The "Three Amigos of the Orient" (the dumb American Matt, the polite Norwegian Oystein, and the crazy Korean JK). This would be us laughing uncontrollably as the Chinese acted out scenes from "Titanic"...priceless!
Crazy Chinese acting out love scenes from "Titanic"
Santa demands satisfaction...love & respect from the Orient!
So a Norwegian & a dumb American go to a Danish Christmas party in Beijing...The worm has turned again for me in the Orient as the last few weeks have been nothing short of spectacular. For those of you who tried to convince me to come home and have my surgery under Uncle Sam's watchful arms, I have to say that you were about as wrong as a Chinese metrosexual dancing in a mosh pit at a punk rock concert (yes this does happen here on a regular basis, for those of you not possessing MTV Asia). My knee is healthy and I'm out and about every day all-day; the city is open and new friends are ever-present; and I've still got a month of being a full six inches taller than the average Chinese height (if only I could play basketball!). Long story short life is very good again, thanks to advice from my amigo Eric whom I met at Hooters a few weeks ago in Shanghai: if you learn the language in China everything opens up. Not that I have learned the language, but I'm now taking intensive one-on-one sessions every day, and am well on my way to winning back the heart of the former ex-gf as well as several other Chinese vixens before my inevitable departure back to the States. I'm back in the good graces of Barbara as I now send her text messages in the Pinyin version of Chinese (in which I get replies back in seconds, and will be spending many days with this former flame before I depart). The Pinyin Chinese language is a bridge for us gringos because it uses the American alphabet to form words. It is like the elementary version for the Chinese before they learn the characters, and it is stern...but fair. Nevertheless, I'm learning this stuff with more diligence than I can remember having for anything...well ever.
I now spend about six hours a day completely devoted to learning Chinese. I wish I could say my motivation was to do more business with in China, but in reality it is about 90% driven to meet women. But I guess any motive is a good motive, at least I keep telling myself that. I picked up a Chinese business-woman who looks like a ballerina as I waited for my flight from Beijing to Qingdao this morning. She was so far out of my league(maybe galaxy), and strangely enough it is was this mighty Aphrodite who waltzed over to me: while wearing an ensemble of Prada, Gucci, and other Paris Hilton propaganda with a dynamite pair of tight leopard-skin pants. She pounced on me as I methodically studied my "Chinese 101" book at the Beijing Airport. Soon thereafter I found myself missing my flight and having lunch with this Chinese She-Devil, and as I type this my cell phone is blowing up from this woman who demands satisfaction immediately (I dressed snappy at the airport so she probably didn't realize I am a social-loafer at heart....well actually am a social-loafer but at heart I detest the truth...LOL).
Am I an idiot for not immediately figuring out how important it is to learn Chinese...YES! But is there anything I can do about that now.....not so much. Plus I was granted the golden goose of excuses as a metal bottle-rocket was kindly inserted into my knee by a mad scientist of a Chinese doctor. I'm throwing around this excuse at family barbecues like Crocodile Dundee hitting that limousine driver with his boomerang in "Crocodile Dundee 2". But as they say in The Sopranos, New Jersey, and other unsavory places of the world..."now, it's all gravy."
So speaking of gravy let's now talk Chinese Turkey Day. It was easily the most surreal day of my many surreal days out here in a world that anyone in the Western hemisphere would classify as surreal, or just plain nuts (in a good way in my opinion). Remember we are talking about a place where pedestrians are moving targets and launching a spit-wad on the side of the street is about as normal as someone in the Unites States picking up a quarter off of the ground.
I embarked on my mission to the Tsinghua Thanksgiving Festivities with a few friends from the Exchange-MBA Program and we brought a multinational faction that would make the UN Proud: Norwegians, a Korean, a couple of Germans, and some other Euro or two in the mix whose national heritage I'm invariably forgetting. In terms of demographic scale of the actual Thanksgiving Party which was held at a medium-sized restaurant, I would say it was about 85% Chinese people, my eight or so foreign colleagues in our infamous outfit, and well that was about it.. Also, a few of the Euro crew I was holding court with were well above the six-foot club making them Jolley-Green Giants in a see of jockeys...so yes, we stuck out more than a little bit. Instead of grabbing individual beers like the rest of the Chinese faction, we just decided to pillage the pitchers that everyone else used to pour their drinks into. So out of the six or so pitchers at any one time that the whole party was using, at least one and probably two were residing at our table. We came, we saw, we pillaged.
