On a brief holiday to Thailand and noticed certain taxis (not all) have what look like Buddhist blessings on the inside roof of their cabs. This reminded me of the holy water that irish people always put into their new car and the Buddhist symbols I’ve seen on Taipei buses which I commented on in a previous post. Anyone got an explanation of this practice. Ps. Sorry to the driver, as I think I may have scared the shit out of him by not turning off my flash. 😦
Another little poem on the MRT spotted. Anybody found any others?
詩的葬禮 A Poem’s Funeral
(洛夫著 by Lo Fu)
把一首
I put a
在抽屜裡鎖了三十年的情詩
Love poem locked in a drawer for 30 years
投入火中
Into the fire
字
The words
被燒得吱吱大叫
Screeched as they burned
而灰爐一言不發
While the furnace was silent
它相信
Believing
總有一天
That one day
那人
That someone
將在風中讀到
Would read it in the wind
This is an update to a former post that you can check out here. The previous post described the use of the term 「不恥」(bu4chi3) in a short story by a Taiwanese author. I later came across the term again in 《馬橋詞典》 (A Dictionary of Maqiao), a book written by a mainland Chinese author:
The phrase containing it in Chinese reads:
Continue reading（二）三耳朵做過很多人所不恥的惡行[……]
(2) Sanerduo had done some pretty despicable things[…]
A Dictionary of Maqiao is a really considered and philosophical book, whilst managing to retain an earthiness and wit throughout. 
I liked the way the narrator poses the book as an effort to deconstruct traditional story-telling. He sees the traditional novel as directing its gaze selectively – focusing in on those things that relate to the central narrative, while ignoring the things that are on the periphery of this:
Things that can’t be put in the traditional novel are normally “insignificant.” However, when your focus is theocracy, science is insignificant; when it is humanity, nature is insignificant; when it is politics, then love is insignificant; when it is money, then aesthetics are insignificant. I suspect that everything in the world has the same level of significance, however, and that the reason that some things appear insignificant at times, is because they are filtered out by the author’s framework of meaning and are resisted by the reader’s framework of meaning, as they are not exciting enough. Clearly, these frameworks are not innate and unchanging, but rather the contrary, they are reformed by fads, habit and cultural tendencies – this mould is then set in the form of the novel. [My translation]
This film is set in and around Lashio in Northern Shan State in Myanmar, a region populated by many ethnic Chinese. Some are later immigrants, while others are remnants of the retreating Nationalist Army – posted there as guerrilla forces after the main force retreated to Taiwan. Conflict between rebels here and the Myanmar central government spilled over into Yunnan province recently when a bomb dropped by a Myanmar Air Force plane killed some villagers there.
The film deals with a very current issue as the civil war in Myanmar between government forces and northern ethnic rebel groups continue. China has been struggling to outdo the US in wooing the government and the main opposition ahead of general elections there next year, although illegal border trade with China is believed to be the main supply line for rebels in the north. Chinese business people are also responsible for a lot of the illegal logging and mining taking place in the region (despite getting permits from northern rebels, many of them are aware that logging is illegal in Myanmar).
This had the unfortunate effect of raising my expectations for the film, as despite being located in a fascinating part of the world, I felt that the “love story” wasn’t done in a convincing way. The female protagonist returns from China where she has married a substantially older man, from whom she seemingly wants to escape. She travels home for the death of her grandfather, taking him funeral clothes from his hometown in Yunnan. She is driven home by a farmer-turned motorcycle driver, who is not very successful at his new job. She meets him again when he takes a message to her from the town, and eventually she proposes that they go into the meth business together, as her cousin is in the business and can set up deliveries for her. They fall in love while working together and both start using from their own supply. Eventually they get caught on a delivery and the male lead flees the scene, leaving her with all the blame. He then flees back to his rural village and appears to be in great mental trauma. The process of the female lead stripping the male lead of his innocence was portrayed in montage style, so we end up feeling distanced from the process which would have drawn us in and made us identify with the two of them. The girl’s life in China is never really presented in a way that allows us to understand in a visual sense why she comes back and what motivates her to get involved in the drug trade, as we just learn about her treatment in China through phone calls with her mother in law.
