The next part of Chapter 16 is something I've always wanted to write up--a clinical dissection of late 20th-century/early 21st-century courtship practices. I remember one time trying explain it to a young person (probably one of my own kids) and how complicated it all sounded when I talked about such things as making the invitation, paying the bill, what not to talk about, etc. It really is a process you learn by doing and people skilled at it give one another the proper cues so that it works like a timed dance.
I don't know if you will find this amusing or tedious, but here it is...
Love
Pops
Personal Journal
Entry
U.S. Time: Monday, August 6, 2012
Island Time: Dragon, Month 6, Day 19, Xingqi 1,
Project Time: Week 7, Day 2
Island Time: Dragon, Month 6, Day 19, Xingqi 1,
Project Time: Week 7, Day 2
The “lab” classes in American
social etiquette were run this evening. I suppose they met their learning objectives
that I had put into the lesson plan, but with a couple of unforeseen
consequences (but I’ll get into those later). We had been scripting actions and
rehearsing different scenarios every night since last Wednesday, so putting it
all together tonight had the feeling of a theatre-in-the-round, high-school
drama production, except that we were all the players as well as the audience.
I got the Security Council to OK
the girls taking the day off early from their Monday chores so that they could
do prep at each of the designated lab sites. The first staging was to pick up
Feng. Lee had given me permission to use the jeep for the exercise, so all of
the girls not part of the restaurant crew (Qin Qin, Ba, Yi, Ling, Wen, and Nu)
all met me at the carport at the Metal Element workyard. They piled in the back
as I headed west on the dirt road to the residential compound for Feng and Qi.
Upon arrival, I hopped out as the “gallery” of attentive students followed me
to the front door. Xiao Mei answered, playing the part of Feng’s older relative.
“Yes, can I help you?”
“Hello, I’m Clete Wong. I’m here to pick up Feng. I’m sure she must have
told you.”
“You late.”
“Really? By my watch I’m right on time.”
“You need to reset watch. Is slow. You do it now.”
“How much?”
“Five minute late, so you figure it out.”
So I reset my watch. “Is she ready?”
“What you do for a living?”
“I’m a geologist.”
“What kind of money you earn?”
“I do OK. I pay the bills. Enough for extras. Say, is she ready yet?”
“What time you have her back?”
“Um … I thought we’d get coffee afterward, so it could vary …”
“I
stay up to make sure you do what you say.”
“Really, there’s no need for that. We’re both grown-ups …”
“You seem like a tricky fellow to me. I’m not
sure she should go out with you.”
“Can I talk to Feng first? …”
That was enough. I broke out of character.
“MEI! We didn’t rehearse this. Where the
hell is this coming from?”
“I don’t know? You said we should feel
free to improvise. How am I doing?”
“Jesus Christ! You sound like a fussy old
cock-blockin’ Chinese father. I feel like I’m taking her to the fuckin’ senior
prom.”
“That’s good right?”
“Too good. You don’t even HAVE a father to
be this astute at ridiculing him.”
“I’m just making sure that you will be on
your best behavior with my relative. I’m just thinking of things my mother
would say if a man came for me.”
“Puts a whole ’nother light on Lum. Good
God! And she’s going to let you go off to college in another country? I guess
even hippie chicks turn into mother bears. Let’s try to get to the next step
shall we?”
“OK boy. You sit there and wait.”
The girls all howled with laughter at that order. I
threw my best dagger-look at her and sat down.
“She
still getting ready. Can I get you some tea?”
“Oh yeah, sure. I’m parched. That would be great.”
“Dr. Wong?”
It was her turn to drop out of character.
“What?”
“Um, it’s rude to take me up on the first
offer.”
“Not in America.”
“But what if we are not Americans in
America? AND you ARE trying to impress her kinsman as being a worthy suitor,
are you not?”
“Sigh. OK. You got a point. No thanks. I’m fine.”
“You
sure? Very warm tonight. You must be thirsty.”
“We’re not going to be that long. Thank you just the same.”
“Is no trouble to get you something. Please.”
