Josef Integrated Centre

Though more students feel heartbroken than satisfied at the results of their College Entrance Examination each year in China, it might be still the only fair competition for the whole life of ordinary people.

The College Entrance Examination in China is held on June 6^th and 7^th, just on the same day of the D-Day. For many Chinese students, the exam is no less important than their D-days, and many feel led-down and disappointed rather than being landed on their ideal universities. For myself, the result of the exam was a bitter ending of my high school years; but rethinking at the process of preparation, it is quite an unforgettable experience which I have invested all of my energy in order to produce the best result.

To explain how the College Entrance Examination works is itself an intricate effort. It has not changed much since I took it in 2004, with Chinese, Mathematics, and English are the three main subjects for everyone. On this basis, each student has one choice amongst seven subjects (the so-called X subject) as a preparation for his or her major study in university in the future: chemistry, physics, biology, politics (doctrines of Leninism and Maoism), history, geography, and Advanced English. But what makes matters complicated is that there is also a “comprehensive test” as the fifth subject after Chinese, Mathematics, English and the “X” subject. The “comprehensive test” covers knowledge of all alternatives of the X-subject, but the difficulties of the questions are not so big as those in the X-subject papers. In other words, a students who takes College Entrance Examination has to prepare for Chinese, Mathematics, English, Politics, History, Chemistry, Physics, Biology, and Geography; nevertheless, Chinese, Mathematics and English are equally difficult for everyone, while each student specifies on one X-subject but at the same time have some basic knowledge about the other X-subjects that he decides not to specify on.

When I prepared for the College Entrance Examination, all the students were trained to possess virtuosities by the teachers. One impressive example was my physics teacher, who had been retired already but the school employed him again because no other physics teachers had the same authority as his. He was a strict teacher who scolded students and got irritated easily if his students did not reach his demands. As a typical perfectionist, he not only scared his students, but also his colleagues, because he used to be most of the young teachers’ headmaster. With an imperial air around his high forehead, he walked around the corridors and declared who were his unfavourites. He even declared which subjects were inferior. “Only those who study physics worth being paid attention to by the school authority. Physics students will become engineers and will earn big money. Those who have no talent in physics should be all sent to study liberal arts,” he once declared in front of our class. At that time, however, he was worshiped by a lot of students, whom he would rank as “inferior”, including me. For a long time, many students, including me, believed that he was rude to us because he could not find a better way to make us study harder, and he did have his own charisma. He could be cheerful sometimes and his Cantonese jokes did make me laugh. But still, my physics was poor and I never managed to follow the tips he taught us to produce virtuosity in solving physical problems. He was a master of playing skills with physical calculations, conjuring with data, making one group of numbers disappear and the other turn into three groups without difficulties. It was the idea of “skill” that he and his colleagues that were always hoping us to accept and install into our minds.

Well, generally speaking, I had difficulties in fully understanding the tricks and virtuosities in solving mathematical, chemical or physical problems. Maybe I preferred to understand the concepts of these subjects, instead of being trapped for hours by different whimsical formula. I confessed that I was dragged behind by these natural science subjects and it became a headache problem even since the first year. Because my high school was supposed to train elite students with extra skills that students from other schools could never learn and I was never an elite on natural science, therefore my schedule was always slower than the other students. I merely managed to pass mathematics because my mathematics teacher was patient enough to tell me how to unlock those problems repeatedly and I promised her to spend at least two hours on mathematics each day. Later, both of us developed into a kind of realisation after researching the mathematical papers in previous years, that these papers all followed certain routes: for example, the first question had been always about linear algebra since 1996, and so the second, the third, and all the other questions had always been asking the same problems for years, only with slight modifications. So we deduced that the structure of the paper would not change dramatically in one year, and to pass the exam only needed to get familiar with the way of solving the typical models proposed by the questions. To fully understand any fundamental concepts in mathematics seemed meaningless for me then, and I finally realised what those virtuosities eventually were: to get accustomed to the typical models that the papers presented each year and make sure to remember those procedures when solving problems.

