If They Can They Will
What makes this pipe a (more) socially acceptable place to place trash than, say the ground or gutter?
From last winter's soujourn in Chengdu. The hard hat eventually moved - the chap was peeing against the other side of the wall.
Writing from Tokyo | March 23, 2007 | Permalink
Activity & Waste Residues
Bin used as a spitton from Gangtok above, paint shop in Lhasa below.
Related: the residues from scree running and skateboarding.
Writing from La Praz | January 24, 2007 | Permalink
Texture & Movement Standards
What is revealed, what remains hidden.
Writing from La Praz | January 23, 2007 | Permalink
Fake, Real, Fake, Real. Repeat until fade
Real and knock-off 8800's from Chengdu's Tai Shen Lan Lu Market (photos taken late last year). A used original about 220 Yuan, a fake with Nokia logo about 900 Yuan, and a version with identical industrial design but no logo 50 Yuan. The power of the brand? Does the same apply to your brand?
Incidentally, my translator & guide for the day correctly guessed the real from the fake with her eyes (literally) shut by listening to the sound and feeling the sliding mechanism, but with her eyes open she considered the fake to be the real thing. Not exactly surprising considering that she'd not held one in her hands before. This is where I should probably write something about the need to eductate consumers. However, in what contexts does educating consumers on the value of the original drive up the value of the fake?
I've touched on fakes before, whether the fluidity of markets in Shanghai, watching fake covers being packaged up in a Delhi market, the real/fake fake/real battery buying options in Ulan Bataar, fake cigarettes in Xiamen, a prevalance of Ecko in Lhasa, how to fool consumers into thinking a non-waterproof watch is in fact waterproof in Kathmandu, and why Al Zawahri was probably wearing fake New Balance convolutedly via Cairo.
The backdrop to the photos? A backstreet Sichuan eatery. And yes, I'm still in Tokyo.
Writing from Tokyo | January 22, 2007 | Permalink
Specialist Media
People's Railway Daily on the Xining to Lhasa train.
Writing from Chengdu | December 20, 2006 | Permalink
Element Protector
Writing from Chengdu | | Permalink
Cool = Obey = Not Cool
An adapted Obey logo sits a top of the cap of a Lhasa rickshaw driver, buying logo free clothing often costs more in the local markets.
Writing from Chengdu | December 19, 2006 | Permalink
To Catch A Rat
Continuing the theme of rats, a rather playfully designed rat trap in Chengdu Airport.
Writing from Chengdu | December 18, 2006 | Permalink
Crossing Clean and Dirty Spaces
A Chinese gentleman on a train platform makes a phone call wearing white slippers. The slippers were provided for soft-sleeper passengers on the Xining - Lhasa Express for comfort, to avoid the need to put shoes on and off before climbing into a bunk, and to keep the bunks clean of regular shoes.
Cultures have different notions of clean and dirty spaces, take Japan for example. As a device that is both portable and engages our senses the act of using a mobile phone is well equipped to help us temporarily forget these boundaries.
Writing from Chengdu | | Permalink
Microbreak Advertising
The appropriation of a zebra crossing in Chengdu as a backdrop for advertising, somewhat similar to this in Tokyo's Daikanyama.
How will local government digital infrastructure be similarly appropriated?
Writing from Chengdu | December 16, 2006 | Permalink
Pleasures of the Flesh at 4am in Chengdu
A stopover in Chengdu to round off this Chinese leg of my journey starts out innocently enough propping up, and playing go with the regulars of the Little Bar and ends many hours later as a witness to, um, wanton abandoned consumption.
Every culture has its own equivalent to the 4am, pile-on-the-energy meal that rounds off a decent night out - after-hours clubbing in Tokyo followed by a hot bowl of ramen, richly filled bagels in London's East End or a pide in Kreuzberg. For my Chengdu companions that food is simply off my culinary radar.
It takes our taxi driver an age of cruising empty streets to find a suitable eating establishment though to be fair he has to cope with our frequent requests for changes in direction. Given that he picked us up from a street known for its bars at this time of the morning he should expect a degree of incoherence and anyway the meter is nicely ticking over. At three am on a Chengdu winter's night there aren't a hell of a lot of culinary options and on more than one occasion places that should be open are shut. We eventually pull up to a row of cheap blue plastic tables, each identically set with boxes of tissues and a cup of rough wooden chopsticks. The uniform appearance of the tables is in stark contradiction with what they represent - set back from the road are 6 small street eateries each in competition for our trade. A tout opens the taxi door and steers us to a table - only to be roundly ignored by my two female companions.
