The Mongol Hordes
Having made it back from Japan in one piece, I was shortly after sent off to China on another trip. But not for me the history of Beijing or the metropolis of Shanghai, oh no…
Sunday 14th July
Weird food tried: Pig’s intestines
I have to be at the airport at 12.30 on a Sunday afternoon for my business trip to Baotou, which is in Inner Mongolia. Unfortunately I turn up with a particularly virulent case of 24-hour malaria, picked up from a bad Brazilian Caipirinha rum cocktail or seven that I’d drunk the night before. Thankfully I am sitting on my own, rather than having to talk to our customer who no-one had told me beforehand is on the same flight as us. I grip the seats of the plane chair as hard as I can and pray that we get their quick.
After a connection from Beijing, we arrive in Baotou. Inner Mongolia is the northernmost province in China, not to be confused with Outer Mongolia which is a separate country. I am not quite sure what to expect as to how developed or industrialised the place may be; the drive in from the airport takes through the heart of the ‘city’, which is more built up than I would have imagined; having said that, all the lights seem to be off in the buildings, and everyone is out on the streets.
The lights are particularly off in the traffic lights, which mean that every cross roads is a free-for-all game of chicken, involving all the vehicles piling into the middle of the road, doing their horn, then barging their way through. Someone suggests that the lights are off to save on power, but this idea doesn’t really stack up when you look at the neon lights that sit outside of every building, all of which are brilliantly lit. I was going to take this up further, but then some guy veers across three lanes of traffic going in the opposite direction, so as to pull on to our side of the road and go the right way. We have to brake and I just concentrate on where we’re going.
Monday 15th July
Weird food tried: Ducks’ heads
After a pleasant enough night in the hotel, notwithstanding a bed made of cement, a 24 hour construction site next door, and a paperclip lurking in my cereal at breakfast, we are off to see our customer, who are a big industrial plant on the edge of town. The plant is complete with a statue of Chairman Mao in the car park, and their own hotel (thank God we didn’t stay there). The hotel has a Happy Christmas sign on the window.
We get there and sit in a big meeting room, 7 people on each side of the table…all of whom speak Mandarin except me. The morning is spent in meetings, of which thankfully my colleagues give me updates of what is going on as they progress. I think about asking some questions, but generally by the time I have been told what was going on, thought about it, decided on a pertinent question, given it back my colleague to translate into Mandarin, and then ask the customer, it is five minutes later and the topic has been changed.
At lunch time we are ushered into their main dining room for lunch. Again there are loads of us there, and I am pleasantly surprised to find that the food is pretty good – plus being plenty of different dishes, you can stick to the ones you like and avoid anything too dodgy. Things are going along quite nicely, when the chairman of the customer pulls out a bottle of clear liquid – it turns out to be Golden Camel brand ‘Mao Tai’ fortified wine, I believe 38% proof. He puts some in his glass, raises it in toast, and knocks it back.
My colleagues try to take as little of the wine as they can, and look at me. I can now tell why I’ve come; I don’t say much in the meetings, I can’t add a lot in terms of expert plant knowledge on the Chinese aluminium industry; but I can take a drink with the customer. I get given a particularly large glass, give it my best two words of Mandarin – “Gan Bei!” (Cheers!) and neck it…after a few seconds the raging fire in my throat subsides a little, and I find that I can start breathing again.
No sooner have I done this, than the waitress comes round and fills me up again. Sure enough it goes down the same way. I think that is it, but then my colleagues drop the bombshell to the customer – ‘it’s his birthday!!!!’ So you know what this means – Gan Bei!! Actually after a few more the pain goes away and I start to enjoy them.
Eventually lunch is finished, and I am about to contemplate trying to do some work again, when I am told that the meeting won’t start again until 2.30. It is only then 1.45, so we get taken to a different part of the plant to the recreation room, which has a pool table and a table tennis table. There was something surreal about playing table tennis against a Mongolian who spoke no English on a Monday afternoon after countless shots of alcohol, but hey you have to go with it; I showed all the signs of a mis-spent youth by holding my own, eventually losing narrowly at table-tennis but gaining revenge on the pool table.
In the afternoon we get a tour of the plant, which I found quite interesting, but I think so did the Mongolian workers. Quite what they made of a tall ‘gweilo’ wearing sunglasses getting out of a car with tinted windows, taking some pictures of them at work, and then getting back in the car again, I don’t know, but not surprisingly I got a few funny looks.
