I flew up to Beijing in the last week of October to hang out with some friends. Autumn in Beijing is always great — the weather is perfect and the capital’s residents are at their happiest.
Rock Star Romance
I had dinner one night with my Italian friend Annalisa and her lovely family at their elegant Beijing apartment. Annalisa and I studied Chinese together at the Beijing Foreign Languages University back in the 80′s. She stayed on after her studies and eventually married Li Li, the former bassist for 1989, one of China’s earliest rock bands. Annalisa now works for a bank and Li Li runs a wine import business, though he still plays bass for an African world music band in Beijing.
Over a dinner of home-made pasta and Italian wine, Annalisa recounted her first meeting with Li Li:
“I’d always been impressed with how provocative and politically aware 1989 seemed to be. The band was formed around the time of the Tiananmen massacre, yet was bold enough to name itself ’1989′ and sing political protest songs like Sting’s ‘They Dance Alone’.
“So after I met Li Li and we went out on our first date, I was full of curiosity and started to ask him all sorts of questions. I asked him why they named themselves ’1989′. To my surprise he just shrugged and said, ‘We were formed this year (1989), so we named ourselves after the year’.
“Then I asked him why they chose to cover songs like ‘They Dance Alone’. He shrugged again and said ‘It’s a nice tune, and Sting has a nice voice. Why, what’s the song about?’”
Annalisa’s girlish dreams of running away with a rebellious, idealistic, Dylanesque Chinese rock star were immediately dashed, but it obviously didn’t prevent a beautiful romance from blossoming. And that romance blossoms still.
Karaoke With The Stars
One evening my singer friend Chang Aifei took me out for karaoke, normally not one of my favorite activities. She invited renowned songwriter Cui Shu (崔恕) and his singer-songwriter wife Cui Yan (崔岩). They in turn brought along some TV starlet who is trying to become a singer as well, but I don’t remember her name.
Cui Shu & Cui Yan
It was a blast to karaoke with bona fide singers. I sat between Aifei and Cui Yan as they paired up to sing a couple of Ah Mei’s (张惠妹) fast-paced R&B songs. Aifei sang the lead, and Cui Yan sang backup, timing her entrances perfectly and matching Aifei’s melody line with just the right harmonies. They sang in tune, in rhythm and with a professional’s sense of musicality. It felt more like a private concert than a karaoke session.
They even took requests! I asked Aifei to sing a couple of Pan Yueyun’s (潘越云) songs. Just as I thought, Aifei’s voice was perfectly suited for Pan’s melancholic ballads. I don’t remember ever being moved by someone singing at a karaoke, as I was on this occasion.
It was also interesting to hear Cui Shu sing “爱如空气“, the lyrics to which he had penned. The song became a massive hit for Sun Li (孙俪) largely on the strength of Cui’s lyrics. He’s developed a well-earned reputation for writing songs that perfectly reflect women’s sensibilities and emotions.
The highlight of the evening was when Aifei stood up and belted out a full-throated rendition of Celine Dion’s “The Power of Love”, hitting all the high notes at the climax. Man, that brought the house down! Even the waiter who walked in with our bill did a double-take when he heard that feat of vocal virtuosity.
The Myth of Red Leaves
Xiang Shan (香山), in the northwest outskirts of Beijing, is most famous for its red leaves in the autumn. Thousands upon thousands of tourists from all over the country trek up the mountain every year to take in the gorgeous and inspiring sight of Xiang Shan’s red leaves, which blanket parts of the mountain around mid- to late-October. The mountain’s red leaves have inspired countless poems, odes, paintings, you name it.
There’s only one problem: The red leaves DON’T EXIST. Take a look for yourself:
Xiang Shan blanketed with red leaves - NOT!
I took that photo during a visit on Oct. 26th, an “ideal” time to catch the red leaves. I was at the peak of the mountain and did not see a single patch of red leaves anywhere.
This wasn’t the first time Xiang Shan let me down me either. I remember going on outings to the mountain to see red leaves on several occasions during my student days in Beijing, only to find nothing of the sort. In fact, when I get together with old foreign classmates from that time we still laugh about our futile quest for Xiang Shan’s famous crimson leaves.
During this trip I asked a Chinese friend about the hype v.s. reality of Xiang Shan’s autumnal leaves. He claimed the red leaves really do exist, but they tend to be red for a very brief period of time and often fall immediately to the ground after a gust of wind. RIGHT. I don’t buy it. As far as I’m concerned, Xiang Shan’s red leaves are just a myth concocted to bring tourist dollars into the area!
