据美国知名科技博客网站BusinessInsider（简称BI）2月5日报道，英国女子索拉雅•海尔达里（Soraya Heydari）近日向BI讲述了其在中国一个富裕家庭中当保姆的经历。她对中国家庭的富裕情况感到十分震惊，称中国的富豪喜欢奢华，热衷于模仿西式的生活；女主人对子女的教育投入巨大，却在“宠坏孩子”。据海尔达里介绍，其主人家拥有许多辆保时捷（BI编者按中透露是5辆），每周末要吃50道菜的大餐。

海尔达里发表的文章标题为《在杭州一个超级富豪家工作后，我对中国的看法完全变了》，作者称自己大学过得不如意，又没存够旅游的钱，当看到这个中国家庭招聘家教兼保姆的广告时，她意识到这是个摆脱伦敦生活的好机会。作者称曾看过大量关于“中国历史和毛泽东时期的中国”的书，但当自己踏上这片土地时，她意识到这里与自己原本听说的“红色中国”完全不同，“实际上，站在鳞次栉比的设计师鞋店、汉堡店、披萨店的大街上还认为自己在一个共产主义国度，是很可笑的”。

据海尔达里介绍，她在浙江杭州的一个富裕家庭中当保姆，有机会“近距离观察中国精英的新生活”。她称，自己的雇主十分和善，热情好客，“主人用可爱而媚俗的陈设装饰我的房间，而他们公寓的奢华令我吃惊”，“一份对奢华和西化的热爱渗入了他们的生活，而对比真正的西方文化和产物，这有时显得像一种滑稽的模仿，错误搭配的西方食材被奇怪得混在一起，制成披萨和沙拉，还总是涂着厚厚的蛋黄酱”。

海尔达里称，女主人“不可思议的时髦，长得美”，过着专业设计师簇拥的生活，每周都会收到许多由设计师专门为其定制的鞋子，“鞋跟一次比一次高”。海尔达写道，女主人为不能为她找到合适尺码的时髦鞋子感到遗憾，“尴尬的是，当我在她面前换衣服或一起找衣服时，她会羡慕我丰满的胸部。”

“尽管数以百万计的中国民众依然生活在贫困之中，大陆激增的暴发户都十分愿意挥霍他们的钞票，我担任保姆的家庭就是其中之一。许多周末，我们会浪费掉50道菜的大餐并搭乘主人众多保时捷中的一辆去兜风。”

海尔达里日常的工作始于早晨，送主人的儿子去学校，辅导他完成作业和学习英语。海尔达里称小主人很可爱，和这个家庭的其他人一样打扮时髦，但是有时很顽皮、难以管教。

海尔达里还披露，“小主人的生活奢侈得可笑，不止是被宠坏了一点点”，在家族聚会时，主人家不仅邀请香港著名明星参加，还会让自己的孩子上台表演，并安排许多小女孩向其索要签名与照片等等，“孩子的母亲不断尝试让他上电视，每周上四晚课：电子琴、钢琴、唱歌。她确信儿子将成为一个明星”。海尔达里称，这种自大感让自己难以理解。然而，海尔达里也承认，相对于自己在中国当“洋保姆”的朋友而言，她已经非常幸运，因为其他的孩子会更难管教。她说：“他们称我的一位朋友为“胖子”，并要求她用花生油做饭，尽管她对花生过敏。”

对于自己在中国做保姆的经历，海尔达里坦言有震惊，也有美好的回忆。她说，自己曾看到孩子们与祖父母在湖边或池塘边玩耍，也曾看到女主人亲吻自己的儿子、陪他玩闹等等。她说，小主人还常到自己的房间，通过网络和她的朋友视频聊天等，“有一次，当到了该睡觉的时候，他抬头看我说了句‘我喜欢你’，比起那些芒果、蛋黄酱、土豆沙拉，这句话我记得更深。”

中国富豪奢华生活惊呆英国保姆

翻页请看英国保姆Soraya Heydari博客原文

I'll Never Look At China The Same After Working For An Insanely Wealthy Family In Hangzhou

SORAYA HEYDARI

[Editor's note: This article was written by Soraya Heydari, who recently traveled from London to work as a nanny for a wealthy Chinese family in the province of Hangzhou. Following a popular Reddit AMA in which she revealed that her host family had five Porsches, Business Insider asked her to write a longer account, which we have lightly edited and printed below.]

