60 years of progress

A ruling has gone out, apparently, that only new decorations are allowed for National Day on, this, the 60th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China. So the streets are lined with pristine flags and brand new dragon lanterns (lóngdēng), while billboards, hot of the press and with the nationally regulated ’60 years’ graphic design, are posted. Everything must look its best so parks are supplemented with additional potted plants and trees, and sub-standard bamboo flag poles are replaced with military-straight stainless steel ones.

At the University my students enthusiastically anticipate one of the most important holidays of the year, made all the more exciting as Mid-Autumn Festival coincides with National Day adding an extra day’s break. However I’m thrown into confusion when I’m told by my students, on Wednesday, that I’ll be teaching them that Sunday! All across China workplaces swap workdays with the weekend to maximise the days available to return to their homes, often many hours or days away. The holiday of 4 days is turned into a break of 8; quite a good system with only the drawback of an 8 day workweek on our return, and the fact we’re only given the details a day or two before so can’t make any plans!

However we have the compensation of a grand banquet to attend. Every year Zhànjiāng’s local government hosts a National Day dinner to show appreciation for the services provided by foreigners. Embossed red invitations are sent out and I am firmly instructed, several times, to dress formally. Arriving at the best hotel in town we find the forecourt crammed with both cars and a full military brass band. Inside we are courteously ushered to our table, but find that, this year, table after table of eminent locals, and even a Rear Admiral, relegates us, the usual VIP guests, to the back of the ballroom. We don’t mind, though I get a little nervous as the brass band assembles at the rear of the room, right next to us. Expecting to be blown out of my seat I find the opening rendition of the Chinese National anthem remarkable pleasurable. The evening continues with speeches, a translation thoughtfully provided on large screens at the front of the hall, though, less thoughtfully, not clearly visible. The ubiquitous male and female MC marshals the rest of the evening’s entertainment, most intriguing of which are dancers with headdresses fashioned from the very long tail feathers of what must be some nearly extinct bird. We watch, with some amusement, the official party touring each table to toast the occasion; the enthusiasm of the group visibly waning as it progresses down the room. By the time we are toasting it is a quick gānbēi and then they are smartly on to the next and final table. Suddenly the bulk of the attendees have departed and our recalcitrant group of foreign teachers are doggedly digging into the platters and platters of leftover food and rounding up small glass jugs of rejected red wine. For us it was a great opportunity to meet a few of the 80 odd foreigners we are told work in Zhànjiāng

Having experienced a grand dinner just before National Day, we decide a suitable way to celebrate on the day is with morning tea (zǎochá), though we had not anticipated that most restaurants would be booked out days ahead. Determined to join in we head out early to try and secure a table, and hit the jackpot with a private room, and a television. By the time my university colleagues arrive we have the TV tunned to the National Day Parade in Beijing, tea on the table and the first of the dumplings ordered. After some rather pointless footage of the TV crews in Beijing and a military communications plane laboriously getting airborne (filling in air-time before live broadcasts is similar all over the world) the march, in all its contrived and sometimes scary magnificence, commences. The ultra-precise marching, the immaculate tank paintwork, the un-manned drones, and the short, medium and intercontinental nuclear-capable missiles start to unsettle me, but this is eased by floods of civilian marchers and festive floats (huāchē) commemorating past achievements and all the regions including each of the provinces, the special economic zones, the ‘outlier’ of Taiwan and even Overseas Chinese and, for the first time, ‘foreign friends’.

Later we join a Chinese family in their celebratory lunch; cooked by ‘Grandma’ and similar to the Spring Festival lunch we have had at the same house, it emerges from the kitchen in a seeming endless stream. After the eating and a fair amount of toasting, we gathered around the TV to drink tea and to continue to snack as we watched the march, again. A young friend of the family, just starting his crucial final year of school, declares how proud he is to be Chinese, how magnificent the Parade is and how great are China’s achievements; his enthusiasm endearing and his English excellent.

Finally we closed the day watching an impressive fireworks display down on the river estuary. Families complete with Grandparents and toddlers, teenagers, young couples and groups of lads all mingle on the boardwalk chatting, buying drinks, or lanterns, windmills and other cheap trinkets, and enjoying the warm evening. After the fireworks everyone turns back into the city; the pavements clogged with pedestrians, the streets thick with bikes, motorbikes and cars weaving in and out of each other, their horns all sounding at once. It is hard to imagine what these peoples’ lives will be like in 10 years time, let alone another 60 years.