If your plan is to make a scene, I am asking you to review your reasons for coming here. If you are coming here to free Tibet, don’t bother coming. More often than not those who do the loudest wailing have no idea what that means to the lives of all the poor Tibetans in China who have no idea why things just got worse. All they really know is that things just got a whole lot worse. They don’t need your self-righteousness being played out in China. They don’t need your Olympic plans to make the world a better place. What may sound like a good idea in a well-lit meeting room in a comfortable Student Center, may, in fact, be the absolute worst thing you could possibly do.

To exacerbate an already bad situation, then hop on a jet and fly back home, is not helping anyone at all. No one needs false ‘heroics’ now, especially the indigenous Tibetans who are, more often than not, disregarded by everyone when it comes to promoting outside agendas. … The reality of life in the countryside is a lot more difficult than what you can possibly imagine it to be. Remember, it’s not about you. It’s always about them, so learn who they are and how their lives go down every day, which, at the moment, is difficult, to say the least. You should ask yourself if what you are planning to do would make life any more difficult for the lives of those who you believe you are helping. The saying, “First do no harm,” is actually not a cliché. Pay it some attention. There are other, more effective ways to make your voices heard.

One week into the Games and we’ve seen the self-righteous waving, swinging and unfurling of one thing and another by those with a higher message. It’s tiresome, counter-productive, and irksomely self-promoting. And now in what appears to be a piss poor piece of journalism, a story by the Guardian’s Jonathan Haynes, accompanied by an incriminating photo, tells us all that it has happened again, this time along the East Third Ring Rd. The accuracy of the story is highly questionable.

The photo shows a couple of folks swinging from ropes from the wall of giant billboards along the what appears to be the western perimeter of the CCTV Bldg. property, not the actual building as Haynes reports.

The pair abseiled down the building’s glass facade and hung their banner over an Olympics billboard with the slogan “Beijing 2008″ at 5.45am local time.

If, in fact, I am correct about the location of the pair – on one of the billboards along the East Third Ring Rd. – it would be virtually impossible to abseil down that side of the building and end up on the billboards. Tower 1 leans 6 degrees to the east, not the west, and to abseil from the building to the billboards would be a real trick, one that would have needed a boom, some expensive and cleverly rigged wires, and the creative direction of Zhang Yimou. It appears to me from the photo that the pair of self-promoting rope folks were near the new Jintaixizhao subway entrance, close to the CCTV Bldg, but hardly on it. I expect better of the Guardian. And if I am wrong, I will be more than happy to apologize to Mr. Haynes, though I think that the apology will be owed by them for their shoddiness of reporting.

At the end of June I was in Paris and happened upon a copy of the Architecture and Urbanism, July 2005 Special Issue on the “CCTV by OMA.” It was not cheap, and I walked away from it, though the details of this thick, glossy issue were too much to … walk away from. Later Beth went back to the shop and bought the copy. The main attractions were the architectural renderings, along with plans, sections and elevations of both main buildings in the complex, as well as drawings and renderings of the other buildings and proposed public spaces within the borders of this massive project.

Last week Jeremy at Danwei mentioned the following concerning the helipad:

On a related subject, the iconic new CCTV building designed by Rem Koolhaas has had its clean lines ruined by the addition of a helicopter landing pad on the roof.

The gossip in Beijing is that Koolhaas was enraged by the late-breaking design change, …

In a follow up to my comment where I mentioned the Architecture and Urbanism special issue he posted the following:

I called a staff member of Koolhaas’ firm OMA in Beijing. He told me he was too busy right now to find out what happened: essentially “no comment”.

Below are three photos (click on the photos for larger versions) from the issue showing the helipad as part of the long-term plan. If there is a rub it is probably not over the helipad, but rather the change that grew it from a square contained within the perimeter of the footprint, into a circle that overhangs the edges, as well as raising the deck of the pad above the high point of the roof. It’s all about the mashing (not the meshing) of shapes, and how some things can, unexpectedly, change. It is, after all, CCTV.

To Live, a stunning work of a family’s life from pre-Liberation days through the Cultural Revolution, is one that many Chinese who lived through that period claim to be an accurate portrayal of the confusion and pain of those times. (At one point as the CR gets cranked up, Fugui (Ge You) desperately says something along the lines of, “I am not sure what I should be,” which for me explains it all.) This was ZYM at his storytelling best. But since then (1994) he has worked hard to get into the good graces of the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television (SARFT).

His next two film were sentimental portrayals of Chinese education, which got him into play. I still don’t understand how Happy Times, a film of the south, works into the scheme, but it is not one I’d sit through again. ZYM is a northern filmmaker, and he was clearly out of his element in this one. It was as if he was paying off a debt. But once that bill was settled he got the nod and the subsequent big bucks. Hero was the first sign of what we saw at the opening ceremony: costumes, dazzle, and villages of extras. This sympathetic portrayal of Qin Shi Huang (read ‘Mao Zedong’) set him square with the party. All was forgiven, or, as forgiven as forgiveness gets in China.

