Page 3 from: April 2005

V I E W P O I N T
I began my trip to China by staying at the City
Hotel in downtown Shanghai. On my first evening
there, I took a stroll around the old town. The
streets were very busy, shops were open and the
wonderful smell of Chinese food drifted from the
myriad of small restaurants. I felt at home in
Shanghai, perhaps because innumerable bicycles
were wending their way through the crowded
streets, just like in The Netherlands.
As I emerged from a small side street into a main
avenue, I found myself facing the Okura Garden
Hotel. Since the gardens looked very attractive and
were beautifully illuminated, I decided to walk
across to the hotel and have a drink. I sat in the
busy lobby bar and drank a beer as I watched the
throng of people who seemed to be mostly from
Europe and North America.
After half an hour or so, I decided to return to my
hotel and make it an early night. I strolled through
the gardens again and left
the Okura through the
main gate. On the street,
I was approached by a
Chinese woman in her
mid-thirties with a wrin-
kled face, spiky hair and a
short beige raincoat that
was torn at the shoulder. She grabbed me by the
arm and said: ‘Hello, what’s your name?’ ‘Manfred,’
I told her. ‘I am Veronica,’ she said. ‘Where do you
come from?’ ‘From Holland,’ I replied. ‘Holland is a
very beautiful city,’ she said. Well, so much for her
geographical knowledge, I thought to myself. Then
she posed the question I had been expecting: ‘Do
you want girl?’ I decided to cut the conversation
short by asking: ‘How much?’ ‘Only a hundred dol-
lars,’ she said. ‘Not in a hundred years,’ I replied.
She gave me a nasty look and said in a much less
friendly tone: ‘All Holland people are cheap.’ I shot
the same look back at her and said: ‘Most Chinese
women are really beautiful, but clearly you are one
of the exceptions.’ As I walked away, all I could hear
was this shrill voice issuing, no doubt, a stream of
Chinese expletives about the mean and miserly
people of Holland.
A few days later, I was in Guangzhou some 400
miles south of Shanghai to attend the China
International Metals Recycling Forum. During the
Forum dinner party at the White Swan Hotel, I felt
an urgent need to ‘wash my hands’, an activity also
referred to as ‘taking a leak’, ‘burning the grass’,
‘pointing Percy at the porcelain’, ‘shaking hands
with an old friend’, ‘shaking the dew off the lily’,
‘syphoning the python’, or even ‘visiting Miss
Murphy’. I excused myself from my table compan-
ions and made my way to the bathroom. Inside, a
Chinese man dressed in smart casuals was pacing
up and down. I said hello as I passed by on my way
to ‘drain the potatoes’, as we say in The
Netherlands. Shortly afterwards, as I washed my
hands, he moved to stand
next to the door. As I was
about to make my way
back to the dining room, he
took a step towards me
and, without a word, pre-
sented his business card.
Not wanting to be rude,
I took it, thanked him and left. In the corridor,
I looked at the card which read: ‘Missing you tonight.
Please telephone me. Mobile: 13527869981. Jack’.
My first thought was: ‘Oh my God, do I look gay?’
I was just passing a huge mirror and so seized
the opportunity to take a good look at myself. The
macho image staring back at me put my mind at
rest. Jack must have been very tired or short-sight-
ed, or both. I straightened my shoulders, held in my
stomach and went back into the dining room.
I walked across to my table and was painfully
aware of the fact that not one of the beautiful
Chinese waitresses was casting a covetous eye in
my direction.
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Member of
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Manfred Beck
Editor
Some weeks ago, I was in China visiting a number of recycling
operations and attending the China International Metals
Recycling Forum. During my stay, I was surprised to find
myself doing something that I had never done before: I delib-
erately insulted a Chinese woman. And I also met Jack.
Do I look gay?
‘All Holland
people
are cheap.’
BIR