Each of the slippery steps down into the restaurant proper is a lawsuit waiting to happen. What's the Chinese equivalent to a greasy spoon cafe?
Hot glasses of water are first to arrive. This is swiftly followed by a pig's knuckle soup and the oily seal that has formed across its cooling surface is only broken by icebergs of bone, ligament and a floating white bean. When the final dish arrived it took a while for me to recognize the origins of the 3 skinned and identically shaped lumps of flesh and bone staring somewhat nonchalantly out of a pool of chili oil. As a non-local one of the pleasures of meal times in China is trying to figure out the origins of the food, the ingredients and style preparation so alien to a European. Ultimately it was the dental records and snout that gave it away. "It's stewed rat head" one of my companions grins matter-of-factly before donning a pair of disposable plastic gloves, selecting a choice skull, snapping open its jaw and with a happy abandon not normally associated with this time of the morning proceeds to suck the meat from the bones. I tell myself that ultimately there is little difference between a well cooked rat or pig or cow or lobster but years of culinary conditioning kick in.
I forget to ask what kind of rat makes a good stew. Are free range better tasting than caged?
If there's a future perfect link to all of this, and I'm not entirely convinced that there is, then it's the plastic gloves that Cecelia uses during the meal. Eating stewed rats head is a messy business and the plastic gloves make sense but I can't help thinking that another culture would have evolved some form of implement to help expose the meat, or alternately that an apron would be worn and that hands would be first used then washed. When a task process, whether eating a rats head or lobster, changing a car's oil filter or even sorting though a digital music collection is this messy how to contain the 'dirty' from the 'clean'?
A number of small-town China market stalls serve soup in a regular bowl lined with a thin, transparent plastic bag. When the meal is over the bag is thrown and the bowl can be reused without needing to be washed. (Not that I've ever seen it used this way, but the bag-lining-the-bowl design is well suited to being a doggy-bag-bowl)
How do the cultural differences in the ways we interact with food carry over to the way we interact with what is carried, and what we worn? How well would the stick-your-finger-in-your-ear Whisper Phone go down in this mass-market Chinese context? In a world of wearables it's a question worth asking.
Heading to Tokyo tomorrow to pick up supplies, a fresh change of clothes and a travel companion before the next leg of my December journey. Peace of mind is an open road, hand-luggage and the promise of good times ahead.
Writing from Chengdu | | Permalink
Recycling Collection Options
Writing from Chengdu | December 15, 2006 | Permalink
Rubbish Collection Norms
Flexible waste pick up in Chengdu above, and three forms of fixed rubbish drop off from Jardins São Paulo below. If I understand correctly the waste in Brazil isn't placed directly on the sidewalk for two reasons: to deter rats; and to allow trucks with water jets to blast the street whilst driving by.
Writing from Chengdu | | Permalink
The Sound of Flem Hitting a Dirt Floor
If you close your eyes and listen carefully to the sounds in next room you can hear a large pot of chai coming to the boil. The stove and its owner are out of view, but a weak shadow is cast over the corridor between our rooms. Before long the smiling owner appears, places two fresh thermos flasks on a shelf in the corridor before his foot steps recede back into his workspace.
After two hours of early morning wandering around Lhasa's back alleys it was time to duck into a small chai house for some sustainence. Three rows of red laquered wooden benches face the back wall, or to be more precise they face the TV that is perched on the top right hand corner of the back wall. Hours ago the TV would have been blaring out bollywood movies to a packed local crowd but for now it sits in silence reflecting the room back on itself. To my immediate right are three labourers two with heavily worn hands and sun-at-altitude etched faces who I assume they are in their 30's and with them sits a fresh faced 10 year old. In front of them three sleeping bodies try to make the most of the limited space and benches designed for sitting not sleeping. The labourers look up as I walk in, nod and then shift their concentration back to chai and cigarettes. The kid is also smoking.
