So much to blog, so little time

With our festive jaunt home to Blighty hurtling rapidly towards us, there seem to be a million things – well, at least three – each of which I could have written a whole article about but simply don’t have time. There follows, therefore, a smorgasbord of observations about this crazy world in which we find ourselves, which if I don’t get them down now are in danger of falling into the vast black hole that I once laughingly called my memory, never to be seen again.

So. Last week we had to call Building Management out again, when another dodgy bulb tripped all our fuses for the second time. It seems that they’d been trying to get in to see us for several weeks to check our water meter, but every time they came to the door we didn’t understand what they wanted so they hadn’t been able to gain access. We don’t like to call poor Kevin too often.

Anyway it appears that our water meter is low on money. The landlord says he will come ‘sometime’ and put some more money on it. He is unable to tell us when ‘sometime’ will be, despite the fact that we’re going away tomorrow for three weeks, but until then we are ‘not to worry’. This is typical of the Chinese total inability to plan anything in advance. They simply do not, will not, or cannot do it. On the day before our party, at about 4.30pm, Kevin sidled up to Peter looking a bit embarrassed and said sheepishly that ‘the girls’ had asked him to find out if we would have the party that night instead, as it suited them better! Attempting to order diaries and calendars as New Year gifts for his customers, Peter has been frustrated by the lack of any with space to write down appointments. When Kevin saw Peter’s own (British) diary he was baffled. ‘But why would you want to write down what you’re doing in the future?’, he enquired. ‘Chinese people do not do that. Sometimes they think about tomorrow. Or maybe, sometimes, the next day.’

Often Peter arrives at work in the morning to be told he has a meeting with an important client in half an hour’s time, which has just been arranged. They arrive to find about 10 local dignatories, bureau heads, factory bosses and the like who have all assembled at what appears to be a moment’s notice. After the meeting, they progress to an apparently equally impromptu but sumptuous lunch of unidentifiable but delicious dishes, be it at the most expensive restaurant in Harbin or a transport caff in a dodgy rural town (where all conversation stops and all heads turn as Peter walks in). Much ‘Gan bei!’ and general hilarity ensues, even when the interpreter has to leave early, leaving him alone with a group of monolingual Chinese bigwigs. Business here is strongly based on the principle of ‘guan xi’ which translates as ‘business relationship’ but basically seems to mean ‘getting people to trust you by getting drunk with them outside work before anyone signs anything’. No wonder he’s enjoying his job!

Some of the places he’s visited on these jaunts have been eye-openers. Parts of Harbin itself are quite poor, but outside the city it’s another world. Last week he went to Acheng, which he described as ‘like Castleford or Pontefract in the 1970s’ (not, I gather, a recommendation) but which still boasted huge wide streets, impressive amounts of public artworks, and the entrance to the town was guarded by a huge arch, fabulously decorated in vibrant colours. In another place, they had to drive through a market, squeezing between stalls where people were selling frozen meat and fish - frozen by the air temperature, that is; no need for freezers here! They had almost reached the end when a vehicle appeared, blocking their way. With no way to turn round, Mr Li, our ultra-resourceful and ever-smiling driver, reversed the entire length of the market, back between the stalls down the narrow, winding lane, with frozen fish being flung back and forth and a guy on a tricycle behind him, who would only reverse a few yards at a time until Mr Li got out and remonstrated firmly with him. The whole process took about an hour.

Needless to say, the weather fazes the locals not one jot. Peter’s first farm visit took place on the first day that the temperature dropped to minus 11°. Everyone happily tramped about in the snow and ice looking at maize pellets or whatever. In the UK such an event would have been cancelled on the spot. (Though of course this does presuppose that it would have been planned in advance!). But then they were all no doubt wearing the ubiquitous, the redoubtable, the indispensible - Harbin Thermals.

Thermals. God how they love them. Especially longjohns. You could almost hear the collective sigh of relief after they were able to get them on when it got vaguely cold at the start of November. Of course some people hedge their bets and never take them off all year round. We even saw brides wearing them under their wedding dresses on a hot day in May (truly). There are shops selling nothing but. I’m not saying you don’t need them of course – the wind doesn’t half bite through your trousers when you go out otherwise – but the problem is that if you go out, generally you’re going TO somewhere, like the shops, or a restaurant. And the shops and restaurants are BOILING, which makes the wearing of thermals quite unbearable indoors.

