Spring Festival remains the most widely celebrated holiday in China and, statistically speaking, the world. Marking the Lunar New Year, an estimated 2.3 billion trips will transpire over a 40-day period ending on March 2. Easily the largest human migration in the history of the world, people return home en masse to see family and friends. The monumental number of travelers also reflects one the most glaring socioeconomic disparities in China: the floating population.

China’s fiscal boom, often dubiously labeled a “miracle,” remains concentrated in special economic zones along the coast that draws hundreds of millions of people from the impecunious interior of the country. With no job prospects at home, menial workers float into cities and manufacturing sectors looking to support themselves and their extended families. For most, the only time to return home occurs during the Spring Festival – a small respite from an arduous existence.

The sudden abandonment of work sites by migrant workers across the country thus stages the insanity of the Spring Festival transportation rush. On January 20 alone, 52.48 million Chinese took bus trips throughout the country. To make matters worse, southern and central China is currently experiencing the worst snowstorms in over fifty years. In Guangzhou alone, over 200,000 travelers, mostly factory workers, are stranded in a train station waiting to return to their homes.

Despite the stress of holiday travel, passengers at the Beijing West Railway Station appeared more cheerful than anxious. Unaffected by the crippling weather systems to the south, people are scrambling onto trains and making their way home at a steady pace. Even though many of the migrant workers have much to complain about concerning low wages and rising living costs, the prospect of being reunited with their families takes the edge of their struggle.

Homosexuality in China doesn’t elicit the same cross-burning fanaticism that it does in the United States. In all my time spent here I never heard of a hate crime aimed at a homosexual. Chances are that such occurrences might not get reported or covered in the media, and discrimination certainly exists in various guises, but I have yet to encounter people who label homosexuality as “evil” and support its whole scale eradication. Instead, sexual deviance tends to inspire curiosity and awkwardness amongst typical Chinese urban dwellers. It remains a latent oddity within the social milieu.

It still came as a bit of a surprise when Dinah Gardner, the longtime Gay & Lesbian columnist for TimeOut Beijing, told me we were going to the White Cloud Temple and the Source of Law Temple to ask monks about their respective views on homosexuality. Even though I consider myself well versed within the Daoist and Buddhist canon, it never really crossed my mind to ask such a question before and I was interested in how the monks would frame their responses. As the photographer, I could also sit back and watch the fireworks fly.

Lou Jiayong, a Daoist monk at the White Cloud Temple, was the first to get entrapped by Dinah. She started the interview with some elementary questions concerning Daoism and then popped him the big one: “In the West, Islam and Christianity often persecute homosexuals. How does Daoism feel about homosexuality amongst practitioners?” Lou handled the question surprisingly well. According to Daoist principle, homosexuality represents a metaphysical problem. The union of two Yang forces (male on male) creates disharmony within the Dao and must eventually be resolved. “If there is only Yin or Yang it is imbalance or disharmony,” stressed Lou. Homosexual relationships do not perpetuate natural life. At some point, Yin must mix with Yang to produce more babies. Lou did emphasize that Daoism would never discriminate against homosexuals but remained adamant that Daoist ideology could never condone what he considered lewd sexual acts and anomalies in the natural course of existence.

Zhi Yong, a Buddhist monk at the Source of Law Temple, remained unperturbed throughout his interview. Buddhist practitioners of any orientation are encouraged to stem their sexual desires in order to achieve inner peace. At the heart, there is no absolute right or wrong with regards to homosexuality. Zhi continued, “[Homosexuality] is abnormal to me, but of course from the point of view of a gay person, it is quite normal… In Buddhism everything has two sides. How can you say, ‘this is right,’ or, ‘this is wrong?’ There is no right or wrong in this world. For some people they are right, for others they are wrong.” While I might not support such moral ambiguity in other situations, being gay and Buddhist doesn’t represent a problem for lay people. Still, if you want to join a monastery you must leave any prurient thoughts at the door.

As the glut of newfangled galleries within the 798 art district continues to swell, those looking for more creative space head a few kilometers up the road to Caochangdi. Here the Three Shadows Photography Art Centre embraces aesthetic standards often occluded in China’s consumptive art frenzy – empty spaces are nourished instead of filled. Ai Weiwei’s minimalist design lends the exhibition hall an austerity that complements the starkness of the surrounding neighborhood. Low slung buildings surround an open courtyard dotted with fledging tress wrapped tightly with rope. The sparsity and tranquility of the area engenders a contemplative environment fit for an afternoon perusal and, more importantly, encouraging future generations of artists to push the boundaries of the medium.

