New Year's Eve 2021 - Hardrock Tianjin
I almost didn't go out. Almost. The reasons being 3 fold. First, my healthcode. It's a QR code that you must show everywhere you go inside. Now, I have a healthcode, and it is green, but I can't access it. Although I managed to procure a Chinese phone number after a few tries, the service is still confused by my Google phone - either because it just takes a few days for the sim card/ cell service to fully verify (not uncommon), or because Google is blocked in China at the moment, and my phone is confused or incompatible. I'm not certain, but my phone may be in the no man's land of this tech war. So! I have no way to access WeChat or Alipay, the two apps that pay for things and show my healthcode. However, having tested negative on 17 COVID tests since I have arrived, I am certainly healthy.
The second reason is that I don't know how to get anywhere. I have an idea, but Hard Rock Tianjin (the meeting place) is a 1.3 hour walk, and my navigation is spotty at best because of the aforementioned cell phone issue, and everything being in Chinese. This is only in case I fail to obtain a taxi back on New Year's Eve -- Do I want to try talk to a Chinese cab driver and explain how to take me home at 2 am? All of the sudden, the hot bath and bed are sounding better, but... Fortune Favors the Brave. I'm not living abroad to stay at home.
The third reason--possibly the largest reason-- Joe, my only friend here at this point, isn't going to be there. He is hanging with old friends. He knows his way around, and speaks fluent Mandarin. So, I almost don't want to go, because the rationality is against me. Almost. Luckily, my gut has always been wiser than my mind, and it said that I could do either-- so I chose bravery.
The hotel is kind enough to call a cab for me (sparing an awkward and confusing conversation) and direct them to the Hard Rock Café -- the translation issues with the hotel staff were kept to a minimum. Outside the hotel, a group of drunk Chinese 20 year-olds is joking around with each other, waiting for a cab of their own. My cab pulls up, (D64017) and I get in. The driver says something in Chinese, and doesn't yet move. Outside, the 20 year-olds start to tell me that this is their cab. I try to explain to them that it was not theirs -- they say "wait for the next one," and I shrug. Maybe this is how it works here? Maybe the foreigners take a back seat to the Chinese nationals, like a back woods country town in the states. I wasn't sure of my place. Also, they were here first, but this was the right number on the cab, so what is the protocol? I get out, and they get in, but the driver doesn't move. Now, I have no idea why the driver didn't move when I was in, but he isn't moving now either. At this point, someone from the hotel staff comes out and starts yelling at them. After many minutes, they exit the cab, a little too drunk to be embarrassed. The one who started the whole incident apologizes, and asks me where I am from. I say, "美国 (měi guó), America."
He smiles and says, "You are lucky you are from America." Which seems like a joke, but I have no idea. I got into the eerily quiet cab, and we drive east past the Red Bridge. I can't help but wonder, why do the Chinese like Americans so much? Everyone has been kind, and nobody seems to care about the political tensions we have -- in fact they don't care at all. They almost like Americans as much as the South Koreans do, and Koreans love Americans -- probably more than any other country, because of the war. Because they probably wouldn't exist without us. This isn't patriotism or nationalism talking, it's just the reality of the Korean war. Also, the Chinese and Koreans both hate the Japanese, so I guess we get called the "beautiful country" in China still. I wish we could see China for what it really is, and connect more, but that's why I'm here. The China you are told about on TV, is not real. Our news is absolute fear-mongering garbage, but you already know that. You might just not understand the extent that it lies to you, or manipulates your views. Shoot your TV, and go see the world.
Hard Rock is slammed, and I'm so used to social distancing and masks that it's a bit of a culture shock. 1/3 of the people here are foreigners, 2/3 are Chinese, and about half the Chinese people can speak English, because it's Hard Rock Tianjin. Special note, normally I would not resort to being "that" foreigner and go to an ex-pat bar to start the night, but I am new, so I follow the crew... whom I haven't met yet. I order a Jameson and ginger using my phone translation app, and it causes too much confusion for an English friendly bar -- they don't even mix the two-- after a debate over what the hell I was asking for, I get a can of ginger ale and a weak pour of Jameson.
I find a wallflower spot. The band is on point. All the American/English cover essentials you'd expect at Hard Rock, but played by an all Chinese band, with a gorgeous lead. Her voice is reminiscent of Sadie's (Dana Fuch) from Across the Universe, and she wears a skirt and a white button up, black heels with matching stockings. The back up vocalist/keyboardist also sounds good. He has a goatee, white pants and white button up shirt with a stripped loose tie, hair tied up like a samurai. They play Smells Like Teen Spirit. Not exactly the type of Nirvana I expected to find in China. The hostess is dressed up in a school girl uniform with a jean jacket - and only speaks Chinese when she takes the mic -- it is jarring. The scene is quite an amalgamation. Below is part of one of the covers that I felt encompasses the vibe:
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I get a table (somehow) and when I go to sit, much like the cab situation, there are two gentlemen already there. They are white Europeans -- so maybe they speak English? The kind one stays sitting and the tall one stands, going back and forth with the server. I imagine they are debating whose table it is. I tell the Frenchman across from me (who I later discover is Jerome) that we can all just share the damned thing. Initially, the taller Frenchman, Javier, is not for this. But, then my entourage arrives - young, petite, attractive women: Maria, a blonde Russian, and Star, a brunette Iranian. Once they arrive, Javier seems pleasantly surprised and glad to share the table. Between the two Frenchmen, the Russian, the Iranian, the American (myself), and Javier's 'girlfriend,' a Chinese woman, I think we figure out how to achieve world peace. Here's a hint: it doesn't involve watching the news and making disconnected opinions about people from around the world. Just talking to them - and maybe some drinks. Inviting people to your table to share an experience, whether good or bad. Everyone of these people were awesome. Well, maybe not Ginny, Javier's Chinese girlfriend.
