waiting at the train station

Half a million people stuck in the Guangzhou Train Station, over 100 trains carrying thousands of people each stranded in the worst winter snowstorms in 50 years, a million houses destroyed or damaged, power outages in more than half of China’s provinces, and two million troops deployed to deal with it. Even Wen Jiabao came to Guangzhou and apologised.

I guess I’m blogging it again today because I’ve been hearing from Guangzhou and besides a bit on SBS World News website, there has been no coverage of this in the Australian media.

China: Storm in the way home

Tuesday, February 5th, 2008 @ 03:52 UTC
by Bob Chen

It’s just a 20-hour travel, but I have lost contact with my 3 kids for 3 days! The train must have been stranded in somewhere unknown, in the wild far from any station. The only cell-phone text message they sent yesterday told that they were out of money, the train short of food and hot water. Anyone could help me!?

A worried mother posted an aid-seeking message on Tianya.com 8 days ago, asking for information regarding her three children who set out for home before the snowstorm by rail. Their whereabouts, along with that of the train, had lost. This kind of posts flooded on the many net forums these days, while most replies, despite compassionate greetings, could deliver no help, as during the most serious snowstorm China met in as long as 50 years, there were over 40 thousand passengers were stranded along the Beijing-Guangzhou railway at the peak, hard to contact.

Because of the continuous sleet and freezing rain, the power lines in Hunan province were overwhelmed by the frozen rain, and under the unusual weight, a lot of power pylons were toppled by the ice.

The power failure bogged down most of the trains, which were led by electric locomotive, along the Beijing-Guangzhou line, and further paralyzed all but the entire north-south railway artery. To make the matter worse, it ran into the busiest traffic season in China, the Chinese New Year, when millions of people that had worked hard for the whole year were looking forward to a reunion at hometown. They, most of them migrant workers, would usually jostle and bustle in the carriages as crowded as sardine cans to go home. But this year the travel was far more hard.

Many train passengers didn’t know the situation until they found themselves motionless in the wild for many hours. A netizen recorded his terrible experience.

We set out on 27th. There were about 2 times as many passengers as allowed (very usual as most passengers buy stand tickets to save money. —translator). In the evening we arrived in Hunan and the progress was punctuated by stoppages, some of which lasted 4 to 5 hours. The whole Hunan was covered by the ice, like a huge sugar-glazed-haw (a kind of snack). The sleet, chilly and thick, kept falling. The carriages were crowded. We tried not to drink much because to go the toilet we had spend 10 minutes to hustle through people…… There were as if people under the feet, and people above the head.

The smell stink as if hundreds of men exhaling to you without brushing their teeth.

The situation continued till the next night. The food carts were not seen anymore and we had nothing more to eat. The water tank dried too and soon the heating stopped. Complaints turned into vituperations. Somebody smashed the window to jump out. People came to be so testy that a casual controversy would turn to be a fight. Outside the window it was wholly dark. The cold rain persisted. No one knew where we were.

The train was like a prison. Everybody were impulsed to flee out of it……

There used to be 130 trains going like this, waiting on the track. The airproof carriages and the shortage of supply would drive passengers to the merge of insanity.

Chinanews reported that in a 128-seat carriage over 200 travelers were crushed in. During the 30-hour delay in an unfrequented small station, a man yelled to the trainmen that he was being pursued and killed. Another man reported people around tried to hocus him.

A train police said they had to spend half an hour to go through simply one carriage, because there was hardly a space to set the foot on. Meanwhile, they had to sooth the nervous passengers and stop those trying to break the windows and jump out. To all the people on train, it was quite an uneasy challenge.

The waiting drove people to desperation, especially when a 12-hour travel was prolonged to be over two days, as in many cases. Those stranded on the way dreamed of warm home and a greeting from the anxious families. But those still stayed in the railway station, on the contrary, would spend everything to board on a train. Affected by the paralyzed railway, over half a million passengers were congested in the railway hub of Guangzhou, a southern metropolis.

Crowded, crazy; gigantic flow of noise and hordes of confused people. Even this can’t tell how the hell on earth has been.

A passenger recorded what he went through in the station:

I walked out of the D2 exit, and could not help but marveled at the place I saw. Such a packed crowd, so noisy, people crying, shouting, smiling, voices were everywhere. Endless heads in front of me, all black heads.

