An Encounter at Heathrow

爱国爱港

http://hk-magazine.com/city-living/column/encounter-heathrow

An Encounter at Heathrow
By Chip Tsao | Sep 05, 2013

The end of August is a lucrative time for the Hong Kong-London route for both British Airways and Cathay Pacific. Like the mass migration of geese and swallows for warmer countries, the rich and upper middle class Hong Kong siblings return to Britain. I was recognized by a few Hong Kong youngsters at London Heathrow Airport immigration early in the morning last week, who invited me to pose with them for shots on their latest Samsungs and iPhones.  
Upon my further inquiry, they were all boarding school students who had had a great summer vacation with their parents before happily bounding back to Epsom, Brighton, or even Harrow and Rugby.
“You have been very lucky,” I said after receiving their flattering praise for my columns, “treasure your academic time in the UK, join the school cricket or rugby teams, stay away from Hong Kong and mainland Chinese schoolmates as much as you can to avoid the buzzy Cantonese or Putonghua sub-cliques. Concentrate on your Shakespeare rather than reading Apple Daily online for the the latest scandals of CY Leung’s administration. Scandals are not in short supply in the UK anyway. Join the mainstream conversation topics on David Cameron’s parliamentary defeat for trying to send troops to Syria, and learn the paradoxes between liberalism and neo-imperialism. If you don’t get bored by these discussions and quit your summer addictions to Lan Kwai Fong and Taiwanese pop, then you can get more interested in cycling the Mediterranean coast next summer with your British boarding schoolmates—rather than flooding back to Hong Kong to the delight of Cathay shareholders. This is what boarding school education is all about.“
Some of them got the message with a bit of embarrassment, with one being daring enough to retort: “But my dad said it is more useful to befriend a few mainland Chinese classmates. They are all from powerful and rich families. The 21st century belongs to China so such connections are better than those with the British Royal family.”
“I see what you mean. Your dad has been smart to provide that guidance,” I said. “You mean that you should become a close alumnus with a few Bo Guaguas through your boarding school or Oxbridge, and they may reward that British friendship one day with a few property development or oil contracts in Chongqing or Dalian. In that case, your British education in Putonghua on a boarding school campus will indeed plug you into a Chinese treasure-land. Stay in Hong Kong and you have little chance, even if settle on someone like Henry Fok Ying-tung. But the risk of going abroad is also higher. The mother of your best friend in a boarding school could be condemned to death, his father charged with corruption, and a villa where you had a summer orgy in France some years ago could appear on a computer screen in a Chinese courthouse. Then a New York Times reporter or even a Hollywood producer might be seeking an interview with you. These could be the side benefits your smart dad had not expected when he paid for your tuition and boarding fees.”
The kids nodded while asking for my autograph. I wished them well and promised to meet them for a drink at the Dickens Bar over Christmas.