The Master Plan

So, Mr Bond, we meet at last.

The time has come for me to reveal (to those of you who didn’t hear about this before we left Edinburgh) our Grand Project for Harbin, to which I alluded in my previous post.

Viz: to bring ceilidh dancing, and Scottish/Celtic traditional music in general, to China, and turn Harbin into the Ceilidh Capital of the East, with the ultimate aim of having a Celtic music festival along the lines of a mini Celtic Connections, here. Anyone who doesn’t know what a ceilidh is, please click here. Please note it is NOT the same as Scottish Country Dancing.

We call this Operation Ceilidh Culture (name shamelessly pinched from Edinburgh’s own small annual traditional music event – sorry guys. It’s a only working title!)

Why? Because it sounds crazy enough for us to try it; because Peter never got a chance to start his ceilidh band before we left Scotland; and because God knows the Chinese desperately need an injection of some kind of quality music, if the trash that we hear on our built-in shower radio (yes, that’s right) or piped blaringly loudly out into the street outside shopping centres is anything to go by. Frankly, it’s Eurovision-style pop of the cheesiest kind, and much though you know I love Eurovision, they really need to be educated on the musical front. Plus Peter has a theory that the pentatonic scale is the same as the range of chords used in most Irish tunes (or something) so therefore the Chinese ear is predisposed to like that kind of music.

And hey, if it fails there’s always my backup plan, which is – on the strength of the above – to bring Eurovision to China instead. It’s broadcast in Vietnam and Korea, apparently, so why not here? I’m thinking of writing to Sir Terry, now that he’s become disillusioned with European political voting in ‘our’ contest, and suggesting he expand his horizons. Why not an Asiavision Song Contest? Bad music and nationalism combined – it sounds right up China’s street!

But I digress. How do we intend to bring our project to fruition? Well, it pans out like this.

Peter’s original plan was to find some fellow musicians and start a ceilidh band. All he really needs is a keyboard player, someone with a rhythm machine of some sort (both of whom could be Chinese), and either a guitarist – in which case Peter could play the melody line on the flute – or, preferably, a fiddler (who would probably have to be an expat) so that Peter can play guitar or mandolin instead. I could probably even manage to learn a few simple tunes on the accordion.

But to have a ceilidh we needed to find some willing guinea-pigs for the dancing. We were stuck as to how to go about this, until we met Magi. As I mentioned, he is something big at one of the universities, and as a teacher of English he is very keen for his students to learn about British culture as well as the language. It also transpires that he is a bit of a Scotophile, has visited Scotland (even staying in the same hostel on Skye where we went on our choir tour in 2006), and is interested in Scottish music. When Peter mentioned his ceilidh band plan to him, Magi became very excited.

‘You provide the music’, he said, ‘and I will provide six thousand students!’

Sorted. The Chinese seem to love doing strenuous organised activities in large groups, particularly if they can be shouted at while doing it - and none more so than young people still in the education system who have known nothing else all their lives – so ceilidh dancing should suit them down to the ground. We just tell them everyone in Britain does this every week. They don’t need to know it’s a purely minority interest confined to Scottish people, and mainly those over 40. And once the blokes realise that they not only get to touch girls but that the girls can ask them to dance, we should be on to a winner. Six thousand of them might be a bit much, but hey, why aim low? Now THAT's a big Strip the Willow.

So, to recap.

One: get Magi to organise his students to come to a ceilidh at the university. How he pitches this is entirely up to him. If he wants to give them course credits for it, that’s fine by us. We’ll need a Chinese person with a loud voice, a good memory and a sense of rhythm to learn the steps and then call them in Chinese. Maybe they could do simultaneous translation as someone (who by a process of elimination I’ve just realised would probably have to be me – argh – I only know two dances!) calls in English. As we won’t have a band ready in time, we use Scottish CDs, of which we have many. Chinese students dance the night away enthusiastically. THEY WILL LOVE IT.

Two: meanwhile, we find out where the expats hang out, and advertise both there and at the university for musicians to join a band to play Scottish and Irish music. If a couple of Chinese musicians come along and learn the tunes, so much the better. THEY WILL LOVE IT.

Three: building on the success of the inaugural ceilidh, we make these a regular event at the uni. Ok so maybe ALL 6000 students don’t have to come EVERY time. But those who do will LOVE IT. Once the band is formed and has got a repertoire together, we replace the CDs with live music, and then everyone will LOVE IT EVEN MORE.

Four: word gradually spreads about this new dance sensation, leading to ceilidhs (small ones at first) being held in the city for people other than students. We will have laid the groundwork for this by teaching a few friends some ceilidh dances at our parties (see previous post) whenever we have the chance. Soon Scottish music and ceilidh dancing become a craze in Harbin. This curious new development attracts national attention. Harbin becomes known as ‘The Scottish City’. We are featured on CCTV News. People flock from all over China to sample the exciting new cultural experience. THEY ALL LOVE IT.

Five: since everybody in Harbin now LOVES Scottish music so much, we decide it’s time some real Celtic musicians came over to do a concert. We find out how one goes about raising money for such an event in China, we get the money (ok so this part of the plan isn’t quite thought through yet!), and approach some of the stars of the traditional music scene to come over. We reckon Aly and Phil may be slightly out of our league at this stage (though boys, if you’re reading this, we’re huge fans, and any time you feel like waiving your fee in return for the trip of a lifetime, the invitation’s there!), but maybe some of the younger generation might be up for it. If we could get Jenna Reid, that would be fab. Or one of the big ceilidh bands like Shooglenifty. Although more of them, so more expenses.