The rest of the day was further meetings which again went past in a blur of Mandarin. Two things that I did notice though, were firstly that all the Chinese had their mobiles going off all day; not a big deal, except they all had really hi-tech advanced phones with polyphonic ring tones that you can’t even buy in Hong Kong yet, and yet seemed common in Mongolia. These phones, instead of just beeping the ring tone, can play multiple tones at once, and so can put drum beats and so on to the tune - coming soon to a train near you. However the effect of the advanced phone is lost by the fact that they all have rubbish tunes to play – one has Amazing Grace, yet no-one has something more interesting like “Can’t get you out of my Head”. One guy has a recording of his son saying “Dad you have a call, Dad you have a call”. This goes off so many times that I eventually turn my Star Wars ring tone back ON, because I would be more embarrassed if it didn’t go off when I got a call than if it did.
Sure enough it soon does go off as my parents call me to wish me Happy Birthday; I excuse myself from the meeting on the grounds of an urgent business call, and stand outside for 15 minutes trying to explain to my frankly bewildered parents where I am and what the hell I am doing there.
The second random moment in the meeting was that my colleague asked for ice for her drink. One guy from the plant went out, and came back with…an ice cream each. Not quite what was asked for, but I wasn’t complaining, and so we sat in the meeting eating ice cream. That’s the way to negotiate.
At the end of the day we are told that we are going to dinner, and that the Deputy Mayor is attending. Thus we go to what for Baotou was probably a very fancy restaurant, and the Deputy Mayor turns up. To start with, everyone is very respectful, and goes quiet whenever he speaks, but then the Golden Camel comes out again and it all goes down hill pretty quickly. It is added to by a Mongolian band who come in in full costume and sing (very loudly) to us, and also a woman who plays a lute-like instrument called a pipa. She turns out to be National Champion, and gives us a rendition where she jams away like she’s mid-solo in a heavy metal band.
A few years ago I went to the Mongolian Barbeque Restaurant in Covent Garden for my birthday, and while we were there one of my friends told the manager I was celebrating. Soon after I ended up standing on a table wearing a head-dress drinking a cocktail in front of the whole restaurant. Well whilst the food at the Mongolian Barbeque bears absolutely no relation to the food in Mongolia whatsoever, the drinking ritual was actually quite accurate. This time the singer of the band led them in a serenade, followed by me having to stand, put a scarf round my neck, and Gan Bei some Golden Camel (see photo 3). Thankfully this time it wasn’t just me, and everyone has to have a go. Most about 5 times.
The meal comes to an end, and we are all stuffed. Only there is more to come; the waitress wheels in the biggest birthday cake you have ever seen in your life, which they must have just had hanging around I guess?? I have to wear a particularly non-Mongolian birthday crown, and blow out all candles, followed by some more Golden Camel (see photo 2). Everyone then gets a piece of cake similar in size to an average housebrick.
As I come to say goodbye to the Chairman, I tried to make the greeting from Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon of clenching my fists together in front of me, thinking it was a Chinese greeting. He looked at me thinking it was a London greeting, and shook my hand. I try to rectify the situation by repeating the Mandarin phrase that the singer had been trying to teach me a few minutes before – “wo ni ai”. The Chairman looked at me a bit strange, shook my hand again, and then left. I asked my colleague what the phrase meant that I had just said; apparently it meant “I love you”. Oh dear. Well it had been a very convivial meal.
So you’d think that would be it. But oh no.
We get back to our hotel and decide to try to go to the bar across the road. After all, it’s a Monday night in Mongolia, surely there’ll be some nightlife somewhere close??
We go in and, surprise, surprise, it’s dead. It’s not helped by some pretty dull music, so I give it my best efforts to improve Anglo-Sino relations by talking to the local waiter in English.
“This music…” I point to the speakers.
He nods.
“Is shit”
Obviously his English was better than I thought, as he walked off unimpressed with my customer feedback.
It wasn’t long before the house band came on to play, and after a couple of Carpenters covers and some other non-descript rubbish I am again encouraged to ask for a request. One of my colleagues suggests I ask for 60s songs as that’s all they seem to know.
I wandered up to the band. “Do you know the Beatles?”
The woman looks at me quizzically.
“Ever heard of Can’t buy me love? I saw her standing there? Get Back?”
“?”
“Paul McCartney? John Lennon? The BEATLES?”
Nothing doing. They may have been bigger than Jesus but they never made it in Inner Mongolia, and faced by a third rendition of “Close to You” we take this as a sign to give up for the night.
Tuesday 16th July
Weird food eaten: Air China in-flight breakfast
Thankfully I am spared a repeat of my illness on Sunday’s flight, & make it back to HK in one piece whilst actually being able to maintain a conversation during the flight. Certainly a birthday to remember, and you know the best bit??
We won the deal…so we’re going back.
Mine’s a Golden Camel
Ian