The menu options at this time of the day are either to go for a large or a small themos of chai, the ordering-gesture for which is difficult to mis-interpret. These simple choices remind me of a road trip through small-town Mexico and walking into one-room bar that only sold tequila by the shot, half or full bottle. The other memorable aspect of that experience was that the main feature on one one wall of the bar was an open urinal - how many can't-pee-when-you're-really-not-watching men walked out of there with a full bladder. How many were sober enough to care?
If you shut your eyes and listen the distinct sounds of a space gradually reveals itself. Here, the clearest sound is the repeated slurping of hot chai from small glass cups. At regular intervals this is followed by a low thwump as the worn cork is pulled from the thermos followed by the sound of fresh chai hitting the bottom of an empty glass. Throats are repeatedly cleared of flem and spit is allowed to fall to the dirt floor. One of the sleeping dead emits the gentlist of snores though his sleep pattern is sharply interrupted by a kid repeatedly trying to use a lighter that appears to have run out of fuel.
Nobody speaks. Outside as the city wakes the nearest thing to vehicles going by is bell attached to a cycle rickshaw.
Covering most of the wall on my right is a panoramic poster of Lhasa seen from a nearby mountain range. It's designer has thoughtfully surrounded it with a printed a wooden frame. On another wall a poster of a Chinese teenage with a skateboard looks down on our little nativity scene.
In Lhasa 1 yuan buys a thermos of hot sweet chai plus whatever memories you can walk out with.
Writing from Lhasa | December 14, 2006 | Comments (0) | Permalink
Informercials as a sign of a healthy productive society
The most frequently broadcast informercials on small hours Chinese TV are for energy drinks and breast enlargements. Whether the effects are accumulative? The latter promises to move ladies from an A cup to a C. There's a phone number to call but no web address.
Writing from Lhasa | | Comments (0) | Permalink
Homes Away From Home
The train journey from Chengdu to Lhasa takes 48 hours and 3 minutes. Before boarding passengers have to sign a waiver form saying that they don't have any significant ailments and that they are medically fit to cope with altitude - the highest mountain pass the train travels through is at 5000 meters and altitude sickness can start at around 3500. The form has been roughly (mis)translated into English including 'passengers are not suitable travel to the plateau area ... when they have one of the following diseases ... (f) highly dangerous pregnant women'.
The good news is that after 12 hours on the train I've yet to be attacked by a highly dangerous pregnant woman. I do however have had to cope with a dining car waitress who runs a side-line in selling an eclectic range of goods and she appears at my door every few hours with a different tray of goodies. The magnetic jewelry was just that, and her super tough socks which she ably demonstrated by running a wire brush across its surface looked like a steal. Just before we pull into Lhasa she's tries to flog me some strawberry milk tea and a Chinese language train time table. I can't explain the former but a train buff might appreciate the latter. However despite having taken the trans-Mongolian express this time last year I'm not especially enamoured by trains.
My home for the 2 days is a soft sleeper - one of four bunks in train compartment. It's off season and I've got the space to myself. Travelers to Tibet are supposed to be on a tour group but last year I discovered a travel agent in Chengdu who can set up a group of one - here are the tickets, have fun. The train is modern and the compartment has an electricity power socket and each bunk a flat panel TV showing Chinese VCDs. Fortunately it cuts out half an hour into the journey never to return. The compartments next to me are filled with chain smoking, tangerine munching, card playing Chinese gentlemen on their way to a holiday Lhasa - their carpeted floor is littered with the detritus of, well, card playing, chain smoking, tangerine chewing Chinese gentlemen. Not bad for a no smoking train. It doesn't take long before they make themselves at home in my space.
The journey itself offers up all sorts of magic, not least waking to a moonlit and frozen steppes and gazing up to a constellation filled sky. That hissing sound? Oxygen being piped into the carriage.
A train cleaning crew stands to attention on the platform as the train pulls into Lhasa station, their mops and brushes presented like weapons on a parade ground. Lines of cleaning crews are a common sight at airports for some reason they always seem too dressed too lightly for windswept context. China has a habit of throwing up unexpected contrasts - on a late night arrival at Chengdu Airport watching a cleaning crew cycle in a column across the vast tarmac landscape under the shadows of sleeping giants going by names such as Sichuan Air.
My home for the next few days is the Yak Hotel. If you're in Lhasa this is a good place to be.
