Buenos Aires: Still the Paris of Latin America?

Posted on December 15, 2011 by Nandani Lynton

Buenos Aires: Still the Paris of Latin America?

This Latin American market seems to be in elegant decline

Argentina is a long way from anything else, except possibly Brazil. That statement is both wrong and self-evidently right.  It is wrong geographically because there are other neighbors of course, and it is wrong in the feeling you first get landing in Buenos Aires, whose architecture and layout earns its name as Paris of Latin America. And yet it is right when you feel the isolationism that seems to permeate this country. Anyone who can afford to go on vacation goes to Europe, very occasionally to Brazil.  It is as if the rest of Latin America did not exist except as a perceived source of illegal immigrants. It is right in the low use of any language except Spanish – unless you are in a grocery store because Chinese runs these so you can speak Mandarin!  It is right in the sighs of academics that decry their lack of connection to US and European institutions.

Backyards in Recolleta - human sized in a huge city

Buenos Aires is a big city with 14 million inhabitants. Based on my experience in Asia, I expect skyscrapers and heavy traffic, and grit and thick air. Instead, it is a wide open city and, thanks to the breeze that still flows from the ocean down the Río de la Plata the skies are crystal clear and the air smells fresh. It is November, fresh and sunny. The many outdoor cafes are full, fountains tinkle, and wrought iron balconies on multi-storey buildings recall Paris. The streets are tree lined, just now full of purple jacaranda blossoms that I associate with South Africa – it is the same latitude.

The gloriously lavender jacarandas in bloom - above and below

There are further similarities to Johannesburg. A local friend recommends carrying only what fits in my pockets, no purse. She has observed several daylight robberies. Nonetheless, walking through the park and through the streets full of little shops and cafes, I feel no threat. We walk through the La Recoleta cemetery in which Eva Peron is buried. I have seen nothing like it before: it is a miniature town with narrow streets, lined with miniature houses with iron grilled, glass doors through which one sees an altar and one or more decorated caskets. The dead are present. Fresh flowers cover the door grille of Evita’s crypt.

The new president, Cristina Kirchner, is said to study Evita’s speeches and movements and to copy and use them, so as to draw on the deep emotion that still surrounds her. This is positive for the bulk of the population; the upper class still distrusts those like Evita who rise up the social ladder.  For them, the American dream of rags to riches is unattractive.

I had been asked to lecture at IAE, the Management and Business School of the Universidad Austral. It one of the best business schools in Latin America so off I went to the handsome campus. The infrastructure at IAE is fabulous but professors regret being so far away from anywhere, so that contact between business schools is rare. The conference attendees, executives in local and foreign companies, see China mostly as an export market, a buyer of agricultural produce mostly. To hear about China as a global source of investment seems unexpected, yet in the last month Chinese firms bought a bank and large firm in Argentina. Someone said, ‘so we sell soybeans and they buy firms.’

The labour market here is good, I am told. One can hire people and it is much cheaper than Brazil where the Real has risen sharply. But actual inflation in Argentina is currently about 30%, making it expensive and increasingly salaries must rise too.  Repeatedly I hear that Argentinians make great managers: practical, determined, and committed, but that they make rotten entrepreneurs.  Certainly there are no real global Argentinian companies, though there are many small and medium sized enterprises.

My biggest surprise?

One thing you learn soon is that tango and football, considered widely the symbols of Argentina, are actually symbols only of Buenos Aires. The rest of the country does not really value either one. Thinking I could catch a football game in the provinces since I was not in Buenos Aires for the big Sunday games, I was inspired to enquire when I saw a stadium outside Salta. ‘Oh no,’ the locals assured me. ‘That stadium was built but we don’t play football here; we use the stadium for concerts.’

Tango, not a symbol of Argentina but definitely of Buenos Aires

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Argentina Outside Buenos Aires: the Northwest and Iguazu

Posted on November 30, 2011 by Nandani Lynton

Outside Buenos Aires: the Northwest and Iguazu

Salta and Jujuy Provinces

The provincial town of Salta is unimpressive on a Sunday afternoon – little is happening, the place is dead. But during the week and especially in the evenings the town comes alive. People are on the sidewalks and fill the outdoor cafes and restaurants, eating empanadas and – of course – steak and fries. These smaller towns in the Northwest, Salta and San Salvador and the village of Purmamarca are all built around a main square of trees and flowerbeds surrounding a hero’s statue, with the town hall on one side and the cathedral on the other. Narrow streets are lined with two and three storey buildings, some modern, many painted in different bright colours, and some in adobe. They are human sized, friendly places.