I felt a flood-like power behind me and was helplessly pushed forward, staggering. I had to walk aside, and then found a girl had fallen down ahead, with a bag on the back, hardly climbing up. An imploration glistened in her eyes, face flushed, as if going to cry out hard: “don’t jostle, you step on me!” The weak voice was so faint among the seas of crowd.

Another netizen told his terrible experience:

Even though I don’t close my eyes, I could clearly see the scenes I witnessed last night at the Guangzhou station. Screaming, people falling down, people crying, people waiting, and the tread, broken, scattered luggage packs.

Thousands of people piled up at the east side of the square. I was clamped among the crowd. Some beside me took pains to make out a little space for the metal pails on which they could rest. A covey of military police organized a flesh wall. Police then stood still to form a laneway through it. They called the sitting people to stand up. If the crowd surged up, they might have no chance to do so.

11 pm. People surged forward. Some ahead shouted that some was pushed down. But no one listened to that, people marching on. An elder tripped over before me, and I took a chance to pull him up, while all he took with him had been rolled to under the stream, including a big pan. A kid tripped over too and I again pulled him up. Shouting such as “Some got stepped” and “stop” never ceased. But of course, no one stopped. To those who had waited for a few days, a stop was impossible.

I was dragged forward for about ten meters before I found myself out of the crowd. A woman was crying hard that her kid was not out. 3 to 4 people were also crying in hysterics, calling for the names of their families. The luggage scattered around and some were trampled to be a mess.

According to a report, one passenger was trampled to death. Singly on 31st, January, more than 100 passengers fell in faint due to hunger, cold and congestion.

Expecting to go home, many migrant workers would cancel the rented houses by the end of the year, which means they had to take the station plaza as a shelter during the several days’ suspending. Bone-chilling drizzle trembled them; shortage of food stirred their stomachs; extreme crowd jam choked them. At chilly night, they cuddled up under the pedestrian bridge, some lucky men going to the temporary shelter set by the government. But these were not the reasons of giving up the hope to go home.

Accordingly, the food price around the station was going up. 30 RMB for each set of fast food. 5 RMB per bottle of water. There were so many people concentrating, and so hard to find somewhere to relieve oneself. Someone made it at where they waited. The sanitation was so bad.

Mr. Sheng, along with his 2 colleagues, prepared straw mats and quilts, sleeping under a bridge near the station for 4 days, awaiting the train. Ms. Sun, a migrant worker, 36, had been waiting with her 8-year-old daughter inside the railing and barriers overnight. An apple and a piece of bread were all that they had. They, as well as most passengers, dared not to go out of the plaza once getting in, because they feared that they wouldn’t be so lucky to jostle back. Because of the limited space, most people had to stand on feet, and the only way to comfort the sleepy eyes was to nap for a while upon a shoulder of a stranger nearby. source

Therefore, the waiting was a challenge, both physical and mental. The temporary medical post was super busy on taking care of both passengers and station staffs, including police and volunteers.

These days, the whole city was mobilized. A great many police, guards, military police and even soldiers were mustered to control the powerful flood of crowd. They organized flesh walls to hold out waves of anxious people, keeping the order. A mass donation has been launched to help those stranded at the station, and many volunteer workers were dispatched to the front line.

Guangzhou, and the southern region, was trying its best to comfort the migrant workers, who have been contributed so much to the prosperity of the coastal cities.

It was a national disaster. But even the most staggering statistical number (the billions of loss, millions of affected people) could not tell how deeply a heart of going home was ravaged. But who could deny, on the other hand, that the unbelievable snowstorm reunioned the whole country again, the entire society fighting together because we share the same dream of going home?

Pictures from sina.com, 163.com, Southern Metropolis Daily, Xinkuai, Tianya

— Global Voices Online

all about jin xing

Whenever I’d be hanging out with some group of artists or dancers, sitting around the remnants of dinner and drinking in one of those sultry Guangzhou nights, Jin Xing’s name would always seem come up. There’s very much a story for me there, the people who affected me that I suppose caused me to become what I am now. The admiration with which she was always held, how highly regarded she was in the world of Chinese contemporary dance and that she was also very publicly transsexual was not lost on me. I think especially because in a very real way she allowed me to imagine the possibilities in how I could continue to live. After hearing so much about her and meeting her a couple of times, it’s nice to read some of her life from her.

