Read Online Lost on Planet China: One Man's Attempt to Understand the World's Most Mystifying Nation by J. Maarten Troost - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J. Maarten Troost
Tags: General, Social Science, Asia, History, Travel, china, Customs & Traditions, Essays & Travelogues
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up, while the other half seemed to be coming down. And it was only when I found myself in the presence of a bucket of live scorpions that I was able to tune out the havoc of Beijing. There’s nothing like coming face-to-face with a black scorpion to concentrate the mind.
“You want to try?” Meow Meow asked. “Good for heart.”
We wandered into a crowded alleyway market. There were snakes, grasshoppers, crickets, starfish, and seahorses in buckets and cases strewn about our feet. And the black scorpions. A vendor approached me waving a stick upon which a half-dozen of the live scorpions had been impaled.
“He says it is very tasty,” Meow Meow translated.
But it didn’t look tasty. It looked like a stick squirming with scorpions.
“Do you eat this?” I asked, gesturing at these alleged delicacies.
“No,” she said. “But my grandfather eat one scorpion every year. He eat it for medicine. Sometimes, he eat snake too.”
Perhaps the ingestion of these critters had medicinal value, but as I watched these scorpions meet their end on a hot grill, I concluded that it would take more than that for me to eat one. Some kind of sauce at least. Or seasoning. Perhaps a dry rub. If I was going to swallow a strong dose of venom, it better taste good. And this didn’t look like it tasted too good at all.
We returned to the main streets of Beijing, where I noted the billboards featuring celebrities pimping for Dunhill (Jude Law) and Adidas (David Beckham) and, strangely, PETA (Pamela Anderson), and just as I thought my senses would be overwhelmed, we found ourselves in a blissful park just east of the Forbidden City hidden behind high, red ocher walls. Trees were in bloom. Ornate bridges crossed a babbling brook. The ponds were filled with glimmering goldfish. Decorative buildings graced the pathway. It was a genteel retreat from the havoc raging beyond the walls.
“This nice park,” Meow Meow observed.
In the midst of the serenity, I noticed a large group of middle-aged people lingering. They didn’t seem to know each other, but now and then one couple would approach another to engage in conversation.
“What are they doing?” I asked.
“They are here to find husband or wife for their children,” Meow Meow said.
“Pardon?” I thought I had misheard.
“If they have daughter, they come to park to find a husband. Same with son. Come to park to find a wife for him.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“And is this something that only occurs in this park?” I asked.
“No,” Meow Meow said. “This occurs in all parks now. It is very new, only since last winter, but now it is very common.
“Getting married today is very complicated,” she went on. “Because of One Child policy, older people now have only one child. Before, there were more children who could take care of them in old age. Now who their one child marries decides how well they are taken care of when they are older. So there is a lot of pressure. And this,” she said, gesturing toward the middle-aged couples, “is the result.”
I would come to hear about this as the 1-2-4 problem. When one person marries, the couple assumes responsibility for the welfare of four parents, should they all be living. And the generation that is now approaching retirement is the generation least likely to have prospered from the changes that have taken place in China recently. Indeed, their formative years were spent being whipsawed by Mao in an era not particularly encouraging of 401(k) plans. So even with nearly a billion and a half people, China finds itself short of young people to take care of the elderly. As we left the park, a sign informed us that if we wanted to reenter the park, we would have to return to the East Gate. It was a one-way park. I thought about all the parents milling among the trees. Enter a father, and if you get lucky, leave as a father-in-law.
“So what you say? You want to go to karaoke now?” Meow Meow asked.
Karaoke? I didn’t
“You want to try?” Meow Meow asked. “Good for heart.”
We wandered into a crowded alleyway market. There were snakes, grasshoppers, crickets, starfish, and seahorses in buckets and cases strewn about our feet. And the black scorpions. A vendor approached me waving a stick upon which a half-dozen of the live scorpions had been impaled.
“He says it is very tasty,” Meow Meow translated.
But it didn’t look tasty. It looked like a stick squirming with scorpions.
“Do you eat this?” I asked, gesturing at these alleged delicacies.
“No,” she said. “But my grandfather eat one scorpion every year. He eat it for medicine. Sometimes, he eat snake too.”
Perhaps the ingestion of these critters had medicinal value, but as I watched these scorpions meet their end on a hot grill, I concluded that it would take more than that for me to eat one. Some kind of sauce at least. Or seasoning. Perhaps a dry rub. If I was going to swallow a strong dose of venom, it better taste good. And this didn’t look like it tasted too good at all.
We returned to the main streets of Beijing, where I noted the billboards featuring celebrities pimping for Dunhill (Jude Law) and Adidas (David Beckham) and, strangely, PETA (Pamela Anderson), and just as I thought my senses would be overwhelmed, we found ourselves in a blissful park just east of the Forbidden City hidden behind high, red ocher walls. Trees were in bloom. Ornate bridges crossed a babbling brook. The ponds were filled with glimmering goldfish. Decorative buildings graced the pathway. It was a genteel retreat from the havoc raging beyond the walls.
“This nice park,” Meow Meow observed.
In the midst of the serenity, I noticed a large group of middle-aged people lingering. They didn’t seem to know each other, but now and then one couple would approach another to engage in conversation.
“What are they doing?” I asked.
“They are here to find husband or wife for their children,” Meow Meow said.
“Pardon?” I thought I had misheard.
“If they have daughter, they come to park to find a husband. Same with son. Come to park to find a wife for him.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“And is this something that only occurs in this park?” I asked.
“No,” Meow Meow said. “This occurs in all parks now. It is very new, only since last winter, but now it is very common.
“Getting married today is very complicated,” she went on. “Because of One Child policy, older people now have only one child. Before, there were more children who could take care of them in old age. Now who their one child marries decides how well they are taken care of when they are older. So there is a lot of pressure. And this,” she said, gesturing toward the middle-aged couples, “is the result.”
I would come to hear about this as the 1-2-4 problem. When one person marries, the couple assumes responsibility for the welfare of four parents, should they all be living. And the generation that is now approaching retirement is the generation least likely to have prospered from the changes that have taken place in China recently. Indeed, their formative years were spent being whipsawed by Mao in an era not particularly encouraging of 401(k) plans. So even with nearly a billion and a half people, China finds itself short of young people to take care of the elderly. As we left the park, a sign informed us that if we wanted to reenter the park, we would have to return to the East Gate. It was a one-way park. I thought about all the parents milling among the trees. Enter a father, and if you get lucky, leave as a father-in-law.
“So what you say? You want to go to karaoke now?” Meow Meow asked.
Karaoke? I didn’t
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