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Note:  Proceed at your own risk.  This post contains an easy five step process, with lyrics included, for a non-fluent Mandarin speaker to belt out a song with local friends at a KTV lounge.  CN Reviews disclaims all responsibility for your potential loss of hearing, pride, face, or business relationships.

When I visited Beijing in January, the manager of the Beijing team scheduled a team-building event at Cashbox Partyworld. My problem was threefold: My Chinese wasn’t good enough to follow the lyrics, my singing wasn’t good enough to follow the tune, and I didn’t know any Chinese songs. When I shared these impediments with the Beijing manager, she suggested that I sing Liang Zhi Lao Hu (两只老虎） which seems like at best would have been embarrassing and at worse some kind of devastating loss of face. In the interest of global employee retention, I was determined to make a good showing on behalf of our US team!

Chinese people may not realize that most Americans have absolutely no idea what a KTV experience might look like. I’ve posted photos of Cashbox Partyworld at the end of this post because frankly I found it mindblowingly different than what I expected.

Step 1: Pick a Song

I asked my fellow CN Reviews blogger Min Guo to bail me out. She selected Wàng Qíng Shuǐ (忘 情 水) aka “Water of Forgetfulness.” Her rationale was that Andy Lau’s singing was not that great, hence great for someone of limited vocal range, and that his Mandarin was also not that great, hence perfect for me!

Step 2: Find the MP3 and the lyrics online

Min helped me find the MP3 and the lyrics online, and I dutifully uploaded the song to my iTunes and listened to the delightful strains of Wang Qing Shui.

Step 3: Convert the Hanzi into Pinyin

With only 3 days to go before the big event, I chose not to use the Chinese lyrics as a Chinese character learning opportunity. So I downloaded the trial version of NJStar which I had used before in the past, and slammed all the Hanzi into Pinyin. I have attached the Pinyin translation below to save you this step.

Step 4: Practice!

In the privacy of my Beijing hotel room, I listened to the song on iTunes and sang along using the Pinyin.

Step 5: Get ready to sing, and volunteer early so someone else doesn’t “steal” your song by singing it before you do.

When I discovered that Wang Qing Shui was already on the playlist, I felt a creeping sense of panic. I decided to soldier on and sing the song!

Photos of KTV in Beijing at Cashbox Partyworld, 2008

OK, so what in the world is KTV anyway? Here’s my journey into KTV Wonderland…

Buffet Spread at Cashbox Partyworld

Hallway to our private KTV room

Door to our private room

Happy singers inside

Our Party in Progress

My Beijing debut. I will never forget my first taste of the Clear Water of Forgetfulness.

Appendix: Wang Qing Shui (忘 情 水) in Pinyin by Andy Lau

The song follows an A-A-B-Chorus-Chorus format and repeats twice in its entirety. Then it ends with a repeated Chorus. Quite a simple song form actually. With this appendix, you should be able to follow the song with complete accuracy.

A 1
céng jīng nián shǎo ài zhuī mèng yī xīn zhī xiǎng
曾 经 年 少 爱 追 梦 一 心 只 想

wǎng qián fēi
往 前 飞

xíng biàn qiān shān hé wàn shuǐ yī lù zǒu lái bù
行 遍 千 山 和 万 水 一 路 走 来 不

néng huí
能 回
A 2
mò rán huí shǒu qíng yǐ yuǎn shēn bù yóu yǐ zài
蓦 然 回 首 情 已 远 身 不 由 已 在

tiān biān
天 边

cái míng bái ài hèn qíng chóu zuì shāng zuì tòng
才 明 白 爱 恨 情 仇 最 伤 最 痛

shì hòu huǐ
是 后 悔
B
rú guǒ nǐ bù céng xīn suì nǐ bù huì dǒng de
如 果 你 不 曾 心 碎 你 不 会 懂 得

wǒ shāng bēi
我 伤 悲

dāng wǒ yǎn zhōng yǒu lèi bié wèn wǒ shì wéi shéi
当 我 眼 中 有 泪 别 问 我 是 为 谁

jiù ràng wǒ wàng le zhè yī qiē
就 让 我 忘 了 这 一 切
CHORUS 1
a gěi wǒ yī bēi wàng qíng shuǐ huàn wǒ yī yè
啊 给 我 一 杯 忘 情 水 换 我 一 夜

bù liú lèi
不 流 泪

suǒ yǒu zhēn xīn zhēn yì rèn tā yǔ dǎ fēng chuī
所 有 真 心 真 意 任 它 雨 打 风 吹

fù chū de ài shōu bù huí
付 出 的 爱 收 不 回
CHORUS 2
gěi wǒ yī bēi wàng qíng shuǐ huàn wǒ yī shēng bù
给 我 一 杯 忘 情 水 换 我 一 生 不