“You are sick, Jin Xing. Do it later, maybe. But look, women are fascinated by you, and men are intrigued. If you become a woman, women won’t want to be friends with you and guys won’t be turned on by you any more. And as far as men, real men, go… Do you think they’re going to want you? They want a natural woman, not… not…”

“A fake one? Is that what you want to say?”

— The Guardian

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冯三七 canton disaster relief blogging

John is responsible for much of my email. He only knows this now. But I read it all, after-all, I was the one who said to him, “spam me with g-town stuff I might wanna blog”, while wistfully nostalgia-ising over my favourite city. I don’t really read the Australian news anymore, or only in the same juvenile context I read trash-mags, so I suppose the storms and floods and other sundry disasters sweeping Lingnan have gone mostly unregarded, though I was sitting in BBQ-heaven a couple of weeks ago (that goes by the completely untranslated name of 大家好…somethingsomething) and watching Hong Kong news while doing a poor commentary on the floods in Sichuan to everyone else at the table, so I guess the news reached some Australians.

Once in the monsoon season in Guangzhou I schlepped into computer city somewhere along Tianhe Road, it was a sultry afternoon, heavy with lighting, more liquid than air. Maybe twenty minutes later I emerged into absolute blackness, not just the blackness of night that exists at a distance, but an enshrouding vacuum rendering dead even buildings mere blocks away. The deluge itself obliterated what remained, and having nowhere to go submerged the wide street thigh deep in a murky yellow-brown swamp, added to by exploding manhole covers and fat geysers of raw sewerage from swollen drains, a street became a torrent. 洪水猛兽, a deluge is a wanton beast.

China: Where’s the disaster relief blogging?

Apparently internet video is huge and growing in China these days. Yes, people want to see video. Interested in citizen reporting that’s relevant but perhaps apolitical? How about the weather?

Back to 56.com, now the top Chinese video sharing website. Like Flickr, the space it provides for reader involvement is often used—abused?—for larger discussions. Looking at 56.com’s current events channel, the fifth post from the top contains video, photos and personal accounts uploaded by users. Is it blogger coverage of the massive destruction seen all over southern China—where, from Guangzhou, 56.com is based—earlier this month? No, these videos, photos and accounts, although posted this past week, all date back to last summer when Saomai, the strongest typhoon to pass through China since the Communist Party seized control [zh], ripped through the country’s coastal east and south.

So where to find live disaster blogging from this past month’s catastrophe? This blogger has looked but still doesn’t know. Is Chinese media coverage sufficient? Project Diaster’s video blog seems to only bring us training videos and clips from old TV shows. So what’s the problem?

— John Kennedy – Global Voices Online

stir-fried poultry

I had some time spare yesterday amidst the stream of meetings and appointments, so went on a hot date with myself to a bookshop. Of course after drooling on Iain Banks’s latest novel I found myself in the cooking section, first in awe over a book devoted solely to Sichuan cooking. I’m going back to steal the recipes for Suan Cai Yu and Shui Zhu Niu Rou to see just how authentic it is, and maybe the Mapo Doufu that all the recipes I’ve tried have been … you get the idea, but mostly it’s just taunting that Chengdu is so far away.

Next was a book devoted solely to the best best best cooking utensil ever invented, the wok. I miss mine dearly but after discovering that Foshan is one of the few places where you can still buy a hand-beaten wok, I think I’ll be making a side trip there. So when I turned the page and saw such a familiar sight, the old red motorbike taxi with attached chicken cage and plenty of chickens, the yellow 粤 licence plate, I was overcome with homesickness for Guangzhou. Oh the food. This is one of the rare, special cities in the world. Canton is where you go to eat.

when in doubt … cliché and generalise

Two almost opposite examinations of art or culture came from Ou Ning’s blog today, the first a textless photographic documentary, 乡土凋零, observing a village barren of people, the end of the world, even an empty outdoor opera stage, home to motorbikes and a table of distant, seated figures.

