KTV

In Oracle Bones, Peter Hessler’s second book about living and working in modern China, one of the author’s best students writes to him and asks several questions. The first is “What does KTV stand for?”

It’s a good question, but I think the student is really the teacher on this one. I think any Chinese person knows more about KTV than most Americans. An American can say is what the letters stand for in English, but simply saying Karaoke Television is not enough to explain what KTV really is. To begin with KTV is no one thing that is the same wherever you go in China. But KTV is wherever you go in China, at least in the Shenyang region. Some KTV is on an imperial scale, bombastic with glittering chandeliers, plush carpets, and mirror-encrusted stairways.

Other KTV joints are dank, sticky-floored places that have rooms up dirty flights of stairs that under normal circumstances would so fill you with forebodings of unhealthy and criminal behavior that you wouldn’t climb them unless you were on a mission to save some innocent from their misguided fall into drug-induced human trafficking. They’re that bad.

The area around school has three KTVs that I know of. I’ve been to two of them. They are closer to the latter extreme than the former, but even these two have some differences.

Place 1: Several SPA teachers have musical skills and interests. When they found out about KTV they immediately planned an outing. One of our Chinese staff members helped us with the “how-does-this-all-work” details and we were off and running. The way it worked was like this, for 200 rmb (about $30) we got two hours in a room big enough for 10 people, with 6 big bottles of beer, non-alcoholic wine, and snacks. The room had a console for choosing songs, a big screen for projecting the videos and lyrics, and an assortment of lights that filled the room with patterns and designs disco-style. The microphones were wireless and at some point one of the proprietors came in and gave one of teachers some flowers. After two hours of son et lumiere we couldn’t call it quits. Additional half hours were 50 rmb, drinks and food were pay as you go. We stayed another hour. John did The Gambler for the first time in China. Kelly did a powerful Alannis Morrisette song. Maggie did anything she wanted to and did it well. Jackie tackled Respect and I led a rousing rendition of Ramblin’ Man.

A week or so later we went back.

This time Place 1 was full. We decided to investigate Place 2.

Place 2: From the outside there was little to distinguish Place 2 from Place 1. They both had the standard LED-lit façade that is the hallmark of KTV. Both had the open door, the front counter, and the hall leading back to the karaoke rooms. Place 2 had a cluster of young people at the counter and they turned and offered us the traditional “hello.” As we stammered through our opening “how much?” and “how long?” questions, a chubby gal detached herself from the others and, with energetic smiles, waves, and other universal signs of taking charge, led us down the hall and up two flights of stairs. Yes, these were the kind of stairs described above; the kind of stairs that exist in the nighttowns of every city. Even though we all felt a collective shudder as we followed our hostess, our number and our refusal to back down filled us with a jokey bravado--“Would this be a ‘special’ karaoke?” “Did you see something in that last room we just passed?” At last we arrived at a stuffy room on the third floor. For the same price as Place 1 we got a room with no lighting effects, a floor that hadn’t felt the touch of a mop in many a month, microphones on cords, no food or drink included, and a fraction of the song selection found at Place 1. Nonetheless we managed have a blast. Jackie reprised Respect. John tackled The Gambler again. Kelly and Maggie sang the lights out of any song they chose. We had employees of the establishment peering in the door window at us as we tore our way through another three hours of songs and beers. On the way home we joked about how the Mongolian Grill could be our spot for post-party food, the Shenyang equivalent of an IHOP.

About a week later I was walking back from a shopping errand when I heard a “Hello” from a doorway. One of the young men from KTV Place 1 was greeting me. I decided to follow up. With drawing and acting I managed to convey that we’d like to return to his establishment that Friday. I think he understood and was even promising to hold a room for us. I got his business card and asked one of the Chinese staff at school to confirm our arrangement the next day. Jessie No Guo called and spoke to Place 1’s owner. They would reserve a room for us for 9:00 pm, but it would be wise to confirm the reservation Friday afternoon. It is not normal practice here for people to reserve KTV rooms.

Come Friday all worked out well. We even had some newbies join us. Naima easily handled everything from Michael Jackson to the Eagles. John repeated his dominance of The Gambler. It’s getting so that no KTV outing is complete without that Kenny Rogers gem. I did an homage to John Slattery by performing King of the Road. The best performance however, was Amos’ umbrella assisted dance to accompany Abba’s Dancing Queen.

I never appreciated those Swedish popsters so much. Meanwhile Tescha discovered that the non-alcoholic wine made a passable mixer for the commie booze that could be bought next door. I didn’t try it but those that did said its faint pineapple flavor was reminiscent of some SpongeBob Squarepants concoction. Poor Andy overdid it a bit and regretted it the next day when the van’s bumping and weaving on the trip into town forced him to spend a good part of the ride with his head out the window.

Now how can you fully answer the question, “What does KTV mean in English?”