It was quite like a justice-for-revenge story that my mathematics teacher was promoted to be the prime leader for the other mathematics teachers because of the fact that she saved a lot of students who were supposed to fail mathematics, while the physics teacher ended up in hospital for a heart surgery because he was too irritated to hear that 60% of his hand-pick physics elites failed the exam. Until now I still have no idea how this could happen and I still admire his dedication in training his students, but I will never accept his whole version of judging young men and other branches of knowledge.

Back to the topic of my preparation for the College Entrance Exam, I would rather say that my efforts were mostly invested in promoting English and saving my dying mathematics. I had so much more enthusiasm on English, and my English skills were higher than average of my classmates. Pay attention to my word “skill” that I trained myself in the same way of how natural sciences teachers trained us: to boast yourself with virtuosity, experimenting with the rarest words and the most intricate sentence forms. Later, I even cultivated a sort of sympathy or affinity for those classical musicians, who were supposed to train themselves with perfect skills and techniques. I gradually believed that it was a privilege to obtain some kind of skills that were better than the people around me, and such idea still persists till today.

An excursion in Bun-tong area in Canton in order to find Royal Garden back to the 6th century

The Bun-tong area in Canton, was formerly the marsh land outside the western gate of the then tiny downtown. The complicated network of tributaries of Pearl River made it extremely easy for fisheries, fruits planting and boat excursions. The muddy banks of the tributaries were also convenient for local farmers to nourish tuber plants that needed adequate water to sustain. One famous product was water chestnut, which could be directly eaten, or grinded into powder and then made into steamed cakes.

As early as around 550 A.D., when China was split into two by civil war (as it was always split in its five thousand years of history), the Emperor of the Southern Kingdom chose Canton for his headquarter and settled his imperial residence in Bun-tong area. At that time the place was still not called “Bun-tong” (“Tong” is a Cantonese pronunciation of “ponds”), but water was adequate enough to build ponds in gardens, in which some water plants were kept, such as lotus, water chestnuts, and water caltrops.

The old Bun-tong: how it should look like in the old days

Nowadays the Emperor’s royal garden exists no more, nor do many ponds in the nearby are quite known amongst modern people, but the name “Bun-tong” still remains, and local people still regard the water chestnut powder there the best they can find.

Two weeks ago, I had an excursion around the area, in order to discover where the royal garden might have been located. Though “excursion” might not suit the purpose of historical survey, still I did gain some knowledge on the history of Canton, without losing enjoyment on what I have seen.

I started my survey in Enning Road, the road that aroused controversy when the government announced to demolish it in 2006, but indignant protests from local people and historians halted the plan. I entered a small lane, the “Tsoeng Hwa Da Gai”, which I was told was the entrance to the wreckage of the royal garden.

Inside the entrance, it was a complicated network of small lanes, where tiny brick houses under banyan trees were standing close to each other. It was comfortable, however, to walk under the shades of hundred-year-old trees, listening to Cantonese locals talking to each other. Each lane was so long that it would never end, and the aura was so different that it belonged to its own world; it was not like the city that I had always seen as before.

The water chestnuts planted in ponds of Bun-tong

Of course, after sauntering through all the lanes, I knew it was futile to find anything that was really related to the royal garden. Then I returned to the Enning Road, and walked towards the “Liwan Lake” Park. It was a park that contained a large pond, which was called “Liwan Lake”, and several traditional Cantonese restaurants were built around. On the pond, there were several lotus blossoms and leaves, with a fountain shooting water to all sides and several aged banyan trees providing shades above head. Though common sense told me that it could not be the pond in the royal garden, but I wished that it really was; and I believed that if the garden still existed today, it would look quite the same like this.

Slide show below is a chronicle of my excursion in Bun-tong area

I got off the bus on Long-tson Road which connects with Enning Road, and then I turned westwards...

...and saw this entrance of "Tsoeng Hwa Dai Kai", which was supposed to be the place where the royal garden used to be.

Small gardens were everywhere but no trace of royalty was found around.