Upon arrival it seemed more than a little odd that a laptop was set up in the front of the restaurant with a movie projector connected to it. This was the first sign of the strange times that were about to come. Not soon after it was time to dine and instead of turkey and pumpkin pie I was greeted with pasta, onion rings, a miserable salad, chicken wings that looked as if Colonel Sanders himself had spit on them, and more random decrepit food that we all inhaled. It was terrible, but we still ate and drank...well mostly drank. The Chinese are so f$%^% weird sometimes. Instead of football and turkey, we spent our time watching duets of random Chinese couples who performed scenes from "Titanic" & other American classics that I hope to never see again. Since I am the loudest laugher in the room about 99.9% of the time, and the Chinese elite performed some incredibly non Oscar-worthy performances right in front of our very table, I could not hold back from cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West during each and every one of these so fantastically miserable performances. This made the Chinese couples (they were picked out of a hat, when one of our crew members was chosen we ignored and gave mean looks) performing feel both uncomfortable, and so angry that they will never donate to an American charity. I managed to get my misfit outfit to follow suit, so as each Chinese couple performed another magical number where they hoped to have all of Tsinghua behind them...we pointed, laughed, and slammed brews like it was Oktoberfest. It was so damn sweet. Honestly, I can't think of a better Thanksgiving.
The best part is when when one of the random Germans in our crew turned to take a phone call, we volunteered him for this utterly-ridiculous game where you pass a miniature Hoola-Hoop across your neck from one team member to the next in a race. Well, this sausage-eater happened to be about Six-Foot-Six, and the Chinese on his team were not tall enough to be jockeys. Just priceless! They eventually brought out a turkey at the end of the night but by then my stomach was as full as a pregnant Canadian, so I had to call it a night.
A few nights later it was time to have a Christmas Party... Danish style! Since I've had my ego compromised so mightily that I now look both ways before crossing the street thrice, I decided to actually dress up as Santa Claus. The outfit was a huge hit at the party, and we got guapo loco. Only issue with the party was that the two girls who threw this Holiday Dash are both incredibly attractive, and every man in a 10 Km Radius came to the party. So I remember seeing a few girls, but I also remember meeting and greeting a love parade full of Germans. My bro Hans from Belgium who brings the pain like the Famous Grouse, decided we should venture out and about on the town. It was 2AM, I was dressed as Santa Claus, and I had completely drank my face off...so it was on!
We hit up Mic's (next to my olde stomping ground "Vics"), but had a mix up in the party posse and had to switch plans and go to "Blue Bar". We dined on some street food to get our mojo back, and we were off... I walked into the bar with full Santa appeal. I had become St. Nick at that point, and everytime someone would ask for a present, I would greet them with the, "You have been bad, and Santa knows. I suggest you clean up your act or you're going to get nothing but coal in your stocking for X-MAS!" Or something like that. Either way, it worked and after grabbing a seat at the bar, we hit the dance floor...And at about that time Santa realized that he is still gimped out and retreated back to the table. Where I was shocked to see two of our team members having a Pamela Anderson/Tommy Lee orgy on the couch. I looked around and there was nothing: there "was that guy" dancing like a maniac to the funky beats, the cheesy Brits pounding fists and looking for a fight (not me...I'm a cripple fellas), fat Americans, weird Chinese metrosexuals, I was about to go home and then... I got a tap on the back by these two Filipino lady-tigers who were smoking hot and seemed to have a thing for olde St. Nick. Soon thereafter I was shooting the breeze with these two Filipinos and actually managed to spit some game Christmas style and had these ladies laughing in stitches. I guess they figured anybody crazy enough to come to a club full of degenerate booze-hound maniacs with a Santa Claus costume outfit on has got some cajones (I guess I fooled them). I have dinner with the sexier of the duo on Wednesday who is easily an eight. Santa Claus demands satisfaction. I will mos def be wearing the outfit to the club at least a couple times before I go back to the States...I do not want to go home!!!
mackin & stackin in the Orient,
St. Nick
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