A day on Chinese television: going behind-the-scenes on a dating show

(published in Map Magazine, Nanjing, August 2007) 

 

The prologue to this story begins on the balmy beaches of Goa, southwest India, when I was about 7 months into a one year trip around the world. There, I bought a “travel guitar” and began earning a keep as a musician by playing and singing easy listening classics in tourist bars and restaurants in exchange for beer and food. Since my music had been quite well received, and I had always wanted to be a rock star, I resolved to continue on this career path, and hopefully, start getting paid more than fish and beer. 

 

Singing for fish and beer with my brother Lachlan (right) in Goa, 2006 

Go East, Young Man

After nearly 4 months in India, I decided that it was time to head east again, and I flew out of New Delhi for China in early March 2006. Starting in Beijing and working my way south, I continued on my path towards “stardom”, by visiting my contacts around the country and attempting to peddle my travelling musician wares around various bars as I went. 

I didn't know it at the time, but destiny had set my rock star trajectory on a collision course for Jiangsu Television and their weekend variety show, “非常周末” (Feichang Zhoumo – Extremely Weekend). I got the gig somewhat by chance when I was visiting my friend Adam-Paul Smolak (a.k.a. AP), an American businessman who was at the time CEO of an on-line, English learning, “edu-tainment” company called “Enjoyabc.com”. 

AP and I met in Yunnan Province during an earlier trip to China in 2001. He had set up shop in Nanjing in 2003, and had worked hard at establishing his 关系(guanxi - connections) around town, so it was with envy that I watched his recent TV appearance on the Jiangsu Television talk show Small Talk as “CEO of the week”. AP assured me that getting on TV around here was easy, and true to his word, two days later he'd been asked to appear on a weekend variety show on the very same network. 

Me (far left) with AP (second from right) in Yunnan, 2001

The gig was for a foreigner who spoke a bit of Chinese to participate in a matchmaking game (one girl, two local lads, and a hapless foreigner) that was to be one segment of the show. AP wasn't really interested, and nor did he have the time, so he called out to me from his office, “Hey Benson, you said you wanted to be on TV, right?”. The rest was history. 

Comic Relief

The next day I met with the producer of the show, and my travel guitar found a use for itself again - I was to be pitched on the show as a travelling musician and sing a Chinese song to try to “woo” the beauty. On arrival at the TV station, I was ushered backstage and greeted by a scene of busy make-up artists and some rather attractive lasses practicing their dance moves. We were briefed on the format of the show, which was best described as semi-live and semi-scripted, and it quickly became clear that I was to be the comic relief. 

The scruffy traveller as comic relief

The two other guys were given trendy shirts to wear, while I was left in my scruffy travel clothes (they did, however, put me through the make-up production line, which I thought made me look like a zombie, but apparently turns out well under lights). After this I was made to wait backstage for several hours while they filmed the other parts of the show (we were last, and the audience was live), so I nervously strummed my guitar and tried to memorize the words to “对面的女孩儿看过来“ (Dui mian de nü hai kan guo lai – which translates roughly as “Girl over there, look over here”), and the rest of the Chinese punch lines that we'd agreed on, while sweating my make-up off. 

The basic plot followed that of most dating shows – the girl, looking for “Mr Right”, would ask us some tough questions and put us through a few “tests”, in order to determine which of us was worthy of taking her out on a date. During the first “test”, we had to see how many needles we could thread while being distracted by a couple of dancing “辣妹” (lamei - "hottie" - hey, that's the term I was told to use!), which, to my delight, turned out to be the above-mentioned attractive lasses. 

Getting down with the "hotties" on semi-live TV

The Eye of the Needle

I was instructed to give up on the needles and start dancing with the girls. To make up for this mishap, of course, I then had to offer to sing a song to the girl to try and win her heart, and my guitar magically appeared from offstage – cue the Chinese love song. When show time came and the lights went up, my Mandarin was hopelessly inadequate. I couldn't follow the flow of the show at all and often just had to hope that I was nodding and smiling at the right time. What's more, my song lyrics came out all wrong, and when I was given a chance to speak, I stumbled over my sentences. Thankfully, they had a skillful editor, and I think I came off quite well in the final product. 

After a few more elimination rounds, I was part of another pre-scripted gag where, in a Chinese play on words, I deliberately wrote the wrong (but identical-sounding) characters when we were asked to write the names of the four city gates of Nanjing (们 – plural for people, vs 门 - gate, both pronounced "men"). Simple stuff, but the Chinese audience seemed to love watching this “foreign comedian” sing, dance, and write Chinese in child-like handwriting. 