At Harbin airport they have countered this problem by supplying little changing booths near the baggage reclaim (with signs in Chinese, English and Russian), for the purposes of changing into your longjohns after arriving from somewhere hot. How brilliant an idea is that? Now if the shopping centres and supermarkets did that, it would be ok. But as it is, you have to put your thermals on immediately before leaving the house and then make a run for it (seeing as it’s constantly 27°C in our flat – and I mean constantly). Then by the time you’ve arrived at your destination and are just about feeling a bit chilly and glad you put them on, you’re back indoors into a super-heated place with huge padded curtains over the doors for insulation, and pouring sweat while carrying your coat around. Something’s not right there. No wonder the locals acclimatise so well to their thermals that they’re terrified to take them off.

But otherwise they’re remarkably well-adapted to the weather. When it snows – which is disappointingly not that often, actually – an army of men with broomsticks materialises from nowhere, and with rapid efficiency they clear the snow from the roads and pavements within what seems like minutes. There’s none of the head-scratching and wondering what this white stuff can be that’s falling out of the sky, which accompanies the UK’s every annual snowfall. Once that’s done, being a very dry climate, there’s no slush to contend with, just icy patches here and there. Still, we do find it quite funny that people are sending us Christmas cards with snow-scenes on and writing things like ‘Bet your weather’s very different to this!!’ inside. Er, no, it’s not. It might be 27°C in our flat, but in the unheated utility room/balcony, a 3-litre bottle of water turned to a solid block of ice overnight.

And talking of solid blocks of ice, preparations for the famous Harbin ice festival would appear to be underway! Yes it seems this is one thing they CAN plan in advance for! So by way of Christmas greetings to you all, here are some pics of the embryonic ice sculptures – or more like ice constructions – which are shooting up around Peter’s office and our flat.

Tomorrow we’re off to Shanghai for the company expats’ Christmas lunch - at the Hilton, no less, where we get to behave like old colonials for a day – and then home for the festive season. So I’ll say Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all, and see you in three weeks.

Tips for the society hostess in China

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the society lady who wishes to create a favourable impression upon her guests shall be expected to provide, in the context of any social function - be it grand or humble - to which she chooses to invite such guests, an evening comprising the following elements: fine wine and ales, stimulating conversation (in which said guests should at all costs be encouraged to mingle and discourse with others not of their prior acquaintance), musical entertainment, and, should she feel sufficiently daring to attempt this, a little communal dancing.

For those ladies as possess the imagination and the fortitude to attempt such a social event in the land of China, however, it must be recommended that a few addenda or annotations to the above advice be inserted, for the mutual benefit of all.

Firstly, a word regarding the guest list and the arrival of said guests. The society hostess in China cannot expect her guests to be ‘fashionably late’. On the contrary, she can expect them, if informed that the festivities will commence at eight o’clock, to meet in B&Q car park at ten minutes to that hour, and arrive all at once. (Note: this may exclude such guests as English Boss, who may choose to make a later entrance, all red face and bare feet, protesting that he has ‘rushed straight from the gym’. Such behaviour is, of course, his prerogative, and must be tolerated.) If the guests have been given prior permission to bring further guests of their own, the hostess should not be perturbed to discover that they will assume this invitation extends to young children, who may thus appear without warning.

Now on the subject of fine wine and ales. Try as she might to encourage her guests to partake of such excellent refreshments, the society hostess will find herself thwarted by their insistence, to a man, that they will take only ‘the non-alcoholic version’ of the mulled wine, please. The author’s proposed solution to this difficulty is simple: do not make a non-alcoholic version. Or at the very least, mention it only very quietly to those for whom alcohol is known to be strictly prohibited. Tell everyone else that the mulling process removes almost all traces of alcohol from the wine.

On the plus side, the hostess will find herself at the end of the evening with almost as much wine and exactly as much beer as she had at the start. This will compensate for the fact that no one - apart, again, from English Boss - will bring any alcoholic beverages with them. They may, of course, bring other gifts, which are most welcome, even if unsought, and will be gratefully received.

The question of stimulating talk provides a greater challenge. It is difficult to sustain a conversation with a person whose two words of one’s native tongue are ‘Hello’ and ‘Bye-bye!’, especially if the only words one knows oneself in their native tongue happen, by unfortunate chance, to be a translation of the exact same two words. The opportunities for philosophical discussion are, under these circumstances, understandably limited. Pointing, gesturing and smiling will only get even the most accomplished of hostesses so far. Of course, conversation may be attempted with those of the guests who do speak English, but these are not always readily identifiable.

