Beijing, 2006

International Connectivity the Way It Is Supposed to Be

Grant Kien
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

Qualitative Inquiry Volume XX Number X Month XXXX xx-xx 2008 Sage Publications 10.1177/1077800408321720 http://qix.sagepub.com hosted at http://online.sagepub.com

This essay exemplifies the methodology of Global Technography, combining elements of autoethnography, photo essay, and actor-network theory to trace performative elements of global citizenship and global community facilitated by wireless mobile communications technology in the context of contemporary China. The result is a documentation of intensely personal and private communications practices even in highly public environments. Likewise, the personal nature of experience is shown to constitute public spaces even as they confuse and disrupt them. Mobile hyper-interconnectivity inspires both absurd and reassuring performances of culture and intimacy, while the reality of everyday life at street level demonstrates the fragility of hyper-mediated global connectivity. Keywords: technology; performativity; cell phone; China

ts a bright Friday afternoon outside, but Im sitting in the dimly lit lounge of the SPR ka fai guan (coffee shop) in the basement of the Dong Yuan Plaza (Figure 1). The free wireless keeps me coming back, since its the closest hotspot I can find to the apartment Im subletting on the other side of the 2nd Ring Road from a fellow Canadian in Dou Bian Hutong. The lower level plaza services the two apartment towers that cast their wellknown outline on the Dong Zhi Men skyline. It seems that many Westerners live in this complex. I see them shopping as families in the grocery store across the hall (replete with Western foodstuffs such as a selection of cheese and even a western-style deli counter), working out in the little fitness center, and buying pirated DVDs in the little shop a few doors down. Interestingly, I never seem to see anyone at all in the Subway sandwich shop next door to SPR.

Authors Note: Please address correspondence to Grant Kien, 3022 Meiklejohn Hall, Hayward, CA 94542; e-mail: grantkien@uiuc.edu

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Figure 1 SPR Coffee Shop, Beijing. Free wireless Keeps Foreigners Coming Back

Im set up with my laptop at a table overlooking most of the other customers. Im chatting on MSN with my friend John. There is a black guy next to me. I wonder for a moment if he is American or African. He is busy at his own laptop. A group of five in the corner speak jovial Spanish, the setting providing a captive audience for their stereotypical performance of loud camaraderie. Apart from the young couple managing their music library on their laptop and mp3 player, the numerous Chinese seated at tables seem to be waiting for the start time of their various movies at the multiplex theater down the hall. I return my attention to the screen in front of me. John is spending the winter break from his studies at an Irish journalism college back in Seoul. As a fluent Korean speaker, he has been commissioned by his institution to promote the university in South Korea. However, I find out he and I have shared a similar misery right about the same time: gastritis. It seems our delicate Western constitutions require a harsh adjustment to the sanitary conditions in both cities. But were both on the mend by this point. how r things there? he types to me. good, better than last time I reply. why? he asks. things r more real this time, less mysterious, i can even take taxi and subway by myself now, I explain. In fact, in spite of my very limited vocabulary and gross mispronunciation, the smattering of Chinese I have learned does go a long way toward making me more comfortable. As I had explained to him earlier, unlike Japan and South Korea where many people

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are eager to practice their English, I really dont find much interest in learning foreign languages here. Without some basic Chinese, its very hard to survive. I go on to explain what I call type 1 and type 2 foreigners: i see 2 types of foreigners here, type 1 are people who have nothing better back home (mainly English teachers), type 2 are people who are here to make money and are really doing it (business people). I explain that the contrast is obvious in appearances and where and how foreigners live. I tell him its hard to meet the type 2 people. why? he types. they have families and dont go out as much or to the same obvious places as type 1, I reply. The chat turns to a discussion of one of his professors, who seems to relish in an anti-American bias in his History of Media lectures. John tells me in his lecture on the Internet, he told the class that the inventor of PGP (Pretty Good Privacy) e-mail encryption software was European and was arrested several years ago when he went through a U.S. airport, remaining in jail to the present. John tells me that the professor insinuated if people download PGP, particularly in China and the USA, they can expect to be investigated and/or arrested. He goes on to explain that he took it upon himself to do some follow-up research on the topic, and that PGP was actually invented almost a decade ago, so its not a new technology at all. The inventor is in fact an American who had been arrested as an activist on more than one occasion, but for completely unrelated reasons. In fact, the inventor travels frequently to participate in public forums about the Internet and piracy. John wants to confront his journalism professor with the gross inaccuracy of his information, in defense of journalistic integrity. Meanwhile, just to see if I could get it from inside of China, I have sourced and downloaded the PGP software to my computer, and consider whether I should install it. i just downloaded the software, should i install it? I ask. u got it just now? John asks. yeah, but I really dont have any use for it, dont want it taking up memory, I reply. my emails arent that important, i have nothing to hide. John replies, yeah, it would be funny to encrypt an email like i can puke out my ass, and they would spend all that time to decode it, just to find that message. I write, ha ha good one . . . can you really? On to the next topic. what u doing 4 new years? I type. waiting around 4 my gf he tells me. u? he asks. no definite plan yet, its not a big deal here, their new year is still 3 weeks away I write. We chat a while longer about various aspects of our