The second, from New York Times Magazine on contemporary art in China. I used to lament the execrable editorial retardedness that could induce every newspaper and magazine to endlessly refer to Mao or the Cultural Revolution in every title of every article about China. In an effort to see hip and up with the times it’s now often a reference to Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon just leaves me thinking they’d be better off and advance Euro-Sino-Freundschaft more if they just shut up.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Agenda is an atrocious article full of name-dropping and disconnected sprawling from one topic to the next, almost a shopping list of every foreigner who has even glanced at Chinese contemporary art in the last two decades. As a magazine filler story, which in English language media is largely what writing about art is concerned with, this is not such a surprise.

What is hideous and smacks of the very ‘orientalist’ racism the author charges certain nameless collectors with (though Uli Sigg’s name appears immediately afterwards in a deliberately obscure conjunction of two sentences) is such remarks as “I’m not convinced that we Westerners really understand what’s going on there.” That the writer is also a former curator of the Venice Biennale, Francesco Bonami is disturbing, as he plays on one hand with some odious “inscrutable China” generalisations and on the other with sympathetic, cultural insider, and defender of Chinese contemporary art.

The last paragraph though, is full of bizarre and non-sensical tangled mess of metaphors, undefined allusions, and outright cultural colonialism, an illiterate scrawl of meaninglessness. This is lazy journalism at its worst, and certainly does no favours for the artists it profiles. It highlights a certain impoverishment in traditional journalism, despite the massive resources underpinning a paper such as NYT. Contra this, a blog like Heaven Tree, writing frequently on Chinese culture, history, art is emblematic of the phenomenal quality of individuals writing out of passion.

Saving itself from some of the roadkill is the slideshow and accompanying notes on several prominent artists including Ou Ning and Cao Fei from Guangzhou now based in Beijing, Xu Zhen from Shanghai, and Yangjiang’s Zheng Guogu. Skip the article and go right to the slideshow.

it’s all about 冯三七 … i mean feng37 … i mean john

A couple of weeks ago, John Kennedy – also known as contemporary Chinese poetry translator Feng37 – thought that getting all the bloggers in the Chinese blogistan together for translating stuff from Chinese to English would be a good idea. Lots of other bloggers agreed, including Roland Soong of EastSouthNorthWest, who has been causing respectable news agencies much anxiety with his endless translations for a few years now.

The Open Source Translation Blogging Project/Great Hall of the Bloggers/Chinese Content is one of the coolest thing to come out of China blogging in quite a while, and many of the old bloggers who I’ve admired since before I started myself are involved, including Rebecca MacKinnon, all of whom individually constitute a profound and ongoing contribution to all things China.

As for John, he’s become my number #1! Canto-blogger since he started 在桥下流 after his old blog Feng37 expired. Still translating poetry, and now keeping a running commentary on the crime-ridden mean streets of G-town, he’s even been interviewed by 中国青年报 China Youth Daily. Waah! 牛b!

失业者 The Unemployed
周云蓬 Zhou Yunpeng

我们活在租来的房子里, We live in rented rooms,
我们活在公共汽车里, We live in public buses,
我们活在蒙着灰尘的书里, We live in dust-covered books,
我们活在电视的荧光屏里。 We live in fluorescent TV screens,
我们活在电话的号码里, We live in telephone numbers,
我们活在商店的橱窗里, We live in shop windows,
我们活在制造幸福的车间里, We live in fortune-making auto plants,
我们活在蜗牛的储蓄盒里。 We live in deposit boxes the size of snails.
一旦有一天看到了蓝天, One day soon we’ll see the blue sky,
我们就成了无助的失业者, And we’ll become helplessly unemployed,
一旦有一天嗅到了春天, One day soon we’ll smell spring,
我们就成了陌生的局外人。 And become strangers outside the system.

我们不属于工人阶级, We don’t belong to the working class,
我们也不是农民兄弟, And we’re not peasant buddies,
我们不是公务员老师知识分子, We’re not civil servants, teachers or intellectuals,
我们不是老板职员中产阶级。 We’re not bosses’ assistants or even middle class.
因为我们看到过蓝天, Because we’ve seen the blue sky,
我们就成了无助的失业者, We’ve become the hopelessly unemployed,
因为我们嗅到过春天, Because we’ve smelled spring,
我们就成了陌生的局外人。 We’ve become strangers outside the system.