Cheerful painted houses are the norm in these small but bustling northwestern towns

In the Foothills of the Andes

Leaving Salta and heading towards the Bolivian border on the Pan-American highway, the landscapes remind me sometimes of Sedona in Arizona, and sometimes of Mongolia with the large sky and seemingly endless rolling steppes. Softly rounded hills in shades of blue give way suddenly to craggier, sometimes broken mountains. This is the famous Cerro de Siete Colores or Hill of the Seven Colors. The rock is sedimentary and rich in minerals so layers shine red and pink, green, yellow, blue, and grey. In some places, the rocks have buckled to form round hillocks and the colours are in half-circles, striped like the arc of a rainbow. More often entire hills are different colours, or a lilac hill has a gash of orange peeking through. Landscapes like a dream.

The Seven Colour Hills extend over a range and look painted

But the reality of the minerals becomes different when talking with Ms. Rosario Quispe, the head of Asociación de Mujeres Warmi Sayajsuqno, which means Persistent Women. In what might be called Argentina’s Siberia, a group of desperate indigenous women began what has become a well-known NGO. Many diagnosed with cancer, almost all with 7 children, husbands about to leave for jobs in far-away parts of the country, and hungry, they convened to think of how to save their families and their lives. What emerged is essentially a system of micro-finance large enough to finance small businesses like a bakery or gasoline station, handicrafts, raising chinchillas, and a sustainable local community. An initial Swiss donor has given way to a variety of international co-operations to continue the programs. The cancer came from mercury poisoning, the result of methods used in nearby silver and gold mines. In the meantime there is at least a basic clinic and a Cuban doctor who comes twice a week. Now a number of local youths are studying medicine in Cuba. ‘The next thing we need is lawyers,’ says Ms. Quispe, ‘because we need to go to court to fight for our land.’

Ms. Rosario Quispe, the head of Asociación de Mujeres Warmi Sayajsuqno

In the provincial capital of San Salvador two NGO visits raised questions about civil society and government responsibility. Fundacion Prosecto Ser provides low cost health care in small clinics; ProYungas works to support biodiversity in the Yungas region in Salta and Jujuy provinces, now extending into areas of Bolivia and Paraguay as well. These NGOs are all concerned with maintaining and supporting local communities – many of them indigenous – and the environment; these are important goals and affect peoples’ lives. But I wonder how much should actually be done by the government? How much are they needed because industry, especially sugar and soy plantations and logging companies, do not take responsibility? Why doesn’t the government support the management of national and provincial parks, which are after all a pull for tourism as well as a treasure? These and similar questions are not purely for Argentina, but this trip highlights such issues of responsibility.

The Natural Wonder of Iguana

The day I arrived in Iguazu (also spelled Iguassu or Iguaçu) there were long lines of cars blocking the roads, all honking and people calling out. The falls had just been named by the UNESCO as one of the 7 natural wonders of the world, so a celebration was called for. Somehow it didn’t fit that my plane had flown out of Buenos Aires 3 hours late due to an air traffic control strike – and all following flights were cancelled. So there were few tourists in town to appreciate the celebrations.

Walking around Iguazu Falls was lovely. The views from on the high trail looking across the falls was so magical – the roaring of the falls was impressive and the combination of the water, the amazing sound, the lush green of the rainforest and the smoke and lavender blue of the sky made me afraid because I wanted not to jump but to fly into it, to dissolve into it. The light was ethereal.

Iguazu Falls is a magical place

Looking at that expanse of water and energy, and feeling the sheer force of nature it is so hard to think why small human affairs or emotions should matter at all.  I thought about the water above the falls, how it can seem so tranquil and then all hell breaks loose. It seems a metaphor for life; often we feel tranquillity around us (perhaps mistakenly), and we also know when we are in free fall but we don’t know if we are at the top of the falls, or somewhere in the middle, banging on the rocks below, or getting ready for the next drop, or already rock bottom and flying up as mist. We don’t know where in the process we are. There’s no map.

The views kept drawing me away, and then the animals brought me back to earth, wild guinea pigs of various sizes, a toucan, opossums, and swifts flying in and out of the falls. They added to the sounds and the feel of the humid air.

