A famous scene from Dream of the Red Chamber perfectly
described China's rich-poor divide. Peasant Granny Liu is
flabbergasted at the extravagance of her rich relatives' 80-crab
lunch. "I could feed my family for a year with this one lunch," she
exclaimed.
Dream is one of China's four classic novels because of its
insightful social commentary on the haves and have-nots. Those who
can afford to feast on crab banquets and those who could not.
China has been in the grip of crab season, and the little
nippers are as expensive as ever.
My friend Zhu Li went online to buy a special variety and was
quoted 160 yuan (about US$21) for two, plus a delivery fee. It was
out of her reach.
The magazine editorial assistant earns 2,800 yuan a month and
after paying 1,200 yuan rent for her small room in a tiny Beijing
apartment and forking out other living expenses, she is left with
300 yuan a week. Her crab meal would have blown half her weekly
budget.
Last weekend, I met her at one of the capital's leafy parks,
which was kind of like the peaceful gardens in Dream. She was with
her boyfriend, who is nicknamed ET, because of his big head,
according to Zhu's colleague Liu, who joined us. Sam, 25, an
enthusiastic karaoke singer and wannabe pop star, also tagged
along.
Like the characters in Dream, we spent the afternoon enjoying
one another's company and the glorious autumn sunshine. We took
photos of the yellow leaves against the deep blue sky, and when Sam
posed for photos, he strutted a cover model pose. He took it very
seriously, and we all laughed at him. We later drove dodgem cars
and laughed more. We walked along a lake and hard sunlight cast a
mirror of sparkling color across the water. A dozen shades of light
green danced on the ripples to the sound of flutes played by a
musical group who had gathered under trees. Old men wrote
calligraphy with water brushes. Crowds gathered to watch them.
I looked up and noticed a red-colored block of luxury apartments
looming over the park, and I queried the price. About 2 million
yuan, was the consensus. "I reckon they're eating crabs tonight,"
we said.
Afterwards we visited Zhu's shoebox of an apartment and crowded
into her bedroom, which became a mini-dining room. She cooked a
marvelous meal of pork and potato, green vegetables, bread and a
tasty soup. ET brought some special sauce from his home province of
Shandong.
We bought the food from the markets and our little banquet for
five cost about 20 yuan. Two crabs each would have cost 800
yuan.
On the way, we stopped by a real estate agent front window and I
noticed a picture of the apartment building overlooking the park. I
remembered its distinctive red color. "More than 3 million yuan,"
the agent said.
I watched Zhu, ET, Liu and Sam stare at the picture of a luxury
apartment that these young twentysomethings Beijingers would
probably never own.
As I watched my friends hold the 20-yuan bags of groceries and
gaze into that real estate window, I could tell what was in their
minds. They were dreaming of a red chamber.
(China Daily November 8, 2007)
