Wednesday, August 20, 2008

All in the name of Science

Upon being teased just now by last night's drinking companion about the possibly deleterious effects of the rather-too-hefty nightcap I had treated us to, I sent the SMS reply:

"I'm testing a theory that whiskey actually helps to regenerate brain cells. The initial indications, admittedly, are not too promising; but I must press on with this important work."


Indeed. And tonight just happens to be Jack Daniel's shots night in Room 101.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Recommended Posts, April-June 2008

Guided Tour - recommended posts
from the 2nd Quarter of '08




1) And.... they're off! - 3rd April

One of my most inspired pieces of frivolity: my options for the evening's entertainment depicted as a horse race.



2) Why we drink??? - 7th April

A terrifyingly good quotation from Charles Bukowski.



3) The Plan evolves... - 9th April

Arch-commenter 'Tulsa' goads me into a further elaboration of my infamous Plan for improving my love life.



4) The 'lost' haiku (HBH 24!!) - 16th April

An 'extra' haiku in mid-week, prompted by my belated discovery that I had somehow missed No. 24 out of the series.



5) HBH 76 - 18th April

A haiku celebrating a particularly good - particularly damaging - evening of excess with Jack Daniel's.



6) More mordant txt msg humour - 19th April

I rediscover text message still stored on my phone from 15 months previously: one of my funniest, one of my darkest.



7) More wisdom of the txts - 21st April

A gal pal and I discourse on the mystery of love via SMS.



8) This week's party excuse - 22nd April

My friend DD and I plan a party from scratch during a 10-minute cab ride.



9) The surrogate drinker - 25th April

The Man In Black suggests "I drink, so you don't have to" as the new tag-line for my blog.



10) The weekly bon mot - 28th April

Some wise words from Dr Johnson prompt a little aside from me on the quaint Chinese inability to distinguish between different varieties of alcoholic beverage.



11) A small green thing...... - 29th April

I have a less-than-ideal eating experience at my favourite Xinjiang restaurant.



12) The curse of 'three' - 1st May

Fate taunts me once again in regard to my 'love life'!



13) The Last Table - 4th May

Recollections of the epic drinking that occurred at a Chinese wedding I went to over the May Holiday (along with fellow Pool Bar regular, Crazy Chris).



14) Note to self - 8th May

Will I never learn??



15) Sudden outbreaks of piety - 10th May

Some anecdotes of my struggles with a dodgy knee cartilage (I am sometimes mistaken for a devout Muslim when I kneel on the floor, rocking to and fro and muttering, as I try to pop it back into place).



16) Chinese football fans - 15th May

Having to suffer the company of a horde of Chinese "Manchester United fans" on the final Saturday of the Premiership season brings out the curmudgeon in me - how could it not?



17) The graveyard of good (cultural) intentions - 19th May

I analyse why I didn't actually get to go to any of the concerts I had been planning to see this past weekend - and conclude that it is largely because I have been drinking too much at Room 101 and the Pool Bar!



18) In search of.... the Yanjing Brewery - 21st January

Finally - after 5 years! - I make my long-planned pilgrimage to the factory (lots of photos!) where they manufacture most of the beer that I drink.



19) Gobsmack Double Whammy - 26th May

Two more mind-blowing recent examples of awful service in Chinese bars.



20) The Great Chuanr Crawl - 27th May

'The Lads' and I take on 4 or 5 different yangrou chuanr venues in a single night - the beginning of a Great Quest to find The Best Xinjiang Restaurant In The Neighbourhood.



21) HBH 82 - 30th May

Recollections of a bracing evening meal, consumed outside, in the midst of a violent windstorm.



22) Redemption (2)??? - 31st May

Last night's brilliant Ian Sherman Benefit Gig makes me wonder if the previously dreadful D-22 has finally become a decent music venue - and a decent bar - after all. The jury is still out on that.



23) Weekly bon mot - 2nd June

One of my own, this time.



24) Kolegas birthday gig photos - 3rd June

Some pictures from the awesome 3rd Anniversary concert at favourite music bar, 2 Kolegas, the previous weekend.