Definitely my top waterfall – and I have seen a lot of them on several continents.

 

 

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Jordan: Past and Future in the New Old Middle East

Posted on November 18, 2011 by Nandani Lynton

The Dead Sea

Jordan: Past and Future in the New Old Middle East

I returned to Jordan after about four years, eager to see what differences one felt following the Arab Spring. Four years ago I was already struck by the security in Amman; hotels screened your bags and person every time you entered due to massive bomb attacks at 5 star hotels 6 years ago that killed many people. And of course, Iraq is not far away. Driving along the Jordan valley then there were also many security checkpoints though the guards were always friendly and happy to discuss football (soccer) results. You see Israel so close across the valley, on a clear day you can even see Jerusalem but the border crossings are difficult. It was somewhat shocking to see the Palestinian camps, that looks like pictures we have on tv news of such settlements but to realize these have been in existence for over 30 years. No wonder there is such bitterness.

Reminders of how close neighbors are in this region

Today the security I experience is all around the Dead Sea, due to the World Economic Forum meeting and the long list of political big names coming. Obviously there were major worries about possible attacks.

Nonetheless, right up to the security barriers, Jordanian families were out for their weekend. They picnicked and barbequed with transportable music and rugs and food all along the coast. Families with toddlers were still active at 2 in the morning; clearly this was party time.

It was interesting speaking with the driver over many hours. I hear many more complaints than last time, especially about the gaps between the rich and poor. At the same time he proudly showed me only the rich parts of Amman. As we passed villas, he said an acre of land costs 200 thousand USD in some places, a million in another… I don’t know if the numbers are correct but that was his view. These parts of Amman look very Americanized, full of malls and fast food chains.

Huge canyons lie between the rugged hills

Driving along the “King’s Highway” from Amman to Aqaba is breathtaking in places. Coming through a mountain curve, it can seem as if you are flying into nothing as an enormous canyon opens up before you. There are lovely vistas – sand colored hills, crags, and in between desert. Along the way you pass Mt. Nebu, the mountain from which Moses saw the promised land, and then died. Later the highway curves by Karak, one of the largest crusader’s castles perched on top of an impressive hill.

Even the plain desert areas are interesting in the seemingly endless expanses. Dusk came quickly and it seemed strange there that in the dark one saw lights almost everywhere; this is not an uninhabited area and certainly does not lack electricity.

 

Looking down on the Petra Treasury form the cliffs above

 

Entering the more than 2000 year old ancient city of Petra, you walk through what seems an ocean of sand that changes colours from almost white to ocher to rust red and all fine as dust. And then come the cliffs, showing rocks in this same range of colours in huge ocean liner-like blocks of stone and cliffs that the Nabateans shaped into a city. The long narrow entrance, the Siq, builds anticipation and spills you out into a broad plaza facing the Treasury, a huge façade of pillars, Grecian looking lintels and defaced figures. There are enormous rooms cut into the stone behind. The narrow road then opens to vistas, with steep climbs up to hills carved into large spaces and pillars, further along are expansive temple complexes to Roman gods and goddesses and a Roman amphitheater cut from a single large rock, much of it rose-hued but also with purples and yellows and blues, sometime, lines of black, and even green.

 

The vistas of Petra

 

It was interesting seeing who else is visiting Petra now: a number of French and Middle Eastern tourists, but most different was the large number of Brazilian tourists taking advantage of the high Real to travel.

Returning to the Dead Sea, it looked like a beautiful blue jewel amidst the dry hills, and at 420 meters below sea level the lowest point in the world. I did swim, a strange feeling to be unable to sink. Sitting and reading in the water is about the best use of this sensation!

The Dead Sea often produces amazing light effects

Yet despite the apparent liberalism in Jordan and the well-known modern royal family, there are rumblings of discontent. The King had removed a minister two days before, other changes were in discussion. Ghaddafi had just been killed and the Saudi Crown Prince Sultan bin Abdulaziz al Saud had just died. There is turmoil under the quiet.

And above all the big questions in the region: What to do when the oil runs out? And what will happen with the Palestinians?

Palestinian transport near the Jordan Valley

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Lagos 2

Posted on November 6, 2011 by Nandani Lynton

Lagos 2: The Bustling City in Africa’s Biggest Market

Working with Nigerians is a pleasure and takes a lot of energy. Because they have a lot of passion – they discuss at high decibels all at once, to an outsider it sometimes sounds like a riot about to break out but then the noise level crests and relative quiet ensues before the next wave of excitement builds again. There is often teasing and laughter, even amidst relative serious discussions and men and women seem at ease working together. In Lagos, it is clear that Nigerians are flamboyant people who like to look good and enjoy themselves.

