The fist Saturday night in Guangzhou: 42°C; Sunday’s peak of 38°C; a toasty Monday, 37°C; Tuesday’s inferno 37°C and Wednesday at 38°C. The week that followed hit highs of 36°C daily. Last week, another Wednesday clocked 37°C. Oppressive heat with a real feel peak of “feels like 49°C.” Just the twelve degrees above human body temperature. Tropical humidity. Storms were coming, again and again. Just like two weeks ago. The 6th typhoon of the year was coming, apparently. The sky was mostly cloudless, most days. 28°C nighttime lows have allowed a wander or two. The 7th typhoon bypassed us. The heat remained.
Of course, being in tropical Guangdong, snow, and ice wasn’t on the menu. Humid subtropical climates rarely see coolness in summer. Still, the average high for July is supposed to be around 32.7°C. June was predicted to be at best 32°C. August is supposed to be, on average 32.5°C. Yet Huizhou and Dongguan are pressure cookers, much like the rest of the province of Guangdong. Sea ice melts, and Antarctic floating debris remains such a long way away from here. In fact, the only ice to be had seems to be in the abundance of single use plastic pots.
As much of Mediterranean Europe cooks or turns to ash, much of the Tropical world faces similar unfamiliar and extreme weather. Much like thousands of migrants displaced to a camp, many people around the globe find themselves fleeing even their place of refuge as fire threatens their temporary sanctuary. As many deserts expand, demands for food production slim the natural water sources whilst chugging out gas and reducing wilderness. The U.N. hold summit after summit and commits countries and their leadership to act. Those countries then break laws, find ways around it, or actually act. Some do okay. Some, like Norway, do well. Many failings are critically noted as insufficient. None are meeting the “1.5°C Paris Agreement compatible” rating. None. Some countries have people who argue they should be exempt because they’re just joining the Industrial Revolution. Aren’t all countries allowed to spend 283 years doing what they want? U.S.A. has the highest quota of negativity towards reduction of climate changing impact by it people. Well, it’s probably that constitution and a breach of rights, drawn up in 1789, at a time when climate change meant leaving home for many indigenous Americans as Europeans took over. And, other lands…
Recently, I passed a protest against the use of oil. This wasn’t Just Stop Oil. It was a group of Mancunians walking through Piccadilly waving banners and flags, quietly. Not a word could be heard from them. On the other side of the road, an angry man approached. “The ice caps will melt by such a date, and such will rise the sea levels to such a point that such will end the world”, belted out the words of a counter-protester who was genuinely protesting against protesters. He carried on, “Greenhouse gases are a myth.” I instantly liked his confidence. “The scientists are paid by Greenpeace to lie.” I disliked him immediately. His rage and custom-print t-shirt were clearly beliefs of his heart. The chosen slogan was “OIL RAN OUT IN 2010.” I assumed it was a rare form of cooking oil made from dodo blood. This balding white man in Piccadilly Gardens, Manchester, could have been me. It could have been any of us. Well, those of us who deny science, favouring homeopathy, and a less bumpy Earth. Or, those who believe a higher presence is just testing us, ahead of a second coming. Or, it could be models, hypotheses, and the rapid human-induced change (since 1760) on the globe that we call home. Iron, wool, cotton, silk, and fabrics to exploding e-bikes, Poundland plastics, bottle caps, and fishing line. Perhaps the lone counter-protester can see how waste like gases, solid materials, lithium from single use electronic vapes, etc. do no harm.
I could see his argument that wildfires are lies. Many wildfires get blamed on arsonists hellbent on unlocking wild land for development or potential declassification from nature parks. It is a time-honoured Western practice for removing listed buildings of heritage status. Greenhouse gases produced by older buildings may be less or more harmful. Perhaps the counter-protestor could start by understanding that Just Stop Oil are primarily concerned with the U.K. not pumping further oil or digging more coal… they even acknowledge that the U.K. must transition its current oil dependency. Although the government and opposition party Labour seemingly resemble crack addicts scrambling for their last dregs.
“Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain. ” – Jack Kerouac
Do we need to give our heads a massive collective wobble? Is a bunch of suffragette-style protest interrupting a fourth set the biggest of our worry? Just how recycled is that Donald Trump-coloured confetti? Will Gladiators return to TV inspire a Last Of Us radicalisation of our survival instincts?
These past 30 calendar days have seen the highest average global temperatures on record. Presumably, a catastrophic event caused higher temperatures prior to an extinction event. Not that thermometers had been invented, and people evolved. As toasted Mediterranean olive bushes and scolded tourist skin fragrances, the air of Italy and record-breaking Sardinia, shouldn’t we be worried?
As a jetsetter, I’m part of the problem. As a consumer, I’m deeply ingrained in the cause. As a descendent of the Industrial Revolution, I’m the offspring of people who came, saw, and conquered all. We’re the revolution, we the collective that is needed to realise that we’ve gone too far. But… leaders are needed to lead. Decisions, immediate laws, and collective change to make a difference are long overdue. Sadly, UK Prime Minister(s) and other global leaders fail us. Our destructive yet beautiful oxymoron of a species is moronic and running around like a headless chicken… with its wings on fire. Totally cooked. Still, at least we can eat spicy chicken wings. Carbonated.
Forest fires? Rising in numbers. Like sea temperatures. Just like air pollution. Build a rocket boy? No! Everyone, country or business, can jettison vast amounts of space exploration gases. Dig up the coal. Burn it! Burn it all! Tax wind farms and milk the profits of oil barrels. Morality to mortality? Just Stop Rishi Sunak and his massive heated outdoor swimming pool. Our leaders and those at the top, interwoven and controlling all, have their pockets being lined, so how do we fight back?
Just Stop Oil are the suffragettes of the 21st century. Their methods may inconvenience many, and some compare them to terrorists in that they’re too active attacking people rather than leadership and authorities, but Just Stop All are making a fight, and that fight is making talk. Actions? Arguably, the actions at oil terminals helped their order.
Just Stop Oil wish to end fossil fuel licensing in the UK. Vandalism, civil resistance, direct obstruction, and road blocks have featured. Alongside tubes of superglue. Leaderless and without hierarchy, Extinction Rebellion and Insulation Britain are similar to Just Stop Oil. Each has targeted sporting events, British institutions, and maximised publicity. Art is bo exception. Glueing to a viewing. I’m not a fan of destroying heritage and culture, but isn’t it more on the line than our artistic history?
Hundreds of arrests, fines, and Police hours have been dedicated to protests and those seeking change. If it wasn’t for my profession, the consequences, and my own cowardice to abandon responsibility for protest, I’d happily join Just Stop Oil. Sadly, it’s all just my own hot air. Public Order Bill involvement seems a bit too far for this Mancunian from a city famed for radicalism. That real-life James Bond baddy, Drax, can keep pumping harmful gases in peace. As Norway taxes fossil fuel companies at 78% rates to support its economy and move to natural resources, Britain is left behind by greed and corruption. God save the King?
As for the contradiction of supporting an oil-backed football club, sporting an Etihad Airways sponsorship logo, whilst also wanting to support Just Stop Oil, that’s life, filled with contradiction… never simple. If only leaders could regulate and guide us from total destruction. Labour under Keir Starmer and the Conservatives under Rishi Sunak seem no better than one another. Both seem to vilify Just Stop Oil. Wishful thinking to think either can fix this environmental mess?
I am writing from near the seat of the West Xia Kingdom (1038-1227). The city of Yinchuan is about 25 kilometers (15.5 miles) away from the tombs and mausoleum. The bone dry eastern face of the Helan mountain range towers over the mausoleum site. The site spans around 50 square kilometers (19.3 square miles) and approximately 9 imperial tombs, with a huge 253 lesser tombs. They’re still making discoveries to this day.
