The exotic “laowai”

A casual stroll through T Square before dinner;
Mao mausoleum in the background

Laowai, 老外), is a commonly-used term that in everyday spoken Chinese refers to Caucasians. It’s thought to be a neutral term, though early ex-pats in China thought it was meant to be derogatory. The government mouthpieces in China actually launched what I would call a PR campaign to educate readers on the correct usage and appease foreigners that it’s not meant as an insult in anyway.

Now, if you’re being called Gwailo (鬼佬), that could be a different story. Gwailo is a slang term for foreigners used by the Cantonese and has more historical connotation as deprecatory. Though, here too, it can depend on the speaker. Some may be using it as a synonym for laowai; others, if adding the adjective sei (死, meaning dead or damned) or as a prefix. seigwailo (死鬼佬), well, they may not be so nice.

Traveling as a laowai in Beijing generally has few negatives. In fact, some moments are downright comical. I’m sitting at the airport having just bypassed a long line of people waiting to show boarding passes at first check-in point. I queued up like a good traveler, and then for some inexplicable reason, the guard just waved me forward. This happened on my last visit too. No one fussed.

While going through security, something in my bag must have raised a question because a guard took it from the belt and asked (i think) “Who’s is this?” When I raised my hand, he just nodded, didn’t even look at it, and gave it to me. Odd.

While entering Tiananmen Square yesterday afternoon, I encountered security checks at entrances (not sure if this is normal practice or a special situation given many countries are taking precaution against Egypt-style uprisings), and was simply waved through. I even started to put my purse through the scanner and the guard just gave it back.

I’m not sure as to the causes of this.

a folk art display outside T Square for Spring Festival

A charming moment occurred when I was walking through the square. A Chinese tourist gripped my arm, smiled endearingly and gestured that she wanted me to pose for a picture with her small daughter. (I had heard similar stories from friends, Mother, so i knew this wasn’t some distracting ploy so they could rifle my pockets.) Kind of sweet.  

I’m keen to explore more of China and see how the attitudes toward foreigners changes.

French winter in the midst of Beijing

View of Maison Boulud upon entering walled compound

On this trip to Beijing, I wrapped up my meetings around 4 p.m. and quickly sped to the central area for some sightseeing (separate entry to follow) and dining. A good friend with a taste for fine French cuisine recommended I try Maison Boulud, Daniel Boulud’s Beijing outpost.

Yes, it’s odd to try classic French within a great Chinese food city like Beijing, but I promise I had my fill of local food, too. Plus, I’ll admit, I haven’t found that perfect French place in Singapore ... the one you go to for classic French recipes, dim and hushed ambience, polished service, leisurely pace and a feeling of wanting to linger for hours over multiple courses, wine and delicious pastries.

Maison Boulud is located just about as centrally as you can get. Right adjacent to Tiananmen Square (which is across the street from Forbidden City, national museum and other must-visits), it is set within a walled compound that used to be the American Embassy at one point. Grey stone buildings flank a small manicured courtyard, and you immediately feel a bit coddled.

Chesnut soup. yummy!

Inside, it feels like an old French mansion, with lots of wood, stone, rich carpeting and fabrics. To the left is a dimly lit, cozy bar area (where you could easily enjoy a meal, though beware, smoking is allowed) and to the right, the main dining area. I was unsure, when I made the booking, whether it was the type of place where I would feel comfortable dining alone in the main dining room; it actually was ideal. It isnt a crowded space and I was seated along the perimeter facing in, flanked by a trio on either side. It is a good place to have a business dinner, romantic date or just dine solo. Even with the large parties and 75 percent capacity, it remained pleasantly abuzz yet relaxed.

Nicolas, the French host, was graciously attentive, welcoming me, ensuring I was comfortable with the table, asked if I would like a magazine or newspaper, and invited me to stay as long as I want, enjoy a book, etc. Very warm French welcome!