The chief difficulty, however, lies in the fact that the art of ‘mingling’ – so crucial to the truly successful social occasion – has yet to be introduced to China. Thus, what may at first appear to be an example of another universal truth – namely, that all parties eventually end up in the kitchen – will prove in fact to be an attempt by the Chinese guests to simulate their own notion of a party by all sitting around a large (and, it must be said, imaginary) table in the dining room, talking amongst themselves at an elevated volume. As English Boss may be heard to point out, the reason why party guests usually gravitate to the kitchen is that this is where the fine wine and ales are generally to be found, but clearly this motivation is not a factor where our abstemious Chinese friends are concerned.

This will leave our host and hostess making an attempt to engage the one other western guest (Wildon’s English teacher) in a discussion regarding the habits and haunts of the local expatriate community. Unfortunately, he is entirely ignorant of such matters and appears, moreover, to wish he was anywhere else but at our hostess’s party, so this proves equally unsatisfying.

In these circumstances it may be considered best to cut straight to the communal dancing and musical entertainment.

These, prefaced by the distribution of the traditional ‘dram’ to all, should be led by mine host – attired, of course, in full Highland regalia (kilt: Lidl, £24.99) – and will feature such delights as the Gay Gordons and a Reduced Virginia Reel. (Note: this is not as enjoyable as the Gender-Confused Eightsome Reel, but this is strictly for the more advanced practitioner). The Chinese guests may, at first, be more willing spectators than participants. One or two may choose the melee as a suitably distracting moment at which to make a swift exit and sit in the car because the hostess’s home is too hot, even though it is minus 22° outside, but with a little persistence most can be induced to join in the fun, and can be heard to remark afterwards that they greatly admired the host’s ‘skirt’ – indeed, that it was the highlight of the evening - and that they had heard that 'Scottish men wore stripy skirts’ but had never actually seen one in the flesh, as it were.

Following this gaiety, a little light flute-playing and a discussion on the technicalities of playing the Chinese flute or dizi may be employed to calm the mood again from that of excitement to one of gentle relaxation.

After quite a lot of this, our hostess may find herself fervently wishing her guests would leave. In this instance, some gracious and well-chosen words to signal that the evening is at an end, and to express her gratitude and pleasure at her guests’ attendance and her dearest wish that she may see them again soon in the near future, are appropriate. Something along the lines of, ‘Come on you ‘orrible lot, get out of my house’. Otherwise she will find herself waiting until one of them plucks up the courage to enquire tentatively whether, at eleven o’clock, it is ‘ok if they leave now?’. Since they consider it rude to leave before ‘the end’ and she considers it rude to tell them it is the end, both sides could be in for a very long night unless someone takes the bull by the horns. And thus, the evening concludes.

Footnote: the consumption, thereafter, of the remainder of the whisky by, say, host and Boss should be approached with caution.

Talking of arrest and deportation....

The award for utter crass bloody stupidity goes to.... Amazon - those beloved and usually harmless purveyors of books, CDs and DVDs to the millions of Brits (and probably Americans and many others) who can't face trotting down to Waterstone's or HMV during the Christmas rush to discover that their sought-after products are deemed too obscure to stock anyway. Yes, Amazon have really made one spectacular, and potentially politically dangerous, boo-boo.

Picture this, if you will. We order a batch of DVDs as Christmas presents for ourselves - innocuous TV comedies and dramas of the Frasier, Midsomer Murders and Mighty Boosh variety - to be sent here, to Peter's office. All our mail comes there and is always delivered from the UK within a week without problems. I also order a book which is to come separately, as I forgot to add it to the original order in time. After a few days we duly receive notification from Amazon that both parcels have been dispatched, and sit back and wait eagerly.

A week later, I receive another email from them, informing me that the parcel containing the book has been returned as 'undeliverable' and that I will be refunded in full. No reason is given. I check the address; all appears in order. This is very mystifying.

Until, that is, Peter arrives home later that day, bearing the second parcel (the one with the DVDs in) which was delivered that afternoon. Emblazoned in huge letters across the back of the packaging are the words, 'GUNS 'N' ROSES - CHINESE DEMOCRACY' !!

To us, and the marketing department at Amazon, clearly, this is an innocent enough advertisment for an album title.

