch, by Tom Paine].

OK, I give up. Who is this regular visitor? And how come his Internet Service Provider is in Canada?

Cameron considers tax hikes on air travel

Link: Cameron considers tax hikes on air travel | Uk News | News | Telegraph.

I may be about to set a record for the shortest membership of a political party. This week, David Cameron having recently announced a policy I agreed with, I sent off my form to join "Conservatives Abroad." Before the form has even reached London however the Conservative Party has managed to infuriate me. According to the Telegraph:

The Conservatives will also suggest - most controversially of all - rationing individuals to as little as a single short-haul flight each year; any further journeys would attract progressively higher taxes, a leaked document entitled Greener Skies suggests.

If this is true, Dave Cameron has lost all touch with reality. The Shadow Chancellor is saying that the proposals will target "frequent flyers," i.e. people like me who fly at least once every month. Anyone who lives that way will tell you we don't do it for frivolous pleasure. We do it because our businesses require it. Businesses that send money back to Britain because our services constitute the country's "invisible exports."

These proposals would spell the end for the City of London. New York is the biggest stock exchange in the world, but only on the basis of American business. The biggest international exchange is in London. Why should that exchange, and the banks and professional firms that serve it, remain in a country that penalises international business? How will they visit, on competitive terms, the foreign businesses they serve?

These proposals would damage Britain's exports generally. Goods don't sell themselves and services need to be delivered in the shape of people flying to the customers to provide them. Better to locate the companies in countries that don't make that as difficult and expensive as possible.

These proposals would spell the end for airlines based in Britain. Since the Tories are talking of penalising anything more than "a single short-haul flight" per year, they would spell the end of a lot more besides. Britain has more expatriates than most countries, because its business is more international . Will Britain's mobile business people be prepared to expatriate, if they and their families will be increasingly cut off from home?

How can a conservative party, supposedly in favour of free markets, seriously advocate rationing? It's quite insane. As they are saying over at Samizdata, the Conservative nostalgia for the past has gone too far:

The Conservative Party has long been regarded as having a certain nostalgic, and some would say romantic, yearning for the past. I had no idea that this included a desire to drag us all back to the 19th Century

Fortunately, before they ever get the chance to kill the City of London, British exports or Britain's international business culture, these policies will kill the Conservative Party.

graphics from the collection of David Levine

The tiny airline spy that spots bombers in the blink of an eye | News | This is London

Link: The tiny airline spy that spots bombers in the blink of an eye | News | This is London.

This is, to say the least, an unwise application of technology. Fanatics going, as they believe, directly to Paradise may well be no more stressed than an innocent nervous flyer. Consider this chilling quote;

A separate microphone will hear and record even whispered remarks. Islamic suicide bombers are known to whisper texts from the Koran in the moments before they explode bombs.

There is no point in detecting such whispers unless the intention is - during those "moments" - to take out the whisperer à la Jean Charles de Menezes. There will be no time to explain that, actually, the software has done what software often does. Or even that you were reciting verses from the Koran because you were scared by turbulence.

Would you want your life to depend on voice analysis software? Consider also the impact on innocent flyers of the knowledge that their every twitch is being analysed electronically to determine if they are to be killed by a "sky marshal" without warning. Are they likely to be more or less twitchy than a suicide bomber?

I fly regularly. I am posting this from a departure lounge at Frankfurt Airport. I know I take risks when I travel, but I am less afraid of a terrorist on my flight than I am of "security" ideas like this one.

Hotel angry at Union Flag protest

Link: BBC NEWS | Wales | North West Wales | Hotel angry at Union Flag protest.

This sort of nonsense is why (although I have as much a claim to do so as any of these petty-minded village idiots) I would never now choose to describe myself as "Welsh."

If the "village's welcome" does not extend to fellow-citizens of the United Kingdom, then to hell with the village and all who fester in it. The United Kingdom is dead and it's time it was buried.