When you know that the Bird’s Nest is a contrast, not a compliment, to the lifestyles of many in China, it’s easy to be po-faced about the Olympics and the impression given of First World sophistication. Lost in one’s reverse snobbery, one can end up underselling the positive impact of that extraordinary event.

My own epiphany came in the Underground, only a week ago. In the crowded passageways, I suddenly found my way blocked by a lady being pushed in a wheelchair. Suppressing, for the sake of charity, the minor burst of impatience that began to well up inside, I looked instead for a way past.  Suddenly it struck me that I had never seen a person in a wheelchair using the Underground before. I began to take a new interest in the couple in front of me and I allowed my pace to match theirs.  They seemed rather lost, but eventually negotiated the corridors to arrive, coincidentally, at the train I too wanted to board. Fellow passengers adjusted to the mild inconvenience of their presence on the crowded train, staff was positively helpful and, for the most part, the pair seemed to be making their way unassisted.  Eventually, they left the train as effortlessly as they had alighted and went their way. A Beijing first and all as a result of the Olympics.

I have spoken of the Games related additions to the Subway system before, namely the upgraded security, but perhaps even more revolutionary has been the introduction of stair lifts at many of the stations and the provision of an ingenious stair climber in other places.  The former is a rather more industrial version of those found in many homes now, and the latter is a contraption I had never seen before which can be wheeled to the beginning of a stair well, and allows a wheel chair-bound individual to be transported up or down  effortlessly.  They are not available everywhere, but they are to be had at the major stations and allows those in wheelchairs to access the system.  Up to this, the otherwise excellent Underground could not have been described as disabled friendly.

Access to public transport is just one of the challenges facing China’s 60 million disabled people.  Were one to look only at the legal code, the impression is of enlightened attention to their needs. The realities are less impressive. Many of the legal mandates remain aspiration. What services that are available are often confined to the urban areas, with few, if any, supports available to the rural disabled.  When one realizes that 56% of China’s population lives in the countryside, it shows how many are outside the loop. A Government Sponsored NGO exists to promote care of the disabled, but the top down approach is not complimented by a vibrant grass roots network promoting change.

The driver for the transformations of the situation in Beijing has been  the 2008 Games, the Paralympics in particular. It was perhaps a face saving exercise, one could hardly host a “Games for the disabled and have no access to the Transport System, but a year from now, that will seem immaterial. What will remain is a new mobility and extended range for people who, till now, could not easily move beyond their homes.  During the Olympics one saw many foreigners in wheelchairs but they were expected, and seemed an extension of the unreal quality of the Olympics month.  But the Olympics are over and this erstwhile po- faced observer is delighted to find that the legacy is more than a rather inaccurate impression of First World grandeur.

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Tags: Beijing Diaries, bricks, olympics, people with disabilities, Robert Hannah

Beijing Paralympics boosts China’s cause for disabled people (UN Official) Xinhua News

China winds fown Paralympics ( Wall Street Journal)

China baby milk toll may rise (BBC)

India and China way behind Millennium Development Goals (Express Health Care)

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Tags: news, olympics

Water, not oil,  is China’s biggest shortage Seeking Alpha

China may raise poverty line to 80 million. Economic Times

Paralympic Games

And now for the games to change the minds and attitudes in China The Age

Paralympic Games to change China New Zealand Herald

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Tags: news, olympics, poverty news

Mr. Wang Hong Feng does not look like a dancer. His less than lithe form suggested a sedentary occupation, but he was presented, rather incongruously, as the lead of a trio who would perform a traditional dance. Mr. Wang clearly did not share my reservations and he stood waiting for his cue with the high seriousness of a Nureyev. On cue, he began to move in recognizable but “free” interpretation of the traditional gestures associated with Beijing Opera. A purist might object, but he was actually graceful even if the links to the opera were tenuous at best. His companions, clearly used to his style, gave him as much room to maneuverer as the restricted space allowed and he made maximum use of the opportunity. It wasn’t exactly art, but he was obviously enjoying himself and his mood was infectious. Later Mr. Wang returned to the stage in a moving interpretation of an Aesop’s Fable relocated, I kid you not, to a Spanish bull ring. Dressed as bull, Mr. Wang, with extraordinary pathos, portrayed the pain of the cruel sport, and, after a miraculously recovery from bullfighter’s presumably fatal sword thrust, expressed his forgiveness in an embrace that almost caused injury to his former assailant. By the end of the performance there was not a dry eye in the house.