Writing from Lhasa | December 11, 2006 | Comments (2) | Permalink
Selling Up, Locking In
Checking in at the Raffles Swisshotel Beijing - "You want executive room for xxx Yuan more?" ... "Better view, 2 hours free internet..." followed by "If you pay now you pay 24 hours internet access for only xxx Yuan". A coke and fries with that burger sounds great and indeed the room does have a better view of the smog.
To what extent does the customer acceptance of these 'offers' depend on how jetlagged the guest is? What are the variable factors that affect acceptance rates?
And with all the new data floating around (including the extended flight passenger manifests that the EU kindly sends the US) when, in 2010 you're checking into the Mondrian the receptionist loadedly asks you whether you'd like you'd to pay for that thai massage now or later its because, literally they know exactly where you've been.
Writing from Beijing | December 5, 2006 | Permalink
Two Wheels Good
Documenting a city or country from a car is a bit like doing human behavioural research without ever leaving a laboratory - there is worthy stuff you can learn but IMHO you'll pretty soon reach the limitations of what's interesting. Yeah I know, unless of course the focus of your research is car culture itself. But mostly getting out there requires removing the barriers between you and the world around you. What's your excuse when a motorbike and local driver can be yours for as little as 5 Euro for half a day? And even if motorcycle taxi's don't exist in a city of your choice it is possible to engage regular motorbike drivers to engagte in a bit of moonlighting.
Photos from motor cycle field research in Shanghai above, Kampala, Tehran, Hue, Fujian Province and Ho Chi Minh City below.
So you think language an issue? Some of the most effective days spent researching from the back of a motorbike have been with a driver that doesn't speak a word of English/German/Japanese and likewise me struggling to get my tongue around Farsi/Vietnamese/Chinese/Lugandan. What makes for a good research ride? A driver who is sufficiently aware of the passenger but ultimately knows exactly what he can get away with on the road/pavement/cattle path; a comfy passenger seat; plenty of cc's; and ultimately someone who is not phased by requests to stop in wierd places; and ends up anticipating places and peoples of interest.
Pillion highlights from this past year?
Interviewing boda-boda (motorbike taxi) driver's in Uganda for a study of shared mobile phone use, and on one occasion speeding through Kampala sitting Tour de France cameraman style i.e. the wrong way round on the passenger seat trying to get a good shot of a colleague Indri conducting an eventually very successful interview. Trust in your driver is a wonderful thing, especially when near misses are only witnessed after the miss and the only practical alternative is blind panic.
Being baled out of a sticky street situation by a motorbike driver in Tehran who knew just when to come and rescue me from over inquisitive officials. Watching Ho Chi Minh City wake and commute to work - Vietnam is after all still a 2-wheeled culture. The morning included a stop for a double condensed milk coffee and spending the next 30 minutes gripping and tripping.
And finally a day in the mountains of Fujian Province listening to tunes and staring contentedly at the back of a plant pot helmetted rider, who later introduced me to his favourite barber. The size of rock falls that were common in that part of the world would have wiped us out no matter how much wickerware protection he was wearing.
Bargain hard, tip well, don't expect a helmet.
Writing from Tokyo | November 10, 2006 | Comments (0) | Permalink
Proof of Purchase, Experience, Honesty, ...
A fan clutches an admission ticket from a football match in Brazil above. A lottery was held at half time, a cue for spectators to take out their ticket stubs and try to catch the numbers read out over the stadium intercom and win a prize.
The detrius of receipts from the exit of a supermarket in Lhasa below. On leaving the supermarket the contents of bags were checked against what appeared on the receipt, which was then ripped and thrown on the floor.
Receipts that also function as a form of lottery tickets were reasonably common in China - a move by the government to encourage a culture of giving and receiving receipts with the ulterior motive of moving business to run on rather than off the books.
For any transactions, what tangible objects are produced as part of the transaction process and why? What are people's motivations for keeping hold of receipts and tickets, in what form and for how long?
During wallet mapping exercises its common for our participants to pull a few receipts from their wallet or purse - and to use the interview as an excuse to sort and throw. Reasons for keeping hold of receipts include: proof of purchase - being able to exchange at the store at a later date; the fear of being accused of shop lifting; franchised stores trying to reduce the risk of sales not going through the cash register - see examples from Seattle and Delhi; re-assurance that the right objects were bought and the right price was paid - especially for multiple-object purchases; horders who feel the need to keep a receipt for everything - and like to track the transaction minutae of their lives; the self employed who tend to systematically collect and catalogue receipts as real or potential expenses; receipts as emotional momentos of where you've been and done; and last but not least as conversation triggers to talk about what you've been and done. Bourg St Maurice train stubs? Moi? Mai oui.