The food was just what I wanted after a long week and a couple hours of walking around in the brisk Beijing winter air. Chestnut soup to start, which was preceded by a lovely trio of cheese amuse bouche; duck confit as my main, though the chef sent out his famous black cod poached in olive oil for me to try, which was delicious though practically filled me up; dark chocolate souffle on Nicolas’ recommendation, which to my surprise (and full tummy’s near-horror) was accompanied by tastings of their homemade marshmallow, macaroons, madeleines and brioche.

Gracious Nicolas gave me his card and the contact info of his counterpart at Boulud's Singapore outpost, for when we need a table or anything else. Will definitely be paying a visit to DB Bistro Moderne again soon, and I recommend checking out Maison Boulud in Beijing.

Turning 30 in Singapore

Officially 30 but Mentally 20.
Perhaps 10 in this Photo

I'll admit, I was mildly depressed in the weeks leading up to my birthday. Not at the prospect of turning 30 (I think 30 is a great age), but at the thought of celebrating a milestone birthday in a "strange" place, away from family and friends.

But three things changed my mindset:

1. How COOL to celebrate one's birthday in a new place, especially a foreign country halfway around the world from home.
2. Louis is coming! He booked a trip especially to celebrate with me.
3. I have fabulous friends here, so what a great opportunity to get a group together for good drinks, laughter and the usual silly conversation.

With the ever-fabulous Chi and Arwen @ eM

We ended up at eM on Saturday night, a chill Euro-style bar right on the river. Lychee martinis seemed to be the drink of choice, although the guys opted to become friendly with whiskey, scotch, vodka and gin instead.

It was a fun night where friends from certain groups met friends from other groups (and got along great -- success!), all friends got to spend time/meet Louis. The ladies looked hot in their fabulous party dresses. Strangely, we all seemed to match.

With Chi, Arwen, Des and Lindsay

Preceding dinner was at La Villa, a favorite relaxing Italian place with to-die-for funghi pizza (mushrooms, truffle, ham, cheese, egg), hot sauce, montepulciano and truffle risotto. Proceeding snack was McDonald's delivery (don't judge).

Other festive moments that week included a romantic dinner with Louis at our favorite French cafe, L'Carillon de L'Angelus near Club Street (sancerre, escargot, charcuterie) on Monday, thin-crust pizza, mussels and frites at a French place west of the downtown, lunch with Louis and work mate Wendy at Pho 99, and other fun things.

Cheers! Darling.

Cheers to a great new decade of experience.



Charcuterie, wine, escargot
@ L'Carillon



  



Lookin' 30-something, together :)



Birthday dinner at "our" place -- La Villa --
w PPO Preet!




With Preeti, Daniele and Jude




With Preeti and Aras. Don't ask.
Because I just don't know.





It's the small stuff that'll kill ya ...

When people ask, how do you like living abroad, I give a balanced answer.

Living abroad certainly broadens your horizon, enables you to really learn other cultures, to travel, to develop professionally, to challenge yourself personally ... all of these things are wonderful and why I chose to do it.

But sometimes, it's the day-to-day things that aim to kill you. Some legitimately could. Others are almost comical in their aspirations to kick your ass.

Case in point -- today, I couldn't get into my damn apartment. The keycard (similar to those obnoxiously fickle hotel keycards that never cease to de-activate at the most inopportune times) just wouldn't work. A recreation appears below ... may god have mercy if you actually get to the end.

Enter Lauren, fresh and relaxed after a couple hours by the pool. She is tired, content, eager to shower and starving. She is dressed in a bikini and towel. Note this; this fact becomes important later.

She, having just successfully used her keycard to get in the elevator, inserts said keycard into her door. No click. She tries again. No click. Again. No click. This goes on for about three minutes.

The pace changes. The amount of pressure changes. She takes off her sunglasses to ensure she is in fact at the right unit. Yes, she is. Another two minutes passes.

Finally, she (thanking god she has her phone) calls the management office.