— 在桥下流 – John Kennedy

英西峰林走廊攀岩 rock climbing in qingyuan county

Under many different names but mostly known to us as Kowloon as in what Mongkok is a part of in Hong Kong, the Kowloon here is some two hours north of Guangzhou up the 107 highway, a word I use with most fleeting of accuracy, unless a representation of an elevated highway in mortal collapse is called to mind, although if you happen to take the wrong turn at Qingyaun and find yourself breathless in the quite spectacular Feilaixia Gorge before pulling into Yingde, a highway in this case would be best represented by a quagmire or river bed in spate.

Kowloon is a decidedly non-tourist village with a special hairdresser abutting the preferred lodging of climbers, for besides the infrequent on-the-bus-sleep-off-the-bus-photograph-temples tour group cavalcade passing through en route to the nearby hot springs, this is not a town on any manner of tourist trail. But for imbeciles whose idea of a good time is dropping fridge-sized blocks of limestone into cowering bamboo groves, and who don’t want to go to Yangshou to do it, Kowloon is a rock climbers’ undeveloped paradise.

Highlights of my first trip (via the Yingde river bed) early last year include drenching a family on a motorbike in thick slurry when overtaking too fast then our driver stopping to ask for directions, a reminiscence that will bring a smile to those of us in the car that day. Shortly after. we bottomed out in a pothole, losing the rear bumper, a trifle A Biao solved with a couple of swift kicks. Surprisingly enough, we actually fitted in some climbing.

Paul Collis, who put together the Yangshou guide book has done the same for Kowloon, almost fifty routes trad and sport, single and multi-pitch from 5.7 to 5.13 on limestone. This is still a quite undeveloped place, and many of the routes have had few ascents so are still settling down. The potential is vast, with hundreds of routes yet to be climbed. If your idea of a good climbing trip is going somewhere new and finding your own routes, Kowloon is certainly worth a visit on the China/South-East Asia circuit. Download the guide in pdf here.

The following notes, maps and topos form a rough guide to most of the established climbing in the Kowloon (Nine Dragons) area of Qing Yuan County, Guangdong. This guide was updated in June 2006. The climbing was mostly developed from 2005 to 2006 so grades given may not be accurate and there is still some loose rock around. The rock is typical tropical limestone – dark and quite sharp where exposed to rainfall, lighter, smoother and providing great climbing where sheltered from the elements. The area has beautiful countryside giving a pleasant and relaxed atmosphere for climbing.

See attached maps for how to get to Kowloon and the locations of the cliffs with climbing established on them. It is possible to get to the area using public transport. However this is not recommended as it is infrequent and very time consuming. Without private transport it is also difficult to get to the climbing sites.

Most climbers stay in the town of Kowloon. There are two or three small hotels, some restaurants, a supermarket, a wet market and small shops in Kowloon. It is a basic rural town with little tourism infrastructure. However, some mainland group tours come to the area to visit hot springs and take in the scenery. Take care not to confuse Kowloon in Qing Yuan county with Kowloon in Hong Kong. Although they have the same name, they are vastly different places.

Warning! If you are not a competent climber experienced in pioneering and new routing don’t use this guide to go climbing.

— Rock Climbing in Kowloon, Qing Yuan County, Guangdong, PRC

kowloon peak topo kowloon peak topo

超牛b的余震 - Aftershock in Guangzhou

ex-Feng37 has been burning a posting storm through Canton recently, and I suspect he’s moved out of Fangcun and found a better stash of special-K from a higher class of Chaozhou motorbike taxi and is going all fickin’ 牛!! over Aftershock – Contemporary British Art 1990-2006, and that the British Council even slapped together a sina blog for the exhibition in Chinese.

Mislinked by 在桥下流 (that reminds me of the scent of piss flowing under the stinking haizhu bridge), this tranny rockstar space (yeah I try, but more like a tranny windowlicker lounge) is overjoyed that Guangzhou has put on such a show for me first with the documentary film festival, and now with a couple of my favourite artists all hanging out along the 珠江. I’m quite upset I’m in the wrong hemisphere though.

Pretty much every Young British Artist who has gilded the pockets of dealers and collectors over the past 15 years gets a look in, but who cares, most of them are conceptually vacuous crap with no sense of humour unless it’s irony. What I care about is Tracey Emin, as in love, sex, death … rape, abortion, drunkenness, sexual intimidation and violence, and Jake and Dinos Chapman whom I have wanted to screw (either one) ever since Zygotic acceleration, Biogenetic de-sublimated libidinal model.