Bearing in mind the reasons for keeping receipts what role is there for tangible ticket stubs in an otherwise digital transaction? What happens in the football lottery when match tickets are digital and everyone carries a personal communication device?
Writing from Tokyo | September 8, 2006 | Permalink
Sleep Patterns
Panda and bamboo patterned window screen, from a guesthouse in China's Fujian Province. Lying in the darkened room listening to the quiet chatter from the courtyard, the glow of the pattern was the last thing you saw at night before falling asleep.
Writing from Tokyo | September 6, 2006 | Permalink
Customisation, Consequences of Lack of
Belonging to a house maid, Chengdu.
Writing from Tokyo | September 1, 2006 | Permalink
Communication, Literacy, Design
Remote communication requires a means of identifying whom to contact. How do people who can't read and write manage their contact information?
This is just one of the many questions I'll be asking at a presentation on Literacy, Communication, Design to the University of Art and Design Helsinki on the evening of the 14th September. It's hosted by Teemu Leinonen and Andrea Botero Cabrera and is open to the public. It will draw on three years of research by colleagues at the Nokia Mobile HCI Group into low literacy communication practices, a journey that took us from urban and rural India to Nepal, China, Uganda and beyond.
Related research can be found here and as usual when its all done and dusted links to the slides will be posted to here.
Writing from Tokyo | August 25, 2006 | Permalink
Mobile Location Based Advertising
Mobile advertising From Shanghai (above), Sao Paulo, Ho Chi Minh City and Delhi (in sequence, below). If these vehicles and the majority of people are carrying connected high capacity devices what kind of services does this enable? What will be your criteria for judging whether to connect or not?
OK, technically the Delhi photo is announcing a funeral.
Writing from Tokyo | August 4, 2006 | Permalink
Exposure Suggesting Tasks
Opened electicity meters and fuse boxes in a small town back ally about 60km outside Beijing. The photo was taken in mid-winter (bitterly cold if I recall correctly) so opening the boxes exposes them to the elements and weather damage. That they are left open suggests frequent access, and variable power supply.
Which is relevant if you are trying to figure out the charging habits for battery driven devices.
Writing from Tokyo | August 1, 2006 | Permalink
Copycat Behaviours
Copycat behaviour of two friends riding the Xiamen to Gyulangyu Island ferry.
To what extent are our own behaviours rooted by the behaviour of our peers? Or, bearing in mind they are not all equal, to what extent are our behaviours rooted by the behaviour of strangers?
Writing from Tokyo | July 27, 2006 | Permalink
Cultures of Repair, Innovation
Update: a slightly more print friendly version of this post appears here and the slides of the presentation can be downloaded via here [4MB].
In an effort to understand the total user experience I've taken time out during recent field studies in emerging markets to explore local repair cultures. The journey has taken me to cities such as Chengdu, Delhi, Ulan Bataar, Ho Chi Minh and Lhasa with recent brief stopovers in Kampala and Soweto. They all contain clusters of shops and market stalls selling a mixture of used and new mobile phones, and whilst (in this instance) size does not necessarily matter, they often operate on a scale not seen in cities such as London or Tokyo. The mobile phone market around Chengdu's Tai Shen Lan Lu Market for example stretches across number of streets and shopping arcades and includes 100's of small shops and stalls. If you want a snapshot of urban mobile phone consumers in emerging markets this is a good place to start.
What sets these locations apart from cities in more 'emerged' markets? Aside from the scale of what's on sale there is a thriving market for device repair services ranging from swapping out components to re-soldering circuit boards to reflashing phones in a language of your choice , naturally. Repairs are often carried out with little more than a screwdriver, a toothbrush (for cleaning contact points) the right knowledge and a flat surface to work on. Repair manuals (which appear to be reverse engineered) are available, written in Hindi, English and Chinese and can even be subscribed to, but there is little evidence of them being actively used. Instead many of the repairers rely on informal social networks to share knowledge on common faults, and repair techniques. It's often easier to peer over the shoulder of a neighbour than open the manual itself. Delhi has the distinction of also offering a wide variety of mobile phone repair courses at training institutes such as Britco and Bridco turning out a steady flow of mobile phone repair engineers. To round off the ecosystem wholesalers' offer all the tools required to set up and run a repair business from individual components and circuit board schematics to screwdrivers and software installers.