It was around the time when I sat, still dazed from the jet lag, in the booth of a steakhouse with my family had taken me to, or perhaps when I took the elevator up to my new Chinese home, lined with posters advertising skin and hair lightening treatments, that I realised this was not going to be the Red China I had heard about. In fact, standing in the street lined with designer shoe stores, burger joints, and pizza spots, the very idea that I was in a Communist state seemed laughable.

My decision to move to China had been somewhat incidental. I’d had a terrible last year at university and I didn’t have the money saved to travel freely as I would have liked. When I saw the job listing for a live-in teacher and nanny in China, I knew this could be my chance to get away from my life in London and rural Hampshire, and I’d read a number of books about Chinese history and Mao’s China. What I didn’t realise was that I would be getting a front row seat at the new lives of the Chinese elite.

Honestly, my family were extremely kind and welcoming and, more generally, the Chinese people seemed to be incredibly hospitable. The family had decorated my room with adorably kitsch furnishings and I was surprised to see how luxurious their apartment was. A love of luxury and Westernism permeated their lives, sometimes in an amusing parody of actual Western customs or products. Pizzas and salads are made with a curious mix of mismatched Western ingredients and almost always slathered with mayonnaise.

My host mother is an incredibly stylish and good-looking woman, and I would watch in amazement as she had stacks of designer shoes delivered every week, seemingly with higher heels each time to boost her tiny 5-foot frame. She and the other kept women of the apartment complex where we lived seemed to pile on these designer ensembles, and she often lamented that she couldn’t find shoes in my size so that I couldn’t look as polished as her. Awkwardly, she would remark enviously about my larger chest when I changed in front of her or when we were looking for clothes.

Despite having hundreds of millions of citizens living in poverty, China’s surging population of new rich are all too willing to flash their cash. My family was one of them, and we spent our weekends having lavish 50-dish banquets plus tea and drinks and being driven around in one of the family’s many Porsches.

During the week my days began early, taking the son to school, and then helping him with his homework and helping him learn English when he returned. The kid was very cute, decked out in designer gear like the rest of his family, but sometimes incredibly hard not to discipline — for example, he once spat in my face and I found I could do nothing to tell him off.

The kid’s life was ridiculously lavish and he was more than a little spoiled. For example, the family organised an event including famous singers from Hong Kong and a catwalk show that featured their son performing a song at the end. As the performance ended, several girls asked him to sign autographs and pictures and from that his already understandably slightly spoiled personality had another ego boost. A little while later, his Chinese teacher was helping me look after him one day and translated a remark he had made out of nowhere: He said we should be nicer to him because he is a star now. It was understandable he was a little big-headed — his mother kept trying to get him into TV and four evenings a week he had keyboard, singing, and piano lessons. She was sure he would be a star.

Although he was often incredibly cheeky (he would pick his nose and wipe it on me, and also tried to sneak me pork, something which I don’t eat), this wasn’t all that bad compared to some of my friend’s experiences. One girl who lived about an hour from me witnessed the younger child who was about five being allowed to pee on the floor or into a bucket in the living room so he didn’t have to move the 10 steps into the bathroom. Other kids are extremely violent: A girl in the next building was often cracked on the head with wood or kicked in the face and chest by the three-year-old she looked after. Worse still was the experience of my friend who was constantly called fat by the agency and her hosts, screamed at by her family members, and forced to cook using peanut oil, to which she is allergic. My own issues were usually not due to the family being jerks, but more to a massive culture clash and due to problems with the agency that had helped me find a job.

It certainly wasn’t all bad. Everywhere I saw kids playing happily or sat by the lake or pond with their grandparents, just enjoying being there. My host-mother would give her son a big kiss and I heard excited squeals before he went to bed coming from the bathroom as she washed him and they played games. Often he would come into my room and talk to my friends on skype or just sit on the bed playing next to me. Once when it was time for bed he looked up at me and said “wo xihua ni,” which means “I like you.” I’ll remember that much better than the mango, mayo, and tomato salad.

（观察者网综合国际在线、BusinessInsider消息）