Chinese Hospitality

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We are on a lake just north of the Forbidden City. It is midnight. We are on a small boat drinking beer with Chinese businessmen, neither of whom we knew 12 short hours ago...

Sometimes one gets themselves into situations in which they need to work backwards...figure out precisely how they ended up there...

We are six. Natalie, myself, Mason, Jay, their girlfriends Bessie and Susie (names anglicized, obviously)...

It seems Mason knows Andy (of Spain and Camino fame). One of those nebulous international connections Andy has. Andy is certainly CIA now. Without question. Mason is a powerful businessman in Beijing. He sends an air-conditioned Mercedes to pick us up at the train station, along with a driver (Mr. Fu!) and an interpreter. Jay is well connected in the Chinese music industry. His girlfriend Bessie is evidently something of a pop star in China. (I think I have likely gotten them all in trouble at this point, prominently mentioning them on the internet like this in the same missive that I mention the CIA. The Chinese authorities are everywhere on this interweb thing. That is the word on the street.)

This merry foursome takes us everywhere. Traditional dinners. Tours of the city. They make Natalie a beautiful custom-made silk dress. They take us to a restaurant where we can eat bugs. As a practice they don't eat bugs, but they know that I think it's funny, so we go. We eat silk worm and crickets and grasshoppers. They grin and bear it, this antiquated practice. They are the most generous people we have ever met. We suggest at one point that maybe we should pay for something. This is the only time they darken. They look almost offended. How dare you actually suggest to pay for something!

We make the mistake of asking for a Diet Coke in a restaurant in which they have no Diet Coke. The waiter informs us of this. We say no problem. But Jay is already running across the street to the liquor store to procure a few bottles. We try to tell him not to do this, but it is too late. Beijing streets are dangerous too. They try to run you over. Even if you are on a crosswalk. Maybe the government should save all the money on the paint they lay down for crosswalks. They serve no appreciable function as far as I can tell.

They take us to a secret spot along the Great Wall. We tell them they don't need to do this. They tell us they have even procured a guide. We tell them they really don't need to go to all the trouble. Again, that look that says "What's wrong with you? Can't we just have one day where we host you where you don't try to steal our fun? This is our honor, and you are poopooing it every time you ask to give us something back." It is an incredible position. We as Americans have a hard time surrendering to it. We just have to sit on our hands and be treated like royalty.

We will get them back though.

We will invite them to America. We will feed them like they are prized cattle. We will drive them around in our cars. I will personally buy a chauffeur hat and open the door for them everywhere we go.

Anyhow, we are off to Thailand. Again, we find in Beijing like the other places on this trip, that while the sites are all grand and worthy of snapshots, they have no resonance when it comes to the memories taken away from particular locales. The only thing truly resonant are the people that we interface with. Gold of soul, so many of them.

Thank you Jay, Mason, Susie, Bessie! Your limo will be waiting for you in SF!

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