How are mobile phone repair cultures different from the everyday repair shops for other mainstream electronics filled with televisions and video recorders? For a start consider the volumes of mobile phones in the marketplace compared to other electronics. Network effects soon kick in - it's easier to find a dead RAZR to cannabalise for spares than spares for a Sony DVD drive drive quite simply because there's more of them about. The physical size of the products to be repaired is also an factor - consider the space required to store and repair 200 mobile phones vs CRT televisions. As objects that many consider essential tools for everyday life mobile phones are carried, dropped, sat on, run over, submerged in a wide variety of situations leading to use cases outside the parameters of most phones. Finally, for many emerging market consumers the phone is considered an essential tool for conducting a successful business whether it's a boda-boda driver in Kampala (gentleman on moped in photo, below) or a midwife in Xiamen. If a person has the choice between repairing a television or a (shared) mobile phone which do you think he or she would choose first?
Each of the cities mentioned above offers more formal repair services, usually officially through customer care service centers, but the scale and sophistication of what is on offer informally is way beyond what many readers of Future Perfect will be familiar. And yes, many of the places mentioned already have networks to (from my observations) efficiently recycle, repair and re-use a wide variety objects including electronics . But in the spirit of the Future Perfect let's start with a very basic question - why do these informal repair cultures exist at all? What is so different between London and Lhasa or Helsinki and Ho Chi Minh?
The informal repair services that are offered are quite simply driven by necessity - highly price sensitive customers cannot afford to go through more expensive official customer care centers and even if they could their phones are unlikely to be covered by warrantee - having been bought through grey market channels, been sent as gifts from friends and relatives abroad, or were locally bought used, second or third+ ownership. In many cases these users cannot afford to be without their mobile phone, not in the social sense of being out of touch (which is valid enough), but in many instances because their livelihoods depend on it. On the supply side there is a ready pool of sufficiently skilled labour, ready access to tools, components and above all knowledge.
It's worth acknowledging that grey and black goods and services are also part of the mobile phone market ecosystem - whether it's passing faked goods off as originals or offering pirated software. Some markets also sell a wide variety of phones that copy the industrial designs of other products, examples are shown here and and example of how it can unfold here (these two links are unrelated). These are however, only a part of the whole market ecosystem and from my understanding are small in scale within the context of the physical markets' themselves, compared to the repair services on offer. And before you ask - no, I'm not arguing that piracy is a minor issue.
For consumers the informal repair culture is largely convenient, efficient, fast and cheap, reducing the total cost of ownership for people for whom a small drop in price may make the difference between having or not having a phone. The culture of repair also increases the lifetime of products lowering their environmental impact (though this could be offset by other factors such as inefficiency of using old batteries).
What can we learn from informal repair cultures? Aside from the benefits, what are the risks for consumers and for companies whose products are repaired, refurbished and resold? Given the benefit to (bottom of the pyramid) consumers are there elements of the repair ecosystem that can be exported to other cultures? Can the same skills be applied to other parts of the value chain? And, turning to my original interest in this topic and the work we do in the Mobile HCI Group, given the range of resources and skills available what would it take to turn cultures of repair into cultures of innovation?
I'm at Cape Town University today discussing qualitative research methods and Informal Repair Cultures. The slides of the presentation can be downloaded via here [4MB download] and related presentations here.
Writing from Cape Town | July 3, 2006 | Comments (4) | Permalink
Food Delivery, Definition of Food
Xiamen above. Photo of a McDonalds Tokyo below (but ultimately it could be anywhere, including Xiamen).
Writing from Tokyo | June 15, 2006 | Permalink
Repair
This counter is located in Chengdu's Tai Shen Lan Lu Market which specialises in new and used mobile phones and has a well developed mobile phone repair culture. The sales assistant is filling a receipt for equipment to make a basic mobile phone repair kit.
For the companies that make the products that are repaired, what are the implications of what you see in this photo?
