A day with Shanhaiguan’s favorite son

On Saturday, we visited the Great Wall at Shanhaiguan with a Qinhuangdao high school student and his friends. Mark tutored the student, whose English name is Tim, last semester. Tim’s mother is the top Communist Party official at Shanhaiguan, which I only understood Saturday. I had thought she was a top garment industry official. No, that was government. I’d misheard. I tutored Tim’s cousin last semester, a cute and pudgy little four year old named Eric. Eric and his mom, Tim’s aunt, lived with Tim and his family while Eric’s dad worked in New York. I taught Eric diddly squat, but we sang songs and played games and colored every weekend until his mom moved back New York. They’d had Mark and I over for dumplings and were constantly showering us with gifts of food; the family is really lovely.

Anyhow, Tim’s a great kid, and we were given the royal treatment Saturday. He wanted to show us the beauty of Qinhuangdao. It was really interesting to see how the connected entertain. Answer: They do it well. Really well. We were treated like dignitaries. Tim’s driver-he’s got two- picked us up in the morning, along with the other foreign teachers at my university and a bunch of his teenage friends. We caravaned to Old Dragon’s Head, where the Great Wall meets the sea, and bummed around at all the attractions for a bit. Besides walking around on the wall and looking out to sea, we bowed and offered incense to a sea god and goddess at a couple of temples, saw a famous artisan at her traditional paper cutting station and took lots of pictures. Tim’s photographer was there to capture every moment. Tim also got us each a gift of paper cut outs of the animal that represents our birth year on the lunar calendar. I’m a monkey.

We next caravaned to Jiao Shan, which is the first high peak of the Great Wall. We hiked about half way up, but we were all a bit tired and hungry at that point, and we’d all been to the top before. We split for lunch. Tim’s family had rented a banquet room that was the nicest I’d seen. It had a lounge area, its own bathroom and its own kitchen. We lounged, sipping green tea as they brought out dishes before taking a seat at a gigantic round table. There were probably 25 dishes on the lazy Susan; gigantic steaming pots of seafood soup, whole crabs, enormous shrimps and lot of other local specialties. My favorite were dumplings stuffed with egg and vegetable and then wrapped in a maple leaf; this is a dish famous in Shanhaiguan. The day didn’t end with lunch. Tim’s family had rented out a gymnasium for the afternoon so the foreign guys could play basketball with he and his friends. The foreign ladies were driven home, pampered and full. I should mention that Tim is the Olympic torchbearer for Shanhaiguan.

Tim is a lucky kid and a host gracious beyond his years; he’s really got the world at his fingertips. His dream is to go to UCLA, and I’m sure he’ll get there. Besides connections and cash, he has multiple tutors, a basketball and a weight lifting coach.

We had an absolutely wonderful time. But of course, my annoying, residual journalist’s skepticism never fails to rear its ugly head and blight my perfectly lovely experiences here. All I could think about afterwards was the blatant and outlandish difference in lifestyle between the ultra connected and the multitudes of workers who live across the street from my campus selling peanuts in the MeiLing community. That’s not an expression. They really sell peanuts. And bing (breakfast bread), tea-boiled eggs, sunflower seeds, vegetables, etc. So do many of my students’ parents. I know China has an emerging middle class; but from what I’ve seen on the streets outside my door, you’ve got it all – a black chaffered Audi and wads of Mao’s – or nothing – a cart full of peanuts. Not a judgment; just an observation. Here’s another: the rich-poor gap is gigantic in every developing country and pretty damn big in the developed world, including the good old USA. No one can help the circumstance of their birth; there are just better chances to correct that circumstance if you are lucky enough to live in certain places. It’s the way it is.