The city of Lagos is somewhat like my experience of the inhabitants: a large presence, bustling, noisy and positive. Public areas are chaotic, as is traffic, but it all works. The key message and what keeps things going seems to be relationships – the human touch and lots of communication are key. In traffic, vehicles aggressively push to use each last spare inch of space, but the drivers request to be let in, or gesture, and three-wheelers, motorbikes, and people selling books, handkerchiefs, or a dozen kinds of snacks and drinks cheerfully vie for the space between cars and trucks.

Motorcycles and street sellers squeeze into spaces between vehicles

At the open market in Lekki, open stalls are more or less organized into areas selling meat or vegetables or electronics and other household items. The chicken sellers have a whole production line – you choose your live chicken and it goes immediately to the slaughter, then into the vat of boiling water to be plucked, then is cleaned and cut to order if so desired. At the meat stalls you order the cut you want from the large chunks there. Fish is live or dried, black catfish coiled like snakes. Vegetables and fruit sellers estimate weight mostly, making it hard to know what you pay per pound. And all stalls are reached through narrow alleys, often with an open rill down the centre for rain and refuse. Shoppers throng, filling the alleys, and ‘boys’ carrying loads of various goods in laundry baskets on their heads slip through the crowds, occasionally clipping a head as they pass. Despite the crowds, people are courteous; shopkeepers do not accost passersby. Business goes on in a measured, bustling but pleasant atmosphere.

Just down the road is a shopping mall that is more or less a carbon copy of many South African malls and not unlike small shopping centres in the US. The anchor store is a grocery chain; the other large shop sells electronics as well as foodstuffs. Here it is clean, air conditioned, and up-market. Other shops sell sports clothes, jewelry, and Mont Blanc pens. A few have imported cloth that is used to tailor the traditional Nigerian outfits worn at celebrations. We looked at some and ascertained that fabric for a couple would cost about US $1,000. One store showcased a Nigerian designer who uses local prints on chiffon to style lovely dresses, mostly floor length but some minis, priced like European boutiques.

Parked vehicles attest to the wealthy users of the open market

How do these two markets survive side by side in a fairly up-scale area of town? Local residents told me that, while many middle class Lagotians will choose the convenience and time-saving of the shopping mall grocery stores even if many items are more expensive than the open market, they really want to buy any meat or fish fresh. And that means the open market, because meat sold in clear-wrap could well have been frozen, and that is unacceptable. This was repeated so often that is seems culturally charged. And indeed, the parking lot of the open market is full of large, nice cars; the prevalent Japanese and Korean models but also the occasional German vehicle.

There are several other key things I have learned about Nigerians, who are very proud people.

You accrue status by taking care of a large number of people – so many people have side-businesses in addition to their jobs. They support family members and provide education for younger ones. The more people’s lives you can impact, the more power you wield and the more positions you may be offered. This in turn boosts family status. So the burdens are high but so too the rewards.

Being part of a large group is important. This is illustrated by the tradition that a wedding invitation is often accompanied by a gift of cloth, to be tailored for clothes for the wedding. This means the event and the pictures are a visual sign of whether the guests are part of the bride’s or of the groom’s people. Many guests signals that the person is not alone, not a ‘poor orphan’ but part of a large family. This is my status it says, this is who we are.

Fruit sellers outside TBS Racecourse

Tradition is valued and so pride shows sometimes in surprising ways. Near TBS Racecourse in what was the original heart of Lagos, we looked into what was described as a slum area that still houses some of Lagos’ most prominent families. Because although they may have large houses in far more fancy areas of town, these citizens prefer to stay in the original family home. Tradition and the wishes of family elders carry heavy weight.

And the elderly banana seller on the street said she had been selling fruit at exactly this corner for the past twenty years and has no plans to move.

 

Tafawa Balewa Square has fallen into disrepair, 'a shadow of itself'

However the nearby national monument on the racecourse, originally a symbol of national pride and site of national celebrations, has fallen into disrepair. Still owned by the federal government, but now far from the new capital, it is not maintained and a Lagotian called it “a shadow of itself.” This is a sign of regionalism; an indication that the monument celebrating the unity of the four major peoples and regions was more a hope than reality, and that those in power care for their own before caring for the nation that is their own.

