Along the relative quiet Duolun Road pedestrian street stands a 10-square-meter private exhibition room in which 73-year-old poet Lan Xiang composes odes among shelves displaying thousands of chopsticks.

On the surface, the folklorist, poet and writer seems no different than any other white-haired septuagenarian: When his hearing aid fails him, he cups his hand behind his ear, asking his guest to speak up. But when the topic turns to his favorite subject -- chopsticks -- his mind rises to the occasion. "Chinese have used chopsticks for more than 3,000 years -- but so few have any idea of their cultural importance," says Lan, who is the author of the first academic book on chopsticks on the Chinese mainland, published in 1993.

"I feel that it is of the utmost importance to show the world the variety and culture of the humble chopsticks." Lan began collecting chopsticks in 1978, and has amassed a collection of over 1,800 pairs, including 980 different varieties. Lan's collection, which includes exotic-looking chopsticks from Japan and South Korea, is one of only a few on the Chinese mainland.

The utensils in the collection are made of a multitude of different materials: bamboo, ivory, an assortment of wood, hawksbill, silver, and stainless steel, among others. They come in an endless variety of lengths and design -- providing proof, as if it were needed, that chopsticks aren't as simple and uniform as they may seem. The oldest set in Lan's collection is a pair of silver chopsticks, with a gilded center panel dating back to the Tang Dynasty (A.D. 618-907). "Silver chopsticks were very popular in ancient China as a security measure: It was said that the silver would turn color upon contact with poisoned food," explains the collector. Another seemingly ordinary looking pair of silver chopsticks features a removable top in which one finds an ear cleanser.

His most expensive set is from the Qing-era (1644-1911) and also includes spoons and knives in original sharkskin sheaths, which cost him more than US$1,000. Many of the chopsticks on display seem like works of art rather than eating utensils. They are inlaid with gold, silver or jewels, intricately carved, or simple yet elegant. One 1.998-meter-long pair (the length indicates the year of 1998), inlaid with shells with boxwood carvings, were made in commemoration of the 10th anniversary of his exhibition hall. These chopsticks fit for a giant have been certified by the Shanghai Great World Guinness General Department -- which is authorized to publish the Chinese-language version of Guinness Book of World Records -- as the longest chopsticks in China.

Oddly enough, Lan's interest - some would say obsession - with this common implement was inspired by an experience during the cultural revolution (1966-1976). In fact, after this tumultuous period was over, Lan, a novelist, switched gears to become a folklorist, focusing on the study of chopsticks. "During the cultural revolution, I witnessed an act of cruelty played on a professor who was under arrest. A guard took his chopsticks away during a meal. Without chopsticks, the educated gentleman had to use his hands to eat," Lan recalls with a sigh. "This educated, refined man made a mess without chopsticks. His hands, lips and cheeks were covered with rice." In order to avoid that fate, Lan fashioned a pair of short bamboo chopsticks and tied them to his belt the next day. "You see, in China, even beggars have at least a bowl and a pair of chopsticks. It is the right of every man to have such basic necessities," concludes Lan.

Lan traveled throughout China, collecting information and chopsticks. He learned that chopsticks are far more than an efficient way of transferring food to hungry mouths -- they are also an auspicious object. For Lan, chopsticks are also a matter of national pride. "It was said that months before former US President Richard Nixon came to China on his historic 1972 trip, he practiced using chopsticks," says Lan. "After the banquet, a Toronto journalist snatched the pair of chopsticks that Nixon had used, winning applause from the other reporters." "After reading this story in the early 1980s, I began to see a different dimension to chopsticks," Lan adds. "Thereafter, I started researching this unique Chinese invention."

It was during the 1988 to 1998 period that Lan collected most of the chopsticks that now comprise his collection. "After I retired in the 1980s, I had more time to concentrate on my collection," he says. In 1988, he set up a small exhibition studio at his home, and three years ago, with the help of Hongkou District government, he was able to move his studio to the Duolun Road "cultural street," which features other private museums, souvenir shops, as well as the former residences of writers. In 1999, he published "The Story of Chopsticks" in Taiwan, and exhibited his collection in Taipei. His small exhibition room has drawn about 200,000 people from home and abroad - on one record-breaking day, about 700 people visited. The interest in the studio warms his heart, but has caused some problems - mainly financial ones. "We finance the operation of the studio, and since my wife and I live on our retirement pension, I have to work as a freelance writer in order to maintain the studio," says Lan. "Yet in order to write, I need a quiet environment. With so many people coming every day, I cannot concentrate." To help defray expenses, he has set a 1-yuan (US$12 US cents) admission charge. "I don't expect to make money from it, but hope it will deter those who don't have a sincere interest, and are just coming in for kicks," says Lan. "Ironically, the admission fee seems to have deterred too many people. Now I'm worried about the future of these chopsticks. It seems that despite the fact that they use them every day, people nowadays do not realize their cultural value," Lan says sadly.

Lan's declining health has slowed his ability to research and hold forth on chopsticks. During a recently hospitalization, the museum had to be closed. Perhaps, Lan says, Chinese people are too familiar with chopsticks, and take their existence for granted without realize their cultural and historical importance.

(eastday.com November 18, 2002)