Lowaicue
英語在香港
Adventure
Trevelyon P Wymering had been born the son of the owners of a small, non-descript hotel in the small Welsh town of Mychynlleth and spoke in that lilting aspirated North Walian accent that is seldom heard in foreign climes.
He had arrived on the Dragon's Back at the end of November filled with wonder, ambition and high expectations.
One of his first tasks was to make contact with a large Chinese state run concern who had enquired after the services of his company.
Trevelyan P (for the P was very important) Wymering was nothing if not confident and knew, in his heart of hearts, that his first foray into the land of Confucious and Cultural Revolution would be a resounding success.
He arrived in Xia Men, in the second week in December, with an entourage that included an interpreter and younger company man. He had been supplied with ample funds to allow for the obligatory entertaining and gift giving but none of what he had could be spent anywhere outside the one or two 'friendship' stores which lay towards the outskirts of the town.
He soon discovered that his young assistant would handle all cash transactions by converting what they called this 'funny money' into RMB.
Trevelyan P was not a well traveled man but had collected, from each foreign excursion, a full set of the currencyof his host country. And so it would be in China, a fact that he mentioned to his assistant who, henceforth, we will call Tsoi.
The various meetings were held in hotel rooms since the delegates had come from different parts of the province for the meeting and so was convenient. It was disconcerting to Wymering, attired as he was in his best suit and with a new brief case presented, before his departure from Machynlleth, by his pals in the darts team, to discover a bakers dozen of small officials seated round the walls of the room seemingly taking it in turns to enjoy, after lunch, the traditional Chinese ‘siesta’. One delegate was actually snoring! Trevelyan relied heavily upon his interpreter who aimed his comments at whichever of the audience showed positive signs of being awake.
On their last day the three men, Wymering, Tsoi and the interpreter were taken for the customary goodbye banquet. When the huge array of dishes had been dispensed with and the entire company was following another time honoured tradition of belching and digging at rotting teeth with bamboo toothpicks, the leader called the gathering to order and, amidst much clapping and bearing of the picked teeth in wide smiles, Wymering was presented with a full set of Chinese currency in mint condition.
In return he bade them all charge their glasses for a final 'gam bei' and departed with his colleagues, to the hotel and thence to the docks and the boat back to Hong Kong.
However, not all was as simple, for Trevelyan knew from his preparational studies, that the taking of money from the Peoples Republic was viewed as a serious crime and that the consequences of such an action if discovered, could be dire. As they approached the docks Trevelyan began to worry. When they alighted from the white van that had conveyed them and made their way to the customs post, the worry turned to panic. Behind a tall column he secretly passed the money in a sealed envelope to Tsoi and approached the check point. Two green boxes each containing a stern face of the Peoples Liberation Army stood at the end of a barricaded walkway designed to handle thousands but now, save for the three men and the inhabitants of the green boxes, totally empty.
What if they had seen him. What if it had all been a set up. Arrest? Ten years of farm labour? Imprisonment? One hears stories... The papers are full of them. He slid his papers beneath the glass front of the first box followed by his passport. One of the papers held his signature beneath figures showing how much money he had brought into China and how much he was taking back, he carefully manipulated it to the bottom of the pile. The green clad official looked at his passport picture. Then he looked at Trevelyan and his piercing stare saw the guilt in his eyes and the fear that tightened his lips. He looked back at the picture and again at Trevelyan. His face contained no clue as to the thoughts behind it. He leaned forward very slightly and said in a slow, almost robotic monotone, 'I think (pause) we have met before.'
Trevelyan's jaw dropped. Met before? He must have been mistaken for someone else. They had been expecting him. How would he get word to his family? Where would they take him? How many years ... ?
'I - I - I don't think so. I - I've never been to China before.'
'I think,' repeated the man, 'we have met before.'
Trevelyan looked for support. Tsoi, oblivious to the danger, had disappeared and was heading toward the boat with the interpreter. A bead of sweat formed above his left temple and slowly made its way down his cheek. He felt it and nervously wiped it away.
Everything was now in slow motion. 'I have never seen you before,' and added, ‘Sir’, to be on the safe side.
The man smiled, 'Yes. We have met before.'
There was a long pause before he said, 'It was I who stamped your passport when you arrived. I hope you have had a good visit. Please come back to my country soon.' he smiled and passed the documents to his colleague in the next box who stamped the passport and slid it beneath the glass to a relieved and ecstatic Trevelyan P Wymering.
A sixteen hour sea cruise followed during which they drank very cheap champagne and nibbled on all manner of strange snacks. A taxi took him home to the Dragon’s Back and his wife opened the door and he saw an eight foot high decorated Christmas Tree close by the french window, and cards and garlands decorating almost every surface of the modest flat. He took her into his arms and smiled. His adventure had taken Christmas clear out of his mind. She poured him a drink and they sat quietly for a while and then, as if sluice gates had opened, every minute, every second of his first ever visit to the Peoples Republic of China filled the Christmas air.
He was glad to be home.
No one would ever know just how glad.
The story of his 'close shave' with imprisonment and possible execution served him well for years as an after dinner anecdote.
Please leave your comments - good or bad I don't mind.
