Eling park.
Brian Hennessy. China Australia Consult. 2004
Eling Park was created toward the end of the Qing Dynasty, before the overthrow of the last emperor, Pu Yi. During the anti-Japanese war the government of China relocated to Chongqing, and these grounds housed the embassies of Australia, Denmark, Turkey, the UK, and the USA. Deng Xiao Ping, Zhang Zemin, and other old Party men have visited this place.
Eling park (Gongyuan)
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Eling Park was created toward the end of the Qing Dynasty, before the overthrow of the last emperor, Pu Yi. During the anti-Japanese war the government of China relocated to Chongqing, and these grounds housed the embassies of Australia, Denmark, Turkey, the UK, and the USA. Deng Xiao Ping supported this park, Zhang Zemin visited, as did Hu Yaobang, Li Peng, and other old Party men.
Nowadays, Erling Park is a peoples centre for culture, featuring pottery the arts and crafts. It is also a haven for musicians. It is a favourite place of mine. Situated on the top of a ridge about 360 metres high in the narrowest part of the Yuzhong peninsula, it rises aloof from noisy Chongqing, an oasis of green in a sea of grey brown. Two rivers pass by on either side; the Changjiang (Yangtze) and the Jialingjiang, as they flow toward their junction at the end of the peninsula at Chaotianmen, Chongqing's river port.
A small group of western tourists is herded by guides through the elaborate winding corridors , past the flowers, the ancient trees, the old embassies, and the quiet corners protecting traditional Chinese gardens. Photographing everything that moves, and missing everything that is important as they hustle quickly through exotica. Next stop Chaotianmen where they will board their vessel for a trip through San Xia (the three gorges) to Yichang where they will catch a flight to Shanghai and disappear forever.
I am lucky. I live here ("Wode jia zai Chongqing"). I can take my time. I can see everything. I can return next weekend if I want to. And I can stop and prop when I stumble upon something wonderfully Chinese. Take last weekend for example. I heard it before I saw it. Amateur rather than professional, and that is what enticed me. Traditional music being played by local people. I recognised a couple of the tunes.
And there they were: workers, laid-off workers, retirees, and their friends. Passers-by who didn't, the curious, the bored, and young mothers with child. One old guy in a wheelchair. Chongqing residents, making music, singing, dancing, watching. Passing time.
No 'artists' here, ordinary folk. Enjoying a reprise of the old days for a few hours on a Saturday afternoon. A popular song from Mongolia, another from Xizang (Tibet). Some from the Cultural Revolution days. A hint of nostalgia perhaps, when one had something greater than oneself to believe in.
Nowadays the religion is capitalism. Although these guys might believe in this new religion, they can't participate in it. No capital. So they are still workers. Workers under the previous regime, or workers under the present free-for-all, their lives are the same. They do the work. Then they retire.
That's why these guys are here today. Occupying their time in a constructive, cultural, and patriotic way. Some ladies dance a waltz. Others, young again for a few hours, live the dream of a socialist future. Eyes fixed on a horizon somewhere over there that I can't see. A false look of ecstasy on faces that have seen better days. Smiles that are sadly counterfeit. Are they remembering a time long gone? Or are they still dreaming of a workers paradise to come? Perhaps this is all that they have now, dreams…
The men are more circumspect. No, that's not correct. More honest in their grimness. Is this a cultural thing or is it learned via a hard life? Whether playing music, watching from the sidelines, or tuning out, they show no emotion. Buggered if I can tell why. Maybe they are used to appearing invisible, a contradiction in terms I know. However, if I nod hello, I usually get a nod back. Sometimes with a smile.
A grandma, her daughter, and her granddaughter arrive. A contented trio. A conversation in English with the pretty young lady in the pink dress. Approval and pride on mum's face, joy on grandma's. A big smile for me from the youngster.
Ah…I say to myself, I like these people. Simple, direct, warm-hearted, and poor but generous folk. I know them well now. You can meet them anywhere in the world these days, living in similar circumstances. A kind of super-culture as opposed to a sub-culture. Globalised marginalisation. Another contradiction.
I stayed for two hours. Tapping my foot to the beat, humming the tunes I recognised, and chatting to folks who smiled or said hello. What a precious experience. You can't photograph that!