Unlike other purported art centers, cofounders and noted photographers RongRong and inri dedicated over 130 square meters of workspace for three darkrooms and a digital lab. True to their mission to foster contemporary photography in China, the workspace is open to the public at prices undercutting commercial labs. Photo enthusiasts can make gallery quality prints with enlargers for 120 film, an Imacon 949 scanner, and an HP 44-inch inkjet printer. It is a rare opportunity to get hands-on experience with such equipment, let alone in such a supportive and stimulating atmosphere.

If inspiration is still lacking, Three Shadows also maintains the Library of Contemporary Photography. “It is a resouce for young photographers and artists,”explained Stephanie Tung, International Affairs Officer at Three Shadows, “something RongRong lacked when he first started.” The fine assortment of books encompasses a broad swath of both Chinese and international art publications. It is well worth spending an extra hour saturating one’s brain in perennial favorites and more eclectic selections from the collection. With support and donations, the library will continue to become an important aid to any local photographer – access to so many art photography books in one place is a unique find anywhere in the world.

Hopefully more galleries and art centers will pick up on Three Shadows undertaking to not only provide an excellent venue to view art, but also foster and motivate a new generation of artists. Art director Zhang Li, who just won the Grand Prize at the 2007 Nantes Film Festival for his film Crime and Punishment, promises to explore fringe developments in contemporary art while surveying important works from the past. The current exhibition, Convection, takes this task at hand with selections from Man Ray, Robert Frank, Zhang Haier, Liu Zheng, and many others. Stay posted to threeshadows.cn for upcoming speakers and exhibitions.

This advertisement keeps popping up in various Beijing subway stations and continues to baffle me. I have no idea what to make of “Quiet + Sprints: In the Primeval Forest Movement.” A better translation might be “Tranquility + Running: Physical Recreation in a Primeval Forest,” but still doesn’t mesh with the enthusiastic boar slayer gloating over his kill. First of all, if companies in China continue to splurge on advertising, they need to start paying the extra cash to drag in some foreigner to see if their moniker MAKES ANY SENSE AT ALL FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Also, this is the first time that I have seen hunting as a leisure activity so prominently marketed. It might not be duck hunting in Alabama or an African shooting safari but certainly establishes financial clout amongst coworkers who can’t afford such an extravagant weekend. This poster will continue to haunt me. Hopefully I can convince a magazine to send me out for an adventurous weekend of quiet and sprinting.

There is no escaping the frigid winter silently creeping in under Beijing’s lofty autumnal skies. Dropping temperatures nip at pedestrians scurrying about in formidable layers of clothing. Aside from hardy members of the Houhai Polar Bear Club, exposing oneself to the elements for more than five consecutive minutes is anathema and, for many, the only solution is to hibernate. Thus the already crammed streets of Beijing bear witness to one of the great shopping frenzies of the year: the annual winter cabbage sale. Massive loads of cabbage are hauled in from the countryside and sold in bulk on streetcorners. For three weeks locals swarm the towering stacks of frayed vegetables to fill out their caches of winter edibles. Thirty heads of oversized cabbage in the cupboard guarantees that one can always cook up a tasty treat without venturing forth into the bitter cold.

The industrious purveyors of this cabbage deluge never rest during the peak purchasing period. After sunset they spread blankets on the ground and watch over their hulking mounds of produce through the night. My neighborhood cabbage dealer usually lives just north of Beijing where he runs a large market garden. A keen salesman, he is quick to offer a cigarette and always sports a billowing navy-blue suit. Apparently he doesn’t mind the three weeks spent on the street even though others complain about the “bitterness” of the whole entrerprise. “This is when I make all my money,” he explained, “it’s fun on the street and my girlfriend loves me when I get home.” Fortunately nearby residents can’t get enough cabbage – a perennial treat for any old hand in Beijing.

Hedgehog is the band to trump in Beijing these days. Putting on raucous shows around the city, their energetic beats and skilled instrumental work attract larger and larger crowds every week. Atom, the petite but boisterous drummer for the outfit, stole the show at D-22 last Friday – she also walked off stage with a piece of my heart. Hopefully this wave of success can inspire them to new musical heights. Even as they fluidly move through sets and work crowds with increasing confidence, everyone is expecting bigger and better things. Their talent tickles the fancy of having an underground indie group break through the pop-dominated music mainstream in China and reach a broader fan base. Such a class act would be playing to packed venues across the country in the United States and deserves similar status here. Hedgehog may be one of the first in a wave of alternative rock to push the limits of China’s bland music taste.

As urban residents wield greater purchasing power, sophisticated shopping becomes an ever-important status symbol. Those at the top of Beijing’s increasingly stratified income brackets constantly seek to distinguish themselves from the rest of the pack. Conspicuous consumptive habits thus provide instant prominence and luxury companies are scrambling to cater to and expand upon every whim and desire. Designer clothing, sports cars, and jet-set vacations become necessary additions to any ostentatious parvenu enjoying the taste of once forbidden fruits.