The tombs are incredible to witness. The museum at the entrance has six very modern galleries full of relics discovered across the site. The lighting, style and interactive nature of the artefacts is we’ll organised. There are plenty of opportunities to visit the a 3D cinema, gifts shops and grab plenty of water for the outdoor experience that follows. From the museum you can walk to a bus transfer. Here we opted to walk to the mausoleums and experience the desert ambiance.
The mausoleum site is spread out, striking and feature-rich. Steles, towers, sacrifice palaces, earth walls, and natural damage by winter floodwater alongside cracks in the earth covered the whole region. Using three-wheeled scooters after plenty of walking, we managed to see huge distances of the area. Sunblock was applied almost hourly, as grasshoppers flew by with clicking sounds and cute Gerbil-like rodents scampered around. With two litres of water, the day was comfortable, but more is advisable in 38 degrees heat! The sun is not your friend.
The day was a great investment in exploring the state’s deep history and culture. A taxi from Yinchuan cost 60RMB and a return Didi taxi car cost 85RMB with entrance fee being about a 100RMB. Just over two hours on the scooters cost 130RMB (but we certainly went off the beaten track).
The following day, Mr Oliver and I set out for the Great Wall. I’d suggested the Ming Great Wall stretch by a place called Sanguankou (三关口明长城). The three passes are about 2.5km apart. We didn’t go there. Mr Oliver found a section using Baidu maps and an overhead satellite photo near to the G307 highway (Ningxia to Inner Mongolia). So, after a Didi taxi car journey we hopped out in searing heat in the mountainous Alxa desert. Having left Yinchuan’s continental arid climate we were now at the mercy of the sun.
We scrambled up a mound of earth to see a watchtower, wandered down the road and looked at the adjacent wall sections. Here we respected every fence and sign. Then we went under the highway and followed a section of wall through fields and over hills. Horses, hares and hawks were frequent witnesses to our hiking. The enigmatic landscape surrounding the wall had so much to offer the eyes.
Fences came and went, so we walked close and far at times. We started trekking at about 10:30am and ended around 19:00hrs. Some sections had the backdrop of a Jeep safari driving range, whilst others had civilian roads with a handful of tourists driving by and saying hello. At some stage though we had to get back to Yinchuan. The map shown a road to the nearby Wuwa Highway and G110 highway. We avoided the military warning signs on a path seemingly headed into the mountains, passing some civilian contractors and wandered (now without any water left) along a bleak ever-expanding straight line slab of concrete. The road was intensely energy-consuming.
Towards the last 3km, just past the tanks, a car with two men gave us a lift to the highway. That journey was curtailed and after three hours of explaining our day’s walking route, photograph inspection and travel document verification we were driven to the village of Minning. The People’s Liberation Army were extremely hospitable. They seemed to understand that we’d strayed into their tank range unintentionally. They appreciated our desire to see the Ming Dynasty Great Wall.
The gate guardsmen gave us hot noodles, a cake and some fruit. And frequent, much needed water. The chief who came with at least three officers and the Public Security Bureau policemen kept apologising for taking our time. It was all rather surreal. We were able to cancel our onward train journey, and hotel for the next night. We also apologised politely and shown our sorrow at wandering into a restricted military zone.
The Public Security Bureau policemen waited with us whilst we tried to get a taxi or Didi car. As it was midnight, nothing was coming, so we spoke with a nearby hotel receptionist. He ordered a car for us. We got in, whilst being watched by the three policemen. They approached then checked the driver knew where we were going. Finally, they checked his credentials and found he was an illegal taxi driver. So, we stepped from the car, “for your safety” and the Police dealt with him. Annoyed by that inconvenience, we started to hike and try to get back. The Police gave up and headed back. Eventually we flagged down a van.
Nestled between chicken feet in buckets, flies on the roof and 400RMB lighter for it, we made it back to the hotel we’d checked out of that day. We retrieved our left luggage and checked-in. All is well that ends well. Our next journey is the 1842 train to Gansu’s Lanzhou city to meet a connection to Zhangye. What waits for us there?
