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.

The Master Plan

So, Mr Bond, we meet at last.

The time has come for me to reveal (to those of you who didn’t hear about this before we left Edinburgh) our Grand Project for Harbin, to which I alluded in my previous post.

Viz: to bring ceilidh dancing, and Scottish/Celtic traditional music in general, to China, and turn Harbin into the Ceilidh Capital of the East, with the ultimate aim of having a Celtic music festival along the lines of a mini Celtic Connections, here. Anyone who doesn’t know what a ceilidh is, please click here. Please note it is NOT the same as Scottish Country Dancing.

We call this Operation Ceilidh Culture (name shamelessly pinched from Edinburgh’s own small annual traditional music event – sorry guys. It’s a only working title!)

Why? Because it sounds crazy enough for us to try it; because Peter never got a chance to start his ceilidh band before we left Scotland; and because God knows the Chinese desperately need an injection of some kind of quality music, if the trash that we hear on our built-in shower radio (yes, that’s right) or piped blaringly loudly out into the street outside shopping centres is anything to go by. Frankly, it’s Eurovision-style pop of the cheesiest kind, and much though you know I love Eurovision, they really need to be educated on the musical front. Plus Peter has a theory that the pentatonic scale is the same as the range of chords used in most Irish tunes (or something) so therefore the Chinese ear is predisposed to like that kind of music.

And hey, if it fails there’s always my backup plan, which is – on the strength of the above – to bring Eurovision to China instead. It’s broadcast in Vietnam and Korea, apparently, so why not here? I’m thinking of writing to Sir Terry, now that he’s become disillusioned with European political voting in ‘our’ contest, and suggesting he expand his horizons. Why not an Asiavision Song Contest? Bad music and nationalism combined – it sounds right up China’s street!

But I digress. How do we intend to bring our project to fruition? Well, it pans out like this.

Peter’s original plan was to find some fellow musicians and start a ceilidh band. All he really needs is a keyboard player, someone with a rhythm machine of some sort (both of whom could be Chinese), and either a guitarist – in which case Peter could play the melody line on the flute – or, preferably, a fiddler (who would probably have to be an expat) so that Peter can play guitar or mandolin instead. I could probably even manage to learn a few simple tunes on the accordion.

But to have a ceilidh we needed to find some willing guinea-pigs for the dancing. We were stuck as to how to go about this, until we met Magi. As I mentioned, he is something big at one of the universities, and as a teacher of English he is very keen for his students to learn about British culture as well as the language. It also transpires that he is a bit of a Scotophile, has visited Scotland (even staying in the same hostel on Skye where we went on our choir tour in 2006), and is interested in Scottish music. When Peter mentioned his ceilidh band plan to him, Magi became very excited.

‘You provide the music’, he said, ‘and I will provide six thousand students!’

Sorted. The Chinese seem to love doing strenuous organised activities in large groups, particularly if they can be shouted at while doing it - and none more so than young people still in the education system who have known nothing else all their lives – so ceilidh dancing should suit them down to the ground. We just tell them everyone in Britain does this every week. They don’t need to know it’s a purely minority interest confined to Scottish people, and mainly those over 40. And once the blokes realise that they not only get to touch girls but that the girls can ask them to dance, we should be on to a winner. Six thousand of them might be a bit much, but hey, why aim low? Now THAT's a big Strip the Willow.

So, to recap.

One: get Magi to organise his students to come to a ceilidh at the university. How he pitches this is entirely up to him. If he wants to give them course credits for it, that’s fine by us. We’ll need a Chinese person with a loud voice, a good memory and a sense of rhythm to learn the steps and then call them in Chinese. Maybe they could do simultaneous translation as someone (who by a process of elimination I’ve just realised would probably have to be me – argh – I only know two dances!) calls in English. As we won’t have a band ready in time, we use Scottish CDs, of which we have many. Chinese students dance the night away enthusiastically. THEY WILL LOVE IT.

Two: meanwhile, we find out where the expats hang out, and advertise both there and at the university for musicians to join a band to play Scottish and Irish music. If a couple of Chinese musicians come along and learn the tunes, so much the better. THEY WILL LOVE IT.

Three: building on the success of the inaugural ceilidh, we make these a regular event at the uni. Ok so maybe ALL 6000 students don’t have to come EVERY time. But those who do will LOVE IT. Once the band is formed and has got a repertoire together, we replace the CDs with live music, and then everyone will LOVE IT EVEN MORE.

Four: word gradually spreads about this new dance sensation, leading to ceilidhs (small ones at first) being held in the city for people other than students. We will have laid the groundwork for this by teaching a few friends some ceilidh dances at our parties (see previous post) whenever we have the chance. Soon Scottish music and ceilidh dancing become a craze in Harbin. This curious new development attracts national attention. Harbin becomes known as ‘The Scottish City’. We are featured on CCTV News. People flock from all over China to sample the exciting new cultural experience. THEY ALL LOVE IT.

Five: since everybody in Harbin now LOVES Scottish music so much, we decide it’s time some real Celtic musicians came over to do a concert. We find out how one goes about raising money for such an event in China, we get the money (ok so this part of the plan isn’t quite thought through yet!), and approach some of the stars of the traditional music scene to come over. We reckon Aly and Phil may be slightly out of our league at this stage (though boys, if you’re reading this, we’re huge fans, and any time you feel like waiving your fee in return for the trip of a lifetime, the invitation’s there!), but maybe some of the younger generation might be up for it. If we could get Jenna Reid, that would be fab. Or one of the big ceilidh bands like Shooglenifty. Although more of them, so more expenses.

Six: back home in Scotland, Aly Bain turns on the news one day and sees a piece about two Brits who have brought Scottish music to the northernmost reaches of China. He phones Jenna (or whoever), who says, ‘Oh aye, I went to play there. It was great. Those guys in Harbin LOVE Scottish music. You should see them ceilidh!’ Aly gets our number and calls us. When we’ve finished saying ‘We are not worthy’, we discuss our plans for a major Celtic music festival in Harbin – perhaps every two years. No need to be over-ambitious.

‘The trouble is, Mr Bain,’ we say, ‘it’ll be very expensive and we don’t know how we can raise the cash’.

‘Leave it with me, pal’, says Aly. [Not sure if Shetlanders say ‘pal’, but you get the picture.]

Seven: in 2011, the first ‘Celtic Connections East’ - no, let's call it 'Celtic Connections China'; better logo potential - festival is held in Harbin. We have had to use our contacts to get Harbin airport to start running international flights to places other than Vladivostock just for the occasion. Everybody LOVES IT, it is a resounding success, and the 2013 one is bigger than ever. Harbin is the Ceilidh Capital of the East. We become slightly rich, and have changed the face of modern China forever.

…..

WHAT?????

It could happen.