That led to House of Flying Daggers, a 30-minute story painfully stretched into 119. This one didn’t know how to end. As Zhang Ziyi did her best not to die, I kept pleading, “Stay down! Please! Stay down. I’ve got other things to do.” Though it was colorful, full of miracles and enhanced wonders, mostly it was empty, just the way things ought to be to make it in this market.

Now there is a great roar over the questionable use of children, computer-generated fireworks displays, and the ‘undermining’ of Adidas’ eighty million USD investment for the Olympic shoe rights by Li Ning, the former Olympian who lit the Flame, and who happens to be a prime competitor of Adidas here in China. The pre-reeducated ZYM would have opted for a concrete-crusty construction worker with a genuine smile running up a broken-tiled stairway, two at a time, to light a little red candle. And that’s why he wouldn’t have gotten the job.

I can hear Steven Spielberg sighing, “Whew!” And Zhang Yimou? Well, he has nothing to worry about. He’ll continue to make approved films and get his large market share despite how this all plays out with the international film set. Don’t expect to see anything like Huo Zhe again. That was then and this is the future where all the money is.

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For some great photos of the opening ceremony have a look at toomanytribbles Flickr set.

The bonus of being in the stands, as opposed to watching events on television, is that you can fix on what you’d like to fix on, rather than being directed by someone in the booth. I have no idea what was shown on television, though I have a clear and vivid memory of what I saw. Whether those memories are accurate or not is anyone’s guess, but they’re mine and I get to have them. Television – the same shared angle, the same flat, boxy plane – allows all viewers to see the same thing, and only the same thing. The size of the screen has no bearing on the sameness of experiencing the event. What we cannot see is most of the details, and so we’re left to imagine what’s happening just beyond the border where the world might be coming to an end, though you’d never know it if the guy in the booth doesn’t want to show it. Be that as it may, I almost never go to live sporting events for any number of reasons, the major one being that I don’t care to be in the middle of unrestrained froth and roar. Anything can happen in a crowd, and howling is the prime indicator that there may be blood in the offing. Crowds have a tendency to move in that direction. Any crowd, anywhere, gathered for any purpose can transmute into something much less than a sum of its parts. It’s all too frighteningly religious.

But I know that going in. And going into this one those sorts of checks were not even an issue. I wanted to be there for the spectacle of it, and this one dished it up just right. Two memories from that game – unquestionably a historic event, not a great game but an exciting one – stand out: one, general, of Yao Ming; and the other, specific, of George W. Bush.

First, and more importantly ,Yao Ming. I like Yao, and I have written in here about him before. To see him lead the Chinese team out onto the court was a moment that I am glad to have witnessed, as I clapped along with everyone else. The Chinese fans were obviously stoked, as were many of us foreigners who understood, in our own particular ways, the importance of Yao emerging from the tunnel leading his teammates onto the well-lit court for the warm-ups. It was a charged, cracking moment.

As the game progressed I watched more closely as Yao ran out of steam, grimaced in pain, bent over with his hands on his knees, slowly lifted himself from the floor after a wreck that left him holding his foot in what could only be described as agony (from the Greek root, meaning contest). It was more like seeing Cool Hand Luke eat fifty eggs - each one more ominous than the last - than it was watching a star in all his glory. Adrian Wojnarowski has a good take on Yao Agonistes here. It was a struggle to watch him struggle. I just wanted the guy to sit down, take a mighty load off his mighty big and painful lower extremities. I wanted to see Yao on the bench, especially after it became obvious that even divine intervention couldn’t salvage a win. How much can you wring from a man? Being Yao is complicated and obviously a painful business.

Now on to George W. Bush. I wonder if there is a chapter in the Presidential instruction manual addressing the proper presidential response to the introduction of opposition players at an Olympic basketball contest. If there is, Xiao Bushi is obviously waiting for the Cliff Notes. As the Chinese players were introduced Mr. Bush remained unmoved and un-clapping. Each player, including Yao, got the same response: a low-browed, leaning forward silence. I’d bet you didn’t see this one on television. I guess he was saving his claps for the home country team, since he applauded heartily for the US team. I’m thinking he probably got a B- in International Decorum 101 at Yale. Or maybe he just skipped it altogether.

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On a more ominous note, during the half time show one of the trampoline propelled dunkers took a nasty spill after a flying stuff, landing on his head, getting up slowly before lying next to the mat. He got up and with the help of two others made it into the tunnel before he again laid down before eventually being carried off in a stretcher. No idea how this one turned out, though if anyone knows, leave a comment.

There’s the bullet train from Tianjin to Beijing (and vice versa, though we only took it one way) to report on. And Ai Wei Wei and Norman Foster at the Ullens Center for Contemporary Art in Beijing 798 on the morning of August 8th, an odd encounter on Wangfujing, water polo, a retired Brazilian colonel in the rain, and George Bush, both of them: we shared the same basketball game, though they were on the far, other side and I am quite sure that we were seeing the entire experience from distinctly different angles.

