The venue: one of the best Cantonese restaurants, in the old US Embassy compound. Dinner proceeds. I excuse myself to call Mother Ship, in yet another long and boring conference call with the Powers That Be. Dinner's over by the time I come back.
Adieus exchanged. The Philistine turns around and says, "I need a drink". I said I was rather amenable to that thought. Then he said "I feel like puking, I can't get the taste of this horrible food out of my food"! He then proceeded to name all the gross stuf Chinese eat, and how bad it tasted. This was the second time I heard this rant, the first being after roughly 2 hours in Shanghai several months ago.
I said, "But you French eat fattened geese liver. Among other things." After a pause, and a thoughtful "hmmm... you are right", we proceeded to down the free drinks that Barclays was supplying us on the rooftop next door. Or maybe it was the International Social Derivatives Association.
Whatever, the distinct advantage of being (and looking) foreign is that if there is an expat party, you must be part of it, ergo, the doors open.
Was there a point to this post? Ah yes: for the record the food there was excellent, and sometimes it surprises me how seemingly cosmopolitan and well-traveled people can be so juvenile and quick to put down stuff, sounding downright bigoted (I have not written about his caricature of speech, mannerisms and other stuff).
I am glad I am a lot more culturally sensitive.
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