Room Service (4 page)

Hi Chief,

Why did I choose Switzerland for my vacation? The Swiss believe they can survive a nuclear war. I like that kind of positive, forward thinking. Also you get more Benedictine abbeys per kilometre in Switzerland, according to the Michelin Green Guide. J-O-K-E. I don't go in for gothic cathedrals and Benedictine abbeys as much as I did once.

I really went to Switzerland because the swizzlestick was invented there and I'm something of a cocktail-bar cowboy as well as a nightclub roundsman. It comes from the slurring of the word ‘switzer', the old word for a Swiss. Unfortunately the Swizzlestick Museum was closed.

But also being something of a bushman I did go to the Festival of the Swiss Army Knives. The Festival is held in the village of Zug where the men and women from the village wear giant replicas of the thirty or so different types of Swiss army knife, made from wood, aluminium, plastic. Actually, the knives now aren't so much ‘army' – it's more the Swiss civilian knife. There is a knife for every purpose: the fisherman's knife, the camper's knife, the waiter's knife, the sailor's knife and so on. There is even a princess's knife. Well, the
people of the village dress up as a knife with their blades and tools and cork screws sticking out and all with distinctive caps or clothing denoting their function as a knife. So the villagers who come as the waiter's knife have trays and a napkin over their arms, as well as being inside the knife replica. With their blades and tools sticking out they look like a procession of hedgehogs. The other villagers come in costume as the objects of the knives' desires, so to speak, dressed as corks, bottle tops, fish, cans, tomatoes. There were also two or three village humourists who came as cut fingers. One had a large replica of a Band-aid around the replica of the cut finger. One had a device that oozed stage blood. The cut fingers received loud applause from the spectators. Then followed nice folk dances and songs including the famous Dance of the Swiss Knives and it's all rather wonderful.

After the parade and the dancing in the village square there is a feast with the usual barrels of beer and casks of wine. By nightfall the knives have got a little drunk and begin chasing the bottle tops, corks and cans and so on. There are some real cut fingers, even cut throats, later in the night.

They have a regional expression, ‘As mad as a cut Zug'. I left. I'd been drinking with the lady's purse knife and it was becoming a little dangerous.

At the Festival it is possible to order a custom-made knife. I, of course, did just that. They measure your fingers and palm of your hand so that the knife they make fits well into the hand and has the correct balance.
You select which tools you want to have on the knife. I'm having mine made with hollow handles that can be filled with cognac and with two small cups that screw into one end. At the other end there will be a small peanut dispenser. The knife also has an electronic calculator that tells you what to tip in which country for which products and services (and a long, pointed flick blade for bell captains who think they haven't been tipped enough). The people from Victorinox – one of the companies that make the Swiss Army Knives – are going to call it the Blase Disconsolate Traveller's Knife.

Hard Work Display

In Lucerne I went to the Hard Work Display (Arbeit Macht Frei). The Swiss are very good workers and proud of it and at the display they demonstrate some of the ancient skills and practices of hard work, showing children what it was like to work hard in the olden days before morning and afternoon breaks, the three-hour lunch, cigarettes, lavatories, and personal telephone calls. They showed someone answering the telephone before it had rung thirty or forty times, which I found truly amazing. I hadn't seen that done for a long time. There was an automated model of a shop assistant who, when you activated the display by pushing the button, used the quaint old expression, ‘No problems – we'll do that for you while you wait', which I hadn't heard for some years. Some of the children visiting the display were disbelieving. There was also an office without
a clock where the workers began work at sunrise and stopped at sunset and automated models of employees who went to the washrooms to get ready to leave
after
the finishing time. Some of the countries where these practices have disappeared organise bus tours to the display. There are other things like specimen jars of sweat. I recommend the display to Australians visiting Europe but I have to warn that it's fairly exhausting.

Medieval Watch Towers are Good Value

So far the best travel tip in Switzerland – for guys with tastes like mine, anyhow – are the medieval watch towers. You know, they built them in towns and villages to look out over the countryside for many kilometres to watch for the arrival of tourist carriages so that the townspeople could prepare for yet another bunch of weary travellers unfamiliar with the currency, and hence the olde travellers' expression ‘they saw you coming'. Well, my advice is to find one of these towers – every olde town has one – and climb (good exercise) the 100 metres or so up the narrow spiral inner staircases, but do this at 10 a.m. or 2 p.m. on a weekday during school term – avoid the school vacation. At about this time you have a very good chance that a bus load or two of school girls will arrive and begin filing up the narrow staircase. You can then begin your descent. Not to everyone's taste, perhaps, but it gave me a buzz. Frankly, it was the highlight of the trip. More fun than being chased by a drunken Swiss army knife.

