A Beijing Ditty
Just got back from Beijing after a one week break. Love going there, the jazz, oh the jazz, the hectic life, the enjoyment of a big city going places. "Big City, bright lights, sure looks pretty" - Dandy Livingstone - remember him? Trojan Records 1973.
Now back at school, and will be off for my walk on Jinshatan Beach, where I see that the Monkey Man has come back from winter hibernation. His suit of golden yellow, untarnished and freshly pressed, all ready for late spring and the swell of happy tourists. He remembers me from last year and we now have struck up an odd sort of friendship. He lets me film him, tentatively, doing his masterful acrobatics and impressive martial art tricks which keep him in money. But he will not, NO, will not let me see behind that Monkey Sun God Mask.
In Beijing we went to watch some ‘old masters,’ being reproduced by an amazing machine, and guarding each piece were about ten security men. Each person working on the machines has no right to transfer any files. They sit at the desk, work, then leave the desktop open as the security guards, one after another, close it down and hand over the precious, priceless work to the vault.
We went to an army barrack hospital to visit a friend. There is yet another endearing statue of Dr Norman Bethune. I was being filmed near him, when an orderly marched up to me, took me by the arm and sternly strode me right up to the statue, stamping on the shrubs and flowers, reciting the whole way Bethune’s glory, his power, and the mystery he holds for the Chinese people.
We watched a seamstress sew traditional garments in a back alley.
A young punk boy with orange hair was trying to get into the latest hair styling contest in Shanghai, practising on his girlfriend in the same back alley. A heatwave hit, then the rains came and 25 million umbrellas opened at the same time - you could see this from the moon.
Pollution, then winds sweeping dust in and pollution away - the edge of the Ling Mountains peaking in the distance and, for once, green abounds everywhere.
Just enough time to fall in love, once again, once more, then leave, as lovers often do, with the heat and glow upon the soul, waiting, waiting to return . . .
Just got back from Beijing after a one week break. Love going there, the jazz, oh the jazz, the hectic life, the enjoyment of a big city going places. "Big City, bright lights, sure looks pretty" - Dandy Livingstone - remember him? Trojan Records 1973.
Now back at school, and will be off for my walk on Jinshatan Beach, where I see that the Monkey Man has come back from winter hibernation. His suit of golden yellow, untarnished and freshly pressed, all ready for late spring and the swell of happy tourists. He remembers me from last year and we now have struck up an odd sort of friendship. He lets me film him, tentatively, doing his masterful acrobatics and impressive martial art tricks which keep him in money. But he will not, NO, will not let me see behind that Monkey Sun God Mask.
In Beijing we went to watch some ‘old masters,’ being reproduced by an amazing machine, and guarding each piece were about ten security men. Each person working on the machines has no right to transfer any files. They sit at the desk, work, then leave the desktop open as the security guards, one after another, close it down and hand over the precious, priceless work to the vault.
We went to an army barrack hospital to visit a friend. There is yet another endearing statue of Dr Norman Bethune. I was being filmed near him, when an orderly marched up to me, took me by the arm and sternly strode me right up to the statue, stamping on the shrubs and flowers, reciting the whole way Bethune’s glory, his power, and the mystery he holds for the Chinese people.
We watched a seamstress sew traditional garments in a back alley.
A young punk boy with orange hair was trying to get into the latest hair styling contest in Shanghai, practising on his girlfriend in the same back alley. A heatwave hit, then the rains came and 25 million umbrellas opened at the same time - you could see this from the moon.
Pollution, then winds sweeping dust in and pollution away - the edge of the Ling Mountains peaking in the distance and, for once, green abounds everywhere.
Just enough time to fall in love, once again, once more, then leave, as lovers often do, with the heat and glow upon the soul, waiting, waiting to return . . .
