Perfect vacation (for a writer)
When vacation plans fall apart, a writer can always console himself with the possibility of turning his problems into material for the next poem or novel or essay. But when our family set sail for our first trip to China, I wasn’t a writer yet. Still, I knew this vacation would be no romp on the beach. It was 1983, the early days of China’s reopening, and though there were splinters by then in the Bamboo Curtain, much of it still remained firmly in place.
It rained all the way from Hong Kong to Xiamen, our destination. When our ship sailed into the harbor, it was overcast. The dingy city before us looked weathered, but it couldn’t have changed much since the Communist takeover in 1949. At the time I didn’t appreciate my luck. I was seeing the landscape of a novel I would one day write, a novel that would be set in China in the 1940s.
The Hotel for Overseas Chinese
My husband Eugene, our three daughters and I caught a taxi from the wharf and rode straight to the Hotel for Overseas Chinese. It was brand new. Not quite finished, in fact. The high-ceilinged lobby with all its polished granite and marble floors was strangely marred by large puddles of water. An invitation for a law suit, I thought. But then, this was China not the United States of America.
We side-stepped the water and made our way to the reception desk. The young women on duty straightened up and stared at my white face. Then one of them addressed my husband in a barrage of Hokkien. Since our daughters and I spoke only a smattering of Mandarin and almost nothing in my husband’s dialect, we stood back and let him do the talking. Almost immediately, their conversation escalated into a shouting match.
As the exchange grew louder and more confrontational, the girls and I tiptoed back around the puddles and sat down. After twenty minutes or so, one of the women left, and as the other turned away to pour herself some tea, my husband joined us on the sofa.
Non-Chinese are not welcome
photo courtesy of Dan
“They say you and the kids can’t stay here,” he reported, “The way they see it, this hotel is exclusively for overseas Chinese, not for their American families.”
“Let’s go someplace else then.” It seemed the logical choice.
“Sorry, honey. There is no other place for tourists to stay.” He stood up. “But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
He strode back across the room to where a middle-aged man was frowning at us from behind the reception desk.
A few tense minutes later, we were standing by the elevator with our suitcases and two room keys. “This generation,” my husband grumbled stabbing the up button, “they’re no longer Chinese.” He glared at the elevator light, willing it to keep descending. “I quoted an old saying to them, and still they didn’t understand.”
“So what happened?”
The elevator doors opened and Eugene picked up both suitcases. “The old man, the manager, had to explain it. ‘Young misses,’ he told them, ‘listen to Mr. Chen. He will teach you what it means to be Chinese.’”
“So …?” We stepped on board, and I pushed the button for the twelfth floor. “What was the saying?”
“Just an old proverb.” He shook his head. “Something any Chinese should be able to understand: Marry a chicken, follow a chicken; marry a dog, follow a dog.”
I should have been offended, I suppose, to be compared to a chicken or a dog. But it was such a clever retort. And even a future writer can appreciate a good line.
Next week’s post: “You Can’t Go Home Again.”
“Marry a dog…” Too funny. Clever man, your husband. Did he quote a lot of old proverbs?
Only when necessary. But he was clever at drawing from many sources to make his argument or achieve his goal.
Just found your blog today via a comment on china elevator stories, and am hooked! This was an interesting story, and I’m glad it had a happy ending. I look forward to reading more.
And as for that Chinese proverb, I couldn’t help but laugh! It makes sense though, and I enjoyed learning something new.
(I also look forward to finding out more about you Vanuatu adventures. I went once on holiday when I was at uni in Australia, just for a week, but I loved it. There are surprisingly few people who know of its existence (at least in Europe, where I’m from) so I’m very keen on finding out more. ^^
I’m glad you found my blog.
So, you’ve been to Vanuatu. I loved living there. It’s such a beautiful place. People in the United States haven’t heard of it either unless they watched “Survivor” when it was there one season.
Non-Chinese are not welcome.
Wow! I did not know that the Commies discriminated against nationality,race,religion,political following,etc. Let’s overthrow the PRC Commies!
Long live capitalism and freedom to choose!
As an overseas Chinese, I would have shouted at my top of my voice for being treated like this. What an outright discrimination!.You have a good and great hubby who defended you and your family’s honor.
Choi, thank you for your interest in this post. I’m sure the young women at the desk only thought they were following instructions. Once we moved into the hotel, we were treated with warmth and respect.
And yes, my late husband was a very good man.
Non-Chinese are not welcome.
Wow! I didn’t know the Commies practised discriminations by nationality,race,religion,political followings,etc. Long live capitalism and freedom to choose! Let’s us overthrow the PRC commies! It’s great for your hubby to defend you and your family’s honor. Good husband you have! Being an overseas Chinese, if I am treated like this.I would had shouted at my top of my voice!.
This incident I describe was long ago, when China was just beginning to open up to the outside world after decades of isolation. Xiamen was slower than Beijing and Shanghai, but they were making an effort. I’m sure they thought the first step would be to welcome overseas Chinese since many people with roots in Xiamen lived in SE Asia. And to be fair, the tour we were on was for overseas Chinese. The young women behind the desk were just trying to follow the rules as they understood them. In general, the people we met were extremely welcoming.
The first chapter of Crazy Rich Asians has a similar premise. Wet and tired guests with children in tow arrive at a hotel only to be turned away by a racist manager. The characters there solved the problem less cleverly, I think. They bought the hotel and fired the manager. Not a solution available to most of us.
This idiom with chicken and dog is well-known. It reflects a woman’s status in the old days — follow your man, whoever he is and wherever he goes. Accept your fate. These were the expectations on women — a man is the head and the future of a woman. In the modern days, this expression is still often heard, but is more often used as a joke.
I’m astonished that Eugene managed to convince the boss or the employees of the hotel. What a twist of the story!
Thank you for sharing these stories.
I am really enjoying hearing about your adventures!!