The Vortext

I’m writing now from the newsroom of China Radio International, where I’m busy polishing news stories for their English service to see whether they think I’m apt for the job and whether I’m at all interested in it. I had an interview here earlier this afternoon with X., the middle-aged woman executive in charge of English-language broadcasting for this government-owned station, after an awesome Aussie, J., whom I met at ’80s Night at Alfa two weeks ago, passed on my resume to her boss. J., obviously, works here already, but as an on-air personality. Pretty cool, huh? Anyway, I’m trying to see if I can work out the details of my already-planned three-week vacation home with them or if that will be an obstacle to this coming through.

In any case, I’m not too worried, since this isn’t my top choice at the moment. That honor goes to the job for which I had an interview yesterday outside at Mexican Wave, a mediocre taco joint on Dongdaqiao Lu across from the Silk Market. That was with M., who’s a writer hired by the Hangzhou city government to author a new travel guide to their city, reputed to be a beautiful city of a few million two hours from Shanghai, known for its gorgeous West Lake and for centuries of history. I would love to get this job, but M., even though she seemed to want to hire me, was worried that the crotchety Chinese suits down in Hangzhou might think I was too young to be up to the task. She’s only 25 herself, so it might be a bit too much for them to have two of us youngsters running the show. Still, I’m having the book I edited sent here via DHL from Amazon in hope of persuading the elderly officials that I’m worthy of this resplendent task.

If I luck out and convince them I’m a professional, I’ll be flown down there for free, put up in nice housing, guided around the city every day by a liaison from the city government, and feted almost nightly at banquets in my honor where I will be forced to consume large amounts of the noxious Chinese booze called baijiu, or “white liquor.” Then I’d be charged with drafting half of this book, a share estimated at about 25,000 words, over the course of the following five weeks or so. I can’t think of a better job to have here–I’d get to see a new place for free, experience a completely different side of Chinese life, get paid to write and photograph, and get drunk with lots of old Chinese men who don’t speak English. What could be better?