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daily lives, until I realize the time. I have to go to the shopping center down the street to pick up a receipt for a friend. We say Happy New Year to each other, and I sign out and pack up my laptop. I enter the shopping center through the busy side door, and approach the service desk straight ahead through the throng of people. I present a piece of paper to the female attendant. In addition to butchering the phrase Qing wen . . . Kai fa piao (make me a receipt please) a few times, I stupidly point to the Chinese text message my friend sent me as a way of explaining why Im there. I reply to all the attendants questions with a shake of the phone, and a mispronounced Zhe ge (this). Chinese is indeed an incredibly difficult language for the western phonetic pallet to negotiate. After a while, the patient attendant hands me the finished piece of paper. Xie xie (thank you) I say, and walk out the way I came. When I get back to my apartment, I habitually check my e-mail. At the top of my inbox is an e-mail from John. Hes gotten me invited to a New Years Eve party: Yo dawg, I got you set up. My friend in Beijing is having a party at her house tomorrow night. Along with the hosts name and phone number, and his assurance that I was invited and wont be a crasher, he tells me therell be people at the party from both type 1 and type 2 foreigners. Great! I call Sue, who I understand is somehow working with the Special Olympics committee. The party is in the SOHO complex, a group of about half a dozen or more luxury apartment towers in the booming Chaoyang business district. I put it out of my mind until the next day.

*****
New Years Eve is on a Saturday. In the afternoon, I take an hour or so to scour my neighborhood for a bottle of white wine, then take in a new Chinese movie that to my surprise is subtitled in Englishits obviously been made for the global market. Later in the evening, I head to SOHO. The SOHO complex is spaciously arranged, with different outdoor levels layered upon each other (Figure 2). There are basically all the amenities one might need, from restaurants to clothing to groceries. If ones office was across the road at the huge China World Business Center, this small area could reasonably constitute almost all of ones Beijing experience. The party turns out to be in a penthouse apartment on the top floor of a tower in the middle of the complex. It is already hopping when I arrive, a good crowd with a DJ playing an eclectic mix of contemporary music (Figure 3). It feels like it could be a party in any cosmopolitan city in the world . . . possibly, say, SOHO New York, or more intimately, downtown Toronto, where I

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threw so many similar parties myself. Just like my old 907 parties . . ., I think, referring to the Bloor/Ossington home I used to share with my brother. In my search for the host, Im surprised to find the apartment is full of Spanish speakers, who are mainly TV people. Is this really Beijing? I marvel. Sues roommate, Marco, is the talent for a Spanish-language educational program on the state-run CCTV, and his crew alone accounts for 30 bodies. I speak briefly with him in English and Spanish, and learn he is from Venezuela. He sets me up with a drink, tells me Sue is out for a few minutes, and darts off to be a good host. I find the atmosphere is exceptionally friendly; people are eager to talk. I surreally settle into a conversation in Spanish with a Chinese editor. I find something strange about suddenly conversing in Spanish with a Chinese citizen in Beijing; why is it any stranger than speaking with him in English? I put it out of my mind for the moment. I find out my new acquaintances niche job is probably the rest of his life path, as there really arent many opportunities for Spanish-speaking television productions in China. I suggest he might join the Communist party and become a diplomat to Latin America. He looks at me gravely and says, Si, yo he pensado en eso (Yes, Ive thought about that). Apparently, one doesnt contemplate joining the party lightly. The room is filling up more and more with late arrivals, well-dressed bodies starting to crowd upon each other like a happy, partying subway car. I guess there must be close to 120 people crammed into the room. About this time, the elusive hostess arrives, and I finally get to shake her hand and thank her for the invitation. She tells me politely that she knows John is a great guy, and shes happy I could make it. She asks how I know him, and I explain how we used to be neighbors in Toronto, and we went to the same university. I tell her that we just kept in contact, and that he and I worked in Korea at the same time for a while, and then I realize that although I could just keep on talking about this great friendship that Im so proud of, shes probably heard enough. She excuses herself after a minute to attend to hosting duties, and I wander around a bit. I talk to a Greek, an Italian, many Latin Americans, and even have a cryptic conversation in Chinese with another Chinese person: Wo shi jia na da ren . . . Zai yi li noi yi daxue wo xuexi . . . (Im Canadian . . . I study at University of Illinois . . .). Ive been learning about what its like for foreigners to live and work in Beijing. I learn that the glass ceiling immigrants in North America hit is an unapologetic feature of employment for foreigners in China. The alternative for three men I speak with has been to start their own businesses. When I ask one, a former Microsoft employee, how his interface design company has been working out for him, he answers grimly, Im not going to bullshit

