This morning I woke to quiet, something I am not accustomed to in China. The apartment was empty for the first time since I’ve lived here. Taking advantage of every moment of sublime solitude and scrumptious silence, I toted my MacBook out into the living room and sat up shop on the sofa. This was the first time I’d been able to sit out in a common area and work. Normally, the two girls and their circus-like tomfoolery bombard me, or I’m interrupting either the housekeeper’s nap or the live-in guardian’s yoga routines. Today I had the space to myself and, as a result, got a lot of work done.
As pleasant as these sacred, cloistered hours were, I was still curious as to the reason behind my sudden privacy. When Lucy returned with the girls at 3:15, she informed me that the housekeeper had quit. It is no secret that I did not think she was a great maid, but I was puzzled as to her unexpected departure. It seemed like a breeze of a job, to me. Do a little dusting, make everyone’s laundry stand up by itself, cook smelly Korean food, take long naps on the sofa, and get paid. I shrugged. However, this was not apparently as simple as all that.
I’ve said before that I’m glad I am not the one paying this woman, but now I firmly stand by this statement even more than I did before. Unfortunately, Lucy had given her an advance on her next payment only a few days ago and is now out a considerable amount of money with nothing to show for it. The worst of it: Lucy’s bias against the Chinese has just been – in her mind – further justified. Would I call it racism? Maybe not. Let us just say that, in my experience, the general Korean attitude towards the Chinese is less than affable.
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