shāng bēi
伤 悲

jiù suàn wǒ huì hē zuì jiù suàn wǒ huì xīn suì
就 算 我 会 喝 醉 就 算 我 会 心 碎

bù huì kàn jiàn wǒ liú lèi
不 会 看 见 我 流 泪

INSTRUMENTAL INTERLUDE

REPEAT ENTIRE SONG

REPEAT CHORUS 1,2

REPEAT 2ND PART OF CHORUS 2

This is, of course, a more harmonious version of taking to the roads… if you’re thinking of stuff decades ago, you’re — going to have to readjust your Time Machine.

“You’re young only once.” A friend told me that once when I was 14. 12 years later, I’m beginning to realize that just four short years later, I will join the ranks of the slightly-less-than-young, get married, have kids, and — head for that Great Big Halfway Mark (aka 50). But while I’m still full of energy (without the Red Bull, thank you very much), here’s what I do all weekend long: drive around.

Yes, just like other young folks in the capital. To many (young and old), the privilege of driving was a remote possibility only about a decade ago, when steering wheel operations were more a profession and less an everyone part of life. In recent years, however, the number of drivers has exploded — as the administrivia have been less and less restrictive and, indeed, more and more folks have the time and money to learn — indeed — just how to make Beijing less a capital and more a carpital.

Onwards then, carpitalists!

Head Count

If you’re with me in ground zero (for 2008 at least) — central Beijing — do a real test drive: check out how many folks are out on the move in a car. Only those who “look young” count; but even here, you’d be more than surprised.

Probably the best sign that those folks like being mobile come in those weekend trips to suburban Beijing. A Mac friend pulled me to Mangshan Park out in Changping in November 2007; thanks to 12 years of Switzerland, yours truly pulled off the trick of being the first in the pack (we were about 10 to 12 in number) when we were dealing with mountainous terrain. What really was interesting, though, was how we got there. Five cars carried the whole gang — Nissans, Toyotas, you name it.

Signs that young folks in front of the wheel are making a real impact in the capital are no clearer than those you see in the evening hours. Young guy at the wheel, gorgeous girl next to him. (Yours truly is in that rank right now.) A trip out to the freeways. Think about it…! Liberté! Égalité! Velocité!

The Rise of Zijiache

Zijiache (自驾车) — in essence drive-it-yourself trips — is more and more the rage these days. Guidebooks about the less explored parts of Beijing now come with instructions on how to get there — intended for those who aim to complete the trip with their own set of wheels. In fact, a whole series of books intended for zijiache people are on the making — out already are guides to National Highway 108 and 312 (in Chinese only for the time being).

Unfortunately, the instructions you see in those guidebooks are of such a quality that — indeed, brought about the birth of projects like Beijingology. Terse instructions such as “turn left at the second roundabout”, and mixed usage of highway names and numbers, mean that those remote village in the west remain that bit more remote.

Still, zijiache is something new — and something to stay. The party is best, of course, if you gang up with two or three cars — a lot more friends — and someone like yours truly, who knows the way.

When I was first-in-line last November, I knew exactly how to get to Mangshan park: Badaling Freeway — Exit 13C — National Highway 110 — Municipal Highway 212 — Municipal Highway 214 — there.

Which you can probably expect only from the Beijingologist…

The Gear

The cars most of us (or folks around our age) buy makes me look like an executive recluse. Possibly because due to excess exposure to bosses, professors and all-that-more-serious people when I was a kid, I finished up with an “executive-looking” Nissan Teana. My friends have, on more than one occasion, commented that I look that bit older in the car.

Most of the younger population, though, come with a Volkswagen Polo or Golf, or a QQ (that’s also the name of car — not just an IM protocol!). Those who want it faster go for the manual version; those who want it super-speed (”super-size” somehow doesn’t fit the bill) redo the car so that its exhaust pipe is all that meaner.

The most executive car I’ve seen is from a friend who drives a Toyota Camry. But then again, there’s the age (and marriage) gap (although age-wise, never too much). Most young folks I’ve seen are on “young-ish” looking cars; to them, even cars like the Volkswagen Passat looks a bit too exec-like.

There’s another group of people who terrorize the street in Jeeps. Those with more money go for Porsches, or to really outdo the crowd, in Hummers. These guys are not easy to deal with; Mac user group members are of the opinion that a crash with these guys almost always results in death or serious injury for the non-Hummer party.