Office: Yes?
Lauren: Hi. It's Lauren in unit XYZ. For some reason, my keycard isn't working. Is there someone that can help?
Office: No.
Lauren: ...No?
Office (not rudely, just very matter of factly): There isn't anything we can do. Is there something you think we can do?
Lauren: Um...well, I'm not sure...
Office: Is this owner or tenant?
Lauren: Tenant.
Office: You have spare key?
Lauren: Yes. But it's at my office.
Office: You have to go get it, go get it.
Lauren: I'd prefer not to if possible, as I'm in a bathing suit. Is there another option?
Office: Here. You call keycard company. (provides number).

Just for fun, Lauren tries her game of trying to open the door for two more minutes. Nada. She dials keycard company.

Company: Yes.
Lauren: Hi. I'm calling from River Place and my keycard doesn't work.
Company (sounding very proud she is able to assist): Ok. We order you new one. It takes 4 to 6 months.
Lauren: Ok. Well, that unfortunately doesn't help me now. You see, I need to get in my unit within the next four months.
Company (bubble of pride deflated): Ohhh. Ok, lah. You call landlord for extra key?
Lauren: The landlord doesn't have an extra key.
Company: You have extra key?
Lauren: Yes. It's in my office all the way in CBD. It would be a huge inconvenience for me to go there now.
Company. Ohhh. Ok, lah. We order you new one.
Lauren: And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?
Company: You go get spare one.
Lauren: I can't do that. I'm in a bathing suit and towel.
Company (lightbulb going off): We can send locksmith. You have to pay, lah.
Lauren (all the while, inserting and re-inserting the cursed keycard): Ok. Let me call my agent to confirm and call you back.

Takes deep breath. Dials her agent, who is the Chinese Singaporean mother she never had.

Agent: Hello, Lauren?
Lauren: Hi Veronica. I'm sorry to have to bother you with this ... I'm locked out of my unit again. The keycard isn't working again.
Agent: Oh, no! But that happened before and they replaced lock.
Lauren: I recall.
Agent: And now it is happening again?
Lauren: Unfortunately yes.
Agent: That is inconvenient. Do you have your spare?
Lauren (slow breathing): Well, it's at my office but I'm trying to avoid going there, as I'm in a bathing suit and towel.
Agent: Oh, no. How annoying.
Lauren: Yes. Yes it is.
Agent: Ok. I call landlord's agent to see what we can do. Meantime, you call the management office and get their help.
Lauren: Tried that. She passed me to the keycard company. Keycard company said they'll order me new keys that will arrive in four to six months.
Agent: Oh, no. That's a very inconvenient process. You can't stand outside the door for that long. Call you right back. You stay there.
Lauren (not saying aloud but really wanting to): Where on earth would I go?

Just for the fun of it, she tries again. Nothing. A slew of creative swear words erupt. Another three minutes go by.

Phone rings.

Lauren: Hello?
Agent: Lauren. I just tried calling landlord's agent. No answer. I will try again and call you back.
Lauren: Ok.

Just for pure torture, she tries again. Nope. Another two minutes go by. There was probably more swearing. She begins to contemplate the real possibility that she will, in fact, have to somehow get to her office -- with no bus pass or money -- while clothed in a bikini, then how to get in the office without her office key -- which is inside the apartment.

Phone rings.

Lauren (remaining calm, remaining calm, remaining calm): Yes?
Strange man: Hello? You can't get in the apartment?
Lauren (please tell me this is not a junior reporter from the Straits Times): I'm sorry, who is this?
Strange man: I with keycard company. You can't get in?
Lauren: No. The keycard isn't working.
Keycard man: Ok. I teach you how to do it.
Lauren: Um. Ok.
Keycard man: You grab the handle. You turn it three to four times. Three to four times. Then you take your right hand ... or, you could turn the handle with right hand and take your left hand ...you insert key and hold it. Then pull toward you.
Lauren: Pull toward me? Why?
Keycard man: It sometimes works. You try. Turn three, turn three.
Lauren (tries this. Nothing.): It didn't work.
Keycard man: It didn't work? You try again. Turn three, turn three.
Lauren (tries again. Nothing. To spare you the pain of this continued saga, something, somehow, causes unbeknownst, prompts the door to open.)