Lost on Planet China - J. Maarten Troost [19]
“There are eleven Ferrari dealerships in China now.”
I wondered if the owners of these Ferraris drove them with the same manic gusto as Beijing’s cabdrivers. Would one have to be truly insane to drive a Ferrari on the streets of China? Would people here even know how to operate a Ferrari? From what I’d discerned on the streets of Beijing, the Chinese, while in possession of cars, didn’t actually know how to drive them.
Having cut through the Oriental Plaza, we stopped in front of the entrance to the Grand Hyatt, one of the most luxurious hotels in Beijing, whereupon Dan approached two attractive young women who were loitering near the doorway. They wore makeup and tight, form-fitting clothes that suggested that they were either unusually curvaceous for Chinese women or dedicated customers of Stay Fit Health Powder.
Dude. What are you doing?
“She says she speaks English,” Dan said, gesturing to one of the women.
“Yes, I speak English,” she confirmed.
“My friend here would like to hire you for the afternoon,” Dan explained.
Dude!
Around us, shoppers turned to stare. There were children. Jesus.
“As a translator,” I stammered.
“What’s your name?” Dan inquired.
“Meow Meow.”
Meow Meow.
“Meow Meow, meet Maarten.”
Who was this Meow Meow? And why was this woman with the Bond-girl name lingering at the entrance of an upscale hotel?
“You need translator,” she said. “I can be translator. How much money? Money very important in China.”
Dan took charge of the negotiations. He had long ago absorbed the rules of China, and while I still instinctually paid the first asking price, bargaining had become second nature to him and he now haggled down everything from a restaurant meal to a cab ride to a bottle of water. It still seemed presumptuous to me to quibble over a restaurant bill, but in China no one ever took offense. One bargains for everything in China, including, apparently, the services of an attractive translator hanging around the Grand Hyatt in Beijing.
“Let’s get a coffee,” Dan said, having come to an arrangement that was satisfactory for all parties. We walked back toward the Starbucks in the Oriental Plaza, which was just like any other Starbucks, except that small isn’t Tall. It’s just small.
“China is Starbucks’ second-largest market,” Dan blithely noted, as I stood wondering what, precisely, Meow Meow did for a living.
As she waited for her frappuccino, I approached Dan. “Just an observation here,” I said, “but in other countries the young women lingering outside swanky hotels aren’t usually translators.”
“Do you think she’s a take-out girl?”
“A take-out girl?”
“That’s what the prostitutes in the karaoke bars are called. But I don’t think she’s a take-out girl. But if she is, just think of her as a full-service translator.”
“Thanks, Dan.”
“You’re welcome.”
We settled at a table and sipped our coffees. “So, Meow Meow,” I began, searching for a way to ascertain her profession. I could, of course, have simply asked her what she did for a living, but I’d spent enough years in Washington, where What do you do? is the template for tedious conversation, that I hesitated. “Your English is excellent,” I offered.
“No,” she said. “But it is better than your Chinese.”
Very true.
“I am a student,” she continued. “I study English.”
What luck. Suddenly, I felt like I could be helpful.
“You are American?” she asked.
It’s a complicated question for a half-Dutch, half-Czech, Holland-born Canadian citizen with a Dutch passport and a green card presently living in California.
“I live there,” I offered. “Have you ever been to America?” I asked her. She hadn’t. “Well, it’s kind of like this,” I said, waving my hand around the mall. Except this was far nicer. I watched the shoppers mosey about, and reflected that surely this kind of economic transformation had been matched by some sort of social and political transformation. I asked Meow Meow if she discussed politics with her friends.
“See, in my country,” I said, “we talk about politics a lot. There are two groups—or factions, as I think you call them in China.