Chinese gift-giving traditions leave expats appreciative, awkward.

Last week, after months of hard work, my company finally signed a long overdue cooperation agreement with our Chinese partner. After the requisite baijiu toasts, we received another token of gratitude: tickets to the Chinese University Magician Competition Extravaganza. The extravaganza featured 32 of the best college magicians from the Chinese mainland, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Macau, and was broadcast on CCTV, which meant a producer was stationed at my seat to make sure I was smiling and clapping in all the laowai cutaways. By about the fifth hour, I had seen more scarves, fans, confetti and fake mechanical pigeons emerge from sleeves than I thought possible in the life of one man.

When telling others about the show, I found that the experience, far from being singular, is a type that binds together members of the international community. Everyone seems to have a story about being forced to drink excessively, sing excessively or excessively watch Fuwa dancing on stage with actors dressed like young Temujin Khan.

“China Radio International shuttled us out to an imitation chateau in Shunyi for a Spring Festival banquet they decided to hold at 10:00 a.m.,” Ashley Eldridge, a CRI host, tells me. “When we arrived, we were forced to walk down a red carpet, pose and answer questions about our outfits. All this, naturally, was beamed into the ballroom on massive projection screens for the viewing pleasure of the three people who actually cared enough to look up.”

It’s not a one way street, though. Westerners are not innocent of packaging culture and calling it gifts. “My American friends in Hawaii never really took me to any sorts of awkward performances or exhibitions,” said Tang Honghong, a Chinese journalist at the China Daily, “but this one who was really into Grease and James Dean gave me a thick leather jacket—which would have been really nice, except, you know, we were still in Hawaii.”

Jonathan Haagen