Written sometime around 1/6/20: Dalian dancehalls, trams
◩ Written sometime around 1/6/20 ◪ I was walking along the Toden Arakawa Line today, the lonely stretch past Kumanomae, where everything is flat down to the river. We—A■■■■ and I—used to live around there. It was a sharehouse near Oku Station. We had the top floor and a balcony. The other rooms in the house were occupied by a young professional woman named A■■ and a wannabe rock singer named K■■■■■, ■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ A■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■—■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■. When the Toden streetcar went by the whole place shook. I used to sunbathe on the roof until I was nearly shaken off.
As I walked by our old house, which has long since been torn down, I remembered life there. It was not unhappy. I had to wake up each afternoon at around four and walk up the road to catch the Utsunomiya Line into the city, transferring at Ueno to ride even deeper. I had a job in R■■■■■■■ ■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■■, ■■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■.
I stood for a time by Shakomae Station, watching a couple steer their young sons around one of the display streetcars, one of the older models, a 5500 tram from sometime after the war. Not many trams from before the war still exist in Tokyo. Most of them burned up in the firebombing. They were made of wood.
Standing there, I was transported temporarily to another city and another time: watching the trams enter their yard in Dalian, somewhere around the Tianxing Roosevelt Center, somewhere near the intersection of Xi’an Lu and Wuyi Lu. This was seven or eight years ago. The Arakawa Line and the Dairen trams, formerly part of the South Manchuria Railway, were created by the same industrial policy and started running around the same time. Perhaps some of the men that laid down the Arakawa Line were shipped out to Manchuria to work on the railway there. I think they used the same rolling stock at times.
As I stood there in Dalian, I had no idea I would ever live in Tokyo.
Whoever laid the tracks wouldn’t have recognized either city a century later. That section of Arakawa was burned out and flooded many times over before being reduced to ash in the firebombing. The buildings that went up in the wasteland were pulled down long ago.
Over a hundred years, Dalian changed its name and boundaries several times. Almost everything that went up in its place has already been pulled down, too. Dalian Yamoto Hotel, built in 1914, is still there. It was run by the South Manchuria Railway Company. (Well, I wouldn’t have known on my visits to ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ but Zhongshan Square looks a bit like Marunouchi.) The Japanese buildings were sturdier than what the Germans and the British and the Soviets left behind. Their trams still run.
I rode the tram in Arakawa every few days or so. I would take it to Minowa and do my grocery shopping in the arcade. But I rarely rode the tram in Dalian. I lived at the edge of the city, in Pao'ai Number Eight Residential District, in an apartment block built on reclaimed industrial land. There used to be a train there, thirty years before, that ran between a few factories in the area, but the tracks were pulled up and sold for scrap. On the old railway bed, people planted vegetables and mulberry bushes, divided with woven twig fences that caught all the garbage that blew out of the city.
I took the bus into the city.
I remember the Arakawa years with clarity. Dalian is a haze. I was bored and lonely. This was a long time ago. I had signed up for classes at a school ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■. When I had money (■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■■), I went to nightclubs with ■igi and M■■■■■■, who were, respectively, studying English and Chinese. When I was broke, I wandered.
I used to watch the trams going into the yard.
The neighborhood was interesting. It doesn’t look the same anymore, I know. I went back two years ago. But at the time I lived there, it was one of the grimmest places left in downtown Dalian.
Trying to picture it now, I realize I never saw it by daylight. There were a few apartment blocks surrounding wide courtyards, then narrow streets running out from them. Nobody that lived there was from Dalian. The original residents left long ago. The rooms were rented to people looking that moved there to find work. It was mostly men working construction, and then women that worked in the businesses that catered to them, like the restaurants and hair-washing places, the internet bars, cigarette-and-liquor stores, and hole-in-the-wall convenience stores that sold soap and instant noodles. Women patrolled with laminated signs advertising the flophouses. There were streetwalkers, too, with faces painted white, gathered in groups under the overpass, pecking at men as they passed. They came out at dusk. Some of them drifted through the courtyards between buildings or stood on the street outside L■■ L■■ Ballroom.
L■■ L■■ Ballroom was right in the center of the neighborhood. It was a low, concrete building with its name in lights on the roof. I watched rough-looking men in camouflage fatigues and middle-aged women in short dresses walking in, pushing aside the army green blanket over the door.