Tafawa Balewa Square Racecourse and National Unity Monument

I leave feeling that I have peeked into some drivers of Nigerian culture that are a strong platform for continued growth and development. Responsibility for one’s social group, power linked to patronage, and care lead to an emphasis on education, respect for authority, and hard work. Lots of communication and social ease puts relationships in the forefront in this dynamic city, which I will associate with peals of laughter and real presence.

The insurgent attacks that left many dead in the Northeast as I wrote this post unfortunately testify to the regional tensions and the threat of fundamentalist violence that could undermine those very motors. So getting off the plane and reading the news, my mood is sombred.

 

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Lagos 1

Posted on November 6, 2011 by Nandani Lynton

Lagos 1: Fears and Realities in Nigeria

Sitting in the Nigerian Consulate in Berlin is already an introduction to Nigerian culture. You must leave your phone, laptop, and camera at the front desk when you enter the consulate. Passport renewals and visa applications are handled together so the room is mostly filled with Nigerian citizens, some with babies applying for passports, others for themselves. A number come with German girlfriends or wives. Otherwise the visa applicants are overwhelmingly German men who seem to work on infrastructure projects.

No cameras allowed in the consulate but here a view of discussions in public

The Nigerians have varied attitudes. One young man starts complaining from the moment he enters. “This is what is wrong with our country,” he says and gestures at the room. “No order, the seats are not in rows, the people never start work on time…” His seat neighbor calms him, telling him to quiet down; saying that after all he is here because he wants something. But the first continues grumpy through most of the morning, at one point saying, “I am not talking about all of you here, you know how to work hard. But look at what we have at home…” He stimulates some conversation but not much empathy. No one likes to hear their country attacked, even by one of its own.

The Embassy staff, especially the women, is a force to be reckoned with: tough, directive, taking no contradiction or excuse. This confirms my experience with Nigerians in executive courses over the year: very well educated, they speak forcefully and the body language says, don’t even consider messing with me. I admire the pride and the sheer presence that comes across.

My actual experience of Lagos is therefore less of a surprise than it would have been without these encounters in the consulate.

A normal Lagos scene except for the empty road

The first thing that struck me was how much easier it is to enter the country than I had been warned. One colleague had said a multinational he knew used the task of getting through Nigerian immigration and customs on entry as an assessment centre exercise. Well, that wouldn’t be much of a test these days – no one asked me anything. Likewise the exit, which I was warned would involve having all luggage taken apart bit by bit; I experienced nothing of the kind. Perhaps I have just been lucky but I did not see any interest in harassing people.

Overall my experiences in the city have not matched the picture of Lagos we get outside. One hears about constant murders and robberies, is told to go nowhere without a security guard, to drive in cars with bulletproof windows and so on.  While I am sure there are areas of Lagos to which I should not go, what I saw was a normal city with people moving around easily. I was in open squares and markets and transportation hubs or walking streets with no incident of unease. I was always with a Lagotian or a couple of people, but in the tight open markets it would have been easy to try and grab my bag.

 

Tight and crowded alleyways in the open market

My funniest conversation was with a Nigerian who talked about her first trip to Johannesburg and how afraid she was after being warned about the dangers there. In his lovely book on travelling in Asia, “A Fortune Teller Told Me”, Tiziano Terzani reported that the best fortune-teller was always said to be in the next village. Likewise, the greatest danger seems to be in another country’s city.

I am not completely blue-eyed about this. Lagos did have terrible crime rates and the income disparities are clearly visible. But five years a new Lagos State Governor, Mr. Babatunde Raji Fashola, entered the scene and began to clean up. Apparently he visited and walked with the local leaders in different areas so as to gain local authority. According to some Lagotians I discussed this with, he arrested the “area boys”, those hanging around dangerous locales getting into trouble rather than being organized gangs. While the “area boys” were in custody, he razed their hangouts under bridges and in slum areas, moved dangerous open markets to new sites and is known for planting gardens on the razed sites. He then offered the troublemakers a basic job and say they could work or go to jail. This echoes zero-tolerance methods used in New York and other high crime areas and seems to have made a major difference.

