Working holidays

The Chinese haven't got the hang of holidays at all.

For a start, you don't get annual leave; instead you wait for the government to announce when public holidays are to take place and take your time off with the rest of the country. Cue packed trains, overbooked flights and roads groaning with traffic.

A few days ago, it was officially announced that 'Golden Week' would be between the first and seventh of May this year. It's at much the same time as it is every year but it needs to be officially announced before you can book anything for sure.

Wow, seven whole days free! Well, yes, but there's a price to pay: everyone has to work the weekend before the break to make up for lost time - and productivity. It kind of defeats the object of having a holiday at all. But it doesn't half make you appreciate it when it finally begins!

Wrong end of the stick

Some friends from the UK came to visit last week and I took them to our usual restaurant. Despite ordering a great number of dishes, the staff chose to give us disposable chopsticks rather than the pucker ones you’d normally expect. It was a bit like getting plastic cutlery in a posh restaurant back home.

I looked around and noticed that every other customer had proper ones – so it wasn’t simply a case of them running out. The only explanation was that we’d been picked out as the only foreigners in the place.

I was furious. What do we have to do to be accepted here?

Talking to a Chinese friend at lunch the next day, it turns out I was half right: yes, we had been picked out as foreigners but not in a bad or offensive way. Pre-packaged, disposable chopsticks are guaranteed to be clean whereas the restaurant’s own ones probably only ever get washed in cold water.

It was a sign of extra care and a courtesy to my visitors to give us the throwaway ones. And a sobering example of how easy it is as a foreigner to get the wrong end of the stick out here.

More than a game

With 1.3 billion people to choose from, you’d think China could find eleven who were really good at football. It hasn’t happened yet but they will one day. And soon. In the meantime, football takes a backseat to basketball, ping pong, swimming, athletics – and all the other things that China is really good at. It explains why, on the first day of the new football season, Chengdu’s 50,000 seater stadium played host to just 4000 fans. And that’s a good gate by all accounts.

Nonetheless, the potential for football is absolutely huge here. All the major English Premiership clubs have Far East operations. Who knows, they may get lucky, find one or two world class players and get them back to England on the cheap. But they’re also mesmerised by the thought of replica shirt sales by the million if they can only turn Chinese youngsters into fans of Chelsea, Man U or, erm, Sheffield United.

The Yorkshire club is partnered with the Chengdu side and the marketing machine is starting to roll. They’ve changed the name of the club for a start – to The Chengdu Blades. I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound quite right to me and you can bet your bottom renminbi that it doesn’t resonate much with your average Chengdu-ite either.

The website (www.chengdubladesfc.com.cn/eng/) carries breathless reports about Sheffield United’s latest goalless draw if anyone’s interested. And you can get your genuine SUFC replica shirt in the club shop if you’ve got a few more RMB to spare.

The shop was shut last week for the game against Harbin for some reason. And I think there are a few more marketing lessons to be learnt besides that. There’s no food or drink allowed in – or for sale in – the stadium; over-priced refreshments must surely be on Page One of the Football Marketing Textbook.

In case you didn’t know, Chengdu Blades play in the China Jia A League (equivalent to England’s Championship). Last season they finished fifth but hopes of promotion are high this year having spent RMB 40 million on new players. On the evidence of last Saturday, they might just make it.

The standard of football, however, is patchy to be honest. Some of the players could probably hold their own in a Championship side but others were more Sunday League than Football League. The pace of the game, too, was pretty pedestrian; it reminded me of playing on a full size pitch when I was a school kid – the pitch seemed so BIG! Having said that, some of the goals were pretty good and one or two players were very skilful (look out for a guy called Song Wang in the future).

The final score was Chengdu 6 Harbin 0. Each goal was greeted with clouds of multicoloured ticker tape billowing down onto the rows of empty seats and Chengdu’s red army of supporters going generally wild (well, they clapped and cheered a bit). Right in the middle of the main stand sat a phalanx of red-tee-shirted old ladies who sang the most melodic football songs I’ve ever heard, all orchestrated by a big bloke at the front with a huge baton which he used to conduct the brass band.


Yes, the brass band. Perhaps the Sheffield connection isn’t so daft after all.