25) Bon mot of the week (Wisecrack of the week?) - 9th June

A great line from one of the great films about bars.



26) Man-Eating Sofa 2, Euro Football 0 - 10th June

A very short post, but it became the discussion forum on the European Football Championships - one of my busiest threads ever!



27) Marjorie Daw - 29th June

I enlist the help of eccentric barhound, Crazy Chris, to chat up a woman on my behalf. This is a mistake.



28) Bon mot of the week - 30th June

Bukowski again - this time via the Mickey Rourke film, Barfly.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Beer beats Starvation

In terms of weight-gain versus weight-loss, that is.

Yes, I am shamelessly recycling a recent post from Froogville here. Please forgive me. A slow Monday morning and I'm feeling lazy.

Last week, I got very sick with a dose of Shihuangdi's Revenge. After two days of dehydrating fairly badly and eating nothing at all except for a few Ritz crackers, I found I had lost barely 1kg in weight (although I suppose I was completely inactive for those two days, and sipping quite a lot of stomach-soothing Coca Cola). After two further days of eating almost nothing, but trying to lead a more normal and active life again, I had lost 1kg more.

Now, actually, to lose 4 or 5 lbs (I grew up with the Imperial System, and will always think in it) in the space of less than a week is pretty dramatic, and that is about the most extreme "dieting" I would ever expect to put myself through. Even so, it seemed a rather puny drop in weight when set against the fact that I had - apparently - gained a whopping 3kg over the previous weekend. If that is true, I suppose I must attribute it to a heavier-than-usual indulgence (all that Olympic ballyhoo, you know) in the notoriously waistline-boosting Stella Artois.

Then again, maybe my bathroom scales are just completely up the spout. I can but hope.

Bon mot of the week

"We are shaped and fashioned by what we love."

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832)


"I'd love a single malt."

Froog

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Revenge of the Planet of Beautiful Women

Oh, god.

Last night, on the way home from an exploratory "Is there any Olympic atmosphere anywhere?" kind of wander around Sanlitun and Nurenjie (the answer was pretty much No), I looked in at dependable local, Room 101.

A new band, Bad Apples, were playing some decent classic rock, including some very passable covers of Hendrix.

Not a very big crowd, though - fewer than a couple of dozen downstairs. But slightly over half of them were women. And not a one of them was anything other than loin-tinglingly gorgeous. There was one, in fact, (Japanese, I suspect) who may just possibly be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

It shouldn't happen to an asexualist!

I have noted before, Room 101 is an oddly dangerous place in this regard. I should probably try to spend a bit less time there. It's not good for my equilibrium.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Olympics Opening Night

Well, it's nearly a week on - I have been rather busy (and rather ill) this week, so, apologies - but here's a quick rundown on The Big Night here in Beijing last week.

I anticipated traffic chaos around town, and am somewhat phobic of large crowds, so I didn't feel like heading across town to any of the major sports bars or big open-air gathering places. In fact, I was barely recovered from an horrendous cold that had laid me up for most of the week (this week, it was diarrhoea - I am not a well boy!), so it took some effort to summon up the willpower to leave the apartment at all.

However, my favourite local spot Room 101 is only a 25-minute stagger away, so I thought I'd look in there to see if there'd be much of a crowd. It's a good job I got there early: by 7pm or so, there was a HUGE crowd (I've never seen the place so packed, even for the infamous Jack Daniel's promotion night or the Sichuan Earthquake Relief Concert). They'd actually been taking reservations for the upstairs area! And downstairs, the view of the TV screen was soon largely obscured by the arrival of the promotions team from Omega (just getting pissed on a rare night off; not there to give away free watches, alas)..... although once they'd got settled, they considerately kept their heads down.

I never really got a chance to talk to any of the people upstairs (most of whom seemed to have been foreigners), but I rather suspect that most of them were similarly connected to the Games in some way. I discovered that the Aussie couple beside me at the bar downstairs were local residents, like me. Most of the rest of the crowd that night were Chinese. Regular tourists - as opposed to family and friends of competitors and coaches, former athletes, major sponsors and their guests, members of the press, and professionals in the fields of security, PR and other Olympics-related industries - are just about non-existent.

