May 13, 2009
Laowai Idol Los Angeles
Longtime readers of DfCt will remember that about two years ago our friend Michael competed in a televised Chinese Language and Talent Competition in Beijing where foreigners hoping to become China’s Next Top Laowai sang, rapped, crosstalked, and fan-danced their way to superstardom. Compared to that gala CCTV spectacular, the 8th Annual Chinese Bridge Chinese Proficiency for Foreign College Students contest that I attended last weekend was clearly the bush-leagues, but, considering that it occurred on the less-talent-show-loving side of the Pacific Ocean, the two events were cut from very much the same cloth.
Our relationship with the CBCPFCS began on Thursday when Katie got home from her Chinese class at Los Angeles Community College. Her teacher was apparently going to be on the judging panel and was being pressured to find more students. He in turn pressured Katie into competing. She in turn signed me up. Stupid guanxi.
Two days later, we showed up at the Chinese consulate not knowing what to expect. However, for better or worse, the setup inside was eerily familiar. It was spooky how accurately they’d managed to replicate in America every ceremony I ever attended in Xi’an: the white tablecloths, the faux wood paneling, the podium, the official making an opening and closing speech, the handshaking, the picture-taking.
I’m not sure how the organizers felt about us. On the one hand, we made competitors 7 and 8, so participation would have been even thinner without us. On the other hand, our presence was effectively a mockery. This was after all, primarily a Chinese-speaking contest, and we don’t really speak Chinese. Not too long into the first participant’s round, I knew we were in trouble. Not only would comparing her language skills to ours be like comparing apples to childishly scrawled crayon drawings of oranges, but we were fundamentally unprepared for the second and third rounds: a talent portion and a Q&A. I’d resigned myself to a painful ordeal, but not this painful.
When the time came, Katie managed to tell a fairly impressive little story about making Thanksgiving dinner and stumbled admirably through the Q&A, but she begged out of the talent round. I decided to go the opposite direction. I knew there was only one way out of the jam I’d found myself in, and it didn’t involve improvising a speech. It was time to break out my rendition of “The East is Red.” This never failed to bring down the house in China. I always worried it might be offensive, but every time I performed it publicly (forced singing happens more often than you would think in China), it was always a hit. So when my turn came, I pushed the podium aside and raised my palm like that painting of Mao and went through all three verses. “The Communist Party is like the Sun. Wherever it shines, it gets brighter.”
The judges loved it, but not enough to send me to Beijing to compete in the Worldwide Laowai Idol championships; that prize went to a girl with an admittedly awesome kung fu routine. But one of the judges came over to Katie and me afterwords and told us “good for you for trying, that’s the important thing,” and we each got a baseball cap with Beibei on it, the least popular of the five Olympic mascots.
A fish with lipstick? Beibei is obviously the consolation Fuwa