The Double-Dix—We mission staffers were forever learning little Chinese tidbits from our beloved and inimitable C. C. Chang. I still have the brush, tray, and ink-stick I purchased so that he could teach me the rudiments of their calligraphy. A pursuit on which I never really followed through, alas.
About this time, his instruction took on a particular urgency, for the final Parisian Double-Dix was approaching. That’s the Tenth of October, Nationalist Chinese Revolution Day—their Fourth, Fourteenth, and Twenty-Fourth of July, all rolled into one. At the end of this year, moreover, the mainland Chinese were taking over the Embassy at the intersection of the Avenues George V and des Champs-Élysées. So, this was going to be the Taiwan regime’s last hurrah in Paris, which Chang reckoned we wouldn’t want to miss. And all we’d need, he said, would be the ability to say, in recognizable Mandarin, “I’m with Chang!”
|
Chi Cheong Chang, in businesslike mode
|
Had it written down phonetically, but the transcription hasn’t survived, either on paper or in memory. But we had it down cold for the one evening when it mattered. Not that we were challenged all that rigorously: those folks are rightly famous for their hospitality, and we found ourselves caught up in about as diverse and happy a crowd as I’ve ever witnessed. The six (or so) palatial floors of the Embassy building were packed with people, entertainments, and FOOD. Fabulous buffet tables everywhere. Chinese opera (never a primary favorite, may I confess?) either live or on film on at least three levels. Constrained only by mission rules and finite gastric capacity, we enjoyed this all-out manifestation of the current incarnation of a very old people’s national pride.
|