To the Chinese government, who take a pretty dim view of anyone (particularly interfering westerners) criticising their system, this is something else entirely. Not to mention the fact that Peter had to sign for this parcel in full view of all his staff and some fairly high-level associates, several of whom could be seen to look askance at it.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dear Chinese government: We would like to make it known that this was nothing to do with us, we had no idea that such a thing would be printed on the packaging, and it bears no relation to anything that was inside.

DEAR AMAZON: HAVE YOU LOST YOUR TINY MINDS??!!! Fancy sending a parcel with that printed on it to someone IN CHINA! At least this explains what happened to the other parcel. How this one got through I do not know, but please be very sure about one thing: IF we find that as a result of this, Peter's name is now on some list of dangerous subversives and that we get stopped at the airport, possibly denied re-entry to the country, Peter's work permit is revoked and he loses his job (not an entirely far-fetched scenario, I promise you), YOU WILL BE HEARING FROM OUR LAWYERS.

Meanwhile, as a global retailer, perhaps a little awareness of the world around you wouldn't go amiss, guys.

Party planning, part 2

Oh God. It's out of control. Someone's actually coming specially from Beijing. Peter keeps hearing excited chat around the office - he can tell, because there doesn't appear to be a Chinese word for 'party'. This doesn't bode well. The problem seems to be that Chinese people never organise anything more than a day in advance - they were amazed by the concept of a diary in which you write down appointments - so obviously to them anything which requires several weeks of planning must be the social event of the decade, if not the century.

Tomorrow Kevin is emailing everyone to confirm the details. So I reckon I have about 12 hours in which to come up with an escape plan. Faking my own death sounds too complicated to engineer in such a short time, so the best course of action would seem to be to relocate to Thailand where, apparently (don't know if this is just under the current state of emergency or always), gatherings of more than five people are illegal.

Today's conversation on the matter went as follows.
Kevin: What time do western parties start?
Peter: It depends, but usually about 8 o'clock.
K (shocked): 8 o'clock??!! Is very late.
P: Well actually some don't start until 10 o'clock.
K (scandalised): 10 o'clock????!!!!!
P (thinking it best not to explain that this was so that some of the guests could go to the pub and get drunk first, then roll up when the pubs close at 11 - or, in Scotland, 12): Well they tend to start late because, like I told you, people have their tea before they come out. So 8 should be fine.
K: Ah yes. So, what food will there be? [Does this boy think of nothing but his stomach?]
P: Party nibbles.
K: And what are they?
P: Crisps, nuts, olives....
K (with obvious lack of enthusiasm): Cheese?
[Kevin tried cheese for the first time at Boss's party a couple of months ago, and found it revolting. It was Camembert, mind you, which tastes like old socks to me, and I like cheese.]
P: Well, yes, cheese.
K: I should have come with you to supermarket, buy things I like!
P: What do you like?
K: Only joking. So, what time will the party end?
Boss (who's been listening with increasing amusement the whole time and seems keen to stir): 5 am! [Boss and Peter laugh].
Kevin (horrified): Really??!
Peter: No. It will end when all the beer is drunk.
K: Ah. I see.

Or, I would add, when all the guests are incapable, whichever is the sooner.

So, as things currently stand, we have six bottles of wine for mulling, but no spices with which to mull them, as Peter was unable to identify cinnamon or cloves in the supermarket. Mince pies have been abandoned as simply a challenge too far, short of flying down to Shanghai to see if Marks & Spencer's have them in their food hall there. But then, even if they did, they would probably all have been snapped up by now by desperate expats, who had managed to virtually clear the shelves of food within four days of the place opening when we were last there, prompting the shop to display apologetic notices explaining how they'd had to send to the UK for more supplies. Seriously. Imagine the years of M&S withdrawal symptoms which must have led to this behaviour. It's like Ikea's Edinburgh launch all over again.

But to return to the matter in had. So, warm, fruity but possibly spiceless mulled wine, possibly with a dash of brandy then, to make it more interesting - check. 'Nibbles', for people who are used to having a full meal when they go out - check. Large quantities of beer - check. Gigantic bottle of whisky so that everyone can be offered a dram in true Scottish style - check. Twenty or more Chinese guests, unused to alcohol - check. Energetic Scottish dancing - possibly.

Result? Large-scale puking, us picking comatose Chinese bodies out of wardrobes and shower cubicles for the next two days, a riot, and a major pileup on the roads, leading to our almost inevitable arrest and deportation? Probably.