Years of Poems and Spirits

Song and I went backpacking to Thorp Lake last weekend. It was a very pleasent trip.

Thorp Lake is about 30 miles pass Snoqualmie Pass, about 12 miles north of Roslyn, WA (direction: take Exit 80 off I-90; Drive pass first Roslyn then Ronald–there is only one road, you can’t get lost even if you want to. Right over the north end of Cle Elum Dam and a FS managed camp ground, turn left on to French Cabin Road and drive 3.3 miles. Then follow the signs to the right about one more mile to trail head).

The trail is pretty mellow and short–perfect for Song who exercised little in Beijing. At the end of three-mile hike is the Thorp Lake. It is a mid-sized lake, pretty shallow for the most part. Saturday was a warm day so we went in for a swim. It was a necessary relief as we faught the bugs all the way from the trail head. It was a losing battle anyway: you wave some away, before you retract your hand, others pour in on to your face like rain drops. However, once we got in the cold, crisp water, all is forgotten.

There was only one other tent that night. Yet we soon learned that was an exception. Apparently, the lake is a popular destination for anglers. In the 1950s, for whatever reason, the government flew airplanes over many of the alpine lakes in the region and dropped rainbow trouts into them. The fish lives on worms and salamanders and can survive the cold winters. Today, those trouts are a major attraction. A local told us that just two weeks ago, he counted 50 people fishing around the lake.

The lake is surrounded by pretty dense forest of firs. I fell in sleep admist the brushing sound as mountain wind blew through the top of the trees. The night was otherwise dead quiet.

Next morning I woke up to a cloudy day. Instead of taking pictures, I decided to finish a couple of books I brought along. I sat on a log on the water’s edge and counted on the warm morning breeze to keep the bugs away. As I looked up, mountain fog danced around rocky cliffs as if coiled by the hands of a performing mime. In front of me, whipped by the breeze, patches of wave jumped and sparkled in the morning light like a school of herring zooming in and away. At that moment, I didn’t know whatelse to ask for–except a cigar maybe?

It seemed that every year since I came to Seattle, I would spend a day or two outdoors around the 19th. Foucault says confined space is a necessary element of discipline. Now I know why I always like outdoors:) Yet the most memorable trip was on Jul 20th, 1989–it is one of those experiences that I know I will take to the grave with.

After Song got up, we hiked up to the fire lookup on a peak to the northwest. We took a short cut and ended up having to scramble half of the way up. But the view is spectacular at the top: surrounded by blue lakes, deep valleys and snow-capped peaks, I felt like standing at the edge of a grand amphitheater.

There was little drama on our way down and our day would have ended nicely already. On a whim, Song suddenly decided to have dinner in Roslyn. Roslyn is such a small town that the so called downtown is no more than a one-block street lined up with faux Western-looking shops selling everything from lumber to pizza. One of the pub/restaurant even has a For Sale sign put up next to its menu.

We walked into a small restuarant called Roslyn Cafe at the end of street–the primal forest seems only blocks away. Little did we know that the owner of the cafe runs a tour management business for rock bands. Among their clients are U2 and Barbra Streisand. It took me a while to register the fact that the plain-looking lady greeted me on her way out had a picture of her sitting on Bono’s lap. Then I looked down at my cell phone–it says “Emergency only”. The food was great too: the special of the day–Linguini in White Clam Sauce was an absolute treat

That is our weekend.

Why people are addicted to junk news?

On the one hand, it becomes obvious that, if left to free market, the main stream media will sink even lower than it is today. On the other hand, the guarding angels of serious news are somehow incapable of building a profitable business.

This news story prompted this observation, “Brzezinski Makes Noise With Paris Stand“. Basically, a TV personnel, sickened by the dominance of the Paris Hilton story, decided to thred the newscript on the spot. Of course, she became an instant hero among her peers. Yet at the same time, the one show that devoted everything to the Hilton story–including paying her for the story, the Larry King Show, enjoyed trippling audience.

Another related story is the one Ken Auletta wrote on New Yorker, “Promises, Promises”. As persuasive as ever, Auletta made the case that Murdoch cannot be trusted: he will bring the Journal down, down and down.

Yet why the suddenly beloved Journal is in such a predicament? How come NYT or Washington Post has not bought this obvious “low-hanging fruit”? On the other hand, if one really cares about WSJ, the opportunity RM brings to the table is just too tempting to walk away from.

So what is wrong? Is there a model, with only a few exogenous variables, can explain why most people are inherently attracted to vulgarity AND the high-minded are inherently inept in turning knowledge into profit? I am dying to find out …

This is a title of a NYT article. The author says,

“The answer, say people who have studied the country’s regulatory system, is a cautious yes. ”

Not mine. My prediction is that any “reform” in food/drug safety, if it ever materialize, will likely come at the expense of the rural poor. In other words, the pursue of a “cleaner life” is only to widen the gap between the rich and the poor.

Here is why: first, China today is not Chicago during the Progressive Era. Second, Chinese leadership is held hostage by the quiet barrons.

When Sinclair Lewis witnessed the carcass floating down Charles River, he could write about it and get his articles published. More importantly, when Teddy Roosevelt decided to act, he did not have to get the consent from the mayor of Chicago.

But today, although the world economies have integrated, the world regulatory agencies have not. Therefore, Americans suffering from poor product safety in China can do little to change the situation. Any American Joe can write about food safety in China, but at the end of the day, FDA can’t bypass the Chinese government to enforce even common-sense rules.

Now that Americans have little leverage over the safety issue, how about the Chinese?

The central government, of course, likes nothing more than a pristine image while its representatives strolling down the hallway of United Nations. However, how much control does the central government have?

It is becoming obvious that the central government is losing control over the nation’s economic life. The Premier may shed tears for deceased coal miners, the central government may chop off the heads of some senior officials, yet the weight of an entire state may not be enough to stop a county bank to lend loans to a doomed business.

In fact, I heard that the very author of this article, Joseph Khan, was once detained in ShenZhen while visiting a factory on a product safety assignment. Even the police could not get him freed. Doesn’t this story tell a bigger truth? The central government certainly wouldn’t like to see Mr. Khan got hurt, yet the state appeared powerless in front of strong local business interest.

One last thing, Khan said,
“… big Chinese cities have already demonstrated that they can do a better job monitoring food and drug safety than less developed counties and rural areas. ”
Sure, big citites don’t manufacture those goods. Therefore, they can afford to behave as Americans do by boycutting certain products. Yet the factories still have to run and the laborers have to be employed. While the production happens in rural area but the cities refuse to buy the products, so who are left to consume those tainted goods? That is what I mean “the pursue of a “cleaner life” is only to widen the gap between the rich and the poor.”