When asked why a wedding has to be such a costly affair, a young villager, Little Rock, says to me: "In villages, the boys outnumber the girls. A girl, no matter how ugly she is, can always find herself a husband. The boy faces a different story: if you don't make enough money, you can't get married.
"People from villages are too poor to have an extravagant wedding, but they go into debt to make the wedding as fine as possible," he adds. "You should go to my cousin's wedding in the township. He started off as a poor peasant too, but now he has a business in Shenzhen and tons of money. Here, you can have my invitation."
I look at the gaudy invitation, which is embossed with gold lettering. "Why did you give this to me? You're his cousin – you should go yourself!"
Little Rock says: "I don't plan to go because I don't have any fancy clothes. You should check it out. Perhaps there is an article for you in it."
He's right. Just the other day, I was invited to attend the opening of Vera Wang's wedding gown store in Beijing. The subject of the sumptuous wedding business could be a good article.
The next day, with the scented invitation in my hand, I hire a car to go to the wedding venue, a restaurant downtown. A traffic policeman flags us down ten streets away from the restaurant. I cannot proceed as all the roads ahead are sealed off. "Why can't we get in? I'm attending a wedding here," I say.
"Attending Mr. Chen's wedding?" asks the policeman.
"Yes," I say.
"Why do you have a Toyota van? Don't you know that only cars like a Mercedes-Benz are allowed to be driving in the procession to the wedding?" says the policeman.
I hear passing sirens wailing. I look around and see a motorcade flying by. A white, Lincoln stretch-limousine is adorned with roses mounted on the hood and silver wedding bells dangle from the back. Following are many Mercedes-Benzes, old and new, in different colors.
It seems all the Benzes in town are there, and likely some from out of town, just for the occasion. Before coming to this small city, I learned the township had a high population of laid-off workers who live below the poverty line. Now, I am stunned at the sheer size of the Mercedes-Benz motorcade.
"Fifty Mercedes just passed. I counted." My driver says.
I think of director Ang Lee's comment in his movie, Wedding Banquet, that noisy weddings result from thousands of years of sexual repression in China. Perhaps a similar analogy is that such an ostentatious display of money and an exaggerated expression of wealth reflect the deep-rooted anger coming from hundreds of years of poverty.
While I am pondering this, a luxurious Bentley approaches and comes to a stop. I watch the policeman deny the Bentley's entrance into the motorcade.
"What type of car is it?" the policeman asks the driver.
"A Bentley," the driver replies with pride.
The policeman waves the driver away in contempt. "This motorcade is only for luxury cars. Don't you see that even a Japanese-made Toyota is not allowed?" He points at my car and me. Apparently, Bentley is too new in the Chinese market to let a small town policeman know about its existence and importance.
I follow the Bentley away from the motorcade, not quite believing what I have just witnessed. Somehow, missing this wedding doesn't seem quite so bad now because my Toyota has just received the same treatment as a new Bentley.
89 Name-Dropping
The ancient art of name-dropping is widely practiced throughout modern China. It is a highly valued skill to know just when to use one's affiliation, however remote, with important people to elevate one's own status. More than one business deal has gone through as a result of impeccable name-dropping. Name-dropping is especially vital today because the more important your connections are, the more likely you will succeed in business. The proper subjects of name-dropping are anyone in a position of political power, rich people, celebrities, and, in fact, any person related to such people. The skill lies not in finding the proper name to drop, or in dropping a name at the most opportune time. For a name-drop to be truly successful, the right name must be dropped at exactly the right time. I have met a name-dropper at a party organized by my friend Beibei at Factory 798. Qing is a public relations executive from northeastern China.
Handing me a glass of red wine, Qing looks down at his shoes and asks me, "How do you like my new Armani? I bought them when I was traveling with our governor in Milan. They cost me five hundred dollars – three days' salary. Can you believe that?"
I am turned off right away by Qing's little demonstration of self-worth. I smile at him without saying anything.
Seeing that Armani doesn't impress me, Qing starts sharing anecdotes of playing mahjong with his city's mayor and police chief.
Again, I am not amused. Disappointed with his progress, Qing changes his strategy.
"Niuniu, what is the name of that newspaper you work for?"
"World News Agency."
Qing says instantly, "I know someone who works there. His name is Eric. He's a Harvard grad."
"Yes, he's our big boss," I say.
Qing nods with satisfaction. He has established his superiority to me.
"I'll find an appropriate time to mention you in front of him," says Qing.
"No, please don't."
"Why not? Eric is a good friend of mine."
"He's my boss's boss. I'm just a small potato. I don't really think Eric knows of my existence."
Still trying hard, Qing asks me, "Would you be interested in going to another party? The son of a vice premier is coming to that party and I have been invited. You can come as my guest."
Before I can reply, Beibei comes running up and interrupts. "Oh, the son of a vice premier is not nearly important enough for our Niuniu. Do you know that she went to school with Hu Haifeng?"
"Who's Hu Haifeng?" Qing asks.
"Do you know who Hu Jintao is?" Beibei asks.
"Of course. He's the number-one man!" says Qing.
"Hu Haifeng, Hu Jintao – do you see the relationship here?" Beibei raises her eyebrow.
I can't stand it anymore. I pull Beibei away from Qing and whisper, "Beibei, are you crazy? Hu was my classmate in middle school. We haven't talked to each other for thirteen years. I am sure he doesn't remember me."
"Oh, come on, do you think Qing is really friends with Eric?" Beibei asks me.
"You've been listening to our conversation?"
"Of course! Armani, mayor, police chief, governor, blah, blah, blah. This guy's a serial name-dropper. What a snob."
As we speak, Qing walks up to us. Before he has time to speak to us, his cell phone rings. Beibei and I listen in.
"I'm in a party with my buddy Niuniu. Yes, she is an old friend of Hu Haifeng. Hu Haifeng? You don't know him? Does the name Hu Jintao mean anything to you? Yeah, that's right…"
"Look whose name is being dropped now," Beibei says, winking at me.
"The next time you organize a party, don't forget to set a name-drop-free zone," I say to Beibei.
90 Advice for Returnees
Many overseas Chinese returnees suffer from reverse culture shock after coming back to China. Often they have difficulty adjusting to their new lives in their homeland. CC is one good example, but her problem mainly comes from social issues, and her coworkers don't cause her trouble. She's a senior manager. Rong is different. He is having trouble getting along with his coworkers and his boss, so he asks me for advice. Surprisingly, I am considered a successful returnee among my peers as well as an expert on returnees issues since I did that big article on returnees that was reprinted several times by the Chinese media and on Chinese Web sites.
"What's happened to me, Niuniu? I feel so isolated at my workplace," says Rong, as we sit in a teahouse. "I see certain problems with the way we do things at the office, so I point out that we do it differently back in the States. But they never take my advice, even though it is obvious that my way is better. It's like nothing I say is valid."