And the spaces only get more crowded in the interior

On the other hand, there are still robberies and most residences, hotels, and offices have perimeter walls and security guards. But, I was assured, the Nigerian robbers wouldn’t harm you physically if you hand over the goods they want. One even reported he had emptied his pockets when robbers entered a restaurant where he was eating, but they didn’t take his locally made cell phone. Another laughed and said that when his friend was being robbed of his imported cell phone, the friend said “please leave me the SIM card”, and the robbers obliged. Everyone agreed that kidnappings have been severely reduced.

So it isn’t crime free by any means, but the impression is of a society on the right path and apparently even criminals share a respect for dignity and life – as long as you give them what they want. And as long as they are not politically motivated, in which case massacres can occur. Terrorism is unfortunately not restricted to any particular culture or continent.

 

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London

Posted on October 30, 2011 by Nandani Lynton

London: The City, The Eye, The Outlook

London: the old and spacious with the new peeking over its schoulder

I spent five days in London at the FRED Forum (The Future of Executive Development, a leadership incubator – www.FRED.org). The  conference was excellent. Speakers were people like Gillian Tett of the FT, who talked about viewing the finance industry from the viewpoint of an anthropologist – a perspective I have found most useful in business across industries. The most impactful experiences however were the NGO visits and a speech by Camila Batmanghelidjh, the founder and director of Kids Company, which delivers services to vulnerable children (www.kidsco.org.uk/) Although I read a lot about neurological research, Camilla was the first to make me understand the linkage of chemistry, neural pathways and violence among youth who were themselves maltreated as children. An impressive woman for what she has built, Camilla is also a master of explaining complex processes through stories that address one’s emotions viscerally. No wonder she is so effective.

Commuting for five days at the height of office hour traffic, I got a taste of what it is like to live in London. Though I have visited so often over the years, for the first time I became aware of just how big and crowded the city is – I think it feels more like Asia than any other European city I know. Crossing London Bridge in the morning I was surrounded by office workers, all wearing black, all rushing in the same direction. I could not have stopped or turned to the left or the right because I was carried along by the crowd. Just like Shanghai at rush hour!

And like Shanghai, London can be draining. The commutes are long, the pressure high. It explained a story we heard during a visit to the NGO Envision that provides young people with an opportunity to make a difference. (www.envision.org.uk/) . One described how a group of teenagers from East London decided that one major problem in the city is that everyone seems miserable. No one has time to chat or smile, and, they decided, the City workers are the most miserable of all. So they came up with ways to cheer up their fellows. After the London transport system refused to let them perform on the underground, they decided to stand on the Millennium Bridge at commuting time when the hordes pour across on their way to work in law firms, investment banks, and offices. A series of signs alerted pedestrians that ‘Just Ahead’, ‘We are waiting’ ‘To give you a’ ‘ Hi-Five’. And there they stood, hi-fiving the miserable crowd and – hopefully – causing a few smiles. Charity to an underdeveloped area – that’s perspective for you.

The Shard towering above London Bridge Station

Also like many Asian cities, London develops continually and juxtaposes the old and the new. Again and again it has produced icons of architecture – from old ones like the Tower of London or St. Paul’s, to the new that are often decried as garish but then fit in and define the city: the Gherkin, the London Eye, and the newest, the Shard, which is still under construction. It is an exciting, diverse, busy city.

 

 

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Zurich

Posted on October 22, 2011 by Nandani Lynton

Zurich: Moody Waters, Steady Business

Coming into Zurich from Hong Kong feels like landing in a fairytale. The first impression is the glorious tips of the Alps, shining in the sun and below the clouds, everything seems green. On the ground, I experience the surroundings as petite; the old streets, some still cobblestoned and many lined with lovely bourgeois townhouses, the glimpses of the lake all feel slightly unreal. And this too is a global business centre? Look at all wires hanging across the roads – perhaps for trolley cars or, could it be, for electricity? Are we in the last century here?

But glancing in the other direction I feel familiarity – ah, some of the “national birds” of China, the construction cranes, have found their way even to sleepy Zurich. Things are happening, changes being made. Hopefully not too many but the cranes signify activity.

Minutes later though, we are already leaving town, into what feels like true countryside and now we really see the lake. What an expanse of dark blue water! In the morning it is obscured by mist, and I regret the haziness, I want to really see it! But already the next day I can appreciate the swirls of haziness, the  changing hues of the water and its moods. By midday the sun has burned away the veil and Lake Zurich lays sparkling at my feet.

