October 21st: an earfull of kids, a bellyfull of steak

Day 34

Woke too late for Chinese breakfast, and while I was emailing a knock came on the door.

“Hold on.” More knocking.

I put on some pants.

More knocking.

“Hold on.”

More knocking.

I opened the door on the two water heater guys. They did the rest of their work noisily while I typed. They have a strange insistent method of knocking. To the Western ear it would sound urgent, but deliberate. No amount of assurance that you are coming to the door will halt their rhythm. It’s like they don’t want to get off beat. The pattern will go on until you open the door and that’s just how it goes.

I grabbed a shower and realized too late the water heater did not have enough time to fill. At least it woke me up.

I got to confront the cake-eaters today. About five of them came up to apologize. I said it was alright, but I secretly wondered how five kids split two small cupcakes. It must have been a crumb frenzy.

I downloaded “Upriver: the John Kerry story” because I was jonesing to watch a movie and this one was free. It would take five hours to fully download, so I started it, taught, kept returning to check the progress.

Erin slept through dinner, so we went to the hotel. I got a steak to try and maintain some mass. Halfway through dinner a mob of small children flooded into the lounge area shrieking “hello” and gathering around us. Once Erin put her glasses on, she realized they were her students.

“Students, what are you doing here?”

erin is the tallest for once

It cracked me up the way she addressed them en masse as “students.” They asked what everything was in English (book, steak, pizza, beard), informed us that someone was “English smoking” behind us, then ran to the window to watch the sudden burst of fireworks from the fountain out front. I was as confused as I was entertained.

fireworks


more fireworks

They returned and bestowed Erin with a multitude of roses, procured from who-knows-where and we half-expected someone to approach us and demand payment for them.

erin laden with roses

There was another Anglo-Saxon behind us and he got mobbed with little faces and questions.

“Students!” Erin whispered, “Come here! I don’t know who he is!” They flocked over again. The gentleman seemed unbothered, but their energy was a bit too high for the lounge.

They picked up my book, my camera, Erin’s beer bottle, touched my beard, studied us and our plates, finished my fries for me. When at last they left, Erin said, “That’s what I go through every day.”

“No wonder you slept through dinner.”

Erin excused herself to go to the bathroom while I paid the tab. When she returned she had a business card from a couple Arabs staying in the hotel. They were on a business trip and were opening the biggest mall in the world next year in Dubai.

I felt compelled to speak with them. Erin pedaled home to get her lessons ready, I stayed behind to talk with Younis, Afmarahid, and their Chinese translator Tommy.

It felt like a scene from a film. I approached them holding the card. “May I join you?”

“Please,” they gestured for me to sit.

“I am a teacher at the Haimen Experimental School and I understand you are building the largest mall in America? (D’oh!) Er, the world! The world, yes?”

“Yes, in Dubai.”

They proceeded to tell me about the indoor skiing they were constructing and how since it was a temperature of minus 2 instead of minus 25, you could ski for a longer period without freezing. They explained they were in China as part of their housewares business, visiting factories and such (I had predicted they were outsourcing I-beams or something for the mall)

I asked if there might be any job opportunities for a native English speaker with customer service experience/hotel background with a degree in communication. They said yes, probably in the field of management or customer service training.

“What kind of pay package are you looking for?”

I gulped. Shit. If I underquote, they might hold me to that and grin at each other saying “Sucker.” If I overquote, I would seem like a greedy American. I couldn’t think, so I stalled.

“By the week, or…?

“By the month.”

“I don’t know, I uh….What’s the cost of living there?”

“Depends on if you are marry or single, one bedroom or studio, what kind of car…”

“Would I need a car or are there taxis, bicycles?”

“You would need a car, but a brand new Honda is $15,000. You get a living allowance, petrol allowance, health allowance…”

“On top of the monthly package?”

“Yes. Why don’t you email me your C.V?”

“Ok. My contract is up in July. When does the mall open?”

“September 2005.”

“Little under a year, wow. Ok, well I will email you my C.V, I have to get back to the school and prepare my lessons for tomorrow. Thank you very much, I’ll be in touch.”

I shook their hands in succession, took my leave. Even if nothing becomes of it, I’m glad I at least met the movers and shakers behind the biggest mall in the world. I was proud of the way I handled myself.

There’s something about being abroad that makes unlikely peers. Fellow travelers seek each other out, anxious to learn each other’s stories, sample the world vicariously. Would I have been compelled to speak to them if I saw them in Cincinnati, or they to me if I were in Dubai?

Probably not. On one’s own turf, you set limits on who you meet. We get caught up in maintaining our circle of familiarity, protect our routine in a way. How many conversations or great potential friendships have we missed out on, simply to continue buzzing like a bee, to “get our errands done” and return home where we can marinate in a loneliness that might have been remedied, if only we had the courage to ask a stranger to tell their story.

I got back, watched “Upriver” and was very impressed. It focused only on the Vietnam era of Kerry’s life and it was fascinating to see him evolve into a leader. However, at the end of it, I became acutely aware of the difference between the Kerry of 1970 and the Kerry now. The calm, focused, righteous Kerry of then is still in the Kerry of today, but it’s deep. Perhaps years of privileged life have smoothed the furrowed, determined brow; the tinnitus of firefights replaced by eardrums perforated from wine cork reports; army fatigues in mothballs as he cloaks himself in suits and smarm. Is he playing the part, letting the suit wear him, in an attempt to fill the expectations of what a politician paradigm has come to be? His set-jawed, cool intellect from 1970 mirrors the candor of Nader today. Has he vamped up the smile, suit and tie as a conscious decision to avoid the Nader stigma? Nixon compared him to Nader in the film, did it stick in his craw a bit?

I’m glad I’m out of the country for the election so I can get some objective news. The BBC takes no sides and gives each candidate equal airtime. Should there be a scandal (please, not again) I will have the privilege of getting a better grasp of the truth without entrenched media spin. And I’ll certainly share what I learn.