Michelin Guide Inspector's Conference

In Geneva I was fortunate to come in on the last few days of the Michelin Inspectors' Conference. They were arguing over revisions to new editions of the guides. There were those who argued against the emphasis on abbeys and cathedrals and who wanted more battle fields and bullet-riddled, blood-stained uniforms of archdukes.

Readers will be interested to know that the Michelin Working Party on Australia again decided not to put out a Michelin Guide to Australia because there were insufficient Benedictine abbeys and crusader castles and no blood-stained uniforms of archdukes available in Australia to fill a Michelin Guide. The Aboriginal people have a lot to answer for – having failed to construct one single crusader fort or gothic cathedral in the 50 000 years they have allegedly been in the country. The Michelin people were absolutely bewildered about the fact that the Aboriginal people haven't got one ruin. I suppose they could begin making some. That's not a bad idea.

Finishing School for Unfinished People

There's now a Swiss Finishing School in Geneva for mature-aged people who haven't quite matured. It's for people who were late getting started with life. There are courses for people who were too busy to learn the art of living or didn't have the right upbringing. People like me who grew up in a shoe box. There's a special intensive course for people who simply aren't very
good at living. It teaches you things like how to use a bidet, how to play roulette, the firm handling of bell captains, how to win at poker games played on trains.

The Free Drugs Trip

My other Swiss experience was a factory tour of Roche, the drug manufacturer. You are given a fascinating sample kit of their drugs to take away with you. And you get to sample all sorts of mood-changing chemicals. You can volunteer to join their drug trials program and get free courses of experimental drugs and at the same time participate in the advancement of medicine. I volunteered for the traveller's drug trial. Roche are developing a drug that purifies water, neutralises harmful bacteria in food, lowers Traveller Paranoia, suppresses anxiety, releases energy, clarifies the mind, inhibits flight dysrhythmia, stops diarrhoea, prevents foot ache in art galleries, and gives the traveller a stable sense of euphoria and confidence, exuding at the same time an aura that repells bores and malaria-carrying mosquitoes and attracts interesting, influential English-speaking nationals in bars.

Of course, the drug is in its early developmental stage. They hope, though, to get it together in one tablet taken daily. I've begun the trial and will let readers know my reports to Roche over the following year. I'll let you Roche my readers … I'll effect my Roche tests on the readers … I'll …

As a cultural delegate, Blase tried always to read the protocol guides to the sensitivities and customs of other nationalities. Although he knew in his heart that he was a bad cultural delegate he did, at least, worry about protocol.

He knew, for instance, that the Chinese were punctual and took speech-making and banqueting seriously. This pleased Blase, himself no mean banqueter back home and also known as something of a speech-maker. He knew that the Chinese did not dress formally and Blase decided to confine himself to an elegantly-tailored Mao jacket and cap from Bucks of Melbourne.

He knew that when the Chinese clap you, you are expected to clap them in return. With the Chinese you avoided excessive physical contact and boisterous behaviour. He knew about giving gifts to institutions and not to individuals and that expensive gifts such as automobiles and computers were embarrassing to the Chinese (advice that came as a relief to Blase, who liked to travel ‘heavy', but not that heavy).

He knew not to tip and he knew not to give the Chinese nicknames. He knew not to display affection publicly and not to show anger either to other members of the delegation or towards the Chinese. There were
to be no punch-ups. He knew there was also to be no public drunkenness and that the Chinese were moralistic about sex. And guests leave banquets ten minutes after the hot towels.

So although he was no good at inspecting things, could not remain attentive and questioning for long periods and had no interest in magnificent scenery, Blase at least knew his protocol.

Consequently, Blase went to his first banquet in his elegant Mao jacket and cap and with a pocketful of cheap kangaroo pins and was devastated when the Chinese turned up in dinner suits. They were also a bit drunk, slapped everyone on the back, threw food at each other, kissed him on the mouth, grabbed his genitals at every occasion and asked not too subtly for gifts, including automobiles and motorbikes.

He was offered sex, and the party did not stop ten minutes after the hot towels, but went on into the early hours. Later they all crept into an army barracks and stole a People's Liberation Army flag.