Nevertheless, the opening night was a very special event. Everyone - Chinese and foreign - wanted to watch it live somewhere; most people, in a bar. I very much doubt if any of the actual competitions - even Liu Xiang's much-anticipated final - or the closing ceremony will draw anything like such a high turn-out. I imagine dear old 101 has been pretty much dead again since. I'll probably toddle along there in a few hours to get reports.

The boisterous throng unfortunately overwhelmed the modest capacity of the air-conditioning on this especially humid night, and it was actually rather cooler outside in the street. I eventually persuaded the boss we might all be better off with the doors left open (provided he didn't think that was going to risk causing any bother with the cops or the neighbourhood busybodies; we needn't have worried - they were all glued to their television sets from 8pm to midnight). In fact, I ducked outside a few times to watch on the sidewalk; the xiaomaibu next door had put its television out on the front step and quite a large gaggle of onlookers, Chinese neighbours and just a few passing foreigners, had formed to watch it, spilling into and soon completely blocking the bike lane (again, you might have thought the police would object to this subversive and unlicensed 'public entertainment' and the potential disruption of traffic it was causing - but they were nowhere to be seen).

And when Li Ning had finally done his lighting-the-Flame thing, the boys from Mr Mojo (who had by this time been patiently waiting on the stage for half an hour or more) launched into a kick-ass set of decidedly 60s-ish blues-rock. My kind of thing!

After my recent indisposition, and after 6 or 7 hours in a sweatbox atmosphere, I was thoroughly exhausted and ready to call it a night before the lads came back on stage for Part Deux; but a couple of my lady friends had just turned up, joining from another (more refined??) venue, and I didn't like to abandon them - particularly as there were no cabs at all to take them home. (I have often observed that Beijing is extremely well-served in the number of its cabs, but..... the whole of Beijing was out that night, and a whoppingly high percentage of them were trying to get home again by cab between 12am and 1am. Heck, there were 80,000 people trying to get away from the Bird's Nest alone [Hmm, did they actually keep the subway running late that night? If they didn't, the scenes around the Stadium exits must have been horrendous!]; that could probably tie up nearly half the city's cab fleet for that hour.)

Eventually, however, I did leave them to their fate. Alas, instead of doing the smart thing and going straight home, I succumbed to a bout of remorse about having neglected my real favourite drinking den, The Pool Bar, all night (and indeed, all week), and found myself - almost automatically - turning right instead of left as I walked out of the front door. I don't think I stayed at the PB very long; just 'the one'; or so; but it was after 3am when I finally got home (and we were only just starting to see vacant cabs reappear on the streets).

It was a fine night to be out and about in Beijing; some good craic, as our Irish friends say. (I know of at least 3 people who chose to stay home all night and blog about it instead. Quite mystifying!!!!)

I'm glad I was here for that. So far, though, the rest of the Games have been a bit of a damp squib in terms of the sense of occasion; the city is pleasantly relaxed and cheerful, but very, very quiet. Perhaps things will pick up this weekend, now that the athletics are under way.

HBH 93

Unfamiliar drought
(Illness taking virtue's place!):
A week without beer.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Here I go, promoting ZIYO again....

There still seems to be very little Chinese rock music on YouTube - and what there is, is very hard to find. And usually of quite abysmal sound quality.

One of my favourite Beijing bands, Ziyo, have recently joined YouTube, but so far they've only posted two videos (Retro Disaster and Helter Skelter, from a performance earlier this year at MAO Live House) - OK, but the sound still isn't very crisp. Come on, guys, a little more attention to self-promotion, please. It surely can't be that hard to hire some half-way decent video (and audio-recording) equipment for the evening and produce a professional-quality 'official bootleg'? Is this really as good as we're going to get??