The film is beautifully shot and the issues it deals with, the rise of amphetamine in Myanmar and Southeast Asia and the poverty of Chinese ethnic groups in Myanmar, are interesting, although they get a more interesting examination elsewhere. Check out the references below for a more interesting analysis on how the meth trade is affecting China and for more news on Myanmar and South East Asia from a news site run by exiles from Myanmar.
That said, I thought that certain scenes were moving, like the death scene of the grandfather at the start of the movie and the bookend-style scenes on the male lead’s family plot at the start and end of the movie. The film does achieve its end in the sense that I was convinced of the frustration felt by these people and that there is no way out for them other than death from starvation or criminal behavior and prison, however, I felt this could have been achieved with a lot more pathos if the characters and the love between them had been more three dimensional than the “romantic montage” allowed for.
Saw this torn poster around the Wanhua district while out to lunch. It’s a path marker left by a parade to welcome the Gods of Loyalty (尪公) into the Palace of Heaven. The gods of loyalty were two Tang dynasty generals Zhang Xun (張巡) and Xu Yuan (許遠) who were honored by Emperor Suzong (唐肅宗) posthumously for their loyalty in dying defending the Tang dynasty during the Battle of Suiyang against Yan troops. Interestingly, this was quite controversial as they are said to have encouraged cannibalism during the battle.
「尪公」 or Gods of Loyalty is a common way to refer to the 「保義大夫」 or “senior officials upholding justice,” which you can see written at the center of the torn poster.
I found a helpful description of the events (and other events) in Taiwanese folk religion at this site. Here’s the description of the 迎尪公 (Welcoming the Gods of Loyalty) parade:
十二日為保義大夫祭典。尪公，即保義大夫俗稱。據傳，保義大夫為驅除田園害蟲之神，俗信其神輿過處，附近害蟲將盡死滅，因此，迎神輿須通過田中畦道。保義大夫之神輿極小，僅以兩人抬扛。祭典當日，住戶例均供祭牲禮，並供五味碗，犒賞其部下神兵，遊行隊伍，均甚壯大。
The tweflth day [of the fifth lunar month] is the ceremony of the senior officials upholding justice. Wang Gong is the colloquial name for the “senior officials upholding justice.” Apparently the “senior officials upholding justice” can help to get rid of pests in farmland and people believe that wherever the palanquin of the gods passes will lead to the death and destruction of pests and insects in neighboring land, so the palanquin has to pass through the paths around fields. The palanquin of the senior officials upholding justice is quite small and is carried by only two people. On the day of the ceremony, offerings are made by local residents, offering a variety of sweet, sour, bitter, spicy and salty dishes to reward the celestial troops and give strength to those taking part in the parade.
Not sure why it is torn – if this is tradition or someone concerned that the extremely dirty reflector on the traffic light pole was being blocked from sight
Heard an interesting thing on the radio today. The North Gate of Taipei (北門) or Beimen – that little arch surrounded by roads near the central post office – was formerly used for officials to pass through, while ordinary people entered the city through the south gate – this is why the gate is called “承恩門” as 承恩 translates to “to receive the benevolence or favor [of the monarch or emperor].” Another interesting point he mentioned is that normally city gates face in one of the four points of the compass – but the front of the north gate of Taipei, instead faces towards the highest point in Taipei – Qixing (七星) mountain in Yangmingshan (陽明山).
The guy who provided the information hosts historical running tours of the city. Sounds like a blast!
Nice little poem on the MRT in Taipei by Luo Renling (羅任玲):
鷹 Eagle
站在巍巍的山頂等
Standing on the towering mountain top awaiting
風，漫漫近了
The wind, as it gradually approaches
張開茫然底袖
It absently spreads its sleeves
一個寂寞
A sudden sense of lonliness
飛過
Flies over
My coworker referred me to 媺 [女山山大 / ㄇㄟˇ / mei3 / unicode u5ABA ] a variant of 美 [廿土大 / ㄇㄟˇ / mei3 / unicode u7F8E , though she didn’t provide the context in which she found it.
If anyone comes across any variants in every day life (ie not just hidden in the obscure sections of your dictionary) then you can submit it in the comments sections.
OK, so Mayor of Taipei Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) has chosen a rather unfortunate title for his book 《白色的力量》，which translates literally to “White Power.” He’s not advocating white power in a racial sense, but rather he’s talking about taking the medical style (white coats) of diagnosis and extending it to politics. Hope it doesn’t get an awkward English translation at any point.