Zhangpu, China: Home

A couple weeks passed since my last post.  With a sick Olivier and an absent Fabian, we haven't gone out much. 

Instead, we've been getting into a routine here in Zhangpu.  It's difficult to write about routines.  They're not interesting. 

The problem with thinking routines aren't interesting, though, is that it's easy to ignore the remarkable people around you everyday.  We take them for granted. 

No longer.  Here are the people we see almost everyday around the Wan Jia Hotel: 

Wan Wan

She's the hostess at the Wan Jia cafeteria, but she deserves the title "Crew Mother."  She takes care of us. 

Wan Wan's there every morning to greet us and make sure we're eating. 

If there's something we don't like, she's perceptive enough to bring us something different.  She's also pushy with the fruit, passive-aggressively bringing it to our table and expecting us to eat a few pieces before we can leave the table. 

She also has a monk's patience when it comes to dealing with lao wai. 

She smiles and nods whenever I try to use new Mandarin.  When I get it right, she claps and cheers with encouragement.  When I get it wrong, she corrects me or laughs. 

The day I asked for her name, she light up with excitement.  She asked me my name and laughed at my reply.  For two weeks, she'd greet me with "Tom!" instead of her usual "Good Morning." 

She really shines, however, with Olivier.  They act like two parrots having an argument.  Here's the average morning conversation: 

OLIVIER 

Mei you shui?!  (You don't have water?!)  Oi, oi, oi! 

WAN WAN 

Mei you shui.  Oi, oi, oi. 

OLIVIER 

Oi, oi, oi.  Ming Tien?  (Tomorrow?) 

WAN WAN 

Ming Tien, Ming Tien.  Oi, oi, oi.  Mei wen ti, mei wen ti.  (No problem, no problem.)

OLIVIER 

Oi, oi, oi.  Mei yo wen ti. 

The conversation usual starts loud and gets louder and higher in octave with every "Oi, oi, oi." Wan Wan usually laughs the whole time at Olivier's pouty face and flapping arms (like parrot wings). 

Olivier and Wan Wan.  The two parrots not squawking at each other.

Five minutes later, she comes around to ask Olivier to turn on the air conditioners because he's tall. 

Their routine usually has our whole table in stitches.  It's a great start to our day. 

Gue E and Mr. Zhang

Mr. Zhang and me peacing up Zhangpu

Being Wan Jia's only two English speakers, they help us a lot when it comes to living here.

If we have a request that the front desk can't understand, they usually get sent to our room to listen to what we need.

Thankfully, they too have the patience of monks.

Much of what we need from the hotel could be done by the other front desk staff, but they don't have patience for our bad Chinese.  Instead, they send Gue E or Mr. Zhang to our room to figure it out. 

They must get sick having to stop their busy day to get laundry bags, send postcards, tell us about nearby restaurants, and give us packages.

Gue E, SB, and me at the roof-top barbecue

Gue E also helps me with Mandarin.  If I have a question about her native tongue, she has answers.  She's also very diligent in making sure I get the tones right, which means a lot to me.  It can be the difference between saying "Thanks" and "Shoes."

Gue E and Mr. Zhang work hard. It seems like they're always on staff, even late into the night. Despite this, they've never been unpleasant. That's a super human strength in my opinion. 

Mr. Manager 

Mr. Manager and Me.  Usually he's much more smiley.

I don't remember his name, unfortunately.  He doesn't speak much English, but he always has a big smile and says hello whenever we run into him. 

He's the manager of Wan Jia but doesn't give us the patronizing attention like most hotel managers I've experience.  I think he genuinely wants us to enjoy our stay in Zhangpu. 

Mr. Manager goes out of his way to make us feel comfortable.  When I had trouble finding a nearby temple, he drove me in his car.  Going to a client dinner at a different hotel, he drove our group, again. 

He hosted a wonderful roof-top barbecue (where most of the pictures in this post were taken).  It was a very casual and comfortable dinner. 

The staff, their families, and us ate and drank together as the sun set over Zhangpu.  He and I even passed around a soccer ball on the roof for a couple minutes before I got drenched in sweat. 

At the end of the night, he toasted us and called us "wo de peng you" (my friends).  He's helped us feel at home. 

Chong E 

Almost every roadie feels the initial discomfort of having someone clean up after them.  It's especially awkward being in the room with the person doing the cleaning.  I feel lazy and worthless.

With Chong E, it's still awkward, but she handles it like a champ. 

She speaks no English, absolutely zero, but she understands and appreciates my broken Chinese. 

Knowing and using her name also makes the unpleasantness less impersonal.  She's not a housekeeper.  She's Chong E. 

She also doesn't fight me when it comes to helping out.  I don't mind making the bed or changing the garbage bags.  It prevents me from getting rusty.  She thanks me for the help, when other housekeepers usually protest.

Qong Yu he ta er zi (Qong Yu and her son) 

Qong Yu checked us into Wan Jia, meaning she was the first person we met in Zhangpu. 

Her English is about as good as my Chinese, but she understand the different language better than I do. 

She works the reception desk during the day and, like Mr. Manager, seems like she genuinely wants us to enjoy Zhangpu.  She always asks where I'm going when I leave and tells me where I should visit.

We've seen her out-and-about in Zhangpu, primarily at the Princess Castle (Shing Hua Du).  A couple of times we even met her son. 

He's a four-year-old full of energy and glee. At the roof-top barbecue, he was the entertainment.  He danced, ran around, played soccer, and did what you'd expect from a four-year-old with energy to burn. 

One night, Qong Yu brought him to the Wan Jia before the staff went out for KTV.  He took one of the luggage carts and pushed a friend of his around the lobby at break neck speed.  I hopped on the sled to slow him down and help him burn more energy. 

He's a happy and fun kid, and I'm sure he must really wear her out.  I get tired thinking about keeping up with him.

Here's the little guy playing soccer with Osama.

The Cooks 

We don't get to interact with the cooks a whole lot, because they're always working the woks. Sometimes, they leave the hot kitchen to talk with us. 

By talk with us, I mean they speak Chinese and we reply in our one or two awkward phrases.

The younger cook (not pictured) is the hot shot.  He always has a bluetooth headset in his ear and plays games on his phone when he isn't cooking.  He's very friendly whenever he looks up from the device, usually saying a smiley good morning or hello. 

The older cook.  Sorry about the crappy quality.

The older cook is the curious mentor.  On the mornings I wake up too late to eat breakfast with the crew, he sits with me silently while I eat.  Sometimes he tries to speak Chinese with me in his high, soft voice.  It's always about the food, and I try to piece together a broken response. 

He's curious about the food have from America, France, and our visits to Xiamen.  He made disgusted faces when he saw, smelled, or tasted European cheeses and American whiskeys.   His face light up with enjoyment at Nutella and sausage. 

Anthony Bourdain preaches the cultural value of sharing food.  The older cook has the faith of Bourdain. 

Honorable Mention

Dozens of people work at Wan Jia, and we encounter many of them.  Few have a lasting impact as the people above. 

Whenever we pass through the lobby, we try to say hello to the front desk workers, the house keepers, and security guards.  They're polite and return the courtesy, like in every hotel.   It makes this place feel less like a hotel and more like a community in which we have a home.