Of all the videos I've found of them so far (and, on top of the perennial perversity of YouTube's search function, it really doesn't help that they apparently share their name with some East European rock act!), I think I prefer this (although the sound is fairly ropey) - probably the catchiest of all their songs, Indie Rock Is Dead!, a nice balance of tunefulness and raging energy, always a particularly committed performance from sexy frontwoman Helen Feng, some interesting transitions..... and A MASSIVE HOOK! (Honestly, I defy you not to be humming this to yourself after one listen. If you want to hear a cleaner version, click on the audio file of it on their MySpace page.)


Monday, August 11, 2008

The chai Olympics (re-post from Froogville)

I originally posted this over on Froogville a week ago, but I'm afraid it might have got rather lost amid the welter of my other recent Olympics-related blogging, and I like it so much, I think it's worth cross-posting on here.

I've been meaning to do this for a while, but, alas, I no longer have a functional version of Photoshop on either of my computers (hence the dearth of photographs on my blogs of late).

This character - chai - means 'demolish', and it is daubed on the walls of buildings shortly before the bulldozers arrive. Sometimes, you wonder if this isn't about the only warning the soon-to-be-displaced residents get. Sometimes, indeed, the demolition seems to follow so swiftly that I speculate there may be dozens of opportunistic wrecking crews roaming the city, authorised to raze any chai'd building they find and claim a bounty for their good work. (I'm kidding about that, of course. I don't think even the Chinese would try taking market economics to that extreme. Would they???)

The wholesale destruction of great swathes of Beijing - often in a rather chaotic and unplanned way - has been one of the sorriest consequences of awarding the Olympics to China. Many of the most charming and characterful old neighbourhoods have been ruthlessly flattened to facilitate the city's misconceived plans for modernisation. The dreaded chai symbol has swept through the hutongs like a plague.

We've heard a number of unflattering slogans for these Games now, of course: the Genocide Olympics (thank you, Mia - you take the prize for hysterical overstatement), the "1936 All Over Again" Olympics (makes a similar point, but more broadly and more humorously), the "No Fun" Olympics, the Fenqing Olympics (fenqing are the objectionable, hysterical young nationalists who are the Chinese government's unfortunate 'blowback' from years of unremitting propaganda), and (another favourite of mine) the Mafan Olympics (mafan= 'hassle').


But I decided some time ago that people really ought to remember these Games as


the Chai Olympics

because the brutal eradication of so many close-knit communities, the obliteration of so much architecture and history, the foolhardy ripping out of so much of the city's heart & soul, that's what will be, I'm afraid, the one really lasting legacy of the 2008 Olympics.

(Many thanks to my friend The Artist for realising this design.)

Bon mot of the week

"A tavern chair is the throne of human felicity."


Dr Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)

Saturday, August 09, 2008

Great Drinking Songs (9)

Not actually a song about drinking, this one, but a great rousing singalong when drunk - the traditional sea shanty, South Australia. The Pogues did a fine version of it (it was a bonus track on the later CD release of their If I Should Fall From Grace With God album), but I couldn't find that on YouTube. [Aha!  Finally found it two years later - here.  Audio only, though. There's also this live session recording of it by them.]

However, in the course of my researches, I did turn up this rather wonderful little oddity - Fishermen's Friends, a choir (of fishermen, naturally) from Port Isaac in Cornwall, singing it on the beach.

You can also see them performing this on stage, accompanying folk duo Show of Hands. And, just for good measure, here's the tremendous Aussie finger-picking guitarist, Tommy Emmanuel, doing an instrumental version. Enjoy. And sing along.

Friday, August 08, 2008

A prisoner of my childhood

"It's Friday, it's five to five, and it's......."

Well, it's very nearly time to be wandering over to dear old Room 101 to get stoked on the cheap.....

I do hope Olly has managed to get the new satellite gear hooked up so that we'll have a chance to watch the Olympic Opening Ceremony with some English commentary.

New laowai blues-rock combo Mr Mojo are supposed to be playing later as well. They seriously rocked the joint when they played there two or three weeks back, so I'm looking forward to that (although I guess they won't be able to get started until Zhang Yimou's finished doing his thing - how long is that going to take?).

