Whenever something special happens in China, you give “The Red Envelope”. This is the envelope that you put money to give to the special recipient.
It could be a birthday (initial or otherwise), a marriage, a special holiday, graduation, someone’s new home – whatever. You just run out and buy the envelope, stuff it with cash and give to someone. It’s called a Hang Bou (pronounced “Hang” like “Long” with an "H"; Bao like in the Bow of a ship).

She is a tiny little thing. Maybe 5 feet tall. Maybe 75 Lbs - maybe.
Cute as a button. The bubbliest personality you can find and in general, just somebody you want to pack up and take back to the States with you. She is also phenomenal at her job!
So I decided to take her out to dinner to celebrate her marriage before I leave . Two of our other Associates are going with us to help translate. Li Pei is learning English, but hasn’t learned enough to hold a real conversation – and we know my Chinese is the same.
I knew I need to get a Hang Bou to give to her and I was pretty sure I could get one from the hotel. Last night, I worked late (yes, that DOES happen on occasion, thank you very much) and arrived to the hotel after 09:00, so I headed straight for the lounge to get a drink and asked Linda (our favorite bartendress) if she could help me get
a Hang Bou (since she also has responsibility for running the hotel gift shop a few feet away across the lobby). She thought a moment and said, “Yes. You want American or Paragon (hotel name)?” I figured the hotel Hang Bou would have the hotel logo, and I didn’t really want that, and since I am American, I figured that is the best choice so I said, American.
She makes a quick phone call and tells me “Maybe Hour Half” which means wait a half hour. 
I asked why we couldn’t go get it right now, and she smiles and said something totally not understood, so I repeated my question and began to move in the direction of the gift shop hoping she would understand I was ready now and that's when then she puts both hands on my shoulders, pushes down towards my chair, and firmly but laugingly says “You sit! Half hour!”
That’s when I realize, duh, there are other customers in the lounge who likely need her attention, so I quickly agree and decide to wait. So I sat.
Linda does indeed tend to the other customers, and when satisfied with their status, walks up and says “Go to Shop”. So we walk over to the gift shop, she pulls one out and asks “Is for baby?”
“No” I reply, “For marriage.” She gets a different one (with hotel logo of course), and says “For you. No charge.” I thank her as we walk back to the lounge where I discover a plate with hamburger/fries from the western restaurant waiting at my seat.
“What’s this? I didn’t order a hamburger. I ate at work.”
She looks puzzled and says “You asked for American Han Bou”. “No, I didn’t I wanted a Hang Bou”
Then it hits home … Hamburger in Chinese is Han Bou (notice no “g” at the end). Remember when I say my Chinese is no good? My verbal version of Hang Bou sounded like Han Bou to her – so I got a red envelope Hang Bou and an American hamburger Han Bou!
She feels terrible about the confusion and says “My mistake. I pay.”
“No, no, no! You will not pay this!” I protest (knowing that in China, there is no such thing as a “mistake”; if it gets ordered – somebody pays). If the waitress makes a mistake; she pays. And I will have no part of that, so I paid the bill anyway. She still felt bad for the error so she gave me a free beer (which I know she paid for – but at least that’s less Yuan than the burger).
So, in the end, I got my red envelope “Hang Bou” for free (Linda probably paid for that, too), I paid for an American hamburger “Han Bou” which I left for her to eat (it was covered in plastic so she set it aside and I’m pretty sure she ate it), and a free beer.
Later on, Tang Lei (again, "tang" like "long" with an "L", Lei as in pay) from the 1.5 restaurant came up to visit with me and had a tremendous laugh as Linda re-told her the story of the Hang Bou. They made me practice over and over and over.
Hang Bou.
Hang Bou.
1 comment:
Remember MaMa's story of "you bought a car from Boris Karloff" instead of a "used car lot"?!
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