They're both pronounced "men" - get it?

Did I get the girl you ask? Alas no; that was scripted too. Not that I was overly upset. There wasn't even a dinner-for-two prize on offer for the winner. More to the point, I got the girl's phone number anyway! And so it was with much satisfaction that I collected my first paycheck in China – 200 Yuan and a free dinner for 8 hours' work (albeit mostly sitting around backstage practising guitar). It's a long road to the top, but you have to start somewhere, right? 

To see my appearance on the show, visit my Youtube channel. 

To read more about my failed attempts at Chinese rock stardom, see my post "Almost Famous: The hardest working man in Nanjing show business".

Movember 2020: celebrating 20 years of dodgy tashes.

 This year there was a big Movember push at my school, and naturally, I was an enthusiastic participant:

Tom Selleck, did I hear you say? :-)

Slightly shocked by the amount of "salt" in my moustache, I was inspired to look back through my photo archives for pictures of my younger, darker-bearded self. And, given that my beard art article is still the most-read post on my blog, I figured it was time for another facial hair post. 

So, without further ado, let's pay tribute to 20 years' worth of manly facial hair:

2001 - late university/High-Density Beagles era:

"I have come to clean zee pool"

2002-2004 - RAAF era:

A tash was the only facial hair allowed in the RAAF, so I made the most of it.

"Demolition Man" - taken in 2002, but looks like it could be 1982...or even 1942

2008-2009 - Shanghai Second Polytechnic University era:

Poolside in Tarragona. "Como estan, ladies?"

It's amazing she married me really.

Channeling Stephen Wallace circa 1982

2015-2016 - Zhuhai International School era:

"We are the world..."

Thanksgiving 2015

Above and below: channelling my Australian Fast Bowler archetype

One of my finest sporting moments

Movember 2020 Champion?

So there you have it. A tour through 20 years' worth (almost) of dodgy tashes. 

Last week at school, the students voted for their favourite moustaches. The winner will be revealed on Monday. 

Take a look at the entries below. Which mo would you vote for? Can you tell which one is mine?

Rental Car Relocation on the Silk Road and the China-Kazakhstan border experience

Figure 1 - the area of north-west China where the events in this post took place in summer 2014, with the rough route we took shown in red.

The trip began with a gao tie, the name for China’s new network of high-speed trains, from Beijing to Xi’an. We skipped the Terracotta Warriors and headed straight to the highest rated roujiamo joint that my wife could find on dianping.com. 

“OG” roujiamo, straight from the source. The lard was dripping down my arm. 

Our first rental relocation assignment was to drive an oversized 4WD all the way to Jiayuguan, the western edge of the Great Wall. With a fuel-guzzling beast to satiate and Chinese road tolls to pay, it cost us just as much as flying would have, but at least we were able to stop over in Zhangye and check out the famous Danxia National Geopark.

On the road somewhere near Lanzhou.

Zhangye Danxia. Check it. 

It was a long walk back from the bathroom.

Don’t visit Zhangye Danxia if you don’t like climbing steps.

The view from the top was worth it though.

After a minor setback caused by a power steering failure that required driving “the beast” very carefully through the back streets of Zhangye until we found the mechanic that our car rental company had nominated, we were speeding westward again in no time. In Jiayuguan we managed to visit the western end of The Wall and visit a local winery (unsurprisingly given the climate, they grow grapes out in that part of China) before it was time to change rental cars. 

On the road again somewhere west of Zhangye.

A less-visited part of the Great Wall, Jiayuguan

The climate in north-west China is suited to grape production.

BBQ lamb’s brain, still in the skull, Jiayuguan (I think).

Fortuitously, we scored another rental relocation gig the very next day moving a much more manageable 4-seater about 400km west to Dunhuang, China’s famous desert oasis town. Our target was Urumqi, Xinjiang (and possibly beyond), but after a few days in Dunhuang and no sign of further gigs on the rental company website, we decided to skip the train and fly there (there were no fast trains that far west at the time).  

On the main road into Dunhuang, northwest Gansu province.

View from our Dunhuang guesthouse parking lot.

These sand dunes are right on the edge of town. You can just park and walk into the desert.

Arty sunset pic. 

This picture is a metaphor for something. Just not sure what.

Is that a mirage in the distance?

Alternatively, you can pay 20 bucks for the Chinese theme park version of the desert experience. 

Which includes a camel ride.

