Mongol!

[Ah, that reminds me: I am long overdue to pen a review on Froogville of a film of that name I enjoyed a little while back...] There's a new bar opened recently in the China View Mall over by Gongti. It's called, I think, just Mongolia Bar - and it does exactly what it says on the label: it is a little piece of Mongolia transplanted into downtown Beijing. I wouldn't have given it a second glance (it's in a mall, for gawd's sake!), but The Choirboy persuaded me to try it out on Friday night, and for a one-off 'experience' it was surprisingly good fun. The prices aren't that alluring (booze is only sold by the bottle: mostly about 400rmb or 500rmb, I think, for standard spirits), with even a humble Tsingtao setting you back 25rmb. However, the owners are very friendly, and the floorshow is quite impressive. Well, I could have done without the jangly electric keyboards of one of the two or three (I assume) professional musicians they had in and the upbeat, disco-fied versions of Mongolian folk songs they were playing a lot of the time. However, I love the matouqin (the horse-head fiddle, a traditional Mongolian instrument that sounds a bit like a 'cello), and both the house player and a couple of guest musicians who sat in for a while played it very well. We also got the obligatory dose of throat-singing (an astonishing vocal technique which rather defies description, if you haven't heard it). The main event, though, was the punters themselves. This was essentially a karaoke night; but, unlike the dismal caterwauling I've suffered at most regular Chinese renderings of this entertainment, these Mongols could all sing! Really bloody well. The management nearly ran out of the blue neck-scarves available for audience members to drape around the neck or microphone of a performer as a token of approbation (another old Mongol custom, I gather; I remember seeing it much in evidence at a 'Mongol Night' they had at the old Yugong Yishan once, although the main recipients that night were a Mongolian boy band, so I wondered if it weren't just a teeny-bopper thing). Every single singer merited two or three such marks of respect. There wasn't a dud performance all night. I don't think there was a single Han Chinese in the place, and only a handful of Westerners. I half expected the laoban to say something like, "This is a Mongol bar for Mongol people. We want no trouble here!" It was a unique entertainment. Very cheesy, yes, but great fun, and rather touching. Oh yes, and it probably helped that we were all well tanked up already (Foreign Correspondents' Club social at The Bookworm augmented by cocktails at new favourite Gongti hangout, Fubar). That was quite a big night out. I usually take the precaution of staying in on Fridays. It is a wise and necessary measure. Whenever I do go out, weird shit happens. Usually very enjoyable shit - but it leaves me short of sleep and fretting about the hole in my wallet for days afterwards.