She asks me to dance, I think? It was tough to hear broken English in a loud bar. At the time, I did not know she was Javier's girlfriend - I'm still not exactly sure she is, but he is French - so that line is a bit more gray. Anyways, more people came and I twiddle my thumbs for a bit, no knowing where to go to dance, because we were flanked by tables. Also, she was not leading anything, despite it being my first week outside of quarantine in a new country. Instead, she was anxiously expecting me to do something -- to know what to do on my third day being out in China. I didn't want to be rude, so I asked if she wanted to dance in front of the stage. There were already three girls dancing when we joined, and I did not understand the circumstances, and still don't - we just separately began dancing. Ginny was a terrible dancer, just whisking her arms through the air to the beat, so I joined in her silly ways, which she did not seem to care for. I was further perplexed as to why - but the alcohol was kicking in, so I no longer cared. Being the tallest person in the middle of a dance floor and looking like a fool is embarrassing, but only if you think about it. Also, it was at this moment that my new friends joined! Maria and Star were my backup ~ For the next song, nothing mattered except the music. After we returned to our seats, everyone was in a good mood, except Ginny, who went and stood somewhere else. To the best of my ability to guess, I think she wanted to close dance to make Javier jealous? Maybe she was angry because that didn't happen. Who knows?
I end up making good friends with Jerome, who is also the only other new immigrant here. He asks how the hell I made it to China during quarantine, and I just laughed. "The paperwork, was not fun." He was here because he was a repairman -- maybe electrician? I couldn't quite hear him, but he was on the necessary list. I bonded with him, because he was kind and smart. I was also a repairman in the states, an apprentice cappuccino machine technician, just about to graduate, or get fired from my training before I left. Once again, I'm not exactly sure which.
The countdown was made by the woman in the school girl uniform -- in broken English-- instead of any member of the fluent band for some reason, and I have to share it with you, because it is my experience in a nutshell. The first is the countdown, and second are the pyrotechnics:
It's a very video friendly blog post, I have lots of short video of this experience just for you.
After this, the real party begins. We leave and go to Trolley - a much cooler ex-pat bar--one that doesn't try too hard. The energy here is ecstatic. Everyone is grooving or talking. I meet an older Australian gentleman who is quite clever. He tells me that I look too inquisitive and shouldn't have been born in America. He also says that he shouldn't have been born in Australia, "I shouldn'ta been born there either!" The bar is full of doppelgangers of my old friends back home. One drink later, a familiar South African starts talking to me. She's blonde with green eyes, drinking a double-whisky, and I do not know her, but she is familiar. She is affectionate from the get-go, and not annoying about it. "I saw you when you first walked in and thought, he looks interesting... and the second time I thought, he looks even more interesting. Would you like to try some of this?" She offers her glass -- virtually unheard of during this time, and especially in this place. I take a sip. "Is that Laphroaig?" (a fancy scotch, one of my favorites). She points to the bottle, not sure herself. "It is - I guess you know your whiskey." I nod, a sense of writer's pride swelling. My years of weekend trail and error tastings of peaty, smoky scotch finally grant me a visit from the scotch fairy. We -- are undeniably on the same wavelength. We half hug around different parts of Trolley, she introduces me to some regulars - mostly South African and British folk. She breaks up a fight (South Africans have a short temper, just as short a fuse as the Irish), she swings back by and puts a hand around my waist a few times, and I eventually reciprocate, once my shyness tampers down. Then, we go upstairs to play pool.
We wait, and are challenged-- I thought we were doomed. She is near drunkish, and I am notoriously bad at pool, however our opponents are perhaps more intoxicated. Not only that, but apparently I am the most talented person here at pool. This is quite shocking. Chane (accent over the ~ n), the South African cutie, who let me jokingly refer to her as my wife to stop a guy from harassing her, is actually a pool shark. She is just too New-Year'sed to get much in, except really tricky shots. This is the perfect compliment to me, because I can only get the standard angles to go.
Around 3 a.m., she calls me a cab and asks for my number for coffee, then hugs me goodnight. Almost. Almost didn't go out! Man am I glad I did - fortune favors the brave. 2022 is looking up.
Great post. Fortune favors the brave😉!
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