This weekend I bore witness to the star-studded opening of Lane Crawford’s department store in Beijing. It’s a four-story behemoth in a glitzy mall and only stocks vogue international fashion designers. Apparently Beijing has stepped into the sartorial big leagues. Whether or not the store will make money is another question. Beijing doesn’t exude pretentious airs quite like Shanghai or Hong Kong yet. Local shoppers prefer to browse the racks and then hit the streets in search of similar black-market counterfeits. Still, this won’t stop major luxury brands vying to cash in on Beijing’s nouveau riche and their swelling materialistic obsessions. Too much is at stake in this potential market.

Unfortunately sipping on Moet all evening and ogling $5,000 USD Raf Simmons leather jackets can only provide so much enjoyment. Such prices smack of insolence considering the average income of rural farmers in China still tops out at around $225 USD per year according to the Xinhua News Agency. Even most city dwellers who average $750 USD per year would be left out of the commodity feeding frenzy occurring in department stores across Beijing. Many disenfranchised economic groups are starting to take action though, and the Chinese state is starting to realize the vast potential of widespread social unrest if income gaps continue to widen in favor of those already lining their closets with Givenchy, Paul Smith, and Prada. Even though the potential for a luxury backlash looms ever on the horizon, for now nothing seems to stand in the way of these corporate giants.

See “China’s hunger for luxury goods grows” for an excellent description of Chinese yuppies aka chippies.

The #5 subway line was all the rage when it first opened earlier this month. Locals lined up for blocks to catch an inaugural ride on the latest edition to Beijing’s underground. Although initial excitement soon subsided, people’s expectations for more and better transit options reached new heights. The slick #5 subway cars sported flat screen monitors displaying local news, spotless interiors, and exacting temperature control. The antiquated #1 and #2 subway lines still run on time, but now stand out as the ugly stepsisters of Beijing’s expanding public transportation system.

The opening of the #5 subway line also reshuffled Beijing’s suburban housing market – everyone wants to live next to a subway line these days. Traffic congestion is without a doubt the largest drawback stemming from recent surges in urban wealth and population density. Beijing’s newfound love affair with the car might come to a grisly end if traffic levels continue to rise at the current pace. Nobody can escape the mind bogglingly clogged expressways after 5PM. I would rather shoot myself in the foot than face such a cataclysm on a daily basis. The northern terminus of the #5 subway line thus stands to become the newest haven for low-income workers looking to escape increasing housing prices in the city center while maintaining a relatively short commute.

Picking an appropriately dreary afternoon, I headed out to investigate the new residential developments at the end of the #5 subway line. The area in question encompassed the last three subway stops and bore the unsettlingly kitschy name Pathway to Heaven Gardens (天通苑). If your idea of paradise includes high-rise concrete housing blocks arranged like a precarious domino set, look no further. These hulking domiciles symbolize the pinnacle of China’s insipid community planning; even the grassy fields surrounding the development appeared devoid of life. Only the occasional movement of tenants scurrying in and out of the complex lent a breath of vitality to the concrete jungle.

The only redeeming value of the area was the people living there. I stuck out like a sore thumb and soon struck up a number of conversations with inquisitive locals. My favorite included a gang of young security officers from Hebei Province skirting their duties and hanging out underneath the end of the of #5 subway line. They were happy to have jobs in Beijing but found the community lacking the warmth of their hometowns. It’s not hard to imagine such difficulties would occur within the migratory population, but their living environment did nothing to establish new bonds between the residents. I plan to revisit this area throughout the year so expect more reports concerning the Pathway to Heaven Gardens.

The 17th National People’s Congress taking place this week in Beijing has solidified President Hu’s grip on the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and insured his ideological musing will be engraved alongside those espoused by previous leaders of China. Calling for a “harmonious society” that implements the “scientific concept of development,” President Hu’s moralistic yet vague proclamations also provide cover for the real issue at hand: no one knows how the most critical decisions regarding China’s future are being handled and whether or not economic or environmental reform will actually be implemented. While the “democratically” elected People’s Congress with ethnic minority representatives in full native dress put on a good show, they are mainly there to give a nod of approval to predetermined policy. No one has the slightest clue as to what goes on behind the closed doors of the Politburo.

Even though transparency within the CCP’s decision-making process will not come to light in the near future, President Hu looks good on paper. The China Daily has recently put together an impressive collection of propaganda articles that introduces us to the lighter side of President Hu. My favorite part has to be the slide show entitled “President Hu meets people.” Truly inspirational. Even though the China Daily still remains a mouthpiece for the CCP, they did surprisingly post a few articles criticizing the government’s inability to implement a green GDP system and highlighting how the complaint bureau remains the busiest office in Beijing due to widespread corruption. Luckily President Hu is “meeting people” and has called for officials to remain, “sober-minded, firm in politics, [and] pragmatic in style of work.” What a fine man we have at the helm of the most populous nation in the world. I already feel myself being lulled into indifference.