Right now, I'm trying to chase the blues away and get myself energised for the evening with a quick blast of (my favourite Chinese band) Ziyo's EP. Good stuff.


I'll leave it to my University confreres The Cowboy and The Swordsman (or perhaps Little Anthony or Mothman..... or even the long dormant Bookseller?) to explain the opening reference.

New Picks of the Month

I know it's only a couple of months old, but I feel I have to nominate my June 4th post 'Lest we forget....' as the new 'Pick of the Month' on Froogville. While the Olympics are on in Beijing, I think it is particularly important to remind ourselves of the events that took place here in 1989 - and to hope that a forgetful Chinese nation may begin to remember as well.

From the Barstool, I choose The Adventure Bar, a post from April last year celebrating the characterful little hutong restaurant where I spent most of my first two years in China.

Do please check these out.

HBH 92

Balm for throat and head
Medicinal purposes
Another excuse!


Yes, this week I have been mostly drinking to preserve my ailing voicebox. Honestly.

Thursday, August 07, 2008

Bring out your dead

Perhaps I shouldn't have made those frivolous references to SARS and cholera last week. I'm getting my karmic punishment now.

There has been little blogging - and almost no merriment - this week, because I have gone down with a stinker of a cold. I can't remember the last time I felt this ill: feeble, lethargic, feverish, trembling, wracked by a vicious headache and aches and pains in just about every joint and muscle; the glands in my throat are the size of apples; I've been sleeping so badly, I'm practically hallucinating.

I went to the Cinco de Drinko on Tuesday (rumoured to be the last ever - boo!), and soon regretted it. I was popping cold remedy pills in between the beers, but it wasn't doing much good, and by 9pm I'd nearly lost my voice; so I had to croak my apologies and head home.

48 hours spent mostly moping under the covers and moaning seems to have taken the edge off it, but I'm still feeling pretty ropey.

I won't be venturing out for any pre-Olympic parties tonight. And I rather fear I won't be going anywhere to watch The Big Show tomorrow either. Rats!

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Cinco de Drinko OLYMPICO

There's a new-ish Tex-Mex place in Sanlitun called Saddle Cantina.

To be honest, it's the kind of place I don't love: too large, too darned popular, a little too expensive. However, since it has only been open a few months, and I've so far only been there three times (once without stopping to drink anything), I'll give it the benefit of the doubt for a while longer.

It does have one wonderful saving grace: in emulation of the great Mexican-American holiday of Cinco de Mayo, it has a special promotion on the fifth day of every month: Cinco de Drinko - AN ALL-DAY HAPPY HOUR.

Now, this is likely to engender just the kind of riotous excess that the authorities here want to stamp out during the Olympics. I am very surprised that the event hasn't been banned. But, as far as I know, it hasn't. So, I'm heading off down there to check it out shortly.

I hope to see many friends there.

This could be THE big pre-Olympic party!

Monday, August 04, 2008

We few, we happy few

Crazy Chris e-mailed me the other day to check how things were going in The Jing without him. He commented that the place had already been beginning to feel pretty deserted when he left a couple of weeks ago, and wondered if things were even worse now.

Well......

The other day, when The Choirboy and I breezed into Room 101 to meet up with The Bengali after our traditional Sunday evening chuanr fest, we were the only customers they'd seen all night. A trio of our journo chums showed up shortly afterwards, but they really were just having 'the one' on their way home from a busy day of news-manufacturing up at the Olympic Village.

The Pool Bar was not that much livelier: only a handful of the diehard regulars, the quietest Sunday evening I've seen in there for a long time.

Friday and Saturday were very quiet too. And the main bar district of Sanlitun seemed extremely subdued on Friday - although admittedly I only passed through briefly, and relatively early.

Yep, our wonderful government really has done a pretty good job of purging the city of 'undesirable elements' - like foreign barflies. Things haven't been this quiet since SARS.


Hark, is that the rustle of a tumbleweed skittering down the street?