Nan at “basecamp” preparing for her expedition.

Riding into the sunset.

Moonrise. I’ve always thought sunrises are overrated.

It’s not very often you see an oriental pagoda in the middle of a desert.

Once in Urumqi, my mother-in-law put us in contact with some distant relatives (of Chinese Han ethnicity), who naturally then arranged for an entire lamb to be butchered in our honour:

We ate every bit of this lamb. It took several days. 

Best lamb skewers I’ve ever tasted.

Downtown Urumqi, where the Middle East meets The Orient.

Once the lamb was finished and we’d seen the sights (and tanks) of Urumqi, we took a quick trip down to Turpan, another oasis town which is famous for grapes, being really hot, and being near an area that is 150m below sea level. 

Grapes literally growing in the street, Turpan.

Grape Alley, Turpan.

Rest stop on the highway between Turpan and Urumqi.

My favourite Xinjiang food, “kaobaozi” (baked lamb and onion buns)

After Turpan and some more time spent eating in Urumqi, we decided to head further west towards Khazakstan and hopefully, Kashgar. Still having no luck with the rental car relocations, we decided to take buses rather than fly again, so that we could “smell the roses”. This turned out to be a bad decision, as once you get out of Urumqi and Turpan, it’s very hard to find places that are allowed to host foreign guests in Xinjiang province. Despite the plethora of mid-range choices available to Chinese tourists, I had to settle for that one, overpriced government hotel in town. Travelling with a Chinese wife, this was frustrating for both of us, and after a few nights of this, we resorted to Nan booking the room and then sneaking me in later on. 

After a few days of bus hopping through fairly unremarkable mid-size towns, we made it out to the Khazakstan border region, which was probably the highlight of the trip. There we stumbled upon the crystal clear (but freezing) Lake Sayram (in Chinese “Sailimuhu”), right beside the highway and still (in summer 2014) free to visit. We were so impressed that we decided to stay a few days in a Khazak homestay yurt. We hired a local driver and went in search of more “off the beaten path” Lake Sayrams, but alas, found that they had dried up long ago. 

Lake Sayram, Xinjiang, near Yili.

I’d never seen water this clear in China before.

Putting on a brave face - the water was about 15 degrees!

Semi-wild horses in the hills near our yurt.

With our Uyghur driver - notice our eyes are the same colour!

Our home for two nights.

Lake views! This is probably a resort nowadays...

Chinese progress keeps marching westwards.

After a camel, how hard can a horse ride be?

Smelling the roses, metaphorically.

After two nights in a semi-permanent tent, we were ready for a hot shower and were glad to finally find a decent range of accommodation options in Ili (Yili), the capital of the Khazak autonomous prefecture. From there, it was a short bus ride to the nearest Khazakstan border post at Horgos, so we decided to set out on our next “curiosity mission”. The town itself was nothing to write home about, but it was interesting to see all the menus and shop signs in three languages (Uyghur, Chinese and Russian), and a sizeable minority of Caucasians going about their business in the streets. There was no way to get a Khazakstan visa at the border, but thankfully, the authorities had set up a special “border zone” experience that allowed Chinese citizens to cross the border on foot and buy Khazakstan products without exiting Chinese immigration. Once on the other side, we grabbed some lunch in a giant tent set up for Chinese tourists where they served up Soviet comfort food and mugs of Khazakstan beer. The waitress approached our table and spoke at me in Russian. We weren’t in Kansas anymore, Toto.

Snow-capped mountains in July! (somewhere in western Xinjiang - not near the border, but I just thought it was a cool photo).

This used to be the border between the USSR and China.

Donkeys and carts were still a thing in 2014 in Horgos.

All the menus were in Uyghur, Chinese and Russian. And English if you got lucky.

Standing on Khazakstan soil - 22nd July 2014

Looking back into China from Khazakstan.

The bread was a nice change from noodles. 

After a few more days in Yili contemplating our options - another “off the beaten track” mission into the highlands to the east, or continuing further west towards Kashgar, we realised we didn’t really have time for either. My upcoming visa run to Australia was looming, and we needed to get back to Beijing. Kashgar would have to wait for another trip. 

After one too many long bus rides, we told ourselves we’d go back to Xinjiang once they had a high-speed rail network. Funnily enough, the Lanzhou-Urumqi high-speed rail link opened later that year, and the Southern Xinjiang Railway from Turpan to Kashgar has since been upgraded to make travel times tolerable. Maybe, once I’m able to get back into China, it’s time for another trip out west.