Next day in the bar of the Jing Jiang Club, recovering from his hangover, Blase, in his food-stained Mao jacket and cap, asked his Guide what had gone wrong. Blase had a profound sense of cultural confusion. The Guide was still drunk and they had shaken off the rest of the delegation, who were wandering lost in the alleys of Shanghai.

At first the Guide wouldn't explain, but after being given a Chinese burn he revealed that the Chinese, too,
had been briefed on protocol for handling Australians. The Guide gave Blase a translation.

Australians are easy-going about time and punctuality and consider it over-conscientious to be on time. To be late is to protest against despotic employers.

Australian men like to dress up in dinner suits as a way of aping their former aristocratic rulers. Australians enjoy physical contact and there are hotels in Australian cities where men go to kiss other men and hold hands; likewise women. This is becoming the custom.

Australians like to tip and give gifts as a way of showing their generosity, as a way of rewarding good service and as a way of aiding poor nations.

Australians like to break time-honoured rules and customs as a way of showing their independence from the chains of the past – for example, climbing to the top of a sacred monument and placing a beer can there, stealing a Chinese flag from an army barracks, diving into ponds and trying to catch century-old goldfish. This is called Larri-kin-ism.

Australians are accustomed to indulging their sexual appetites at every available opportunity, especially while travelling in other countries, which is considered to be a ‘holiday from marriage'. Singsong girls should be found for Australian males and Chinese studs for Australian women.

Australians like to make jokes at each other, which is called ‘taking the mick-ie'. Australian men sometimes grab each other's genitals as a gesture of comradeship known as Goo-sing.

Australian women like to take off their tops at every opportunity for sunbathing and prefer not to wear bras. But Chinese men should practise the Three Nos laid down by the last People's Congress – ‘No staring, No touching and No funny business'.

Australian language is rich in animal imagery and so they say horsing around, goo-sing, snake in the pocket, no bull-defecation and they like to go on what they call pussy hunts. Australians become angry if they think that a person is bull-defecating.

Australians are artistic people who sometimes build elaborate sculptures from beer bottles or beer cans while drinking. They will sometimes take the Guide's hat and throw it around, one to the other, but this must be seen as a need to release excess energy from a high-protein diet and short working week.

Australian men are also forever fly-checking. This is not a sexual gesture but an old horse-riding custom to reassure themselves that no injury has befallen that part.

Australian men may be observed smelling bicycle seats because, as a nation of horsemen (see film,
The Man from Snowy River
), the smell of the bicycle seat reminds them of the saddle of the horse back home, which they miss.

Souveniring: Australians come from a penal colony and, as a remembrance of their ancestors, still like to practise ‘symbolic theft' as a gesture against the rich. They will often take things they do not need from a public place; for example, you may see them trying to take a park bench home. Pay no heed.

When doing business with Australians, Chinese should beware of the saying, ‘I'll toss you double or nothing'.

Beware of such Australian expressions as ‘Let's talk about it over lunch' (they will try to get you drunk), ‘Let's leave the details to the accountants', ‘Of course there is a little something in it for you', ‘We don't want the taxman getting his hungry little hands on any of it', ‘I don't think there's any need to put that in writing', ‘One for you, one for me and one for the family trust', ‘I have a little off-shore company that handles those problems', ‘Something's come a little unstuck but it's all under control – my MD does what I tell him', ‘We're in a grey area but that's my reading of the investment guidelines – let's give it a punt', and ‘We'll handle the documentation at our end if you like'.

Never do business with an Australian who says ‘no worries' a lot.

That the Chinese knew so much about the Australian soul plunged Blase into deep gloom, and he and the Guide stayed in the Jing Jiang Club for two days playing billiards with the New Zealand Female Steeple-Jumping Delegation.

From the Leader of the Delegation

The members of the delegation feel that Francois Blase should not be a cultural delegate in future. Or, in fact, represent his country in any capacity.

While abroad, he mopes in his room too much. He
is apathetic about scenery. He does not seem to know what to say about scenery. He sometimes refuses to look at it. He says it makes him ‘ineffably sad'.

He does not know the words of Waltzing Matilda. He is uncertain about how much iron ore Australia produced last year. He often will not come out of his room despite efforts by the Leader of the Delegation and the Guide. He pretends to be ill.

He refused to go into an ancient Buddhist temple built without the use of nails, ‘Because,' he said, ‘if a Buddhist temple is going to fall, it will be me it falls on.' Sometimes he refuses to leave the car saying that he ‘will watch from the window'. While the rest of the delegation goes inspecting, he drinks beer with the driver and listens to the car radio.