Trevelyon P Wymering had been born the son of the owners of a small, non-descript hotel in the small Welsh town of Mychynlleth and spoke in that lilting aspirated North Walian accent that is seldom heard in foreign climes.
He had arrived on the Dragon's Back at the end of November filled with wonder, ambition and high expectations.
One of his first tasks was to make contact with a large Chinese state run concern who had enquired after the services of his company.
Trevelyan P (for the P was very important) Wymering was nothing if not confident and knew, in his heart of hearts, that his first foray into the land of Confucious and Cultural Revolution would be a resounding success.
He arrived in Xia Men, in the second week in December, with an entourage that included an interpreter and younger company man. He had been supplied with ample funds to allow for the obligatory entertaining and gift giving but none of what he had could be spent anywhere outside the one or two 'friendship' stores which lay towards the outskirts of the town.
He soon discovered that his young assistant would handle all cash transactions by converting what they called this 'funny money' into RMB.
Trevelyan P was not a well traveled man but had collected, from each foreign excursion, a full set of the currencyof his host country. And so it would be in China, a fact that he mentioned to his assistant who, henceforth, we will call Tsoi.
The various meetings were held in hotel rooms since the delegates had come from different parts of the province for the meeting and so was convenient. It was disconcerting to Wymering, attired as he was in his best suit and with a new brief case presented, before his departure from Machynlleth, by his pals in the darts team, to discover a bakers dozen of small officials seated round the walls of the room seemingly taking it in turns to enjoy, after lunch, the traditional Chinese ‘siesta’. One delegate was actually snoring! Trevelyan relied heavily upon his interpreter who aimed his comments at whichever of the audience showed positive signs of being awake.
On their last day the three men, Wymering, Tsoi and the interpreter were taken for the customary goodbye banquet. When the huge array of dishes had been dispensed with and the entire company was following another time honoured tradition of belching and digging at rotting teeth with bamboo toothpicks, the leader called the gathering to order and, amidst much clapping and bearing of the picked teeth in wide smiles, Wymering was presented with a full set of Chinese currency in mint condition.
In return he bade them all charge their glasses for a final 'gam bei' and departed with his colleagues, to the hotel and thence to the docks and the boat back to Hong Kong.
However, not all was as simple, for Trevelyan knew from his preparational studies, that the taking of money from the Peoples Republic was viewed as a serious crime and that the consequences of such an action if discovered, could be dire. As they approached the docks Trevelyan began to worry. When they alighted from the white van that had conveyed them and made their way to the customs post, the worry turned to panic. Behind a tall column he secretly passed the money in a sealed envelope to Tsoi and approached the check point. Two green boxes each containing a stern face of the Peoples Liberation Army stood at the end of a barricaded walkway designed to handle thousands but now, save for the three men and the inhabitants of the green boxes, totally empty.
What if they had seen him. What if it had all been a set up. Arrest? Ten years of farm labour? Imprisonment? One hears stories... The papers are full of them. He slid his papers beneath the glass front of the first box followed by his passport. One of the papers held his signature beneath figures showing how much money he had brought into China and how much he was taking back, he carefully manipulated it to the bottom of the pile. The green clad official looked at his passport picture. Then he looked at Trevelyan and his piercing stare saw the guilt in his eyes and the fear that tightened his lips. He looked back at the picture and again at Trevelyan. His face contained no clue as to the thoughts behind it. He leaned forward very slightly and said in a slow, almost robotic monotone, 'I think (pause) we have met before.'
Trevelyan's jaw dropped. Met before? He must have been mistaken for someone else. They had been expecting him. How would he get word to his family? Where would they take him? How many years ... ?
'I - I - I don't think so. I - I've never been to China before.'
'I think,' repeated the man, 'we have met before.'
Trevelyan looked for support. Tsoi, oblivious to the danger, had disappeared and was heading toward the boat with the interpreter. A bead of sweat formed above his left temple and slowly made its way down his cheek. He felt it and nervously wiped it away.
Everything was now in slow motion. 'I have never seen you before,' and added, ‘Sir’, to be on the safe side.
The man smiled, 'Yes. We have met before.'
There was a long pause before he said, 'It was I who stamped your passport when you arrived. I hope you have had a good visit. Please come back to my country soon.' he smiled and passed the documents to his colleague in the next box who stamped the passport and slid it beneath the glass to a relieved and ecstatic Trevelyan P Wymering.
A sixteen hour sea cruise followed during which they drank very cheap champagne and nibbled on all manner of strange snacks. A taxi took him home to the Dragon’s Back and his wife opened the door and he saw an eight foot high decorated Christmas Tree close by the french window, and cards and garlands decorating almost every surface of the modest flat. He took her into his arms and smiled. His adventure had taken Christmas clear out of his mind. She poured him a drink and they sat quietly for a while and then, as if sluice gates had opened, every minute, every second of his first ever visit to the Peoples Republic of China filled the Christmas air.
He was glad to be home.
No one would ever know just how glad.
The story of his 'close shave' with imprisonment and possible execution served him well for years as an after dinner anecdote.
Please leave your comments - good or bad I don't mind.
