Dumpling Drama

Mr. Chang's eyes grew way out of proportion upon learning that I didn't bring a camera crew to the Chinese New Year celebration at Radisson Hotel in Deira.

Earlier that day I had met him at a flower shop and he invited me and Roy to the celebrations, but I decided to bring Fifi along instead, thinking that it wouldn't really matter if Roy didn't show up with his hideous face and even more hideous appetite.

But it did matter to Mr. Chang, who was expecting a full TV coverage of the event. Fifi and I waved hello at him at the entrance of the ballroom. He nodded with a smile and instructed the hotel staff to make way for the camera.

"There is no camera, Mr. Chang," I explained cheerfully.

Then followed the crazy eye moment. For a split second I thought he would open his mouth and pick me up by the nape using giant chopsticks and eat me alive.

He pushed me out the door and yelled, "No! Get camela! Get camela! This is vely impoltant!"

Ooookay. I made a fake phone call to Roy and shook my head.

"No Mr. Chang, the cameraman has gone home already."

In an attempt to mask my agenda (food food food), I took out my notebook and started doodling away. Mr. Chang gave me a big smile and inquired, "You will put it in the newspaper?"
I smiled back and said, "Yes, like in the newspaper."
The word "like" absolved me of guilt of trickery caused by gluttony.

Whew. I thought my dumpling dreams would be zapped by this businessman's disappointment. He gestured for us to come in and led us to our seats, an obscure table near the bar, far from the center of the festivities and near the waiters. We actually didn't mind, because it was right next to the buffet area.

Oookay. I scribbled away as a group of lanky young men performed some kind of kung fu dance that I later on learned was called Wu Shu. I was introduced to a number of prominent Chinese businessmen in Dubai. I furiously pretended to write their names on the pages of my precious notebook given to me by Terri. But I didn't mind wasting paper. It was my responsibility to make sure that Fifi would come out of Radisson well-fed and happy.

Dinner was awesome. Dumplings, vegetables, and lots of wine.

But it turned out, the food wasn't the highlight of our evening. It was two Chinese girls called Alima and Flora. I'm sure those were not their real names, but I admire their audacity to change names for kicks. I spoke to them in Chinese and even sang a Chinese song, Ni Yaw Te Ai, from the sound track of the Taiwanese series Meteor Garden. They loooved me and Fifi.

We exchanged numbers and promised to get together some time. Not bad. A Tsino-Pinoy double date.

We scrammed after dinner and headed straight to the karaoke bar. The karaoke bar experience was... it was sort of... I kind of... ok the truth is, we shut it down.

And at midnight, we decided to do a Cinderella and go home.

Oh Mr. Chang. You made my day.