CEIBS inaugural ‘China Connecting Conversations’, bringing together senior European and Chinese executives, is being held in the beautiful Swiss Re Centre above the lake. Conversations are unstoppable; in every corner experiences are shared and impressions checked. It is a step to better understanding and integration – necessary as the world becomes more integrated and more Chinese companies engage with – or purchase – European firms.

 

 

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Hong Kong

Posted on October 22, 2011 by Nandani Lynton

Hong Kong: Still the Financial Centre for China

Until close to 2000, expatriates living in China would fly to Hong Kong a minimum of once every three months for the famous R&R trips included in Expat packages. Rest & Recreation these trips were called. They would have been better names Imbibe & Shop, because mostly they were a chance to eat familiar food that was still unavailable on the mainland – exotic things like turkey sandwiches or salads with mixed greens or raspberries – and to see films and go to concerts. And then, of course, to buy all those things the families wanted and couldn’t get in Shanghai or Beijing.

This list started in the ‘90’s with fax machines, white boards, toys and disposable diapers, English language books, and soon moved to high-end electronics as more and more was produced and sold in China. Today, you can probably purchase everything in many Chinese cities and towns; after all, Louis Vuitton and Mont Blanc and all the other top brands have retail shops even in third tier Chinese cities whose names most non-Chinese have never heard.

After the handover of Hong Kong in 1997, many predicted the Chinese would suck out its specialties and indeed, Shanghai has grown into a most impressive regional financial centre. Nonetheless Hong Kong has kept a special role.

The downside of the continued dynamism in Hong Kong includes the ongoing reclamation of land, which means the harbour continues to shrink. I deeply regret this, since I still have memories of traveling by ocean liner and docking on the Kowloon side for a one or two day shore leave before traveling on. At that time the Peninsula Hotel really was still short and my view of Hong Kong included tiny shops selling hand-smocked dresses and – yes even then – English language cinemas. And small exotic feeling restaurants and typhoons. It was all very exciting and very different from the skyscrapers of today.

I am not against development. Modern Hong Kong has a rhythm of its own; as people walk along the raised walkways between buildings they exude purpose and dynamism – and if they stroll then they are old or tourists. Things happen in Hong Kong, is what their feet tell you, you can’t waste time because you might miss an opportunity. But by the way – do have a quick look at the view as you rush along, or breathe in the air as you walk through central’s park between one office or bank tower and another. And glimpse the plantation like tea museum out of the corner of your eye as you move.

The CLSA Investors’ Forum that brought me here this time attracts institutional investment people and corporate executives. The largest of CLSA’s many Asia meetings, this one featured George Clooney discussing his Satellite Sentinel Project that exposes crimes against humanity in South Sudan by catching them on satellite image, and my hero Hans Roslin, the Swedish doctor who has become the rock star of making statistics understandable (see him on TED talks and at www.gapminder.org). And then lesser names like my own, speaking on trends that can effect investment decisions: in my case, about the difficulties of attracting and retaining the young generation in China.

Hong Kong is a lovely mixture, it is very Chinese but has far more diversity than a Shanghai, Beijing, or Guangzhou. Singapore is better know for being multi-cultural, but Hong Kong has long been home to many Asians including Indonesians, Philippinos, Thais, Indians and various waves of Chinese and Westerners.

May it continue, with all the intermingling, for a very long time.

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Dalian, China

Posted on September 21, 2011 by Nandani Lynton

Dalian: The Livable Business Hub of China’s Northeast

Not quite Sydney despite the architecture, Dalian is a delightful mid-sized Chinese city which means it has a population of about 6 million and mixes the flash of new high-rises and wide roads with the older narrow streets and small shops that were here 20 years ago. All this makes Dalian seem very livable. The municipal machinery is busy, judging by the infrastructure, the high tech zone and by Dalian’s bi-annual hosting of the so-called Summer Davos, the New Champions meeting held by the World Economic Forum each September in China.

A business hub with many international companies, especially from nearby Korea and Japan, and a major port facility as well as its own high-tech zone where Intel’s wafer-fabrication operation is prominent.  One feels the business influx in the profusion of international hotels and of course in the development zone, but otherwise there are not many foreigners visible. Dalian still has much of its old charm; wide avenues show little traffic, few parts of town feel crowded, and people have time to chat.

