Goodbye to the baguette, hello to bamboo: the epic journey of the pandas
It seems that the panda diplomacy trend has its terms and conditions, and our beloved French plantigrades have just reached the final chapter of the contract. Huan Huan and Yuan Zi, the couple who put France on the map for bamboo lovers, have packed up their more than thirteen years of fame and are heading back home. The official reason? A golden retirement in the land where they were born. Because, of course, at 17 years old (which in panda years is like having lived through three complete reigns) one already deserves luxury care and to stop posing for tourists.
The Beauval Zoo, which without them will be a little emptier and a little less profitable, organized an emotional farewell at Charles de Gaulle airport. Our intrepid travelers were packed in luxurious white boxes with little windows and even a “Bon voyage” wish. One can almost imagine them looking out the plane window, wondering if China will still remember their French accent. The zoo’s director, Rodolphe Delord, explained with the solemnity of a statesman that “they reach an age that requires highly specialized care.” Translation: they are no longer fit for daily entertainment and it is better that they retire with dignity before their kidney problems become an international drama.
A diplomatic gift to first class passengers
In case anyone was not aware of the business, for decades China handed out panda bears as if they were free samples of a new product. It was the famous panda diplomacy, a way of saying “we are friends” without having to sign boring treaties. Now, things are more sophisticated: they are rented for specific periods and, when they complete their cycle, they return home. A living subscription system, we could say. Huan Huan and Yuan Zi were true ambassadors of luxury, leaving behind three offspring: Yuan Meng, the first-born who has already been repatriated, and the twins Huanlili and Yuandudu, who remain in France to continue enchanting the 1.9 million annual visitors. Are we betting the zoo is already negotiating an extension for the little ones?
The most ironic thing about the matter is that, despite their celebrity status, they travel like any other passenger: in a box. Of course, with holes to breathe, because no matter how famous they are, they still need oxygen. Their new home will be the Chengdu Giant Panda Breeding Research Base, a name so long it almost justifies the 12-hour trip. There, they promise, “they will continue raising awareness among visitors.” Or what is the same: they will change the French tourists for Chinese, but the job of posing lazily will be exactly the same.
Meanwhile, in the wild, some 2,000 pandas try to blend in, probably laughing at their captive cousins who have had to learn French. With some 500 in captivity around the world, it’s clear that the business of iconic conservation is in full swing. One wonders if these bears, in their private moments, don’t pine for the good old days when being a panda simply meant eating bamboo in peace, without having to represent the geopolitical interests of a nation.
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