My Chinese week with Elle Macpherson, the Prince of Wales and Tony Blair
Peking In Peking, I took Elle Macpherson to dinner at the ridiculous Lan Club — ridiculous because it is entered from the fluorescent lobby of a nondescript office block, and its owner, a very rich Chinese woman, had spent US$23 million on it — paying Philippe Starck for his signature designs. It is also ridiculous because the massive space is so ostentatiously and extravagantly decked out that it jars in communist China. And lest any Kissingeresque character should repeat his canard that China is no longer communist, they should try standing at Tiananmen Square and just mumbling something derogatory about the Chinese leadership, or loving about the Falun Gong gang. Then they will see if China is still communist or not. The likelihood, or certainty, is that they would be arrested within three seconds and chucked into a Yellow Maria. Let's not forget that in China, the Communist Party owns everything, and the Party ranks above the State. Even though only 4 per cent of the entire Chinese population are Communist Party members, this amounts to around 60 million Commies — no small number.
But back to Elle, whom I have known for as long as her legendary body. It was her first time in China, and she happily stayed at the China Club, a 400-year-old courtyard minipalace that stands in defiance of all the ghastly and mindless skyscrapers that have sprouted up and are still feverishly springing up all over Peking. Those descending on the capital for the Olympics will not fail to notice the sorrowful architecture. My heart aches, not for the nightingale, but for the wanton destruction of old Chinese buildings, especially courtyard houses, and all the magical hutongs, the traditional alleyways, that had for millennia defined the ancient city, 75 per cent of which have now been destroyed.
London In London, the Prince of Wales is well aware of the plight of the dwindling hutongs. His Foundation for the Built Environment (RIBE) has already been to China to work with Chinese experts from the prestigious Tsinghua University in order to find ways of preserving what there is left and resuscitating it with traditional craftsmanship and materials. It might surprise many that he cares so much about such things in faraway China, whose leaders he had likened to those resident at Madame Tussaud's. It might also surprise many that in recent times the Prince of Wales has been embracing and has been embraced by the Chinese community. He is, of course, well-known for being friendly with the Indians, Pakistanis and Muslims but, last Thursday, it was the turn for thousands of Chinese. Accompanied by his wife the Duchess, he came to Gerrard Street and spent over two hours touring the heart of Chinatown. Lots of Chinese turned up, and smiled and shook hands with the royals — almost as if it was a day out of colonial Hong Kong. Behind barriers, many of my compatriots wanted to speak to the Prince, who questioned a man in the crowd: 'Do you work in this country?'
'I pay you tax!' he barked back. It drew a royal chuckle.
An hour later, at lunchtime, the Prince met a few of China's new billionaires at Clarence House. This included Madam Zhang Yin who is the richest woman in China and famous for her business in recycling waste paper. She even buys tons of waste from Britain and ships it back to China and makes recycled cardboard boxes out of it. It's all music to the Prince's big ears, a sign of longevity for the Chinese. In the evening, as if he had not had enough of the yellow peril, the Prince of Wales came to the newly renovated Royal Festival Hall, together with the newly installed Chinese ambassadress, Madam Fu Ying. For the cognoscenti, this was a welcoming sign of detente. Sitting side by side in the royal box, they watched a video in which Jackie Chan invited the Prince to give him a ring for kung-fu lessons! (I wonder whom he would biff first.) They also presided over the presentation of three Chinese awards, followed by musical performances from a couple of extraordinary Chinese musicians, one of whom, only ten years old, dazzled everyone with Shostakovich's first piano concerto with trumpet. The Prince of Wales might well have trumpeted his day as a long march with the Chinese.
Hong Kong In Hong Kong, Julian Schnabel opens a major show of some 36 of his big pieces. It should be a big deal for Hong Kong, as I cannot remember the last time when there was a major exhibition by a well-established living Western artist. But the event does not seem to excite too many locals, certainly not the tycoons nor those in government who pontificate about dispelling the reputation of the territory as a cultural desert. Yet we all understand that for Hong Kong to be an 'international city', it has to be anchored by a distinct sense of culture. But the art of making money seems to remain the favourite pastime by far.
Schnabel is larger than life and a control freak. I watched his extraordinary film The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and was surprised to see how someone from Brooklyn could get all the French nuances so perfectly. I also wondered what would have happened if a Chinese from Hong Kong had contracted that rare disease which paralysed the French editor, who went on to dictate the famous book, on which the film was based, by merely blinking his single working eye. Maybe the hypothetical Chinese could have similarly rolled his eyelid and picked all the right shares on the stock market and made millions for his estate.
But the stock market plunged 5 per cent without any Chinese with any rare disease. Rather, it fell with the arrival of Mr Tony Blair. He himself remembered that when he was last in Hong Kong for the handover of 1997, the market also dived. He must be rather bad feng shui for the territory. Perhaps it's best if he kept away? Not, however, for a special Chinese girl called Mui Mui, who has the extremely rare Harlequin disease. Her skin multiplies ferociously, and she ends up with raw skin. It's a most debilitating condition. I know because I myself had severe psoriasis and even that's 100 times less severe than Harlequin. A very fit and tanned-looking Tony Blair received Mui Mui and cheered her up no end. They took a photo together and the girl will never forget the former PM's visit, irrespective of how the stock market behaves.
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