I wandered past it. I stood on the street outside and watched the scenes going on around it.
The first time I went past the blanket, a man stopped me just inside the door, and asked me if I knew what kind of place it was.
I had guessed the basics, so I told him I’d been there before, paid the three kuai entry, and went in.
I am always thankful that I am not an exceptionally tall man. It means that I don’t stand out in a place like L■■ L■■ Ballroom. With a military surplus jacket and my boots, I didn’t look much different from the men that came before or after me in line.
There was an antechamber with two disorganized rows of women. It reminded me of a KTV lineup, but the women were older, and, rather than brief gowns, they mostly wore street clothes. The women outside the L■■ L■■ Ballroom were usually in their late-thirties or forties, but these women were in their late-twenties or early-thirties, I think, although it was hard to tell.
I walked past them into what looked like any other nightclub anywhere else in the country, with a bar, a couple tables, and a dance floor. The music was loud. It was a folk song set to a pounding disco beat. I leaned against the wall and smoked a few cigarettes. A couple women patrolling the room sidled up to me, asking for a dance, but most ignored me. A short man in a corduroy jacket motioned me over to his table and asked me where I was from and what I was doing there. I told him I had come for a look. He jutted his chin toward the dance floor, where I saw that he had been watching a man and woman dancing. The women’s skirt was pulled up over her thighs. When the song finished, the lights came up a bit and the couple separated. He explained what I had already gathered: men pay women to dance with them. Other options can be negotiated for the moment that the lights dim.
The short man led me around the room. He turned out to be a ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■. ■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■. But he was friendly. I bought him a beer and one for myself. We stood at his table and talked. “The prettiest girls out there,” he said, trying to call over a woman from a uniformly tall group that was huddled near the wall, “they might be men.” She stuck her tongue out at him in a playful way but found her way to the table eventually.
I danced with a woman from Sichuan, whose teeth were scored by cracking melon seeds. ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■, ■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■. ■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■. Her hair was dyed Benadryl red. In the dark, she put my hand on the small of her back and I felt nothing but the many layers she wore against the Northeast winter.
I went back to the short man. He told me there were back rooms. I never confirmed this. He offered to show me but I turned him down.
A few days later, I met the woman that stuck her tongue out at him. Her name was Y■■. I met her a few days later, standing outside a McDonalds not too far away. I won’t describe her because I’ve long since forgotten her face. I bought her a cappuccino and a muffin. I felt ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ McCafe ■■■ ■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■, ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■. She was from T■■■■■ but ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ S■■■■■■■ when she was ■■■■■■■■■, then moved on to Dalian a couple years later. She didn’t work at L■■ L■■ Ballroom every night. ■■■■■■■■■ under the overpass, where I saw her later, ■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ could be purchased as easily as instant noodles or a Red Bull. ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■. I was too shy to ask many questions. I buried curiosity under politeness. When I asked what ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■—■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■—■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■. She told me that ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■. ■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■, ■■■ I am doing it now out of caution ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■. ■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■, ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■.
■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■, ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ “■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■,” ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■. ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ another dancehall in the basement of a building at the bottom of the ramp up to the overpass. I went there a few nights later. I think I heard music inside but I couldn’t find the door. ■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■.
I wandered until I found another place, called C■■■■■■■ Ballroom. I went in and paid the cover. There was a row of tables on one side of the dance floor, where men sat with women after dancing. I sat with a girl at C■■■■■■■ Ballroom for an hour or so, that first night, trying to talk over the music. Her name was Z■■■■ X■■—the same name as ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■, who I had quietly been in love with in ■■■■■■ (it had been with her that I had first eaten ■■■ ■■■■) (I must have written that story somewhere else!) This Z■■■■ X■■ was from Sichuan. She had come up to work in Dalian ■■■■ ■ ■■■ months ■■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■. She lived in a room not far from L■■ L■■ Ballroom and survived off working nights there and ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■. ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■, she told me, were from the countryside, and she ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■, ■■■, but her parents had ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ years old, and she’d grown up in a village outside L■■■■■. She was ■■■■■■-■■■■■ and had a husband and child. Her husband was in X■■■ and their ■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ his parents. And then we danced. This cost me the equivalent of ■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■. ■■■ ■■■ ■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■.
