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ICFA Past President David Shipper stands at the entrance to Bin Hai Cemetery in Shanghai. Photo by Peter Van Schaik of FIAT-IFTA. Click here to see all of Peter Van Schaik's photos from his trip to China.
Life, Death and Burial in Shanghai
(Editor's note: In November 2002, ICFA Past President David Shipper traveled halfway around the world to represent the association at the Shanghai International Exhibition & Seminar on Funeral Equipment & Funeral Service. Throughout his trip, he kept a journal of the sights and sounds of the conference and its destination city. This is his report.)
by David Shipper, founder and president of The Futura Group in Princeton, New Jersey, and vice president of Rose Hills Memorial Park, Putnam Valley, New York. He and can be reached at dshipper@futuragroup.com
I put on the headphones and turned on my Discman. "Listen to this conversation and see if you can understand it," the voice on the CD urged. I listened to the unfamiliar sounds of a man and woman conversing in rapid Chinese and thought, "Are you nuts? Of course I don't understand it."
The narrator continued, "I am sure you did not understand the conversation," -- you said it, brother -- "but after a few minutes you will." "Yeah, sure," I thought. I listened intently for about 30 minutes, dutifully repeating all the phrases with a no doubt masterful Chinese accent.
"OK, now let's listen to the conversation we heard at the beginning of the lesson again and see if you understand it now!" As a matter of fact, I didn't. Over the next few days I worked on the language lessons a bit more, trying to get comfortable with a few phrases. Finally, about two hours into my 12-hour flight to Tokyo, I gave up.
* * * * *
At about 4 o'clock in the morning, New York time, some 15 hours since leaving my house, I found myself standing in the Tokyo airport, staring at a bunch of departure gates with destinations such as Beijing, Shanghai, Manila, Singapore and Seoul. The sights and smells were different, but the pain of long flights, delays, crowds and bad food were all too familiar.
After 23 hours of traveling, we landed at Pudong Airport in Shanghai, a gleaming new facility that the locals say looks like a big cigar. I'm not sure about the cigar imagery, but it sure is big. With some trepidation, I left my American plane and flight crew and walked with my fellow passengers over beautiful granite floors, following signs posted in English and Chinese to my first inspection by communists. Dum de dum dum.
Having secured a visa some time ago and not carrying anything remotely sinister or that could be construed as capitalist propaganda, I approached a nattily dressed China Police person in an all-black uniform with a shining stainless steel number emblazoned across his lapel.
He barely looked at me (just like at home), he ran my passport through a scanner (just like at home) and with barely a "harrumph," I was on my way. Not surprisingly, the baggage area looked just like the ones at home-but was cleaner and nicer-except that OSHA and the ADA had not affected the baggage system, modern though it was. A quick moment for my baggage and I went through customs to a huge arrival hall filled with people holding up signs, (just like at home).
Waiting for me was an affable Chinese woman I assumed was Chen Jin Xia, my constant e-mail companion prior to my journey. It turned out she wasn't Miss Chen; it took me about a half hour to ascertain that she was actually a "volunteer." In any case, she and a driver ushered me into a waiting Mercedes van for my first look at China.
What first struck me was the incredible road system around the airport. All the ramps were outlined with horizontal lights, making them look like rockets or bright streamers flying around the airport-quite a sight.
A snaking, single monorail-like track accompanied us all along the road to Shanghai. My guide remarked that it was part of the new magnetic train being built from the airport to the city. "We are building-well, the government is building-a magnetic train. It will only take 12 minutes to get to Shanghai," she remarked with obvious pride. Not long after my return to the U.S., there was a picture on the front page of The New York Times of the prime ministers of China and Germany sharing the first ride on that train.
Also during the trip to Shanghai, I noticed large vinyl-wrapped billboards advertising all kinds of products, most noticeably villas that would look right at home in any relatively warm part of the U.S. When I asked the interpreter whether these houses were for foreigners, she looked at me like I was from another country. "No," she replied, "for Chinese." Was this country going to be different from the bleak communist China I expected?
My volunteer went on to say that a friend of hers studying in Austin, Texas, told her that there aren't nearly as many cell phones in the U.S. as there are in China. She speculated that the reason cell phones are so popular with the Chinese is that they are always running 10 or 15 minutes late, so they need to be able to call ahead. "If an American says they are going to be somewhere at a certain time, they are," she said, "so they don't need as many cell phones." I countered that to my knowledge, Americans are about as punctual as the rest of the world, and perhaps we need fewer cell phones because our regular telephone system works pretty well. She thought about that for a while and reluctantly agreed I might have a point.