“Very well, if you insist. It’s quite kind of you to go to the trouble.”
At that point, all the girls broke into applause. “What
the hell is that all about?” But I knew what it was about. Sarcasm. Ling spoke.
“You
actually waited to the third offer. Dr. Wong, what are you prepared to pay me
to keep secret from my mother that you really DO know how to be polite if you
just try?”
This lab session was turning into
a major lesson in my humility.
Tea was served, further niceties
were exchanged—as rehearsed—and eventually Feng emerged from the personal area.
I had expected her to be in a tidy version of the black and white work uniform,
but she was in a long cotton gown. It was yellow with black trim which reminded
me of the wings of a tiger swallowtail butterfly, with embroidery on the hems,
slit up the sides—not billowy, tailored somewhat close to the body, but not
like a cheongsam or qipao. Over that she wore a turquoise vest, open in front.
But the most striking thing was her hair. Her body-length locks had been
braided and plaited to hold an impressive dual-wing-like ornament on her head,
with tassels, decorated pins, and a couple of fresh flowers. The Manchurian
up-style headdress had survived the trip to the tropics and become streamline,
but still no less elaborate.
“WOW. You look great. When do you ever
wear a garment like that?”
“Other than today? We have festival days
that we observe and dress for. Do you like it? It’s many years old. Lum sewed
it, it but I did the embroidery.”
“But that hair! I’ve never seen anything
so … um, fanciful and elaborate. How long did it take to put that up?”
“You like it?” she said. “Thank you. Fei
and Jie helped me with it quite a bit. It’s a traditional setting, but with
some modifications. I thought you might find it interesting. The girls need to
practice preparing hair in the formal Man
style. It forces one to keep one’s neck straight. That’s quite a handsome coat
you have on yourself, Professor. Red, white, and black? A drastic change from
your field khakis.”
“Thanks. An oversize double houndstooth
weave. When I do wear a sport coat I like ’em a little on the loud side.”
“You must be hot though?”
“Yep. It’s wool. What else is new?” I got
out my bandana and wiped my brow dry. I still had yet to experience a dry day
on Dog Island. “I’ll wring out my jacket when I get home after giving it my own
special saltwater rinse. Shall we be on our way?”
It turned out that Feng’s place
was the best place to stage the restaurant, so we played out the fiction of
leaving, driving down the road, turning around, and returning as if to a different
location. Ling played the part of the parking valet and we entered the dining
porch. Faye greeted us.
“Two for dinner? I can seat you now. Please follow me.”
“Great
opening.” I narrated the scenario for the students as we proceeded. “Hostess
leads. Woman follows hostess. Man follows woman. Hostess pulls out chair,
presumably for woman, the seat with the better view at the selected table.
Woman sits. Man sits. Are there menus?”
“No, we didn’t have time to make something
up,” said Fei, “so we’ll just speak the offerings. The server will be right with you.”
Ling’s home would later be the
coffee house with her as the manager and her crew being Wen and Nu. Ba’s home
already served as the Island’s “Bijou Theatre” so to speak, so we would just
use it to stage the movie viewing, especially since it was nearby Feng’s home. Instead
of the old VCR-CRT combo they were used to watching, I brought my largest
format laptop with downloaded video content. In addition to Ba, the rest of the
theatre crew was Qin Qin and Yi.
“Now waitress comes and introduces
herself.”
“Good
night, my name is Jie, and I will be your server tonight.”
“Very good, but a reminder, Good ‘evening’
is the greeting. Good ‘night’ is the farewell.”
“Oh, right. I always get
them mixed up. Oh. Um. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’ll have an iced tea,
please.”
“What is iced tea?” asked Feng.
“It’s a black tea that is served chilled,
with ice cubes in it. Most people sugar it up. Some add lemon or both.”
“I’ve only heard of lemons. We’ve never
had them.”
“Angel? Did we find a substitute?”
“We have kalimanci.”
“Ah,” said Feng, “an excellent additive to
tea.”
“Get her an iced tea too. Try to make it
up the way I showed you. Did we manage to form some ice?”