First week (8/2 - 8/8)

Eating Out

On Monday, 8/2 Jackie and I head out to lunch with Amos and Kristine, John and Maggie, Justin and Holly, Douglas, Kelly, Nate, and Naima. None of us speaks Chinese. The gatehouse guard is nice enough to escort us down the street to a restaurant close by that he recommends. The proprietors usher us to a room upstairs big enough to accommodate all of us. We sit down and the fun begins. We can’t read the menu. The waitress can’t speak English. She goes for help. We dig into our bags for our dictionaries (three eventually get produced). The waitress returns with one, then two, other waitresses. Some of us are vegetarians. How do you say that in Chinese? Some of us don’t eat pork. How do we know if a dish has pork or not? As the process of ordering food drags on, some of the Americans groan in frustration while the doorway to the room fills with restaurant workers until we peak at six staffers present. It seems everyone at work today wants to watch the drama unfold. Someone brings a case of beer and eventually lunch is ordered. What arrives is not exactly what people expected, but most of it is very tasty and gets eaten. We finish the beer of course.

Other dining out experiences are similar. In nearly every one the Chinese restaurant staff try to be very helpful and usually enlist the support of as many co-workers as possible. Some places have pictures on the wall or on their menus. We like that. At least the pictures give us an idea of what we’re ordering.As often as not, though, the plate delivered is significantly different from the one illustrated. Jackie and I find group size affects the eating out process hugely. When we go by ourselves we can usually muddle through successfully. Anything over six or so people makes the whole thing a lot more complicated.

On 8/5 we meet the Canadians Jessica and Colin and their two little children. Colin works at a school nearby. Jessica has learned Chinese and translated the menus of two local restaurants. The “red pillar” restaurant becomes a favorite of many of the SPA American staff. Jessica said that they have dog meat on the menu, but no one has discovered it yet. The other restaurant specializes in noodles. They have yaks on their outside (right-hand side of the sign, below) and inside signs. No one has figured out why that is and Jessica and Colin are on vacation in Shanghai so we can’t ask them. My guess is that the restauranteurs have some Mongolian connection. To add to the confusion over this place, my school colleagues call this the "Muslim place". Why? I don't know.

Once Jackie and I decided to try the Korean bbq that some others have raved about. When we got there a young man who did not speak English but had some French-speaking ability served us. With that we were able to get “legumes” and “champignons” and were able to okay the “moutarde” in our salad. He demonstrated the more complicated parts of dining there—use of the grill, how to season the food, etc.

We have begun to cook at home more often. That has reduced the number of restaurant stories to tell but increased the number of grocery-shopping incidents in direct proportion. I’ll save that topic for another time. Our first home-cooked dinner (below) was grilled cheese sandwiches and wine. We've since made curry, different types of stir fries, and even a Zabar-style supper (olives, pecorino, ham, carrots, bread with garlic-infused olive oil to dip in, and, yes, wine).

First Posting (Aug. 18, 2010)

What to say? There have been so many experiences is our two weeks here. Overall this has been a confused, chaotic, and challenging new direction. We were met at the airport by Jessie (I call her Jessie no Guo to distinguish her from the other Jessie, Jessie Guo, who works for I.S.S. in their Shenzhen office. So, we came out of baggage claim at the Shenyang Airport with our backpacks and two checked bags each. Jessie no Gou, her friend, and the driver helped us load the bags into the van and then off we went. It was late--9:00 p.m. (the flight had been delayed a bit in Beijing) so we didn't see much. Night had fallen and all we could see was what the street lights and shop lights outside the van illuminated.

Even if we had full daylight, our minds were pretty fuzzy from the hours of travel. Seattle to Vancouver was about an hour and then we had another hour layover in Vancouver. The Vancouver to Beijing flight was 11 and half hours, plus another two hour layover in Beijing which stretched into two and a half hours. Finally, we had the hour flight from Beijing to Shenyang. So about 17 hours of travel combined with the time difference put our brains in a very strange place. That was the lens through which we saw Shenyang at first.

Some highlights: Three or four huge stadia/sports complexes that were built for the 2008 Olympics and which, according to Jessie no Guo, are not being used. She was not even sure what sports or activities the different structures were designed for. I know that some soccer games were played here. The driver thought that maybe some gymnastics and handball events were also held here.

We crossed the main river here. It's called the Hun He. He means river, I found out that Hun means mother. The river "gave birth" to Shenyang.

We drove through a very mysterious stretch of busy road that had a Nighttown feel to it. There were many people out and about. There were side of the road food vendors. The most popular street food in evidence was grilled skewers of different kinds of meat. There were also table groups of men both inside restaurants and outside by the vendors. The tables collect big green beer bottles as the night goes on. The wait staff don't clear the empties until the drinkers leave. It's easy to gauge how heavily the patrons have been hitting it just by glancing at the accumulation of bottles on their tables and even on the ground near by.

When we arrived at the school campus I noticed IV bags hanging from the branches of some trees. I wondered if there was some sort of strange sidewalk medical treatment going on. The next day I learned that they were really tree medicine. It doesn't seem to have worked; we have many dead trees which the workers later begin to cut down.

 The van pulled up to a building and we got out with our stuff. Jessie no Guo led us inside to apt. 112. We deposited our bags and looked around. Noise outside caught our attention. We went out and discovered John, Maggie, Kelly, and Justin and Holly all gathered in John and Maggie's apt. (#122). John, Maggie, and Kelly were familiar faces and it felt a bit more welcoming to have seen them. We knew we were at the right address at a minimum. We were so tired though that after a quick hello we went to our place and collapsed.

End of Day One