Slogans, mottos, concepts, call them what you will, but the 2008 Beijing Olympics does not lack for pithy phrases.

Slogans, or kouhao, often sit better in the Chinese language where they are made up of fewer characters than the more cumbersome English translations.

It is a rich tradition and a potted history of Communist China could be written in the popular slogans of times. From “Serve the people” of the revolution of the 1940s, through “A hundred flowers bloom, a hundred schools of thought contend” in the more open period of the late 1950s to the “Dare to think, dare to act” of the Great Leap Forward.

“To rebel is justified” was daubed on walls when the Cultural Revolution was unleashed in 1966 and ”Smash the Gang of Four” signalled the end of the 10-year dominance of those later labelled ultra-leftists.

With such a tradition, there was little chance the “New Beijing, Great Olympics” motto that attended Beijing’s bid to host the Games would survive its success. Indeed, after considering 210,000 suggestions from around the world, the Beijing Office for the Solicitation of Mottos for the 2008 Olympic Games plumped for “One world, one dream”.

That should perhaps just be considered the headline motto because there is also the concept of the Beijing Games, “Green Olympics, High-Tech Olympics and People’s Olympics”.

In addition, any athletes falling foul of the doping authorities will have cause to remember the local Olympic Committee’s code: “Seriously banning, strictly examining and severely punishing”.

My particular favourite is the volunteer programme’s clunky “The smile of the volunteers is Beijing’s best name card” — a quote from the Games’ organiser-in-chief Liu Qi.

Has anybody got any other favourites, sporting or otherwise, from another Olympics or another country? That is always assuming you are not an advocate of the saying that grew popular in China in the early years of this decade, “Shout fewer slogans and do more practical things.”

PHOTO: A Chinese girl holding an umbrella walks in a garden with flowers positioned to form the slogan One World, One Dream for the Beijing 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. REUTERS/Alfred Cheng Jin

While based in China as a chief photographer in the early 1990s I had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of a sports journalist and in turn an entire family with a remarkable basketball legacy. So much so that official government film documentaries were produced highlighting their sporting achievements. Aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces have all competed at college level, professionally or on a national team.

My journalist friend’s accomplishments were impressive. Starting at the age of 2-1/2 her parents had to place her, for the next three years, in the national sports committee’s boarding kindergarten. It was a place where China’s sporting elite could leave their children while they competed for the Party and national pride.

With few options available my friend was separated from her family again at age 11 to enter into the government’s athlete mill. Gruelling workouts, stark living conditions, military-style coaching were all in a day’s work. She spent her entire teens and early 20s being honed into a world class athlete. Looking to finally wrap up her career, the sports committee eventually, but reluctantly, permitted her to leave the game. She left with five national basketball championships to her credit.

Heading this family dynasty were two towering and statuesque brothers, Ju Fen Geng and the younger Ju Fen Kang, who were members of China’s first national team formed post-1949. They were so striking in appearance that they could easily have been the inspiration for the valorous, chisel-jawed comrades overcoming adversity in the ubiquitous propaganda posters of the Communist era. The brothers criss-crossed the Soviet-bloc and socialist countries of Europe proudly representing the People’s Republic throughout the 50s. Their journals overflow with black and white photographs of the smartly dressed young men visiting and competing in places that were strictly off limits to the West during the depths of the Cold War.

In 1956 the younger brother had been selected to the Olympic basketball team to compete in Melbourne. Uniforms, jerseys and suits had already been issued – personally approved by Premier Zhou Enlai himself. The team’s roster had even been published in the press. With weeks to go and while finalising their training in Guangdong province the team were notified that China had pulled out of the Games in protest at the inclusion of the Republic of China. His Olympic dream had been dashed. Following their playing careers the two brothers went on to enjoy success as coaches at the national and professional levels.