“We did!” said Angel. “There’s one tray. It
finally hardened up in time. I’ve been watching and checking it all day!”
“You let all the cold air out by doing
that. That’s why it took all day. Leave half of the tray, the coffee shop is
going to need them later. Coffee crew remember to take the ice.”
“Don’t you worry Professor. I’ve got
this,” assured Angel. Faye, Angel, and Xiao Mei Mary—the “restaurant staff”—went
into a huddle trying to remember how to make the iced tea. They eventually got
it right and brought two glasses out.
“Bring out the sugar, the whole bag,” I
said.
“Why the sugar?” asked Feng.
“For your edification I am going to adjust
the sweetness of mine to match the usual American taste for you to try.” The
bag was brought out and I promptly put in two teaspoons.
“Wah! So much!” said Feng.
“Hmmm. Still not right,” I said and added
another spoonful and a half. “Yeah, that’s about right if you ask for it
presweetened. Take a sip.” She did.
“Mmmf. Ugh! That is so sweet it hurts my
teeth!” The staff gathered round.
“Can we try it too?” said Xiao Mei.
“Sure go ahead.” And they passed around
the glass eliciting wide-eyed grimaces from all.
“That is so sweet,” complained Faye, “that
it hardly tastes like anything at all! So overpowering!”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s too much for even me,
now that I’ve been eating here for several weeks. Now you know why we Americans
are so fat. Well, waitress what’s for
dinner?”
“Our specials tonight are
spaghetti primavera, or noodles and vegetables, or spring pasta.”
“What’s the difference between them?” I
asked.
“It’s all the same dish, just three
different names just to give you a choice.”
“Wow, just like a real Italian restaurant.
So where did you get noodles from? I’ve never seen anyone prepare noodles here
on the island.”
“There are a few boxes in storage, but
don’t worry we picked out all of the bugs since we know you don’t like them. We
got the tomato sauce from some of the MRE rations you brought. And the herb is
mostly the basil we grow here. We do make our own noodles but only once in a
great while. Mostly on New Year and Birthdays. It’s a lot of work.”
“Shall I order for both of
us?”
“Does it really matter?”
“We need to keep up the façade for the
sake of the young ones’ education. Do not rupture the drama please.”
“Oh, very well. Please. I trust your judgment implicitly.”
“Thank you. Two spaghetti
primavera please.”
I was amazed at how intently the nine girls were
concentrating on this introduction into the transactions of social life in Los
Angeles. When the “spaghetti” came out, all gathered to observe the way the
American handled a fork and knife. I looked at Feng when her plate was set in
front of her. She did not look happy.
“Something wrong?”
“It’s nothing.”
“What?”
“I know we don’t have any little
surfboards, I was hoping it would be on fire.”
“ANGEL?” She appeared immediately. “Do you
have that bottle I brought?”
“OH! The Barcardi 151?” It was business
gift trading stock that I had packed. She bowed and quickly returned with it. I
had forgotten this step. I doused her plate and put my pocket lighter to it. A
nice slow blue flame engulfed her dinner. Feng smiled and ooohs and ahhhs
surrounded us. It eventually went out and I waited until she approved of its
subsequent taste before starting in on mine, just in case we had to trade. It
had gotten dark enough that the effect was startling enough.
“May I keep the rest?” asked Feng. “I’d
like to experiment with it? If I could?”
“I have three more bottles. They’re yours
if you promise not to drink more than one shot a night. Too much of that
stuff’ll put you on the floor.”
“What OTHER business gifts did you bring?
Besides alcohol and tobacco?”
“Are you hoping for Schedule 1 narcotics?
Or RPG launchers?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’ll show you everything later. Just
remember that my business associates tend to be men. Men who do hazardous work
in remote places.
Forks, spoons, and knives were scrounged up, remnants of
life from back in the days when there were occasional tourists. The girls were
all quick-studies of course and I had them twirling their noodles, careful not
to get a drop of sauce on their white shirts. If I haven’t mentioned it, Dog
Islanders eat and and prepare their food so that it is consumed using either
chopsticks, the shovel-like Chinese soup spoon, or just bare hands.
