Easy like (a Little Empress on) Sunday morning
Yes, I know, I have been rubbish and my blog is in a terrible state of neglect. What can I say? Our company's cultural intern has left (and was AWOL for the best part of his internship before that anyway, leaving me to play secretary), the senior manager is returning to her home country and I have been promoted to take over her as Department Head. One of my colleagues has gone on annual leave and nominated me to (wo)man the fort while she is away. And those new tasks have been added on to my not unsubtantial normal workload which means that I have taken on the tasks of 4 staff. One would think that this would be a most opportune moment to demand a fat pay rise but believe me, a hugely increased salary package is the last thing to ask for at the minute. My nearest and dearest, my inner circle, my Council of Elders will know exactly what I mean. To those who don't, well then you have that much to aspire to so that you're privy to the choicest cuts of gossip this side of Chaoyang District.
When it's as cold as Beijing this time of year, the partying and bar-crawling takes a backseat until the following year when spring breaks. Then, I can be stylishly presentable and stop wearing thermal underwear which really, really is the most unfashionable item of clothing that one can own. And yet, I am grudgingly grateful to the several pairs in my wardrobe for keeping me from the icy grip of death by hypothermia. Anyway, it is quite impossible to gather blog fodder when your weekdays consist of fending off the next wave of work-stress induced panic attacks and weekends are spent slumped in front of the telly and covered in homemade chocolate chip cookie crumbs. But there are rewards to be reaped by going out, namely encountering socially inept Party members' children who are highly entertaining if you like watching desperate Chinese girls throw themselves at the first white man who pays them any sliver of attention.
The Club M boys and I made Saturday a bit of a shopping excursion which brought us to the Zoo Wholesale Market a.k.a Dongwuyuan Pifa Shichang in the morning and the decidedly ghetto Tiancheng Shichang near the National Library in the afternoon. Max and I split up with Matt D and Matt K who launched devastating kan3jia4 assaults on unsuspecting stall owners. Watching them whittle an intial offer for a 5-foot Xmas tree complete with lights and ornaments down to RMB40 (less than USD5) to futile bleats of "pei2qian2!" from the Yuletide knick-knack seller was really rather painful so we took our money and spent it on RMB1 (USD0.12) tchotchkes for Max and more thermal underwear for me.
[This morning, I managed to wriggle a calf, a thigh and a buttcheek one at a time into a brand new pair of thermals after a long and exhausting struggle that left me (more) flustered (than usual) and late for work (as usual).]
We caught up at the designated meeting point after fruitful 2-hour procurement expedition - beyond the main entrance leading out from the underground Tiancheng market, up the stairs past the same man on the right with the same shivering kittens for sale as we had seen on the way down, facing the sight of a leathery old woman beggar with hearts just as cold and turning a well-trained deaf ear to the clinking of coins in her tin cup as she beseeched kind souls in the crowd for loose change.
After a short but mandatory on the spot comparison of purchases, Matt D told us about the strange girl who followed him around the market. It turned out that in true Matt D fashion, he decided to strike up a conversation with the nearest random stranger. The girl, he said, was unemployed and liked shopping to while her time away. She showed him the two purchases she had made that day - a couple of dangly mobile phone trinkets (surprise, surprise. I'm sure they were pastel coloured and cutesey as hell too.) She must also have held the mistaken assumption that announcing herself as the daughter of a senior Party cadre would be a foolproof pick-up line with American men because that's exactly what she did next. And then, with Matt captivated by her edgy style and political blueblood lineage, she moved in for the kill by requesting an exchange of numbers. Matt D's phone rang just as he was relating that part of the story. Sure enough, it was the girl he had just met at the market.
"Would you like to go to the Forbidden City tomorrow?"
"Uh... that's okay, I've already been."
"How about the Summer Palace? I can take you there and show you around."
"Erm... I've been there too. "
"No problem! I'm free, I can show you around."
"Well I'm pretty busy actually..."
"So when will you be free?"
"I... I really don't know. I'll be busy all week, I've got lots of studying to do."
A short verbal tussle later, Matt D hung up, the consequences of his over-friendliness slowly dawning upon him. I asked why on earth he hadn't politely declined to exchange phone numbers to avoid the unnecessary hassle of uncourted attention, to which he mumbled something about the thrill of an ego buffing or something or another which I couldn't quite catch in its entirety, but I knew exactly what he meant.
That night, after Max had frogmarched me to and back from dinner at a distant Yunnan restaurant (Matt K had other engagements, Matt D went cheerfully of his own accord), we sat down in our usual spots on the sofa watching DVDs. We were halfway through a mediocre performance by Tony Jaa in Tom Yum Goong (then again, it's difficult to better that superb feat of wireless, special effects-free fight scenes and dizzying Bangkok tuk-tuk city chases in Ong Bak ) when the muffled sounds of Matt D's phone in his jacket pocket drifted across the living room. It had disconnected by the time Matt D got to it and he did not recognise the number on his Missed Calls register. Call me cynical but I had a good idea who it was. To be fair, it was just as likely Matt D's 4th cousin, twice removed on his maternal grandmother's side calling from the Shijiazhuang Grand Hotel in Daxing while in town on business.
But I'm positive it was her.
The next day as we were getting ready to go out for lunch, Matt D's phone rang again. Half-amused and a little exasperated, Matt D later told us that the conversation went a little something like this:
"Are you free today?"
"Well... not... not really."
"Come and meet me at Tiananmen!"
"I'm sorry?"
"I've got a Christmas present for you. Come and meet me in Tiananmen, I want to see you."
"I'm really very busy, I'm sorry, that's very nice of you."
"But I want to see you. I want to give you your present."
"You're asking me to leave Wudaokou and go to Tiananmen?"