Traffic Report - the blog stats for July

There were 54 posts and around 16,500 words over on Froogville last month.

There were 41 posts and just over 9,000 words here on the Barstool.


I discern no particular variation (much less increase) in the traffic figures, and commenting has been disappointingly scarce (all of my one-time 'regulars' - with the exception of the ever-faithful British Cowboy - seem to have deserted me, or at least to have reverted to 'lurking'). However, there was a HUGE - inexplicable! - spike in visits to both blogs on Friday the 11th of July. I wonder what that was all about.

We also welcomed new readers from Sweden, Finland, Malaysia, and the Philippines. And I now have a fan in Kosovo.

Thanks for reading. I hope I'll find something entertaining to say during the upcoming craziness of the Olympics.

Bon mot for the week

"Falling in love is like getting drunk. A relationship is the hangover."

Froog


(OK, I've used this one before, kind of; but it bears repeating.)

Sunday, August 03, 2008

A new favourite text message

"I am going to Room 101. Soon. And for the rest of my life."


I think I'm going to keep this stored on my phone, for regular use.

Yes, such is the way I salve my misery and despair. After all, if you're going to have your mid-life crisis in a strange and under-developed country, thousands of miles away from most of the people who care about you..... you might as well have it in a bar.

Claude reigns!

Or indeed, Clawed Reins. (Hmmm, a Possible Band Name?? That reminds me......)

Yes, I am a broken-hearted punster.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Beware

This oddity was turned up by my old Oxford pal and Websurfer extraordinaire, 'Keith Tolstoy', some time ago. I assume it's a road sign advising of the hazards of 'concealed entrances' opening on to the main road. Well, what else could it be? A wonderfully warped warning!

Of course, for me it suggests something else entirely. And the caution is timely.

The Eternal Pursuit

Here is a story I've cherished for years (probably apocryphal, but what the heck?).

When Charles de Gaulle finally stood down as President of France, he and his wife met the foreign press corps to answer questions. Neither of them had outstanding English, but they did their best.

When Mme de Gaulle was asked what her hopes were for their years in retirement together, it is said that she responded:

"What I want now is ze same sing I 'ave alwayz wanted. All I want is a penis."

The assembled journalists, of course, were momentarily stunned into silence.

Luckily, the General intervened promptly, and so saved his wife from the awkward follow-up questions that were looming:

"My dear," he said. "I sink it is pronounced 'appiness."


My favourite mispronunciation story, ever.

(I've always wondered, though: did the General simply mean to correct his wife's faulty stress pattern, without twigging what she'd actually said? Probably we will never know. Well, it's probably not a true story anyway.....)


Anyway, once again the hour of happiness is almost upon us. Or perhaps I should say the hour of a penis......

Friday, August 01, 2008

The long goodbye

Wednesday night was a more-than-usually strange one for me in my local, Room 101. I was stuck there on my sad old lonesome for a couple of hours at the start of the evening, with only the prospect of a game of Chinese chess with the barman to distract me.

Then, all of a sudden, a whole bunch of my friends turned up, and we had quite a jolly time for a couple of hours or so. But then they all abruptly left again.

But then a whole bunch of other people I knew appeared. It was getting on for midnight by now, so I was trying to extract myself, but...... well, it just took me so long to say hello & goodbye to these three or four separate acquaintances, probably a good 20 minutes or so. And I'd finished my last drink before I embarked on this farewell tour of the bar. As soon as I finally hit the night air, I realised that I was by now furiously thirsty again, and I'd only made it a few yards up the street before I turned automatically on my heel and strode back into the bar to order one final glass of Stella.

Well, it might have been two. And then the boss bought me another one...... just as everyone was finally about to leave; so I found myself chugging my last beer, once again all alone, just as I had been for my first few.

Strange indeed, but mostly fun.

Anyway, I can't recall ever before having realised that I haven't finished drinking for the night seconds after departing for home - hence
this week's haiku.

HBH 91

The siren call tempts,
Making it so hard to leave:
Always one more drink.