Writing from Tokyo | | Permalink
Copycat Behaviours
Futons aired on only one floor of a housing estate in Higashi Yama, below.
For the Tokyophiles amongst you Higashi Yama is an interesting mix of Japanese social, company and private apartment blocks in area that is somewhat of a no-mans-land. Distinctly and pleasantly different.
Writing from Higashi Yama | June 10, 2006 | Comments (2) | Permalink
Do You Aspire To This?
Advertising for dental services in Lhasa (above) and Ho Chi Minh City (below). There are strong cultural differences for what makes a perfect body, but what about for teeth? What do the viewers of these advertisements aspire to? Do the aspirations differ? How?
Writing from Tokyo | June 7, 2006 | Permalink
Who Values Your Data?
What is the value in knowing what is going on in each these Shanghai apartments?
Who would pay to know what the inhabitants use; their personal preferences; family preferences; what they look for; what they are planning; their secrets; what they buy; what they sell; who they communicate with; and what they communicate about; the emotional or practical value of that communication.
Which company will be the first to offer a we-pay-you-to-store-your-dataTM service? How many consumers would give up their pseudo privacy for a little cash?
Writing from Tokyo | June 5, 2006 | Comments (1) | Permalink
Feedback Loop
When you walk into a bank how do you know which teller will offer the best service?
Device for obtaining feedback from customers spotted in the Gulangyu branch of the Bank of China. Once the transaction is complete the customer selects satisfactory, average or dissatisfied, and the number of stars updates to reflect the service level.
Putting aside the issue of how the number of stars is calculated, how does a high or low number of stars affect how the quality of service is perceived? If the only option when you walk in the bank is a teller with 2 stars what are your service expectations? And armed with this knowledge how does it affect how the bank calculates the number of stars?
Whilst this system is crude, in situations where service is poor it provides a simple mechanism to let customers voice their anger (the customers in this branch were however, pleasantly vocal in providing negative feedback). I'd expect to find this kind of up-front feedback mechanism in a culture where people are less likely to want to be seen to be angry or losing face. Japan could be such a culture but in five years its almost impossible to think of an example of bad service in five years of being here.
Writing from Tokyo | June 1, 2006 | Permalink
Responsibility Plus
Illustration done by a child on the side of a home, and close to a school in Hukeng, China.
What are the factors that make this socially acceptable?
Writing from Tokyo | May 24, 2006 | Comments (7) | Permalink
Magnitude
Its often quoted that a phone company is the worlds biggest camera manufacturer and music player manufacturer, the magnitude of things indeed, Charlie. With us from the moment we wake up to the moment we go to sleep and, from a lot of field research I can confidently say most places in between.
But who is the world's biggest alarm clock manufacturer?
Waved goodbye to a rain soaked Xiamen and Gulangyu today. Alas, no more peering off the service roof of tall buildings to scope a city, or hanging out with Chinese manual labourers on rain sodden bulding sites. But good to be home. One more field study in Tokyo then next stop Africa.
Writing from Xiamen | May 23, 2006 | Permalink
Open Air Gallery
A passer by checks out a Sid-Viciousesque worker taking a cigarette in the doorway of the Xin Hua Book Store, Xiamen. The front facade of the store is protected by a variety of old doors - many which still have door knobs attached.
From a collage of 40 prints.
Writing from Xiamen | | Permalink
Literacy & Understanding
Writing from Xiamen | May 22, 2006 | Permalink
Attitudes Towards
Two low-key cultural surprises await many first time visitors to China: the number of terrestrial TV channels and the vibrancy of commercials and infomercials.
Ah, but what does this have to do with a plastic bag given by a shoe-shop assistant to cover the feet of sockless shoppers (above), or the phone covered in a plastic cover (below)? My favourite Chinese late night commercial shows a couple arriving at the apartment of friends. They don't want to take their shoes off - its too cold, and they don't want to dirty their host's apartment. The solution? Luckily the hosts have an auto-shoe-wrap-box. By stepping into the box the magic of technology shrink wraps a plastic sock onto guests shoe - and the camera cuts to hosts and guests relaxing around a table with blue plastic on their feet. Once you've witnessed that Its is hard to look at plastic in the same way again.
And why on Future Perfect? The infomercial says something about Chinese attitudes to disposable vs sustainable, the degree to which homes are heated, and how people cope with dirt and dust.