“Theatre crew needs to get ready,” I
warned. “Curtain is imminent. Do you need to conference?”
“We want to watch how you pay the bill
first,” insisted Qin Qin.
“Very well.” I signaled to Angel. She
stepped right up.
“Is everything all right?”
“It’s been perfect. But my
lady friend and I need to get to a show, so may I have the check now please?”
“So, you are paying for the dinner then?”
asked Feng.
“Yes. Since I invited you, I am the host.
If you decide you like my company and wish to reciprocate, you might then
choose to invite me in turn at some future time.”
“But if I do not like you and rather not
go out socially with you, what do I do?”
“You just politely refuse any future
advances or invitations I might make. If I get a couple of no’s from you, I’ll
get the message and stop asking.”
“But am I not in your debt for having
eaten a meal that you paid for?”
“No. A man gains benefit, or gains face,
from the pleasure he derives from your company or from being seen in public as
someone worthy of your time. If the man decides he prefers not to pursue the
relationship, he will just not extend any more invitations.”
“These methods of making future refusals
are very subtle,” observed Feng. “There are several opportunities for hurt feelings
that I can see.”
“That’s the peril of American-style
courtship where people are in charge of finding their own matches. Young people
have to perform a series of these auditions we call dates. Some people are more
skilled at making a clean but gentle break than others. It’s all part of the
process. Young people don’t invest too much self-worth in the introductory
steps. Or they shouldn’t.”
“You were married before, right Dr. Wong?”
asked Ba.
“That’s correct.”
“Can you tell us about your courtship with
your wife?”
“It’s not considered good form, or being
very polite, to talk about previous partners one may have had when on a date
with someone else. Especially a first date.”
“Yeah, but this is not REALLY a date with
Auntie Feng, is it?” asked Eve. I looked over at Feng. She put her eyes down,
and then brought them back up to look at me. She seemed to actually be having
fun.
“I was instructed not to ‘rupture the
drama,’” she said raising her eyebrows and then her chin. “I don’t know about
you, but I … am on my first date … both with you … and … ever.”
GODDAMN, I REALLY wanted to dodge the topic. So I went for a
save with an option that I thought would shut things down fast.
“If the topic comes up organically, AND if
Miss Feng brings it up … I’ll talk about it.” I could not imagine ‘Her Serene
and Very Proper and Courteous Highness, the Princess Feng, ever broaching the
subject. I went to a fast segue, “But we’ve got to get to a movie.”
“Awww,” whined Qin Qin. “I was ready to
hear something juicy.”
“Check
please,” I said. Angel brought over a slip of paper I showed her how to
draw up. I went over all the details, the assessment of tax, and showed them
how to calculate a 20% tip, explaining how wait staff are paid in the U.S. As soon as I handed over $27 and left $5 on
the table, the payment lesson was over and the movie crew ran to Da Mei’s to
set up the movie.
“That’ll be 20 bucks even,”
said Qin Qin at our makeshift box office. I handed her two tens and she issued
me two tickets. We walked over to the front door and Eve took the tickets, tore
them in half and handed me back the stubs.
“How about some popcorn
before we take our seats?” I suggested.
“I would like that, whatever
it is,” said Feng.
“Let’s see what the girls came up.” We
went over to the “candy counter.”
“What can I get you?”
said Ba.
“Got any popcorn?”
“We call it popcorn.”
“Let’s have a look. What is this?”
“We asked Auntie Lee to include popcorn in
our next cargo shipment because this made us very curious about it. But we went
out like you suggested and found some unhulled rice.”
“Really? Where?”
“Auntie Lum sent us out to the wild rice
plants leftover from when we used to grow it here. We didn’t find that much, but
there were enough grains for us to pop up this one bowl full.”
“Ah, the native Dog Island varietal.”
I said that casting my glance at Feng. She gave me sly look.
Perhaps their homegrown rice was the gold currency on Dog Island I wondered.
“They look like Rice Krispies sort of. Did
you do anything with it to simulate butter like I suggested?”