When our hosts ask the delegation what it is they would like to see, Blase says ‘anything with blood on it'. He asks to be taken to war museums and museums of the people's uprising, knowing full well that cultural delegations are about peace and friendship and not about how many rounds a minute the AK-47 fires.

He spends days at a time in the Jing Jiang Club and such places with the New Zealand Female Steeple-Jumping Delegation. He does Chinese breathing exercises to the embarrassment of his hosts. He smuggles things in and out of countries using his Official Passport. Some days he asks no questions. He hums the song ‘Moon River' to annoy the rest of the delegation. He seems morbidly interested in starvation and infant mortality.

He embarrasses the Guide by asking all the time about what he calls ‘jig jig'. He makes long speeches at the banquets out of turn and alludes to ‘dark things of the soul'. At the performance of
The Official and His Five Daughters
by the all-female cast of the Hangzhou Opera Company, he went backstage and pursued the juvenile lead and persisted in inviting her back to the hotel for ‘supper'.

In Shanghai he invited the Jolly Cooks and the Jumps From the Spring Board Performers back to the hotel after the acrobatics and we've heard that the Jolly Cooks did not appear the following night (the first performance they've missed since the troupe was formed twelve years ago). They kept the whole hotel awake singing ‘Moon River'.

On the train trip to Guiling he took out a pack of cards and went ‘looking for some action'. We did not see him for sixteen hours and we heard that he taught poker to the attendants and won from them the equivalent of their year's wages. When we remonstrated with him about this he said: ‘That's what I call cultural exchange.'

His business card is supposed to be ‘amusing' but leaves much to be desired in the area of good taste. Loosely translated, it says something like ‘Master of Jig Jig'.

Enclosed is a recording of a ‘cultural exchange' Blase had with a Mr Cao in Beijing, which we submit as supporting evidence:

‘Tell me, Mr Cao, in our country we have a saying that the hunter must know the animal he stalks. Do you think that is the purpose of cultural exchange? Is that what our leaders have in mind?'

The Guide translates. Mr Cao laughs and then replies in Chinese.

Guide: Mr Cao says yes, we too hunt in the outer provinces. The peasants hunt for hare.

Blase: I do some hunting myself. Do you need a licence to own a gun in China?

Mr Cao laughs and replies.

Guide: Mr Cao says that in our country we have a saying: ‘The dogs bark, the caravan moves on.' Do you have such a saying?

Blase: We say that the dog that does not bark may still bite. I see very few dogs in your country. I believe they are eaten.

The Guide translates. Mr Cao laughs and replies. Guide: Mr Cao says that in your country he believes dogs are raced for amusement.

Blase: Does Mr Cao eat dogs?

The Guide translates. Mr Cao laughs and replies. Guide: Mr Cao says it is too early to eat, but if you are hungry he will buy an ice on the stick. Do you have ice on the stick in your country?

Blase: We have 200 varieties of ice on the stick, including one called Dracula's Blood.

The Guide translates. Mr Cao laughs and replies. Guide: Mr Cao says we have a folk tale called the Ice
Fairy in which a young man falls in love with a beautiful woman, not knowing that she is made of ice. In the spring … But it is a long story and a sad story. We do not have time.

Blase: We have women made of ice in our country. The Guide translates. Mr Cao laughs and replies. Guide: Mr Cao is surprised you have ice in your country. We believe it to be desert.

Blase: We have mountains on the coast. But there is much desert and it could not support a large population – if a large population suddenly were to come there. What calibre shot gun does Mr Cao have?

The Guide translates. Mr Cao laughs and replies. Guide: Mr Cao says he owns a 12-gauge Winchester over and under. He says why don't we stop this faeces about folk tales and iron ore production and grab a couple of dozen cold cans and go shoot everything that moves in the forest.

Blase: Tell Mr Cao that suits me fine.

Mr Blase and Mr Cao then left the party and refused to rejoin it for the completion of the day's itinerary. They allegedly shot beer cans in the Forest of International Harmony.

We recommend that Francois Blase not represent Australia on any further delegations. If the Department receives letters approving of Mr Blase from Mr Cao, the Jolly Cooks, the Jumps From the Spring Board Performers or the juvenile lead of the Hangzhou
Opera, we suggest they be evaluated in the light of this report.

 

(signed) Leader of the Delegation