Once a year, every diplomatic mission puts on a national day reception to celebrate their big important “look we’re a country now!” day in which they beat some enemy, gained independence (usually from that same enemy), and acquired a new flag with pretty colors that represent precious ideals. I recently attended one at the Turkish Embassy in Mexico City where ceremonious diplomats, sparkling celebrities, opportunistic social climbers and local nabobs were in full attendance, eager to be photographed and published in local high-society columns while ingurgitating masses of free food on the side.
Generally each national day event bears certain regional idiosyncracies. For example, whereas miserly European diplomatic missions count every penny that goes into every ounce of fun that their ministry has apportioned as part of their entertainment budget for their national day parties, Turkish embassies are famous for putting on big, fat no-holds barred feasts with shit-loads of food and booze that make them perennial favorites on the annual diplomatic calendar. Asian embassies have lots of good food too, but you have to endure tacky furniture and bad lighting and a giant bowl of pink rosewater-flavored milk sitting on a table decorated with gold ribbons and flower petals, along with the fact that everyone’s shy and nervous because there’s usually no alcohol, all of which makes them a case study in boringdomness.
That being said, there are also certain arcane rules of conduct at diplomatic functions that universally hold true no matter what embassy function you attend.
The first rule is that everyone has to act like they’re great friends. That explains why on the 29th of October the Greek ambassador was there in front of me warmly congratulating the Turkish ambassador on his nation’s having kicked the Greeks’ asses to create Turkey, just as the Turkish ambassador would have been present at the Greek embassy reception on the 25th of March to congratulate the Greek ambassador on their nation’s having kicked the Turks’ asses to create Greece. But if your countries have no diplomatic relations, then you actually have to ignore each other, which explained why His Excellency the Iranian ambassador (a grown adult) and His Excellency the U.S. ambassador (another grown adult) were both acting like the other didn’t exist. Seriously. Remember kindergarten, when you pretended your friend was invisible after you’d had some kind of falling out over a chocolate bar or something? It was just like that.
Secondly, nobody can ever say what they mean or mean what they say, since the first thing a diplomat must master is the art of periphrasis. For example, when I (for the sake of amusement to relieve the nausea of having to endure cheese, alcohol and halitosis-flavored dialogue that generally occurred three inches from my face) mentioned to a Venezuelan diplomat how the Spanish king told the Venezuelan president to shut up at an official conference, he said something to the effect of “We sincerely believe that this unfortunate incident between our two peace-loving leaders will not do any harm in terms of furthering the brotherly bonds that unite our two nations and…” before I knew it I’d forgotten my own name! I then asked him if he didn’t think it was strange that countries still had kings with crowns on their heads ruling over them, but he deftly excused himself in a way that seemed polite yet determined, even though you could tell he was dying to rip the Spanish king a new metaphorical asshole. He was very good at his trade.
Thirdly, you have to act respectful of every nationality you meet. For example, when you meet the Pakistani ambassador, you do not break the ice with, say, "Hi there, your meaningless country was created as a gigantic islamic theme park for Jinnah's enormous ego to play follow-the-leader in, and the name Pakistan - 'the land of purity' - is the biggest oxymoron since two morons sat on an ox. Oh well, at least it's doing well now with a thriving economy, democracy and... oh wait, no it isn't! It sucks! Why don't you just put the image of a nuclear bomb on your flag instead, since it's the only thing you can be even mildly proud of?" Instead you start the conversation with, say, "We've been following the recent events in Pakistan with concern, but I believe that in the end common sense and the rule of law will prevail and prove your country a better place, having stood the test of..." you know, blah blah blah. Act like you have some respect.
Fourthly, the patina of refinement at these cocktails is actually a clever disguise under which guests can indulge in the gluttonous ingesting of as many hors d’oeuvres and as much free booze as possible. You could tell who the seasoned cocktail-goers were, because they were crowded around the kitchen door, knowing that to really come out trumps in the merciless competition for limited resources you have to stand as near the food source as possible to get first dibs. I once saw a documentary in which Dutch scientists left a pile of fruit for a bunch of chimps who then tried to stuff as many bananas and oranges as they could between each finger and toe to the point that they couldn’t even walk back to their camp, completely incapacitated by their own greed. Well, this Turkish embassy cocktail was just like that, but with neckties and jewelry which gave it the semblance of a civilized confab, even as orts of food were flying between liberally perfumed and heavily maquillaged faces, while baklava syrup from tilted plates held by inebriated hands formed little puddles of sugary deliciousness on the parquet tiles below as a xanthodantic old lady told me about her soap-opera actor nephew (which is, apparently, the logical segue that comes to mind after you tell someone you’re a writer). Binge eating, free alcohol and small talk is a volatile mix.
Finally, you have to be skilled at cocktail mingling. If you don’t know how, then just watch the diplomats, who are as masterful in the art of social circumambulation as they are in that of political circumlocution. Here’s how it works: you get introduced to somebody whom you act like you’re very happy to meet and proceed to tell each other what you do for a living. Then you take turns mentioning all the people you think you might know in common. Having established a common acquaintance, you engage in a laudatory 30-second repartee about that person. Then as soon as you spot somebody else you know who’s within a two-meter radius, you grab that person and introduce him/her to the one you’re talking to, and as they settle into their own oppressive cocktailversation, you say you have to locate someone (say a name, like “I have to find Mr. Lafayette!”, there's almost always a Mr. Lafeyette), after which you go off and get a drink (stand near kitchen door) before setting out to find the token hot single person who’s about your age, and is hopefully as drunk and bored as you are.
Leave the party with that person if you can.