“We
melted some pork lard, diced some skin and fried that up into little bits and
put it all over the popped rice.”
“Salt?”
“We put salt on it too, like you said.”
“Hmm. Not bad. Try some. Not the same, but
just about the same flavor punch.” She took some in her hand and put it in her
mouth.
“Ugh!” said Feng. “Again with too much
intensity! Is all American food like this?”
“Fraid so. Two large waters then…”
We sat down on Mei’s couch and Qin Qin
clicked the play button on my laptop.
“What
are we watching?” asked Feng.
“A
comedy from several years back. I downloaded it a few days ago.” The title
card came on screen.
“Wah. A
promising title. The Princess Bride.”
“Thought it might catch the
attention of everyone here. Ever seen it?”
“No. What’s it about?”
“A boy meets girl. Boy loses
girl. Boy gets girl.”
“How very typical. What
makes it unique?”
“Mostly, the fact that it’s
an adult film with no violence or profanity. I would say it takes contemporary
ideas, American ideas I guess, and dresses them up in fairy tale costume.”
“But that is what all
storytellers do with old stories, do they not?”
“No doubt. I’m interested to
see how successful this director is with entertaining you. It continues to be
quite popular with many in the U.S. I figured it was either this or Titanic. .
.”
“Shh. It’s starting!” announced
Eve officiously as she stood up. All the girls had sat down about us to watch
as well. “Oh, and I nearly forgot, please
silence all cell phones and digital communication devices at this time.”
I dutifully got out my satellite phone and turned it off.
Since Feng had no further interest in densely flavored movie snacks, we let the
girls eat all the “popcorn”; I also had some candy bars in my provisions that I
let Eight (Ba) sell back to me and the others. I noticed the girls only took
the tiniest of nibbles from the chocolate bars. And eventually the movie ended.
“Now what?” asked Feng.
“A few people sit and watch the credits
roll by, most get up and go.”
“What do you do?”
“I watch the credits. Sometimes a director
puts extra content in during them or after them. But I like to see the names
and imagine all those people working on the project. Seems like a nice act of
gratitude. Plus, you get to hear the music again and I think it winds you down
as get set to return to the outside world.”
“Interesting. When we finish a tape here,
I do not. But then, we’ve seen everything many times over.”
“Maybe we should set up a movie night.
Start catching you girls up.”
“Hai!”
yelled the girls.
“Sounds like a waste of valuable time.
Clete, would you please restrain yourself and your suggestions?” said Feng.
“I’m interfering and committing cultural imperialism
aren’t I?”
“Maybe you are smart Dr. Wong.”
“Well then, the next line in the script
is: Would you like to get a cup of
coffee?”
“I would like that very much.”
“OK then, Coffee Crew is on deck next.
Everybody into the jeep.”
So we got up, left the “theatre” and headed over to Lee and
Ling’s which I had designated as the coffee house. Coffee crew got into its
places.
“Welcome to Starbucks,” said
Ling cheerily, “what can I get you?”
“Go ahead, just the way I told you.” I
said.
Feng thought and then
ordered. “Um, iced coffee, um, dark
roast, decaf, and uh, no … room.”
“What size?”
“I forget, what are your sizes?”
“Small…”
“Tall…” I corrected.
“That’s right, Tall,
Grounded …”
“Grande,” I corrected.
“Gurr-ahn-day, … and TWENTY!”
“Venti!” I corrected once again.
“So which one is small again?” They all looked
at me.
“Tall.”
“THAT,” said Feng, “doesn’t make any
sense.”
“Very good, anything for you
sir?”
“Tall latte.”
“That will be $5.87.” I
gave her a ten. She gave me change.
“You did not add the 20 percent,” noted
Feng.
“No. In this kind of place you put a tip,
if you feel like it, into a container that they have at the front.”
“So it is not mandatory like in the
restaurant where you eat a meal?”
“No. It’s not really mandatory there
either. But if you give less than 10% it’s a signal of displeasure.”
“So how much do you give here?”