Six: back home in Scotland, Aly Bain turns on the news one day and sees a piece about two Brits who have brought Scottish music to the northernmost reaches of China. He phones Jenna (or whoever), who says, ‘Oh aye, I went to play there. It was great. Those guys in Harbin LOVE Scottish music. You should see them ceilidh!’ Aly gets our number and calls us. When we’ve finished saying ‘We are not worthy’, we discuss our plans for a major Celtic music festival in Harbin – perhaps every two years. No need to be over-ambitious.

‘The trouble is, Mr Bain,’ we say, ‘it’ll be very expensive and we don’t know how we can raise the cash’.

‘Leave it with me, pal’, says Aly. [Not sure if Shetlanders say ‘pal’, but you get the picture.]

Seven: in 2011, the first ‘Celtic Connections East’ - no, let's call it 'Celtic Connections China'; better logo potential - festival is held in Harbin. We have had to use our contacts to get Harbin airport to start running international flights to places other than Vladivostock just for the occasion. Everybody LOVES IT, it is a resounding success, and the 2013 one is bigger than ever. Harbin is the Ceilidh Capital of the East. We become slightly rich, and have changed the face of modern China forever.

…..

WHAT?????

It could happen.

A man called Maggie

My faith is restored. Not quite yet in international removers, who still have our 19 sea freight boxes SOMEWHERE between Dalian and here (we think) but in humanity and Harbin.

Last night I heard a loud noise from outside and looked out to see a large number of fireworks being let off from somewhere nearby. Now, it has to be said the Chinese do like their fireworks, but seeing as it was Nov 5th I like to think it was either some Brits – which means there ARE some others here, and not far off at that – or else it was some Americans celebrating the Obama win. Either way, it’s all good.

So, we’ve decided to have a party, as a flatwarming and celebration of getting our residency and such like. Well, to tell the truth we decided to have one a couple of weeks ago, and had even sent out the invitations to a ‘Hallowe’en Flatwarming’ to be held on Nov 1st. But then those mice & men intervened as usual, we had our little hospital drama and were going to postpone it until this Saturday. Unfortunately though Peter’s still not really up to prancing around the lounge doing the Gay Gordons (more next time on this) so we have rescheduled it to the last Saturday of this month, or first Sat of December, depending on when Boss is around.

The guest list, albeit short, reads unlike any other I have ever compiled, for one simple reason. Chinese names. Or to be more precise, the English names which Chinese people adopt for themselves when they start to learn English, and use for the rest of their lives whenever dealing with westerners, on the (probably correct) assumption that most westerners will find their real names too hard to pronounce. You know the kind of thing – Jackie Chan, Jimmy Chung. It’s a sensible idea, although a rather strange concept that you could conceivably work closely with someone for years without ever finding out what their real name is.

The trouble is that the names they choose are so – well – I’m trying to be charitable here; let’s face it, if I was asked to choose a Chinese name at random ‘from a book’ (which is seemingly where they get the English ones from, Manuel-style), I’m sure I’d inadvertently come up with something that meant ‘Rotten Lotus-Flower Breath’ or ‘Number One Puppy Mutilator’ or some such thing. But still, you’d think that this book, whatever it is, would give them SOME indication as to whether the name is popular/old-fashioned, male/female, likely to make westerners crack up, or is, indeed, a name at all. But no. Perhaps it was written by someone with a particularly mean streak who wanted to humiliate Chinese people.

Most of the names have two syllables, presumably because Chinese given names have two syllables so this sounds right to them. Men seem to favour patrician names which make them sound like New England landowners: Simon, Roger, Henry, or the surname-as-first-name variety such as Schofield or Hunter. (Though I did see a hotel lift attendant called Elton, which made me smile). For the women, the choice seems to be between wife-of-New-England-patriarch (Lily, Julia, Serena), or a whole catalogue of shockingly twee monikers which would befit the waitresses in a dodgy cocktail bar or a range of 1970s dolls. Candy and Wendy are extremely popular, but we’ve encountered Coco, Calyx and even Fairy.

Thus, my invitation list (in part) reads as follows: Kevin, Wildon, Tiffany, Eileen, Hunter, Sunny, and Magi.

It’s like living in The Great Gatsby. In a gender-confused kind of way. Sunny, you see, is a girl. And Magi (that’s as in Thatcher) is a man.

Some of you have heard this story before but I think it bears the retelling. This poor chap, who’s something quite important at one of the universities in Harbin, at the time he was choosing his English name, came across a reference in an art book to The Adoration of the Magi, where it said that ‘Magi’ meant ‘a wise man from the East’.

‘Ah, a wise man from the East,’ thinks he. ‘That is me.’ So that was the name he chose. Sadly no one told him the correct pronunciation, so for years he’s been handing his business card to people with the name ‘Magi’ on it and saying ‘Call me Maggie’.

He has since been disabused, as he told us, ‘When I first went to Australia, they were most disappointed that I was not young lady!’ but he still persists with it. You’d think – seeing as it’s not actually his real name and all – that he could change it. But it doesn’t seem to work like that.

So there you have it. The idea with the party is that one of the guys will bring his English teacher, thereby enabling us to meet some other expats here at last, and that Magi (who teaches English and has lots of native-speakers on his staff) will be the catalyst in our plan to turn Harbin into the Ceilidh Capital of the East.

Tune in next time….