Tags: Beijing Diaries, bricks, olympics

Returning to Ireland in the 80’s from prosperous London was a shock to the system. One left behind the easy assurance of Kingston for the rather pinched streets of Dublin and at first could not quite source one’s sense of dislocation. A chance visit to an affluent suburb provided the clue. Here, one saw Greek Yogurt, (a Kingston staple at the time)and pots of sun-dried tomatoes on supermarket shelves, delicacies absent from the more financially challenged area in which I had taken up residence. More than that, impressive well manicured buildings diffidently but unmistakeably proclaimed the importance of the affairs been dealt within their walls; whereas dilapidation suggested that little of significance was going on in the rest of pre-Celtic tiger Dublin. The women and men exiting these self-confident structures had about them a suavity in keeping with their surroundings and they picked up Mediterranean dairy products from laden shelves, as if to the manner born. In my area of Dublin, non branded staples from more northern climes were the norm. I adapted in time, and as the transformation of Ireland gathered pace, revisiting “negative equity” London gave one a sense of deja vous all over again.

There was no Greek yogurt on sale on the Olympic Green last week, but the sense of privileged assurance of this suave enclave was reminiscent of 80’s Ballsbridge. The buildings are impressive, but, more than that, the attention to detail is more reminiscent of Japan then China. Even the design and cleanliness of the pavements is of a different order from the norm in this ancient capital. The toilets, always a source of concern, would have caused no anxiety for even the most fastidious of visitors. I would swear that, even though the smog fears have proven groundless, the open spaces were being gently scented from hidden nozzles. The notices in Chinese, English AND French added a certain je ne sais quoi to the place and made it feel as if the glass ceiling to international sophistication has well and truly been breeched.

The denizens of the Green seemed at home in this affluent world. I am not sure what the Chinese equivalent of a sun dried tomato is but they behaved as if they both knew and were on regular shopping terms with what ever it might be. Some were able, by their blue tee shirts, to flaunt their Olympian credentials. These volunteers are everywhere. Universally helpful and competent in at least one foreign language, they are an excellent advertisement for their country. They exude earnest willingness to help and have about them a diffident self-confidence with no displays of the self importance that often comes with a badge or a whistle. I was delighted to hear that the priest-volunteers who serve in the Olympic Religious Centre are making an equally positive impression and fluency in English is being matched by the depth of their preaching. Even the mere mortals who possessed tickets to this Green sanctum seem to belong to another world. The heat makes designer chic irrelevant, but beside my Chinese fellow spectators I felt positively out of place in my thrown together ensemble. Their accents are from across the country, but they act with the easy assurance of people who are chez nous in this setting.

It would be easy to be cynical about this isolated bubble of international standard modernity in contemporary China. However, the Gods who gave Greek Yogurt to all of Dublin by the end of the last century may well choose to extend the self-assurance of the Olympic Green to the whole country by the end of this one. Vive l’avenir.

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Tags: bricks, china.beijing, olympics

With all the hype that has been associated with the Olympics, from the recent bombings in Xinjiang and Yunnan to the Opening Ceremonies that wowed the world, it seems that people are just getting way too much of China and the Olympics. Washington Post has two interesting reflections, on China.  Fred Zakaria’s article goes beyond China-bashing and reflects about a different China. While Timothy Shriver reflects about the real Olympic spirit.

In other non-Olympic news, China’s aging population may become a strain in its rapidly booming economy. Jim Landers writes for the Dallas Morning News.

Xinhua reports of possible election rights to migrant workers in cities.

China bends a bit for anti-poverty projects. An interesting article from Reuters.

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The “Bird’s Nest” was not the only shiny new building which debuted for the Olympics. On the south of the city an equally impressive structure has just opened to the public, the very grand South Railway Station. The curves of the new structure are as interesting as those of the much talked of stadium and one feels as if one is in a very modern airport rather than anything as mundane as a the terminus of a rail system. In fact, this is one end of the new fast connection to Beijing’s port city, Tianjin which was unveiled without much fanfare in the days leading up to the Games Opening Ceremony. It may never become as iconic a building as its sporting cousin, but it is perhaps more significant in the long run.

It has become a commonplace for commentators to remark of the scale of the “new Beijing” and it is indeed impressive. My interest in the South Station, and the trains that depart from there is more personal. Fourteen years ago, my first train journey in China was to Tianjin from the main Beijing Station. I remember the taste of coal on the morning air, a ticket that was double the price paid by Chinese nationals and a two hour journey to Tianjin, alone in the rather faded splendour of the “soft seat coach”. In the years since, all of those images have been consigned to the history books. The coal briquettes, whose dust clung to my lungs, have been banished from the city. The special pricing for foreigners has been dropped, and now we must purchase our tickets from the automatic dispensers like the rest of humanity. The train, which would look well alongside anything the French can produce, whisked us to Tianjin in 30 minutes and even the expensive seats are all full.

