SHREDS & Leftovers (english)

Mr. Wu is laughing - Chapter 4

We checked into the Cheng Du "Grand Hotel", a name which showed a completely unembarrassed relationship to the standards usually associated with grand hotels. Later accommodations yet to be experienced would prove to me, however, that everything in life is relative. At least the "Cheng Du Grand" was able to provide hot water for 24 hours straight – for the last time during the next 3 weeks, as it turned out. But I didn't know that yet and was therefore unable to give it the appreciation it deserved.

Our room smelled of smoke and cold cigarettes. Pleasantly we asked the hotel page carrying our suitcases (a service which was also, sadly, no longer offered in the following 3 weeks and I became the bag carrier – the hernia operation is scheduled for my next home leave) for a non-smoking room. "Meiyou", the creatively uniformed young man replied in his most off-handed manner. This was followed by his friendly advice that if we refrained from smoking whilst in the room, we would have our desired non-smoking room.

Meiyou. Contained within this tiny word is a portion of the magic of this fascinating country. Meiyou can mean so much: not available, don't have it, no-can-do, what would you do if we did have it, go away, leave us alone. Yet, beyond the rudimentary 'no' inherent in this word, the word contains human experience from the last five decades. 

Meiyou, spoken with the right combination of grief and triumph, is a comprehensive synonym for the Chinese everyday-philosophy of renunciation and calm. Especially, when the questioner himself, knowing the inevitable and hence anticipating the answer, just attaches it to the end of his question. Then this word focuses on the decade, perhaps century-old knowledge of the uselessness of all appeals and inquiries.

The slow disappearance of this small word is commensurate with the passing of an era, an era of non-consumerism and merciless anti-capitalistic countermeasures which were tried out at length and without much success in this bruised country.

It is no wonder then, that especially the old Chinese continue to cling to this small word, resounding with familiar times long past in the ears of those disappointed by the present. Much clearer than many other words, this magical "meiyou" could unite philosophy and reality in one, as perhaps few other two syllables on earth can do. Perhaps this is also somewhat due to the phonetic similarity of another Chinese standard word, Mao. Meiyou and Mao, two unprepossessing words, symbolizing an entire period whose return is probably not even longed for by Mao's aging, TV-junkie grandson, who is eating himself to old age through a mound of chocolate in an army hospital for famous party members. 

Incidentally, the picture of his grandfather, so much more active in every way, is still recognizable to the general Chinese consumer by his striking portrait on all larger bank notes and as a slang expression for small change.