"When did you strike it rich, that you can drive a BMW Z8?" I ask Weiwei.
"At the moment I am still driving my old open-top, human-powered, two-wheeled vehicle."
"A bike?" I smile.
"Yes. A bike." Weiwei laughs.
"Then how do you know so much about the Z8 that you talk about it as if you were talking about your girlfriend?"
"I saw it at the International Motor Show." Weiwei is just like his other Beijing friends. If they want to play with cars, they go to the motor show. If they want to play with computers, they go to the computer exhibition. They are familiar with the newest and most expensive models of cars, computers, even airplanes, but when they get home, they don't own anything. Wei-wei, this self-proclaimed nobleman, doesn't even have a proper job.
"If the CEO of BMW knew there was someone killing themselves to give them free advertising, he'd be pleased!"
"I'm just telling it like it is. Anyway, normal people can't appreciate that sort of class. Only people with aristocratic qualities like me can understand the Z8 concept. It is often said that when you are driving, your car is an extension of your body. So I wouldn't look twice at Chinese or Japanese cars. In the future, I want either a Jaguar or a BMW series 7 or better. I wouldn't lower myself to drive any other car."
"What about Mercedes?" I ask.
"Mercedes are for big bosses. They're too orthodox for me. Furthermore, these days all those nouveaux riches in China have driven them to death. Unless it was a Mercedes sports model, I wouldn't even consider it." The only thing missing from Weiwei's aristocratic lifestyle is money.
Sometimes it is hard to tell if Weiwei is taking himself seriously or merely being facetious. Either way, he is a constant source of entertainment and a great friend.
25 American Passport
My stepmother Jean Fang and I are friends. In the eyes of many, this is strange. In order to get my father, Dr. Chen, Jean, the Dalian girl who is only eight years older than I am, converted to Christianity.
As my father's wife, Jean has become domineering and condescending toward my father's subordinates. She loves to hold her status over the heads of the workers and secretaries and threaten them with harsh punishment for not working hard enough. It's not that Jean is really serious about it – she's just addicted to her newfound power and loves to exercise it. Many people feel uncomfortable around her, so they come to me, asking to fix her. But somehow Jean's aggressiveness doesn't bother me much because I've seen too many Chinese people just like her. It's called xiaorendezhi, small people finally grab their chance.
For years since the divorce, my father lived by himself. He's a man with good taste, from clothing to people. Now that Jean is his final choice, I believe he must have his reasons besides Jean's model looks. She was my father's secretary. For years she had been reliable and loyal.
Not long ago, Jean decided that she wanted to study English in the United States. She found a language school in Manhattan and has rented an apartment close to her classes for $2000 per month. She is due to leave China in one month.
"You can learn English in China by hiring a native English speaker. You don't have to go all the way to the Big Apple to do that," I tell her on the phone. "By the way, isn't it crazy to give up your home and leave your husband?"
"Niuniu, I haven't told you this before, but I'm pregnant." Jean almost whispers on the other end of the line, as if some unauthorized person might be listening in.
"It's even crazier. You should avoid too much travel for the sake of the baby." I don't see the connection between Jean's pregnancy and her New York trip.
"Niuniu, can't you see that I'm doing everything for the sake of the baby? Do I have to explain to you that my language learning is not serious; my real goal is giving birth to the baby in the States!" Jean shouts at me, completely forgetting her previous attempt at secrecy.
"Oh, I see, you want my half-brother to have a meiguo huzhao, a U.S. passport!" I finally get it. Many nouveaux-riches Chinese want to give birth to their children in the United States. In order to trick American Immigration, the mothers often visit the United States on a business or a student visa when they are two or three months pregnant.
Jean replies, "Yes, exactly, girl. You know, having a Chinese passport sucks. It's such a hassle every time I walk out the door, especially that time I went to Brazil with your father. Your father's American passport met no problem; he got a visa straight away. But when it came to mine, the local guide said, 'You have a Chinese passport. You should put twenty dollars in the cover of your passport, otherwise they will give you trouble getting the visa.' I thought, both your father and I look Chinese. How can a Chinese passport and an American passport be treated so differently? I didn't put in that twenty dollars. I didn't get the visa. In the end, I had to straight-up hand the cash over to get through Immigration.
"Another time it was even more humiliating. I was on a tourist visa traveling to the States. Another Chinese person and I were the only two who were searched by customs. The customs officer opened my suitcase and went through everything in there, including two new frilly bras I'd bought for a special occasion! My suitcase was a mess, but he wasn't satisfied. He asked me if the Rolex I brought was real. I said yes. I spent ten thousand dollars on this watch. He also asked me how much cash I had brought with me. I said, 'Nine thousand dollars.' He asked me to show him the money and count it for him. I hid the money in the pocket of the special underwear I wore. You know, most Chinese carry our money this way. I didn't know what to do. I said I could do that only if he found a female officer to replace him. He left. While he was gone, I quickly took off my pants to get the money out. Just as I was putting on my pants, he came back to the room with a big woman. I was so embarrassed since I was only half-dressed. Later, I swore to myself that my baby has to be a U.S. citizen, so he will be able to travel anywhere in the world freely and never endure the humiliation I have experienced. I'm not an American, but at least I can find a way to be the mother of an American."
Jean is not the only Chinese obsessed with snagging an American passport. Good or bad, the Chinese have tried for over a hundred years to leave China. In the eyes of many Chinese, an American passport is not just a passport; it's an ideal to be held up, a status symbol, a safeguard of freedom.
"But my father is an American citizen; his baby will automatically be one," I say.
"But I was told that American-born adults can be candidates for American presidents," says Jean.
"I didn't know you were so ambitious!" I tease her.
"You never know. I just think that being American-born will be a nice thing for my child. But even if my baby does get U.S. citizenship, there are other things that bother me, too."
"What else?" I ask.
"His future education. I wanted him to get educated in the United States. But I was told that K – 12 education in the United States is very lax. Some of my friends' kids can't keep up with the math classes in Beijing after studying in the States for a few years. I am also worried that if my baby is a boy, he will be beaten up by white boys and won't be able to find a girlfriend there. Plus, American English isn't authentic English." Jean sounds like a typical overprotective Chinese parent.
"Then send him to Great Britain to learn the Queen's English!" I suggest.
" England is a very conservative society that doesn't welcome immigrants. I'm afraid that my baby will lose his self-confidence there, like your friend CC," Jean whines.
"What about Australia or Canada? Both of those countries are nice to immigrants," I say.
"But the schools there are not as prestigious as American or English schools. It'll make my kid look inferior compared to the other kids who are sent to the United States." Jean, apparently, is picky.