你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste,
Today, I am 36 years, 11 months and 26 days old. That’s 443 months and 26 days of age, or in simpler terms, I’m a week shy of hitting my 37th birthday. To some, age is a worrying number. The bigger the number, the closer to life becoming death, to some eyes. These 1929 weeks and 4 days have not flown by, but with my mind and memories, some remain so vivid and others lesser. My mind is a wonderful store for 324,240 hours of my life. Life is precious and I have been lucky to know so many great people. Along the road, there have been tests. I don’t believe anyone can live without a test, but of the 19,454,400 minutes, there have been rewards – and I truly believe more will follow. The number, 1,167,091,200 isn’t the exact time spent discussing Brexit, or the accumulated added time at Old Trafford. It is the seconds of my life. Every second counts. The building blocks and foundations of the past led me to the present. The future is before me.
I was born on a Thursday in Autumn 1982. That October day’s weather was in a year which had the coldest night of the twentieth century. The internet tells me it was around 11°C and sunny on Manchester. There was no snow in Manchester and wouldn’t be for some time – although Ben Nevis in Scotland had already seen snow earlier that month. 14 out of 15 of the hottest years globally have happened in my lifetime. Droughts, flooding and climatic changes have been witnessed year on year since.
For Manchester, The Smiths, had been performing with drag artists and dance troupes, only a few weeks before I was born. Their debut gig would be followed be decades of musical recognition. These days Morrisey and my personal favourite Johnny “Fu****g” Marr are solo acts. The jazz collective Blue Rondo a la Turk ’s whereabouts faded, save for the current Matt Bianco jazz band link. BBC Radio 3 held a Manchester Midday Concert, direct from the Royal Exchange Theatre on October the 28th, 1982. As Vossi Zivonl played the violin and Roesemarie Wright on piano ploughed through Schubert Sonatina No 3, in G minor (0408), I was making my way into a musical world. Do you really want to hurt me? by Culture Club was top of the music singles charts, during the week I was born. The Beatles, with Love Me Do, held 4th. Tears for Fears with Mad World, Eddy Grant’s I Don’t Wanna Dance, and House of the Rising Sun by The Animals occupied the top 20 spots too. (Sexual) Healing by Marvin Gaye was new, but only entered at number 50.
1982 was a year like any other. Things happened as they often do. Manchester University Press published Puma, a sci-fi novel by Anthony Burgess. It talks about a future in which loss would be encountered – on a cultural and literal level. It is an immense piece of reading. The story echoes today. The Pope had visited Heaton Park. I’ve been lucky to see high points of history, some up close, and sad enough to see stuff happen that shouldn’t happen. Mankind has an often-conflicted relationship with being civil. I was born on a day that Spain’s socialists won/communists lost in the national elections and NASA launched the RCA-E. First Blood was on at the movies, as opposed to now, where Last Blood is showing. Good old Rambo. It does feel like original movies aren’t gambled on anymore – or become so niche that they hide in arts festivals.
Just 5 days before I was born, Old Trafford, home of Man Utd experienced a game of football. City hadn’t won there for 8 years – and wouldn’t until 2008. Manchester City’s Dennis Tueart and David Cross each scored to equal the home side’s Frank Stapleton’s brace of goals. The day before my birth, City beat Wigan Athletic in the League Cup, held at Maine Road. Two goals by Paul Power were enough for the squad containing big Joe Corrigan, Ray Ranson, Bobby McDonald, Kevin Bond, Tommy Caton, Dennie Tueart, Kevin Reeves, David Cross, Asa Hartford and Graham Baker. Unlike today’s listing of seven substitutes, no subs were noted for that game. Two days after my birthday, City won 2-1 at home again. The Division One (Old) goalscorers that day were Asa Hartford and Dennie Tueart. City were suffering a cup drought – and that continued until 2011. Now, times are different. That’s life. That’s time.
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