About 40 minutes and an unbelievable amount of urban sprawl later, we entered onto a large boulevard called Hong Qiao Road. As we passed by, I looked longingly at the Marriott; rarely had its red logo looked so inviting. Instead, we pulled into the Shanghai Worldfield Convention Hotel. It looks a bit better in cyberspace than it is in reality.
I checked in, hoping to pass out in my room after my 25-hour trip, but was immediately visited by a Shanghai Civil Affairs representative who asked, "Mr. Shipper, would you please be the chairperson of the convention tomorrow afternoon?"
"Uhmm ... well sure," I said, though I was more concerned about my own presentation. I tried to give him my updated PowerPoint presentation-Joe Budzinski had done such a good job on it-but he didn't seem too keen on accepting it.
Best news of that day: There was real Diet Coke in the mini bar! Ah, a taste of home.
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The next morning, struggling to wake up for my 10 a.m. presentation, I went downstairs to have breakfast. I was greeted by a sign outside the restaurant that said, "Temperature 55 ... Drizzling ... Have A Nice Day" and by the din of hungry hotel guests of every nationality having breakfast.
I was greeted with, "Good morning; your coupon please." "Uhhh, hmmm ... coupon? I don't have one, but I can give you my room number." With raised eyebrows and a disgusted shrug, she showed me to a table. Breakfast was OK; I didn't find the egg station until the next morning. Let's just say that if you're Chinese or Japanese, you probably would have loved the soy-soaked hard boiled eggs.
I proceeded to the convention center, picked up my simultaneous translation earphones and had a long fruitless discussion about my desire to use my new PowerPoint presentation, the one with better pictures and everything! Despite assurances that it would be used, somehow I knew that the old version, probably with translated subtitles, was going to show up on the program.
I was directed to a "distinguished guests" room, where I met some of my fellow foreign barbarians and quite a number of Chinese dignitaries, chief among them a famous Chinese economist who was to give the keynote address. Some jokes about communist economists started running through my mind, but I rejected them in favor of smiling and nodding. I vaguely registered that there was a lot of picture-taking going on, especially of handshakes and smiles.
We were ushered into the 500- to 700-seat auditorium, a festive place with a huge red Mao backdrop, and asked to take our seats on the stage. One of my companions, a man from Holland, was extremely concerned about what we were supposed to do. Having had the benefit of many ICFA meetings where I had no idea what I was doing, I remained calm. Apparently, we were there for the film crews and photographers and brief introductions.
After that, we were trooped to the trade show ribbon-cutting ceremony. Three slinky, traditionally garbed hostesses each held elaborate bows on silver platters connected to each other by ribbon. As we were ushered toward the "bow women," my newfound friend from Holland again expressed concerned about our role. Again, drawing on my ICFA experiences, I assured him we not only had no role, we were performing it flawlessly. We stood behind our Chinese hosts as they cut the ribbon to mild applause and frenetic picture-taking.
Once inside, we and hundreds of locals thronged through the relatively small but extremely well conceived and laid-out show. Most of the exhibitors were Chinese companies selling their wares to the local funeral community; some were foreign equipment companies. Among the lavish displays were those showing Chinese morgue refrigeration, a retort and a terrific refrigeration unit used to display the deceased in a glass-covered unit at home instead of at the funeral home.
Typical caskets (all for cremation).
Typical casket, usually filled with flower blossoms at the time of casketing.
Urns on display. Photos by Peter Van Schaik of FIAT-IFTA. Click here to see more of his photos from the exhibit hall.
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Preparing for my trip, I had read some books on China and some articles on Chinese business protocol. I had read that not only having business cards but the method of presenting them is important. When you are introduced to someone, you bow slightly from your upper back and neck and present your business card with both hands, your two thumbs lightly holding the top edge of the card. When you accept a business card, don't put it in your pocket right away. You have to show respect by looking at it and keeping it in your hand for a while before putting it away.
A quick Internet search revealed a number of translators happy to e-mail me the proper Chinese characters for any American business, address and name. I quickly chose Sonny from Canada as my translator and $35 and two hours later I had the following e-mailed to me:
We had added the blue Futura Group logo at our office. Having run across some unfamiliar superstitions in my reading, I was concerned that maybe something about the logo might somehow insult someone, so I called Sonny and asked him about it.
During our discussion, he enthusiastically told me he had come up with a wonderful translation for "Futura Group." I asked what it was. "Blessed Journey," said Sonny, adding, "It's very good luck!" He was very excited. Needless to say, "Blessed Journey" cards were a huge hit.
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Click here to proceed to the next chapter: Technical difficulties and a tour of Shanghai.
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Copyright ICFA 2003
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