Luckily this ambiguous situation provides plenty of fodder for China pundits and graduate students forcing out dissertations around the world. Everyone wants to take a whack at the good old CCP chopping block. Fortunately I do not feel qualified to unravel such a skein. My only wish is to blindly submit myself to the nationwide morality drive implemented by President Hu last year concerning the eight honors and disgraces of society: Love the country, do it no harm; Serve the people, never betray them; Follow science, discard superstition; Be diligent, not indolent; Be united, help each other, make no gains at other’s expense; Be honest and trustworthy, do not sacrifice ethics for profit; Be disciplined and law-abiding, not chaotic and lawless; Live plainly, work hard, do not wallow in luxuries and pleasures. Sounds good to me but let’s see what happens.

Beijing’s burgeoning music scene is finally coming into its own. Venues like D-22, Mao Live House, and Yugong Yishan serve up nightly sets of rock, punk, and other emerging talents that defy categorization. When I first arrived in Beijing seven years ago not much could be said about local live acts. Aside from a few diamonds in the rough, cheesy jazz trios and mediocre cover bands dominated most musical engagements. Now I have already witnessed numerous performances that could put New York’s much touted music scene to shame. There is an undeniable energy in these small clubs as more bands emerge on a monthly basis.

Some of my early favorites have to be the Subs, Queen Sea Big Shark, The Scoff, Joyside, Banana Monkey and the Carsick Cars. All of them sport a raucous sound and driving beats that quickly whip crowds into frenzied states. The Subs lead singer Kang Mao deserves special mention. Her inspired performance last Friday at D-22 blew me away – she has a remarkable stage presence (apparently she maintains such intensity at every show). This might be old news for Beijing music aficionados but deserves attention from anyone returning to Beijing and looking for some raw action.

Joyside and the Carsick Cars also just released albums under the newcomer Beijing label Maybe Mars. Their powerful, pop-inflected tunes earn them a deservedly loyal fan base. Joyside devotees are especially notorious for their alcoholic excesses inspired by front man Bian Yuan who bears a marked resemblance to the great Jim Morrison in his tight leather pants and tapered shirts. Lastly, even though I have not met him yet, vocalist Lee Lee from The Scoff seems like the coolest dude in town.

Expect more entries about the local music scene in the near future – I have luckily landed myself a gig to take portraits of these musicians for D-22.

Only those of true revolutionary spirit braved the elements to witness the Chinese flag hoisted above Tiananmen Square at dawn this National Day. Not many survived the long night of revelry to diligently stand at attention on the hallowed ground where Mao founded the People’s Republic of China and was finally laid to rest in his oversize mausoleum. Fallen patriots who succumbed to the cold rain lay scattered about underground walkways leading up to Tiananmen while running dogs of capitalism bustled about hawking their overpriced umbrellas and ponchos to the shivering masses. Luckily I came prepared in my windbreaker and marched resolutely into the square after tucking in a plate of steamed buns at Qianmen.

Jockeying for position close to the flagpole proved difficult when police officers cordoned off various sections of the square devoted to massive billboards displaying nationalistic slogans such as, “Vivaciously celebrate the 58th anniversary of the establishment of the People’s Republic of China!” or, “Steadfastly hold to the great path of China’s unique social ideology!” Nonetheless, the assembled revolutionaries seemed more concerned with the persistent umbrella battle raging amongst those packed closest to the front – many were martyred on spiked parasols wielded by tiny ladies repelling the ceaseless tide of bodies cramming for a closer glimpse of the ceremony. The sea of umbrellas only receded when the stirring drum overture of the Chinese national anthem called the crowd to attention. Everyone then raised their mobile phones to solute the flag and capture the special moment as “March of the Volunteers” resounded throughout Tiananmen.

Arise,
Ye who refuse to be slaves!
With our very flesh and blood,
Let us build our new Great Wall!
The peoples of China are in the most critical time,
Everybody must roar his defiance.
Arise!
Arise!
Arise!
Millions of hearts with one mind,
Brave the enemy’s gunfire, March on!
Brave the enemy’s gunfire, March on!
March on!
March on!
On!

The spirited lyrics of the song struck a deep chord in the audience. Seconds after the final note everyone marched straight to the exit. I remained to pay respect to Mao’s portrait looming over the entrance of the Forbidden City - it’s pastel background reflecting the soft hues of the rising sun.