These small gardens were left by wealthy merchants who settled around the area as late as 1910s.

Another building that was obviously built after 1910s, emulating western styles while keeping Chinese elements.

The entrance of another lane draw me further into the depth of old Canton.

Old people playing Majiang under the tree, and some others...

were chatting to each other at the corner.

A jar of soup was prepared for dinner.

Brick houses under the sun

People were still using woodbox for receiving letters.

A balcony in an old house: maybe perfect sight for a Cantonese version of "Romeo and Juliet"?

The exit of the lane and the entrance to another.

Some trees were very old indeed; the banyan trees provide much shade in the summer.

My excursion ended here, the "Liwan Lake". I rather believed that if the Royal Garden exists till today, it might look like this. That is enough. 

Two brilliant Italian tenors’ albums after Pavarotti’s death for two years

As Luciano Pavarotti passed away in 2007, it signalled an end to an era. The age of the grand opera stars who appeared on television advertisements and celebrity activities in mainstream media came to an end. Gone were also the pompous ways of presenting Italian folksongs with huge orchestra in an open air concert, in which the label “The Three Tenors” became worldly famous.

Italian tenors and Italian songs have always had close connections with mass media in the twentieth century, not just from Italy, but also from the United States. What we can observe about Italian songs and their relative products in China are all mass media products that are aimed at viewing Italian arts of singing from tourist perspectives. The earliest examples that I own are the Hollywood films which put famous Italian tenors, such as Beniamino Gigli, in an English context. In the film, Gigli as a typical Italian singer with a good voice, but was obviously foreign, freakish, exotic and unfit amongst the English-speaking people. Gigli looked so awkward but his voice was so beautiful that his English friends had to be careful in order not to hurt him, as if he was a delicate piece of artcraft.

Franco Corelli, Giuseppe di Stefano, and Luciano Pavarotti all follow the route of presenting folk songs in a pompous, traditional ways with a huge orchestra and a conductor, sometimes even with choir. They treat songs in the same ways as if singing operatic arias in La Scala, and the effect is dramatic and sublime, particularly near the ending.

Sometimes what I like about Italian songs, is the strong flavour of vernacularity and direct expression of emotions. To re-create the pictures of singers in Sicily or anywhere at the seaside or in the village with a huge orchestra is too much of an exaggeration, I think. Electric Sound is even worse for the vulgarity, as some cross-over or “new age” singers try to mix up classical style with pops. A new way of presenting Sicilian or Napolian folksongs in these few years however, is to use simple instruments and present the emotions in a more direct way, in order to reflect honestly the boisterous atmosphere and vernacularity in the most ordinary daily life in different places of Italy.

After the death of Pavarotti in 2007, there are two albums produced by a newer generation of tenors that really restore vernacular flavour into Italian folksongs. In 2008, the Italian-born tenor Roberto Alagna recorded an album of Sicilian folksongs. Personally, I think Alagna is a perfect lyrical tenor but a very bad operatic hero. I cannot imagine how it would be like if he does Aida (he did it in 2007 but was booed until he dropped the performance in La Scala) but I really enjoy his new album. In this album, he is accompanied by only a very small number of instruments, a few string instruments, flutes, a guitar and an accordion. Very different from conventional bel canto, Alagna freely expresses emotions in the songs sometimes in different naughty ways. It serves very well the images of Italian lifestyle that tourists always expect to see, that they are enthusiastic, emotional, boisterous and sometimes sexy under Mediterranean sun.

Another album that have similar effect is Andrea Bocelli’s “Incanto”, a collection of famous songs in Italy and Spain. One slight difference in this album from Alagna’s is that Bocelli is still accompanied by a huge orchestra. But this is indeed a new interpretation and a look-back at the old ways of presenting folksongs from a different approach. The old way of presenting folksongs creates a feeling of impact, distance and stun, but Bocelli is obviously trying to add warmth and feeling of nostalgia in his singing. The darting tempo of the orchestra sounds more lovely and childlike than stunning, and the soft tone of Bocelli’s singing seems to bring people back to an old world of black and white photos, in which Maria Callas is an elegant lady with her late-1960s poshness, instead of an imposing prima dona. All the heaviness is gone, and the memory of those golden days become as warm and soft as the afternoon sunlight in the back garden.

