Chinese comedian-goose

APRIL 6, 2008: After last year's tragicomedic saga (which pre-dated this blog but if you're reading this it probably went to your in-box) heading back out to Hong Kong this time we were ridiculously, boringly well prepared. Photos (HK)

We even booked accommodation. Yes, that would be the second time that we have arrived in a town with accommodation booked - the first time being when Bill booked it for us in Beijing. The hotel turned out to be on an island out of town, whose locals deny there is "anything" there.

But the room was on the 30th floor, right above the busiest port in the world, with surreal, kilometre-long stacks of sea containers looking like the baby blocks of a spoiled child showing signs of OCD. From our vantage point the entire operation looked like lego.


We didn't quite prepare well enough, however, and found out in short order that we would have to wait 3 days for our Mainland China visas and another day for a train, and, in turn that we had to be out of our room the following morning because they had already rented it out. Probably to some South African Rugby Sevens watcher or a Communist Party family with two kids who chose it for its proximity to Hong Kong Disney Land. After two hours of non-stop searching and calling, we secured a room in a place near Central Hong Kong. This time from the 16th floor, the view out the window was again nifty in its own Hong Kong sort-of way.


Not so this place's electrical plugs, which grabbed onto my mp3 player's Chinese charger plug so fiercely that it came apart in my hands, sending what i can only guess was a 240-volt shock through my body.

Perilous too was, nay is, our financial predicament, so we took to riding the trams for our night time entertainment. Still, i discovered that HK trams, combined with HK lights, make randomly pointing the camera and pressing the trigger almost worthwhile. (Sorry if you hate these kind of photos.)





Our arrival back at the migrant workers' den dispelled all doubt about greasy, suspicious-looking Mr Shi: all our possessions were in perfect order, we now owe them a large sum of money, and he's letting us pay it when we get some money. Unpacking and setting up the brick stilts and wooden board that is our bed here in the darkness of the Shanghai day brought up a weak feeling of sadness, probably due to the objective shitness of our surroundings. After 2 months in Australia, the days seem very very dark here. It's good here in other (more shit) ways.

But why are we here? It's rare that a forienger - let alone 2 - will get to live so freely in China, not tied to an employer and not registered with the authorities. The situation that they don't actually know where we live is very rare. Chance like this asks for something special to be done with it, and that's how i'll measure this year.

Accordingly, I began my grand journalistic foray by trying to hawk off a shitty, average, mediocre travel story to get some money.

This required my first interview of a Chinese expert in Chinese. The interviewee, a Professor Chen, i'm reliably informed, is THE authority on Ming Dynasty history, and his voice is nothing if not authoritative. 'Warlike' would probably be a better description. The task was simple: just establish to what extent the Ming Dynasty undertook forced relocations of their population to the Great Wall frontier.

But of course after 2 months in Australia my Chinese had declined alarmingly. 15 torrid minutes later, when i played the recording back to myself, i could barely contain my laughter. I had people all around me (in the internet bar) looking to see what hilarious comedy the foreigner was watching. It sounded like the equivalent (in Chinese) of some young fresh-off-the-boat Oriental guy who can barely string a sentence together ringing up some recently-retired US military general to ask him about the inner workings of the "Coalition"s Iraq exit strategy.

"Uhhh, harro, uhhhh, my name......Zhu Hong Bing.......i a Austraria uhhh......." i trailed off mid sentence, ".....traverr writer."

"Yes," he replied, faintly chuckling.

"I want askeee......uhh.......i do some re......rea......readi.......reassssss........reasearch.....Ming Dynasty, did have any f....f...f....f....fooo......"

[Silence]

"Me have Ming Dynasty question-thing," I ventured, hopeful the more simple tack would turn the game.

"Aaaaaaahaaaaa, Ming Dynasty what question-thing eh?" the Professor demanded light-heartedly.

"Uhhh, Ming Dynasty........so, so do Ming Dynasty, did have any f....f...f....f....fooo......fourth.....fourth.......forced rela....relatio.....r...rrrr.....resuscit......re.....[long pause]......rerocation?"

Doing the opposite of what one should in an interview, i attempted to reduce the inevitably interesting and elaborate answer he'd want to give me down to a closed yes or no question. Alas, he responded to my question with the expected nuance, and I understood about 5 per cent of what he said.

I was saved by the fact you can now record Skype calls, in doing so breaking both Australian law and the journalists' code of ethics. But we weren't in Australia, and what the hell - only one person stood to be shamed due to the resultant recording, and that person knew all right.

Maybe i could become a famous comedian in China just by deliberately not studying and then trying to talk with really imposing, intelligent people. They'd lap it up!