Writing from China | | Permalink
A Tripod In Cinema Moment
Watched a subtitle-free Chinese language version of a certain hollywood movie today. You can tell something about the state of movie piracy in a country when people from the previous showing stream out and one of them is casually folding his extended tripod as he heads for the exit. Recording onto MiniDV I reckon, but didn't ask.
Still, its not quite as brazen as pirate TV in Ulan Bataar.
Writing from Xiamen | | Permalink
Learning From Retro
A visit to Jiang Tou Market in Xiamen and 600 Yuan (60 Euro) buys you a new retro working English language GSM phone. Note the number of buttons compared to this lo-hi design. Starts with a HelloMoto screenshot and an extended and quite loud Chinese pop song.
Writing from Jiang Tou Market | | Permalink
Pay-As-You-Go
Interesting to see mainstream PC software adopt the pay-as-you-go model.
What people are able and willing to pay for. Why does it not cost money every time you access your phone's address book? Or switch the phone on? Or for that matter to switch your phone off?
Writing from Fujian Province, Lost in | | Permalink
Setting Out Again
Today's shave comes courtesy of a back alley barber in a nearby village. I would never have found this place were it not for my driver (above, below), who accurately interprets my need-a-shave body language. He spends the whole time sitting in a barber's chair chain smoking like a nervous parent. We've already agreed a price for the day and he's sitting here on my time, so if anyone should be nervous it should be me.
The barber's shop doubles as a photo studio in he back and includes a print club (puri kura) kiosk up front. I retreat into the studio for a post-shave photo - not of me, but to borrow the set to shoot the driver, the shop owner and members of his family. There are a variety of backdrops to choose from ranging from fantastic sceneries to, um, fantastic sceneries - elements of beauty and escapism and very different from club land New Orleans. A high quality print costs 20 Yuan (2 Euro) and given that I've taken over his space I order a few. The photographer uses a three year old entry level Sony camera the technical specification of which will soon be surpassed by most new camera phones. How long before we start seeing camera phones at use in photo studios such as this? For all our snobbery about taking 'proper' photos with 'proper' cameras for most of the world's population it doesn't need to be perfect, simply good enough. Today's high end camera phones are there already.
The PC-less printing process is enough to make a Canon rep smile. While we were waiting for the prints to emerge two teenage girls drop in and flick through booklets of print club designs. The process of choosing print club backgrounds is identical to Ho Chi Minh City - write down then number of the desired designs, pull the curtain shut and create their own version of reality. Second life, with y'know, added life.
There are a few synergies between barber services and the photo studio - after all clients like to look their best before the camera. I couldn't however persuade the driver to remove his helmet.
Writing from Fujian Province, Lost in | | Permalink
Settling Down
Today's office is not supposed to be. It's Sunday and I'm not due back in the Tokyo lab until the middle of the week.
But the current reality of this work is that if there is mental space and the tools to write ideas then it's pretty much an office. Before you think this a complaint, any arguments about work/life balance are moot when experiencing life counts as work. And it's not as if the mountains are ever too far away.
Although the altitude is nothing to write home about, at least today I'm up in the hills of a remote district of Fujian Province. The lodge that has been my home for the last two nights is set in a 100+ year old building, which in turn is situated in a national park. The journey here was uneventful marked only by the transition from the island city to industrial parks to paddy fields and eventually the winding mountain roads which lead here.
I'm currently sitting in wicker chair in a plant filled courtyard. A breakfast of steamed bread and peanuts has just arrived and will sit largely un-disturbed for the next hour or so. Coffee comes in a sachet marked Nescafe, and whilst it stretches my definition of coffee if the common truth were defined by volume alone pre-mixed sachets of caffeine, milk-powder and sugar by any other name would be a lie. With the exception of this 'coffee' the rest of the menu is pretty much orientated to slow food - and includes seasonal mountain vegetables, herbs, locally reared livestock (including duck, a gaggle of which have just wandered in and out) plus whatever wild rabbit they can catch. The national parks around here are a cross between historical theme-park and people's homes, this lodge being more of the latter. One hundred Yuan (8 Euro) buys me a hard bed, mosquito repellent, a door with a lock and an overnight pot to piss in. There is a row of perfectly reasonable squat toilets but they lie outside the thick walls and separted by a large gate that is bolted overnight.</