I suppose I was a lot like the other men that ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■. I was a long way from home. I was bored. I was lonely. If you asked me at the time, I might have admitted some of it was out of a self-destructive impulse, or some attempt to wash myself clean in dirty water. I like to think now that there was some professional consideration, too, since I needed things to write about (■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■■, ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■?) I guess it isn’t much more complicated than being bored and lonely.
I went back the next evening ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■ named M■■■■■■■. ■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ but it didn't matter. It ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ slow dancing in a high school gymnasium, but I ■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ put my hands on her hips, rather than draping them over her shoulders. The dancehall smelled like body odor and disinfectant, and she smelled like cooking steam and winter air and ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ (■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■, ■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■). We sat together for a while in two uncomfortable rattan chairs, making small talk. ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■, ■■■, ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■, ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■ canteen attached to one of the wholesale markets down by the train station, which I eventually came to frequent, as well, carrying plastic boxes of food back to Pao’ai. This was my attempt at ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■ ■ ■■■■ was in need of it.
It seemed interesting to me, at the time, that men of limited means were willing to spend more for time in contact and conversation with a woman at L■■ L■■ Ballroom than ■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■ at one of the nearby barber shops, which ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■. Of course, there was more ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■. But I guess it’s the same everywhere, ■■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■, and it’s also harder to secure. It’s harder to fake, too. It takes a particular set of skills and disposition. ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■.
When ■ ■■■ Y■■ ■■■■■, she told me that she did not consider it work to ■■ ■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■. ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■ internet bar was work. M■■■■■■ said she didn’t like working there but she would rather work in a place like that because ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ she claimed that ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■. ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ in dancehalls are very different from the women that work in KTVs or saunas. ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■, ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■, and there is sometimes a certain amount of seduction imagined by the men ■■■■■■ (■■ imagined: ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■ you can’t pay to be wanted or loved). ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■, ■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■■, ■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■, ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■. “■■■■■ ■■■■,” they might say, or some other euphemism (these exist in all languages except English, it seems). ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■, ■ ■■■■■■■, ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■, ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■. This is what the short man and Y■■ told me the same, although I have no way to judge whether it’s true or not. All they had to do was pay their cover. Mostly, they were not selling anything but time—dances and time ■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■. Ten kuai for three dances. And what portion they gave back to management was unclear. ■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■. ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■, ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■. ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■, ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■. ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■. ■■■■ ■■■■■■■. ■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■. ■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■. ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■. ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■.
■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■. ■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■, ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■ (■■■■ ■■■■ Y■■).
■ ■■■ ■■■■ Y■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■. ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■ ■■■■. ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■ “■■■” ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■.
■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■. ■■■, ■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■ ■■. ■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■. ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■. ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■.
■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■. These places must now be mostly gone, I realize. The floating population has come to rest. The old, tough neighborhoods have been leveled. So, this is history. It has hard to trace it back beyond what I saw. With the preference for moral cleanliness in contemporary literary (there are exceptions), as well as the background of most writers (there are exceptions), these scenes are not recorded. ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ errenzhuan routines. Where is the poetry of the shawuting? Where is the poetry of the heisanqu? ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■. They come up in police reports and editorials. ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■. This is not Shanghai ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ and there are no taxi dancers, no romance to the fufei wuting, and no Mu Shiying to direct the foxtrot.
■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■, ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■. This is a story soundtracked by Teresa Teng tapes on boomboxes. ■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■—■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■■! They made Ma Yanqin a martyr in the Strike Hard Campaign of 1983 (■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■, which is too terrible to contemplate). All she wanted to do was dance. Autumn a year later, Hu Yaobang told them to open up the dancehalls again, giving his ruling: social dance was not the result of the influence of bourgeois lifestyles. “Although the number of instances in which these attempts by young people to bring some beauty into their lives were classed as spiritual pollution is quite small,” he wrote, “we cannot ignore them.” The people loved him so much ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■, maybe because he gave them back their dancehalls.
The dongdong wuting that went into the bomb shelters and basements of Chengdu in the late 1980s seem to have been written about with more fanaticism than those in other cities. That is where the term shawu comes from—an unusual character usually deployed to describe industrial grinding, paired with the character for dancing— to describe the body-on-body exertion by young people escaping dormitory life in the—sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally—underground dancehalls.