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Figure 2 SOHO Beijing. A trendy luxury apartment complex in the heart of Beijings business district, directly across from the China World Trade Center.

you. . . . Its been hard. But this is a startup, so it can take some time. . . . You expect that. When the stroke of twelve comes, Im standing next to a Frenchman. He suddenly turns and orders me, Kiss me on the cheek to celebrate the New Year. . . . Im not gay, just kiss me though. So I perform the customary two cheek kiss with him, and we slap each other on the back in a time-honored show of acceptable manly affection. My cell phone rings a notification, and I read the Happy New Year text message that has just arrived from a friend in the city. After a quick reply, I step out into the hallway to make a call of my own, to my brother in Toronto. Hes not home, but I leave a Happy New Year message for him in spite of it being 12 hours too early for him. The midnight high is brief. Within the next half hour, there is an abrupt mass exodus of about 60% of the attendees. I gage the remainder, and surmise that if I stay beyond this point, Im committed to being one of the diehards, as it will be awkward to leave by myself at a later point with a more intimate group. I see most of the people staying are Latin Americans, and I know from past New Years party experience that means the party will go on

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Figure 3 New Years Party in SOHO, Beijing. An International Mixer Typical of Any Cosmopolitan City

at least until the sun comes up. I decide its a good time to make my break. As I gather my belongings, I happen upon Sue one more time. I thank her again for having me, and we chat lightly for a few minutes. I ask where shes from, assuming since she knows John that shes from Washington DC. Instead, she tells me she met John in Greece, and although she lived in the USA in a couple of different cities when she was younger, she is actually from Beijing. Totally a global experience, I reflect on the evening to myself. While leaving the party, I talk with a Chinese guy in English, strolling toward the taxi stand. He asks what I think about SOHO, and I say I like it, musing about how it reminds me of Tokyo. He smiles politely, and asks, Oh, so you know Tokyo? He tells me the architect is indeed Japanese. Very interesting, I reply with a pensive last look around the multileveled space. By now weve reached the taxi stand. We say good bye and Happy New Year, and I approach a middle-aged driver. Uh . . . Dong Su Shi Tiao, I say. He looks at me confusedly, as if Id just spoken English.

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Uh . . . Dong Zhi Men, I try. He looks at me like Im crazy, so I pull out the little note pad I carry around with me, and point to my address and the directions a friend has written for me in Chinese characters. Zhe ge (this), I say. He examines the writing for a few minutes. Finally, I interject with a Hao ba? (ok?). He replies with a gesture toward the back seat. As I slide into place, the car lurches out of the SOHO yard and into the crowded mess of the road, merging in behind an overloaded blue transport truck with no taillights spewing thick black clouds of exhaust. My ride back to reality . . . I ruminate, staring back at the silhouette of the SOHO complex mysteriously vanishing in the nighttime smog.
Grant Kien, PhD, is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Communication at California State University, East Bay. His research focuses on technography, qualitative approaches to technology research, globalization, communication and culture, mobility, and communications networks as performative, symbolic, and interpretive spaces. Recent work includes a full-length book titled Global Technography: Ethnography in the Age of Mobility (Peter Lang).