At the end of the day, though, no matter what your set of wheels is, you take the weekend off — and enjoy Mother Nature. And suburban Beijing.

You know, those mountains are actually out there for a reason…

I turned 26 a few days ago, so I decided to throw a massive KTV party (by my records) for about 12 friends or so. Two couldn’t make it, but the room was already crammed with ten maniacal singers. The first song, of course, was Happy Birthday, but after that, we jumped into songs in Mandarin, Cantonese, Taiwanese Minnan and English. A kind of hidden reminder that the Birthday Boy knew ten languages… My favorites for the night were songs from Stefanie Sun (孙燕姿).

As you probably know, Karaoke, or KTV, is the rage in China. The rage started back in the 1990s and since then, a great many KTV stores have sprung up on both sides of the Straits — both on the mainland and in Taiwan. KTV itself is part of what must be modern Chinese culture — or at least “post-work culture”; there’s no better way to wind down after a day of super-loaded work than to yell it out in front of the microphone!

We went into what was probably the best KTV chain store — Taiwan’s Cashbox Partyworld (Qiangui, 钱柜), and also one of the earliest Cashbox Partyworlds in Beijing — in the Chaowai area just off Chaoyangmen Outer Avenue. The name is especially appropriate: the KTV store was a virtual cash box, charging you all-the-more-exorbitant rates. I paid the hourly fees, sparing the gang of utter, total and complete bankruptcy; I can say that this was not cheap. Those Taiwanese probably know how to make money the best: El Cheapo rates during daytime hours, rocket-ish prices at night. Sing along during the daytime; it’s cheap to the tune of around CNY 38 per person. Come in at night, and you start off in three-digit territory already! Charges are either per hour (which may not include the buffet) or come in brackets of up to three hours (with the food included).

In terms of the food, they’ve all-you-can-eat buffet, but charges don’t come cheap: when we got in at around 20:00, they wanted every person coming in to pay a charge of around CNY 100 for an all-you-can-eat buffet, plus a smaller surcharge for 3 hours of yodelling rights. During the daytime, however, prices drop back to more flatland levels. They used to have it so that the buffet stopped at 20:30, but our previous attempts at filling up food and drinks with even — get this — bowls — got these people rethinking their policy (or I guess that would have been the case), and now the buffet is open until 02:00. Being a Chinese-and-Western food hybrid, yours truly prefers fried rice and Fanta, but for the rest, the food is equally delicious.

On the big screen itself was the song and the music TV. The MTV bit, by the way, is interesting: recently, Chinese copyright authorities have started a crackdown on illegal or pirated MTVs. You’ll know which is a pirated MTV, by the way: if what you see are scenes from Switzerland and a flute accompaniment, it’s most probably a fake. If what you see are people dancing and pulling out those impossible-to-mimic movements (and if the text is in traditional Chinese), it’s probably the real thing. There’s still a bit of controversy boiling over who gets to pay the copyright fees, but out of all the KTV joints, Cashbox Partyworld’s slate is easily the cleanest.

KTV is big in China — and at that, singing, too. Many a corporate party incorporates karaoke (the Beijing Macintosh User Group does this nearly every year), and people singing or humming songs when the spirit moves them are a regular sight in the streets of Beijing. (Nobody looks at them funnily, by the way; everyone’s into the singing mania.) Chinese KTV events can be pretty big; parties with 10+ or even 20+ people are not unheard-of. The Chaowai Cashbox Partyworld store has a lot of “small-ish” rooms that hold five to eight people (we managed to squeeze in ten without any casualties of any degree or magnitude), and I’ve heard rumors there are bigger rooms on the first floor that hold up to 20 people and have an added treat — wireless microphones. Most KTV places are full of private rooms; rarer is the format where you sing in front of an entire audience.

By the way — I had a great birthday bash. The room was sometimes filled with the loudest yelling the eardrums could tolerate, but everyone had loads of fun.

If you want to join in, head up to the next Cashbox Partyworld — there are four in Beijing so far. Those are on:

• Chaowai store: Union Plaza, Chaowai South Street just south of Chaoyangmen Outer Avenue (朝外店, 朝外地区朝外南街)
• Shouti store: Southeastern corner of Baishi New Bridge (首体店, 白石新桥东南角)
• Yonghegong store: Southeast of Yonghegong Bridge (雍和宫店, 雍和宫桥东南角)
• Huixin store: Huixin East Street, just south of Huixin East Bridge (惠新店, 惠新东街以南)

All KTV stores close by 02:00 according to a recent government decree — which was kind of unpopular for those used to yodelling through the night. But hey, we all need that bit of rest, don’t we?