The charm may be partly due to the advantages of Dalian’s geography. More like Hong Kong in topography most other Chinese coastal towns, Dalian has hills that hide the beaches and lots of green. It shows a charming combination of its historical Japanese, Korean and Russian influence, with restaurants specializing in their cuisines and signs in their languages. The architecture too is a hodgepodge of influences, though previous mayor Bo Xi Lai’s influence on cleaning up and painting buildings in European style is still clearly evident. Right along the beach there is a new development of elegant and spacious townhouses; the advertisement proclaims: “This is What I Should Be.” The aspiration is clear.

One of the apparently little appreciated sights of Dalian is the television tower with its superb views and the amusement park that cascades down from it. A wonderful collection of greenery, rides for all ages, and a gondola up to the tower that takes you right across a new highway – everything you could want for an afternoon is there – and was almost deserted during my visit. The television tower had 4 visitors until a group of about 20 Chinese tourists came for all of 10 minutes. The gondola was empty, and having espied two youngsters on a kind of slide or toboggan run the entire length of the hill, I had to go and have a try. It was wonderful fun, a really long run. Highly recommended for all ages.

A tourist destination because of its beaches, Dalian has an impressively organized train station, full of seemingly relaxed travelers. In town, a Metro system, and a tram including what looks like a pre-WWII Japanese wooden tramcar, along with taxis and the really light traffic make this an easy place to get around. The many restaurants tend to be the do-it-yourself variety; instead of having a menu, customers choose seafood and vegetables and meats as if in a grocery store and then enter into long discussions about how it should be prepared. In the evenings, people are out on the streets, eating, shopping in the market, all-chatting very good-naturedly.

On a bench looking out to sea, I met a seventy-year old woman with four teeth from Jilin who chatted about the pleasures of Dalian and announced that things had been good under Mao. “How about your country?” she asked me. When I talked about Europe, she demanded figures and then laughed and laughed at the populations of Germany and France, saying “so tiny?” She liked Denmark even better but I assured her that, taken altogether, Europe could be compared to China. More giggles.

On a somewhat more serious note, the topic of South-South investment and interaction heated up at the Forum and then in the newspapers. While participation varies widely, there is a major South American, especially Brazilian contingent as well as Indians and South Africans but few Europeans or North Americans. The Financial Times and other papers have reported on the Chinese discussions about saving the Euro, and indeed their foreign reserves are a major influence. Yet the fervor with which Chinese discussed this was noticeable, while reactions from the other BRIC markets represented were quite skeptical of their ability to make a difference yet.

 

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Brandenburg

Posted on July 24, 2011 by Nandani Lynton

Ostalgie – Nostalgia for East Germany

Driving into Brandenburg, about 90 minutes east of Berlin and almost to the Polish border, the roads begin to be uneven, the fields flatter, the villages grayer and small. Our seminar location was down a narrow path through the woods – a converted villa by a lovely green lake – well, lovely if it hadn’t been drizzling constantly.

Day two the sun began to break through, the paths dried, and I walked up through the woods and onto the road, moving through brisk air between forest and fields. There were five brown horses on a shady pasture, happily being fed loaves of bread by a farmer who looked about 70. As he turned to his tractor, I greeted him, saying what lovely countryside he has.

The farmer responded that it was lovely indeed, but unfortunately very empty, and we got into conversation. He said the young people move to the West for better paying jobs, which I knew. But I hadn’t realized the second step, that the families then follow, because pensioners immediately receive 3-400 Euro more in monthly pensions in the West. And so the farms too are left uninhabited, emptied of the elders and not just the youth.

Unification came too fast, he declared. It had been right, but was implemented too quickly, and so all expectations had been raised.

“There is no justice in life,” he said. “I thought there was, when I was young, but there isn’t.”

And proceeded to tell me that he had been born before the war and his father fell in Russia. As a young man he had asked his mother why Germans were in Russia anyway, it being no business of theirs, and why his father had gone. She replied that ‘big people’ make such decisions, ‘little people’ have no choice. And that anyway, had his father refused to go, he would have been shot right there.  Having been born in Silesia, which is in Poland today, he and his mother had been refugees as the war ended. “Had she gone a bit further, we would have been in the West, and received reparations. Here there was nothing. And so I learned, there is no justice,” he said. “It hurts to talk about these things, I have to go.” And climbed into his tractor to drive off.

Why had he told a stranger such details of his life?  Because there are so few left to listen?

I walked on, between fields of sunflowers that stretched almost as far as I could see, the flowers’ broad faces turned toward the warm sun.

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