Black Shoes

In the early seventies, the closest an American could get to China was Taiwan; thus, to learn the language, it was quite natural to go off to study in the Republic of China (not to be confused with the People’s Republic of China). Princeton had an academic relationship with Tunghai University in Taichung, so I went there to teach English and learn Chinese, as was the custom. Several American universities had similar arrangements; thus, there were others like me mixed amongst the Chinese teaching assistants, living in the nan baigong (the male white house). Right across the hall from me was Tom, a student from Oberlin College, who quickly became a pal. There were others from Oberlin on the same program; aside from Tom, I grew particularly fond of Annie and Harry, married students who lived in a little house amongst proper faculty down the road from our dormitory.

As the term wore on, people began discussing holiday plans. It only seemed natural that Tom and I decided to club together for an excursion. A friend of Tom’s in Bangkok had invited him to visit, and I was welcomed to tag along; and Annie, a Hong Kong Chinese, suggested that we drop in on her parents during our maneuvers in Southeast Asia.

With the coming of winter, I understood well why everyone cleared out of the university. Perched on the side of Tatu Mountain beyond the city, the campus caught fierce winds and faced plummeting temperatures. The buildings, though beautifully built in the Tang style, were just not winterized. That the campus could boast I.M. Pei’s first building of distinction, a chapel fashioned after hands clasped in prayer, did little to keep the faithful warm in the winter.

Tom and I came up with a plan to spend both Western and Chinese New Years in Hong Kong with Bangkok sandwiched in between. Annie was so welcoming and breezy about the prospect of our double visits that the notion of imposition, which had kept us tentative about committing, finally evaporated.

“Just give me your arrival details,” was all she ever repeated when we inquired about transport, hotels, sightseeing, etc.

Since we would be spending New Year’s Eve in Hong Kong, as well as some time visiting Tom’s friend in Bangkok—whose father was a senior official with the United Nations in Thailand—the situation probably called for proper clothing. I had one of those machine-washable white Haspel