The author of a memoir of Chengdu dancehalls—■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■, which now can be found only in bowdlerized form (■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■)—■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■:
One day, I went to the ballroom to dance and an old lady came up to me and goes, ‘You wanna dance?’ I told her I wasn't interested. Next thing I know, she goes, ‘I could suck you off.’ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■. ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■. ■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■, ■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ … ■ ■■■■ ■■■■ and told all my friends, ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■, and I bet she ended up ■■■■■■ them, too. … ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ that time that women started charging for ■■■■■■ ■■■.
The history of ballrooms in Dalian tracks closely the more carefully-recorded history of Chengdu ballrooms: dancehalls proliferated in the 1990s, faced crackdowns and increased competition, ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■, ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■, ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■.
■ ■■■ “■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■,” ■■■ ■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■. ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■■■ to the dancehalls around Wuyi Lu, most of the dancers and their customers were migrant workers. ■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ all across Northeast China and the Central Plains, ■■■ ■■■■ women from Sichuan and Hunan, but ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ Dalian. The kid that would have snuck out to a dancehall before would go instead to a ■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ clubs ■ ■■■■■■■■■■ in the entertainment district northwest of Minzhu Square, ■■ ■■ ■■■■ modest clubs around the city. ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■: ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■, ■■ ■■■■■ that many of the young people going out to clubs in Shanghai were unaware of the parallel world of dancehalls. So, they began to disappear. The urban resident aged out of them. The regular type of social dancehall was replaced by the heiwuting, catering to migrant workers, ■■ ■■■■■■, ■■ ■■■■—■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ L■■ L■■ Ballroom. A different kind of man goes to a place like L■■ L■■ Ballroom. ■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■, ■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■. It was just about walking distance between those Minzhu Square and the Wuyi Lu dancehalls, but they existed in different worlds. Minzhu Square was popular with middle class kids but also just slightly more adventurous young people. Back then, ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■, ■■■■ ■■ Russians freshly down from Vladivostok or Khabarovsk ■■■ students from Africa and the Middle East, ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■ English as much as Chinese (and even those clubs seemed old-fashioned compared to the more spots that rich kids drove out to—■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■, ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■, ■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■, ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■.
I always thought of the Chinese club as sexless. ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■. ■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■, or, to put it more generously, for communal celebration, rather than individual pairing off, ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■. ■■, ■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■■■■. ■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■. ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ consumption of a cosmopolitan sexual culture and voyeurism, ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■. (But let me tell you the story of J■■■■, ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ on Minzhu Square.) ■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■. ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■ ■■ ■ romantic partner, rather than to meet one. The club is a place to go as a group. The dancehall is a place to go by yourself. ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■—■■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■—■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■ (■■■■■■■) ■■■■■■ ■■■■■. In places like L■■ L■■ Ballroom, you can live out life as you think it should be. There is the illusion of romance, as well ■■, ■■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ it, sexual release. ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■ a dark corner or ■■■■■■■ on a woman’s skirt. ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■.
I was thinking about the story that Y■■ ■■■ ■■, ■■■■ ■■■, ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■ in S■■■■■■, ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■■ she met in a dancehall. ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■ ■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■, ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ coming home, so that she could fill a basin with hot water and soap, ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ aching back. She picked fights with him and ■■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■, ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■. He was in his fifties. He eventually had to return home to his wife and son, ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■, ■■■. ■■■, ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ Y■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■? Maybe. ■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■, ■■■■■ ■■■, ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■. Would he have stayed with her if ■■■ ■■■ ■ ■■■■? ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■. That was what I thought. ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■. L■■ L■■ Ballroom is for men not compatible ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ideology of modernization (■■■: ■■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■: ■■■■■■■■ ■ “■■■■■■” ■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■), ■■■ ■■■■ a living with their bodies rather than their minds (God bless them, I wish I could do the same). ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■. In this ideology of modernization, some men are more equal than others, ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■ “■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■” ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■. ■■■■, ■■ ■■■ ■■■… ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■? ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ some men go to L■■ L■■ Ballroom, and some are in Minzhu Square, and others are watching the trams.