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How to Best Waste Time in China April 15, Saturday
The first thing that occurred to me was to go to my bank and see if I could somehow cajole them into getting my money out of my account, even though I had no I.D. and no bank card. I did however know they had several photo copies of my passport on file, a requirement when receiving money transfers. In Guangzhou, as in most larger cities in China, the main banks were open through Saturday and Sunday afternoon. When I entered the bank I was in luck; only two people were there and they were finishing up their transactions. When I approached the teller, he smiled and asked in English, "How are you today!" It was a small comfort and a reason I used the bank, more than one employee spoke English. I explained briefly what happened, leaving out the "where" it happened--I didn't want to give any Chinese another story to tell their friends of the "seedy foreigners", even though all bars, nightclubs, massage parlors, and "barber shops" were filled to capacity with married and single Chinese men*. The teller apologized, stating no supervisors were there, and to come back tomorrow, of course.
*I always had a very hard time keeping a shocked look off my
face when some man or woman would exclaim (and this happened often)
"Oh, the bars and nightclubs are only for foreigners and Hong Kong and
Taiwanese businessmen; we are traditional Chinese. We do not go to
these places. We stay home with our loved ones. I come from a happy
family--we do not drink and have no need for such places." Yeah, right.
What they mean to say is as a woman, we know our loved one goes to the
club to forget about the stress of being a Chinese, always under
pressure from the government, the family, the boss, etc.
The area around the Garden Hotel and the Baiyun Hotel across the way, both flank Huanshi Dong Lu. It is thick with expatriate hangouts and foreign businesses. The McDonald’s where I got my morning coffee that day sits on the ground floor of the Suifeng (CITIC) building, which houses several international offices, such as the American Chamber of Commerce. The Garden Hotel, across from my bank, has the Japanese Consulate. The Baiyun Hotel, which hovers directly over the park that shelters the Hill Bar, was the very first high rise in Guangzhou, which is connected to the infamous Friendship store, built in 1959. The first Starbucks opened up right beside my bank and was hugely successful. Along that same street is Pizza Hut, another McDonald’s, and a Subway sandwich shop. It is no wonder so many foreigners hover about the area--it's their home away from home.
Almost all the girls are from other provinces, typical of Guangzhou, whose floating population is in the millions. I watched a few of them grow up there; a girl named Flower and a girl named Fiona started when they were only 16! They were indentured servants, "bought" from their family to work in servitude until the debt was paid off.
When I first came to China, I was living in the countryside an hour and a half from the city. On my first trip to Canton, I stayed over the weekend, and walking about the neighborhood of my hotel I discovered the Hill Bar, nestled in its lovely little park, right in front of the Baiyun Hotel. I distinctly recall that day I walked into the place. It was early afternoon, and there were a half dozen people inside, two at the bar and another four at a table. The place had posters of American and English rock bands and celebrities all over the walls: The Beatles, Elvis, Jerry Garcia, Marilyn Manson, Marilyn Monroe and John Wayne. The music playing though, didn’t match the decor–-Back Street Boys! The entire place is done up in an orangy stained wood. Several large, picture windows surround the place, giving the cramped space an airy jungle feel, as they all look out into the lushness of the park that surrounds it. A Plexiglas ceiling over the main floor space completes this odd but comfortable bar. Fortunately these are covered with hanging red awnings to deflect the full brunt of the noon day sun. The bar itself is an L-shape, seating about 10 to 12 people. Behind the bar are dozens of the prerequisite liquor bottles, and running it all are the cutest, young girls in the entire neighborhood.
Almost all the girls are from other provinces, typical of Guangzhou, whose floating population is in the millions. I watched a few of them grow up there; a girl named Flower and a girl named Fiona started when they were only 16! They were indentured servants–”bought” from their family to work in servitude until the debt was paid off. The girls all lived in a dormitory-like environment, with several bunk beds in a two bedroom apartment. They didn’t make much, but the free English lessons more than made up for it, and plenty of expats slid money to them on the sly–tipping isn’t done in China. I adored Flower, because I watched her go from a somewhat shy girl who could only say, “Hello Miko!” and “Goodbye Miko!” in the first month, to “How are you today? You’re looking a bit fat!” and “I am studying computer now.” Fiona was a shop-a-holic and a fashionable girl. Every month she would come in with a new ensemble and proudly show it off to the rest of us. Fiona knew how to work the clientèle to the point that she rarely ever spent her own money on clothes. Flower simply behaved like a little angel, with a curiosity that touched everyone she met. But neither girl ever fooled around; they were traditional girls in that sense. They both had dreams, but each had their own plan. Fiona wanted to return home to marry. Flower on the other hand, wanted to work for a foreign concern and stay in the big city. Seven years later, and she is still a bartender at Hill Bar–the only one left. Fiona went on home, presumably to get hitched.
The other expats I met in the Hill gave me an education on living abroad. Finding that place was one of the smartest thing I did in my five years in China. I made connections that led to good jobs and found new places of interest to go on the advice of my new friends, as well as some good “do’s and don’ts” from long timers.
So it was there that I spent my first several hours of the day, trying very hard not to sink into deep depression. When one of my closest friends, Desmond, showed up and heard my plight, he plucked out a couple of 100 RMB notes and told me, “a man has got to have money for beer!”, and we toasted, not to my misfortune, but to a better day. He always had a way about him; I can’t ever recall him ever being in the dumps or in a sour mood. If he did he never showed it. He was also incredibly humble. He was very vital to Chinese national tennis–he coached both the Jr. boys and girls national teams, and two of his girls won medals in the Athens Olympics!
We small talked and continued drinking into the early afternoon. Then I decided to take a “‘walk about” as Des would say, and get some fresh air and perhaps a bite to eat. Heading further down Huanshi Dong Lu, I ended up in a small little hide away grill and bar called Sleeping Wood. It was owned by a couple of talented Chinese with design backgrounds, and it showed. The interior was all red brick and wood, based on some the architecture of some housing that Point, one of the owners, saw in the province of Yunnan. Also, there were many decorations about the walls, in window sills and on shelves from that area. They have a small menu of well prepared western food, and I always find the place a great comfort when I am missing home--t was one of the few places then that you could get a huge meaty, spicy burrito.
I pulled myself up to the tiny bar–it only sits four people–and ordered a Tsing Tao draft, one of the few places in the city where you could actually get draft Chinese beer, and some Mexican food. I needed the solitude of Sleeping Wood for a little while and also the conversation of the assistant manager-bartender, Eric. His story is one of an energetic young Chinese man who knew how to take advantage of his surroundings and make the best of it. Originally he had learned his craft working at the now defunct Hard Rock Cafe in Guangzhou. He started as a busboy, then a waiter and finally a bartender, all the while honing his English skills with the foreigners who dined there. English seemed to come naturally to him and his influences were deeply American in style. When I first met him, I had assumed he had studied in the USA, he sounded so authentic! Eric’s demeanor also spoke volumes about him. He was a great listener and tactful with his advice, the consummate bartender. I didn’t lay my troubles on him that day, I simply wanted a normal conversation and a quiet lunch with a good Chinese friend. . cont. | prev. | main
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