The journalist used the strength of body and mind she acquired in the Chinese sports system to become a PGA golf professional. Sadly, the older brother Ju Fen Geng passed away in 2006 but the younger Ju Fen Kang will soon realise his dream of attending the Olympics - as a spectator in Beijing. Accompanying him to the basketball venue will be family members including his daughter Ju Dan (the journalist) and her 3-year-old son, to watch China’s present day superstars like Yao Ming and Yi Jianlian battle the world.

I too will be attending the 2008 Olympics but from behind the scenes with Reuters as a photo editor, firmly tucked away in the main press center. I’ll be busy editing through thousands of daily images along with my colleagues so will be unable to join them at the basketball. However I will be relatively close by, feeling very honoured to be a part of this remarkable family. And if you haven’t guessed, I married that journalist (right).

Pictures from top:  Ju Fen Kang (R) shakes hands with Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai after the team defeated Czechoslovakia in Beijing in this 1956 family handout photo. Chinese national basketball team members Ju Fenkang (3rd L), Yang Buo Yong (L) and Wang Yi Cheng pose with East German players in East Berlin in this 1955 family handout photo. The team was in East Berlin to train with the East German team. Ju Fen Kang (standing 3rd R) and members of China’s 1956 Olympic basketball team pose in their newly issued Olympic uniforms in Guangzhou, Guangdong province in this 1956 family handout photo. And my wife Ju Dan. 

I love to shop – I’m not afraid to admit it. And I passionately believe you can never have too many T-shirts, shoes or bags (and that you should never underestimate the power of a good moisturiser either).

One of the great joys of living in China, and especially in Beijing, is the shopping.

Sure, it’s not as sophisticated as Hong Kong or as off-beat as Taipei, and very few places in Asia can trump Bangkok, but China’s smokey capital has its charms when it comes to a bit of retail therapy.

So here is a personal list of my favourite top 5 shopping destinations in Beijing, in reverse order to keep everyone in suspense.  

5) Spin. Pottery’s not sexy, right? Wrong. The master craftmen (and women) behind this store sure know how to whip up a storm with the clay. Simple, clean and understated is the order of the day. And it’s not too expensive. Word on the street is a certain well-kown European fashion designer liked the shop so much he snapped up 20,000 sets of plates during a winter swirl through the city. 

4) The cashmere sweater place. Nobody really seems to know what it’s called, but it’s quite well located near the new Dengshikou subway stop. Simply take in a jumper, hat or other top you want copied, pick a colour, and they will produce a copy for you in softest cashmere. It’s very adictive. “I can’t wear anything that’s not cashmere these days,” another cashmere junkie remarked to me recently. And it’s quite understandable. Not cheap, but then luxury never is.

3) This recommendation isn’t one shop, but the part of Beijing’s famous Panjiayuan, or antique market, where they sell old books. I can spend hours here, picking out hidden little gems printed in China’s Communist heyday. This includes glossy hardback coffee table books, sometimes with English text, on China’s provinces. The two books I’m most proud of finding, and have given me the most pleasure, are a book on the remote and rather mysterious province of Qinghai, and another entitled “New China Builds”, full of the brutalist and minimalist architecture that marked the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s.  

2) I don’t know what this store is called either. All I know is that it is at the Nali mall in Sanlitun, next to Alameda restaurant. But what I do know is they sell the most gorgeous belts covered with traditional Chinese floral and animal designs. My mother disapproves, so obviously I wear the belts all the time. But you can also get funky scarves, socks and bags.

1) Plastered. As the owner of a fine collection of T-shirts (I think I have close to 200 now) I’m somewhat obsessed by this place. Retro-Communist-cool designs from the 1970s and 1980s reinterpreted for the new millenium, and printed on T-shirts. My own little piece of heaven. According to the owner, I am one of only two people who bought the most unpopular design ever — the word “Sharon” printed in black felt onto a pink T-shirt. And now I can’t find it, it having been swallowed into my closet.

Pictures by Claro Cortes IV