"But I've got a Christmas present for you!"
Another spot of to-ing and fro-ing not unlike yesterday ensued. After he hung up, Matt D wondered out loud why every Chinese girl wanted to drag him around tourist attractions as a prelude to expressing their true feelings for him while I pondered whether being a white male was the main criteria to receiving such preferential treatment as I stuffed thick be-socked feet into my boots.
When it's as cold as Beijing this time of year, the partying and bar-crawling takes a backseat until the following year when spring breaks. Then, I can be stylishly presentable and stop wearing thermal underwear which really, really is the most unfashionable item of clothing that one can own. And yet, I am grudgingly grateful to the several pairs in my wardrobe for keeping me from the icy grip of death by hypothermia. Anyway, it is quite impossible to gather blog fodder when your weekdays consist of fending off the next wave of work-stress induced panic attacks and weekends are spent slumped in front of the telly and covered in homemade chocolate chip cookie crumbs. But there are rewards to be reaped by going out, namely encountering socially inept Party members' children who are highly entertaining if you like watching desperate Chinese girls throw themselves at the first white man who pays them any sliver of attention.
The Club M boys and I made Saturday a bit of a shopping excursion which brought us to the Zoo Wholesale Market a.k.a Dongwuyuan Pifa Shichang in the morning and the decidedly ghetto Tiancheng Shichang near the National Library in the afternoon. Max and I split up with Matt D and Matt K who launched devastating kan3jia4 assaults on unsuspecting stall owners. Watching them whittle an intial offer for a 5-foot Xmas tree complete with lights and ornaments down to RMB40 (less than USD5) to futile bleats of "pei2qian2!" from the Yuletide knick-knack seller was really rather painful so we took our money and spent it on RMB1 (USD0.12) tchotchkes for Max and more thermal underwear for me.
[This morning, I managed to wriggle a calf, a thigh and a buttcheek one at a time into a brand new pair of thermals after a long and exhausting struggle that left me (more) flustered (than usual) and late for work (as usual).]
We caught up at the designated meeting point after fruitful 2-hour procurement expedition - beyond the main entrance leading out from the underground Tiancheng market, up the stairs past the same man on the right with the same shivering kittens for sale as we had seen on the way down, facing the sight of a leathery old woman beggar with hearts just as cold and turning a well-trained deaf ear to the clinking of coins in her tin cup as she beseeched kind souls in the crowd for loose change.
After a short but mandatory on the spot comparison of purchases, Matt D told us about the strange girl who followed him around the market. It turned out that in true Matt D fashion, he decided to strike up a conversation with the nearest random stranger. The girl, he said, was unemployed and liked shopping to while her time away. She showed him the two purchases she had made that day - a couple of dangly mobile phone trinkets (surprise, surprise. I'm sure they were pastel coloured and cutesey as hell too.) She must also have held the mistaken assumption that announcing herself as the daughter of a senior Party cadre would be a foolproof pick-up line with American men because that's exactly what she did next. And then, with Matt captivated by her edgy style and political blueblood lineage, she moved in for the kill by requesting an exchange of numbers. Matt D's phone rang just as he was relating that part of the story. Sure enough, it was the girl he had just met at the market.
"Would you like to go to the Forbidden City tomorrow?"
"Uh... that's okay, I've already been."
"How about the Summer Palace? I can take you there and show you around."
"Erm... I've been there too. "
"No problem! I'm free, I can show you around."
"Well I'm pretty busy actually..."
"So when will you be free?"
"I... I really don't know. I'll be busy all week, I've got lots of studying to do."
A short verbal tussle later, Matt D hung up, the consequences of his over-friendliness slowly dawning upon him. I asked why on earth he hadn't politely declined to exchange phone numbers to avoid the unnecessary hassle of uncourted attention, to which he mumbled something about the thrill of an ego buffing or something or another which I couldn't quite catch in its entirety, but I knew exactly what he meant.
That night, after Max had frogmarched me to and back from dinner at a distant Yunnan restaurant (Matt K had other engagements, Matt D went cheerfully of his own accord), we sat down in our usual spots on the sofa watching DVDs. We were halfway through a mediocre performance by Tony Jaa in Tom Yum Goong (then again, it's difficult to better that superb feat of wireless, special effects-free fight scenes and dizzying Bangkok tuk-tuk city chases in Ong Bak ) when the muffled sounds of Matt D's phone in his jacket pocket drifted across the living room. It had disconnected by the time Matt D got to it and he did not recognise the number on his Missed Calls register. Call me cynical but I had a good idea who it was. To be fair, it was just as likely Matt D's 4th cousin, twice removed on his maternal grandmother's side calling from the Shijiazhuang Grand Hotel in Daxing while in town on business.
But I'm positive it was her.
The next day as we were getting ready to go out for lunch, Matt D's phone rang again. Half-amused and a little exasperated, Matt D later told us that the conversation went a little something like this:
"Are you free today?"
"Well... not... not really."
"Come and meet me at Tiananmen!"
"I'm sorry?"
"I've got a Christmas present for you. Come and meet me in Tiananmen, I want to see you."
"I'm really very busy, I'm sorry, that's very nice of you."
"But I want to see you. I want to give you your present."
"You're asking me to leave Wudaokou and go to Tiananmen?"
"But I've got a Christmas present for you!"
Another spot of to-ing and fro-ing not unlike yesterday ensued. After he hung up, Matt D wondered out loud why every Chinese girl wanted to drag him around tourist attractions as a prelude to expressing their true feelings for him while I pondered whether being a white male was the main criteria to receiving such preferential treatment as I stuffed thick be-socked feet into my boots.
posted by Jo at 2:16 AM
2 comments