And (surprise!) I took more photos of the CCTV Headquarters Building in Olympiadic repose. (Click on any of the photos below for a larger version.)

And there are a lot more here, which I will be adding to over the next few days.

The quake’s epicenter was located about 50 kilometers (30 miles) north-northwest of Guangyuan [Plant 821, a large plutonium producing reactor is located near Guangyuan, a city that lost 5,000 people in the May 12 earthquake], near Sichuan’s border with neighboring Gansu province.

Hours before the quakes struck, the Olympic torch relay made its way through parts of Sichuan, on its way to the Summer Games, which get under way Friday in Beijing, some 1,200 kilometers (745 miles) away.

The earthquake occurred at 5.49 p.m. local time (0949 GMT), news agency Xinhua said — striking a few hours after the relay made its final stop in the Sichuan provincial capital of Chengdu.

I have just gone through the People’s Daily, China Daily and Xinhua and learned that Nursultan Nazarbayev of Kazakhstan will attend the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympic Games: (Kazakhstan was the first stop on the international leg of the torch relay and Mr. Nazarbayev, a character with some serious issues of one-man rule, also was a torch bearer); that both the Grand Duke of Luxembourg and Quatar’s Crown Prince have arrived in Beijing; that Japanese Prime Minister Yasuo Fukado may not this year visit “Yasukuni Shrine on August 15, the anniversary of Japan’s defeat in World War II;” and that Reuters has pledged fair coverage for the Beijing Games. But not one mention of the latest Sichuan earthquake, close to the border with Gansu.

In some world some of this is considered great news. Where else would I have learned that Reuters has made a pledge to Beijing to be fair? Reuters does, in fact, have a story on last evenings earthquake, which shows that they are keeping their word. But what about the state media? What are they pledging? To close their eyes in hopes that all things bad will somehow go away? That hasn’t worked so far.

There’s nothing really wrong with reporting what insurers refer to as Acts of God, which means that no one can possibly be blamed. It’s not just about the fuwa fuzzies.

The first women’s preliminary football matches will be held tomorrow evening, a double-header kicking off at 9 PM, Argentina vs. Canada, followed by China and Sweden, which is scheduled to finish at 1:30 AM on the 7th. The final match in Tianjin will be on the evening of August 15th, a women’s quarterfinal match.

Though the car limitations don’t begin each day until noon - theoretically allowing for a full morning rush hour, while restricting the evening one – car owners who work the day shift will be able to drive to work on any day, though able to drive their cars home only half of those days, unless, of course, they hang out at the job and wait for the clock to strike ten.

George Bush, the perfect symbol of the intrinsic shortcomings that have historically plagued the democratic process – sometimes you get a pseudo-cowboy yee-hawing on a mountain bike and a sidekick who shoots his friends in the face - that’s, unfortunately, the deal. Be that as it may, he will still be speaking in Beijing over the next week as the head of a state. If the last seven-and-a half years are any indication of significance, what he will say will be unimportant. He could show up on Chang’an Jie hawking Diebold voting machines, and he’d still earn a Page Two to “Three-Headed Teen Gives Birth To A Pig.” And if he doesn’t, he should.

This is diplomatic business and George and his crew have proven too many times that diplomacy is dirty, brutish work and, obviously, not to be trusted to diplomats. When he had the chance to actually have a voice in the swirl that has surrounded these Games, he maintained his silence. There was, at least for a short time, the slimmest of possibilities that he was holding out to negotiate some sort of higher-purposed deal (I know, I must have been dreaming), one that possibly could have added a shred of decency to a future legacy that will, no doubt, become the benchmark for incompetence and abject failure. I imagine Michael Dukakis is just biding his time, waiting for any of the pictures of George Bush on the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln to become the number one most ridiculous political photo in American history, thereby knocking helmeted Dukakis in a tank from #1. (My personal favorite, which I cannot seem to find, is Richard Nixon, August, 1974, Yugoslavia, shaking hands with random admirers in a cordoned crowd as he looks intently at his watch, days before he was lifted from the White House lawn for good.)

But George just wants to have a little fun, and Beijing’s a good a place as any for a recovered Christian alcoholic to let his hair, short as it is, down.

One reporter quoted IOC president Jacques Rogge as saying “foreign media will be able to report freely and publish their work freely in China. There will be no censorship on the Internet.”

Davies suggested that Rogge, who is Belgian, may have not been completely precise when he spoke because he was using English, which is not his native tongue.

“There’s been no change in the IOC’s position,” Davies said. “Again, I think we are trying to hang on every single word often spoken by people whose mother tongue isn’t English. Let me be clear again: The IOC would like to see open access for the media to be able to do their job.”

If this is how they deal with problems, no wonder they’re neck-deep in them. Would it surprise anyone if the IOC folks showed up at the next press conference with top hats, wands and a reeking hutch of fuzzy rabbits. Or maybe Jacques doing card tricks, in French.