Spanning the years 1990-2006, Aftershock will tell the story of how Britain experienced a revolution in contemporary art. During this period art became a hotly debated topic in the media as young artists injected glamour into the British art world; the art market flourished and audiences for contemporary exhibitions multiplied, culminating in the phenomenal success of Tate Modern, London’s first museum of international modern art which opened in 2000.

— British Council – Aftershock

jake and dinos chapman - ubermensch jake and dinos chapman – ubermensch

tracey emin - the simple truth tracey emin – the simple truth

余震 - aftershock 余震 – aftershock

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2006中国(广州)国际纪录片大会 Guangzhou International Documentary Film Festival

A bit slack lately blogging about my favourite city, Guangzhou. Yes I do love it that much. 曹斐 Cao Fei, who is now living in Beijing wrote a few days ago about the 2006 Guangzhou International Documentary Film Festival running from 4th till 9th December. The theme of this year’s festival is 关注贫困 Facing Poverty and films are screening at 天河电影城 Galaxy Cinema in Teen Plaza and 华纳金逸电影城 Warner Jinyi Cinema in Pearl New Estate Plaza, the latter of which does the whole teeth-vibrating surround sound and hallucinogenic peripheral vision filling screens. Also there’s films on at 蓝宝石展艺馆 Sapphire Art Space in the Holiday Inn which I’ve not heard of and for the scummy students stuck out in University Town at the 广州美术学院大学城校区 Guangzhou Academy of Fine Arts that’s further from Guangzhou than most migrant workers’ home towns.

As for the films, they come from all over the world with a lot from Netherlands, Portugal, Poland and Germany, and a stack from and about China including 秦始皇:中国的缔造者 The First Emperor: The Man Who Made China, 贫困线的挣扎——中国造 A Dollar A Day – Made in China, and a huge number of entries in the Festival’s competition, embarrassing there for all Australians is 太平洋解决方案 which is more usually referred to as the Pacific Solution, and there’s so many docos I’d love to see I think I’ll be blogging about them a bit more.

Naturally though the only one I really, truly care about and am hanging out for, and I know was only programmed because everyone thought I’d be back in Guangzhou and was sort of a welcome home, and I know I’ve disappointed you all by not being there, but as I was saying, I only really, truly care about Heavy Metal In the Country. Ja! Über!

heavy metal auf dem lande heavy metal auf dem lande

两块一个走 – 2 kuai a zou

One afternoon in, I guess late April, I took Emile and Paul for a stroll through my favourite part of town, Guangzhou town that is, on the west side in Liwan. We stopped for noodles in a small outdoor shop in an alley off a busy main road and were serenaded by the Zou woman, busking one chord on her untuned guitar zou-zou-zou-zou-zou, 2 kuai a zou. Much later back in Melbourne, Emile handed me a cd full of his field recordings made on purchases from audio-kingdom city in Dashatou (old Gameboy cartridges and 1st generation iPods for quick sale by the bin-load).

I’ve been planning to podcast this for ages, but am a bit lazy and also … yeah, lazy. Here is is then Emile Zile’s Guangzhou Field Recordings, worthy of a place on Sublime Frequencies.

edit …

Since last night, I decided to apply myself a bit more to the underlying code that builds a podcast. Being all xml files I figured I could dispense with front-end GUIs and get down to a bit of handcoding. It’s actually all pretty simple, and the real joy has been discovering how to write Enhanced Podcasts (the ones with pictures, titles, links and other garish waste of bandwidth) and slapping it all together from the command line using Apple’s Chapter Tool. Still doing it all in QuickTime might be more um, computer for the rest of us.

Anyway, this means Emile’s field recordings which were one long 35 minute festival of Cantonese sound now have chapters for each section, photographs from his various jaunts around the city, and irrelevant links to my blog.

Field recordings from Guangzhou, 广州, 廣州 made by Emile Zile (www.emilezile.com) during his residency at Park19 Artists Studios (www.park19.com) with Frances d’Ath (www.francesdath.info) for the 岭南启示录 Apocalypse PRD project in April and May, 2006.

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emile's guangzhou butchery emile’s guangzhou butchery