Many of the changes have been gradual and almost imperceptible, but this latest “Great Leap Forward” is on a different scale. The old Beijing Station has been buffed up numerous times since my first encounter, but, despite the increasing amount of marble and the introduction of a greater variety of concessionary shops, it remains, at heart, a rather clunky leftover from early communist era architecture. It clientele too, remain equally proletarian. Women and men from all corners of China pass though its doors daily, carrying their dreams packed in fertiliser bags. Beijing acts as a magnet for the rural poor and, even without the Statue of Liberty, the main Station is their “Elis Island” entry point to the land of dreams. The South Station is a different world, all glass and steel, with gentle curves and a light airy sensibility. It is the Beijing Terminus of one of the fastest trains in the world, linking Beijing with its shy twin Tianjin. It is full of commuting urbanites, with narry a fertiliser bag in sight. Instead, all is self-confident, sophisticated bustle and unreservedly an urban experience; odd in a country in which most people are still farmers or from farming backgrounds.

The new Station remains a work in progress, only a few of the platforms are in use, the connection to the Beijing Subway has not yet open and some of the food concessions have not opened to the public. The incompleteness rather detracts from the full experience of the new communications hub. However, if the main Station was a monument to the aspirations of the New China in  the latter half of last century, the South Station is a very eloquent suggestion of where China wants to go in the first half of this one. Thank God to live in interesting times!

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Tags: Beijing Diaries, bricks, olympics, Tianjin

Last night I was startled by the sound of unexpectedly heavy rain outside my window. Having been brought up on Ireland’s rather predictably wet summers, I would normally be disappointed by such a sound. From childhood, rain inevitably dampened some aspect of the coming day’s events. Even now, light years from the vagaries of the Atlantic climate, it is still easy to react with Irish sensibilities to the totally different weather patterns that one experiences here. Last night, out of character, I smiled, and brightened up inside at the sound. The roar of the relative downpour carried with it the possibility of cleaning the skies of the pollution that one hears so much about in the reports on the Olympics and brings ever nearer the possibility of a blue sky day for the opening ceremony on the 8th. Rain on!

It is a little disconcerting to find that I could react so innocently and spontaneously to an Olympic related phenomenon. I tend to think of myself as being rather above the common herd when it comes to the whole “Olympic Thing”. I rather imagine myself an objective observer, albeit with sympathy for the Chinese, looking down from an, dare I say, Olympian height, on the mere mortals who get excited by such things. I am one who travels through the city, noting this or that point of interest to report, but safe in my observer’s hauteur, I expect to remain totally unmoved by the unfolding events.

Total nonsense of course, there is no safe refuge from this experience. There are endless, unavoidable opportunities to be emotionally connected, even if it the feeling is only one of frustration with the security checks or the traffic delays. Those given to conspiracy theories, (I am not) see ominous signs of governmental interference evidenced by the very slow internet speeds that some of us are experiencing these days. I suspect the explanation is related to diverting bandwidth to the media centre, rather than some sort of censorship. But being frustrated by the delays is just another example of being connected to this experience directly. Happily there are more positive connections. Unexpected offers of tickets reveal how artificial my pose of disinterest was. I am thrilled to be attending the Games and cannot wait to see the inside of the Birds Nest, that I have, so far, only observed from a distance. In fact if anything, I am loosing the run of myself altogether, and have just agreed to run a half Marathon in October. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, an athlete. Yet, I find my self training daily, which I find gruelling, eating more healthily than ever, and psyching myself up for something which, if I succeed will be as personally as rewarding as Olympic Gold. So much for objectivity!

Prayer in these days, invites a corollary with the life of Jesus. I too easily imagine Him as the observer, the Son of God speaking enigmatically in parables, emotionally remote from the world in which he has become incarnate. But the scriptures present a different picture, he grieved for a dead friend, he raged against the traders in the temple, and even loved his apostles to differing degrees. Jesus engagement with the world is complete, not partial. His unambiguous engagement is disconcerting for one who prefers the emotional security of the observer’s box. The sound of rain falling helps me to realise that I am part of the ‘Games’ experience not just observer of it. Prayer in these days suggests the same about Life. Thus is one learning about following Jesus in the lead up to the Beijing Olympics.

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Tags: Beijing Diaries, bricks, olympics