The Foreign Service Journal, January 2011

J A N U A R Y 2 0 1 1 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 31 “Would you return?” and “Were the lotus in bloom?” Never in New York City was I so thoroughly interrogated about Cen- tral Park. West Lake is clearly millennia ahead in its hold on the imagination and civic pride of Hangzhou’s citizenry. As father of a faculty member and revered for my age (70), I had a ready-made circle of friends including middle man- agers, housewives, doctors, engineers, lawyers, chauffeurs and university students, all struggling with English. Interestingly, female outnumbered male students by as much as 10 to 1. All had adopted new English names, in addition to their Chi- nese given names, to complement their new language per- sonas. Hillarys, Chelseas, Shelleys and Joyces abounded. But there was also a scattering of Crazies, Daisys, Lazys and Solvents, the last undoubtedly selected for its connotation of well-being and wealth rather than as an emulsifier. Once out on the street, however, it’s a different story alto- gether. The eager-to-please students are nowhere to be seen, and no one appears to speak a word of English. Taxis require full addresses written out in Chinese characters, and streets look so much alike that even the shortest walk becomes a critical test of visual memory. The Chinese language, with its tones, characters, dialects and alien vocabulary, is a lifetime pursuit, far be- yond reach of the casual visitor. Even in a relatively smaller provin- cial city like Hangzhou, one is struck by the rampant consumerism and the PRC’s raw economic power. The rush is clearly on to make up for past deprivation, and every high- end Western brand from Chanel, Hermes and Louis Vuitton to Ralph Lauren is present on the main avenues in emporia larger by far than those in Europe or the United States. In- side, Chinese customers, mostly women, are buying, and on crowded sidewalks bulging shopping bags are loaded into waiting limos. In the automobile department, Rolls Royce, Ferrari, Mercedes and Porsche showrooms compete for place with new four-door saloon cars specially designed for the Chi- nese market. Going downscale, huge malls with every manner of prod- uct and multistory electronics centers are thronged with fam- ilies, students and shopgirls. Of course, everything from knock-off computers to phony Vuitton bags can be had for al- most nothing. Yet the status of being able to own and flaunt the real thing is so prized here that the two sectors appear to co-exist. The former are obviously making money hand over fist and appear reluctant to rock the boat with the govern- ment on trademark protection. Beneath the veneer of the malls, however, one gradually detects an older China, unaffected by the headlong rush to consume. In small streets and alleys, daily card games rage from morning until night with the same single-minded play- ers, surrounded day after day by crowds of idle spectators. So great is their concentration that even a waiguoren (foreigner) passes unnoticed. Here and in adjacent “wet markets” offer- ing a greater array of unidentifiable foods than I have seen in any supermarket or other region of the world, faces betray an unmistakable dignity and quiet will to survive, as well as the striking ethnic diversity of the PRC. Obesity is rare, but joy in food is everywhere, and every- one seems to be eating all the time. This is true at West Lake, too, where families stroll, eating sweet black rice from tiny woven baskets or downing blackened eggs. Despite appear- ances, all are delicious. Even with the undervalued renminbi, yuan or kuai, as China’s currency is variously known, prices are absurdly low, and a full meal for two prepared to order on the street comes to about $1.50. (One can hire a cleaning lady once a week for $3.) Traditional massages are also a very affordable luxury, unrelated to the widely advertised “happy end- ing” variety. Pushing out from Hangzhou’s cen- ter, I saw further vestiges of ancient China: fishermen poling along canals with captive cormorants to dive for the catch, and mountain tea villages where time stands still and revered kung fu masters practice traditional medicine. Energy and Optimism My June visit coincided with the World Cup in South Africa. Although China is not a soccer power, failing even to qualify this time around despite its immense athletic poten- tial, the place went wild. Many games, including the final, were broadcast at 2:30 a.m. local time, and bars with huge screens were packed with smoking, beer-swilling young peo- ple. Their energy, optimism and passion for this un-Chinese sport were electric, despite a brutal job market for university graduates, which forces many to work, at least for now, in shops, taxis or clothing repair. While laborers are in short supply in factory hubs like Guangzhou or Shenzhen, hiring notices for white-collar jobs and the occasional employment fair attract literally thousands of applicants for each position. Curious about higher educa- tion, I visited two stunning Hangzhou campuses of the Chi- nese National Academy of Fine Arts, one urban and one more rural. I was impressed by their inspiring modern architecture, using all Chinese designs and materials, state-of-the-art facil- ities and motivated, inquiring students, who filled a multi- story library at 9:30 p.m. With 50,000 applicants for its Hangzhou’s West Lake is clearly millennia ahead of Central Park in its hold on the imagination and civic pride of the local citizenry.