Saturday, August 31, 2013

China Adventure- Sunday, September 1- David's thoughts


They Do That

One of the first things you notice about a Chinese city is the traffic noise.  Not, I should say, much in the way of squealing tyres, screeching brakes, sickening thuds and angry shouting. It is also only fair to concede that there is not a lot of engine noise, nor the cacophony of muscle cars and motorcycles that frazzle the nerves of North American pedestrians.  And blessedly there is almost none of the “my ride is my boom box” sensibility that litters the soundscape of places like Los Angeles (and which the local feral psittaciformes and cacatuoidea are fully capable of mimicking from a tree outside your window at sunrise!).  None of that.

Here it’s horns. All sounding off at more or less the same time.  From the first hint of dawn until late into the darkest parts of the night
.
Trucks, buses, taxis, bicycles (!) motorcycles and millions of private commuter cars.  Parps, beeps and blats, blares, brays, hoots and toots, chimes, tingles and of course, honks.   At the clotted intersection in front of Jilin University, along the broad boulevards of Gu Gui Street, on the massive freeways, and even on the narrow quiet side street that backs onto the foreign teachers’ residence where we live, someone is sounding off in their vehicle.

I say someone, but in actuality it is everyone. Demure petit shop girls, burly bus drivers, business women and men, delivery drivers, students, kids on bikes, street sweepers with strange little three-wheeled carts, and venerable seniors ferrying precious grandchildren to school (the Chinese equivalent of soccer moms): they are leaning on whatever noisemaker the automotive gods have seen fit to provide. 

But why are they going on like this?  Is Chinese traffic really dangerous? Might there be some sort of previously undiscovered mass road-rage epidemic?

No. In fact, it seems that there are as many reasons to sound a horn in China as there are Chinese in vehicles to do so.  Taxis, for instance, honk whenever they see pedestrians in order to give side walkers an opportunity to flag a cab.   Bus drivers are telling customers at stops that yes, they have been seen and the bus will indeed stop. Motorcycles are letting you know that they have slipped between lanes and now is not a good time to turn right. Everyone everywhere is communicating constantly, letting everyone else know where they are, and acknowledging the presence of the others.

A possible exception to the above might be the venerable seniors, whose primary purpose in sounding off seems mainly to delight the aforementioned grandchildren.

All of this is quite annoying at first. It is hard to maintain a state of inner peace (or even moderate digestion) when one is continually startled by a sudden blast coming from behind. The heart lurches, a quick involuntary inhalation, the stomach tightens, teeth clench and adrenalin bursts forth in a systolic surge.  Why the hell, one wonders, can’t all these people just get on with the mundane business of going from A to B without the infernal racket? 

Wrong question.  Back home in the overdeveloped world, traffic has lost its essential interactivity and connection.  Chinese traffic noise is vivacious: the sounds of Gershwin and the Roaring Twenties performed in real time and real life on the streets and byways of daily life.  The minor thirds, counter rhythms, syncopations and leit motifs of the city are a rhapsody of colours – not just blue, but reds and gold too – performed enthusiastically by its citizens against a backdrop of life, action, and yes, a whole world of sound.

And like any other music, the song of the city begins and ends in silence.  In the late hours of the night, in the heart of the city, quiet does return. Nothing can be heard but the crickets.  Everyone shares the brief cessation. Lights will be on in the residential tower across the way, police, first responders, and those people of the night who have kept this civilization going for over two thousand years are all out and going about their business. But there are no horns, no sirens. The air is still.
Then light returns, and with it the chorus of exuberant life.





 space of quiet,

(When)

1 comment:

  1. Hi Liz:
    Now that summer is ending, I am catching up on my blog reading. Sounds awesome!
    Really, I am procrastinating! Now that I am up-to-date with you and other friends, I will get to work.
    Enjoy and keep the blogs coming......
    S.

    ReplyDelete