The Wealthiest Tycoon of the World in 1980s was from Canton

In 2001, the American newspaper “Wall Street Journal” issued a quarterly for the “Fifty Wealthiest Persons in the Past 1000 Years”. The list included Ngu Binggam, a businessman from Canton. His property is estimated to be around 26 million silver yuan, making him the wealthiest person in the whole world in the late 18^th century and the early 19^th century.

The 1769-born Cantonese businessman Ngu Binggam aggravated wealth when Canton was one of the few coastal city that was allowed for foreign trades. At the same time he offered loans for foreign businessmen in order to smoothen trades. Gradually he became the biggest debt-holder of the East Indian Company of Britain. His business tentacles also reached the United States, where he had investments in railways, stock exchanges and insurance.

European traders in the 19th century always looked for tea leaves in China. People in Canton sold them in a brick-like package.

When he was still a young man，Ngu Binggam led three business tours to Philippine; that was his first successful experience. Because of Macao as a colony of Portugal, Ngu took Portuguese as his first foreign language.

Ngu and other Cantonese businessmen resided at the western gate of the city, and these businessmen also built banks, clinics, restaurants and facilities to accommodate foreign traders. Because there were thirteen most powerful business families in Canton, so the western rural area of Canton outside its gate was also called “Thirteen Banks”. Of course, these bankers’ private gardens were also very nearby. It was said that those spectacular private gardens became the symbol of Chinese businessmen’s wealth and luxurious lifestyle in the eyes of foreign visitors. An American businessman accounted that local business tycoons liked keeping different rare birds and flowers in their gardens.

Porcelain as items for sale in Canton in the 19th century

After the Opium War ended in 1842, The Ngu family and the other Cantonese businessmen suffered from severe loss, since the policy of Canton as the only place for foreign trade was forced to be abandoned by the Nanjing Treaty signed with Britain.

One year before Ngu’s death, he told one of his American friends, J.P. Cushing that he wanted to move all his business to the United States because he had the feeling that more disasters would come to China. But his death one year later halted his plan when he was seventy-four years old. Thirteen years later, the whole area of Thirteen Banks was totally ruined in another military invasion of Britain and France.

An old tree in the western part of Canton downtown will give modern visitors some impression about how Cantonese garden was like in the 19th century for those wealthy merchants.

For those classical music lovers whose specialities are not on musical history studies, it seems to be pointless to keep so many “anniversaries” in minds. Most of those “anniversaries” are either exploited by music companies, or taken as business opportunities of local tourist interests, such as the Mozart candies in Salzburg. Well, the only reason for remembering anniversaries of musicians’ death and birth, I think, is to pay tribute to the great musician, who has contribution to the history of music that has profound influence.

For many British audience, they regard Handel’s music as a part of the British classical music; particularly in royal circumstances, Handel’s music serves many ceremonial functions. Compared with another composer Josef Haydn, whose 200^th death anniversary will also be observed, Handel is more melodious, more glamorous and more pompous. If Haydn can be regarded as a queit and courteous Kapelle, whose works are mainly concentrated on symphonies with perfect structure, then Handel is a wordly royal entertainer, many of whose works are composed for pompous and magnificent circumstances.

For joyous occasion, I would recommend his “Music for the Royal Fireworks”, which is a work for Britain’s military victory in Europe. The first movement already is a hysteric burst of festive emotion, and the rest of the movements display tranquillity and mightiness. Another example to display glamour in Handel’s music is his harp concerto. What people want to know what “sweet music” is, then they need to try this piece. It is a balanced piece of music between the harp solo and the string orchestra, lovely enough to attract those who have no patience to finish any other works of classical music.

 Such is a short tribute to the great composer, an adequate means to observe the anniversary as an amateur listener. Great music does not really need special date to remind people around. Such as Handel’s.