“I think most people who tip in a coffee
house just drop the change they’ve received into the jar,” which I did. “Or
they at least put $1 in.”
“These rules are very complicated and
precise.”
“They can be.”
Gwen prepped the iced coffee, hammering the remaining ice
cubes into shards, scooping them and two
teaspoons of instant coffee into a cup, and then adding water. In the meantime,
Newton had the job of barista and boiled some water for my latte, essentially
making me a cup of instant into which she heaped two generous tablespoons of
nondairy creamer and an untold amount of sugar. She just remembered the lesson
of the ice tea and piled in what she thought were “lots.” We took our drinks
and sat down outside at a table and chairs I had dragged out of my cottage.
“Now what?” asked Feng.
“Well, if we were a real American couple
who’d been together a bit, we’d spend the next hour passing the time in the
psychobabble I talked about. If we were a married couple who’d been together
for years, we might say nothing to each other. But since we’re just getting
acquainted, we now have a common point of reference, the movie, and so we can
talk about it.”
“In what way?”
“Whether we liked it or not, how it could
have been better, what was the best part, criticizing the acting or the jokes.
. . that kind of thing.”
“Oh.
If that’s the case, let’s just start with the pretext of the prince even
marrying that girl. Her father was obviously a landowner, but not very
prosperous at all, so I hardly think …”
And so on and on she went as I found myself listening to a
thorough social, political, and caste deconstruction of the imaginary kingdom
we had just watched. It was the first time I’d seen that that movie with a REAL
princess, and evidently someone with that job title can interpolate and imply a
lot. I just wonder what the discussion would be if any of the other cousins her
age had watched it with us.
“So
what do you think the core idea was?” she asked me.
“I think it was about the
rarity of true love.”
“That’s what they called it,
but I think it’s something else.”
“And so that would be?”
“Loyalty. I think they were
truly loyal to each other. They made their pledges of absolute faith to each
other and no one else would do. I liked that part a lot.”
“Me too. That quality means
a lot to me.”
“And while we are on that
subject.”
“Yes?”
“Tell me about how you met
your former wife.”
“Feng!”
“I’m sorry. Was that inartfully done?”
“It’s just not a ‘first date’ question!”
“AWWW!”
The response was the collective outcry of the Second
Princesses—a veritable Greek chorus. The were such silent observers it had been
easy to forget they were there observing my clumsy dating technique.
“You said if she
brought it up it was OK.” I couldn’t identify that commentator, but I had a
guess.
“Hear me out,” said Feng. “If I were
starting a courtship with a divorced man, the main question in my head would
who be, ‘Was he the disloyal one in that relationship?’ I think he would want
to answer that one as soon as possible if cared at all about the woman.”
“That’s reasonable. But still seems
inappropriate to me. For accelerated cases like you, it would be a ripe topic
for Date #2,” I hesitated. “BUT, I don’t know why I should share any personal
information with you when you all are so tight-lipped about yourselves.
Everything is a secret here.”
“I’m sorry Clete,” said Feng. “I’m not
being fair. I retract the question.”
“How about a deal? If I answer your
question, you promise to answer any question about your past that I want to
ask?”
Feng glanced over at Gwen. Feng then bit
her lip and then took a deep breath.
“Very well. I am agreed.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Does it matter?” asked Ling in return.
“Your mother will turn off the generator
soon. This might take a while. . .”
“She’s delaying until you’re done. I am to
give her the signal. She might even be listening from under that window there.
You are to take as long as you need. Even then we can sit in the dark.”
“Truly
girls. There are more interesting stories than how this nerdy fellow met his
wife.”
“You have to remember,” said Xiao Mei,
“we’ve never heard anybody’s story. We’re isolated here.” Her tone was so
earnest, so curious, but so piteous.
“I suppose. Sigh. The year was 1981 and I was working on completing my master’s degree in
geology at the University of S…”
“YAY!!”
© Copyright 2012 by Vincent Way, all
rights reserved.
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Be truthful and frank, but be polite. If you use excessive profanity, I'll assume you have some kind of character flaw like Dr. Wong. Tks!