6. Hitting the Streets

Got up from a long after-breakfast nap looking forward to getting some grocery shopping in, then realized we had no RMB (Chinese money). Dea felt guilty for not getting the currency exchange done at the airport, but I wasn’t studying that because I heard what the fee was (something like 10%). We arrange something with Yolanda and tried to make it clear that we could try and take care of it ourselves if she would just point us in the right direction (she was on duty at the hotel for the other KaiWen guests), but she insisted that it wasn’t a problem and so we were off to hit the streets… as soon as it stopped raining.

The rain didn’t come down hard or long, and afterwards you could actually see a bit of blue sky. We met Yolanda down in the lobby and were out the door without any lallygagging. As Maatie and I trailed behind Dea and Yolanda like two little kids entertaining themselves with silly conversation, the heat decided to hitch a ride on my shoulders. Being a big guy, I didn’t complain, but I’ma tell ya… it didn’t take long for me to start sweating like I was in a sauna.

The banks we went to first were all closed, so Yolanda called a cab and we tried another location. The cab driver passed us up, but Yolanda had her phone. After some quick biting phrases the reverse lights came on as the cab backed up to where we were waiting. 

The cab had a dashboard machine that reminded me of something that would fit in the movie Blade Runner. A micro-sized dot matrix printer that took forever to produce a receipt. We exited the vehicle at some corner and hiked it the rest of the way to our destination - a storefront bank. 

I never really gave it any thought before, but it was interesting noticing the different phenotypes in Beijing. It made me recall that there were different ethnic groups, each with their own culture and history within the land we call China. The Chinese, like any other nationality, are not a monolithic people.

The service person on duty at the bank informed us (Yolanda) that in order to do a currency exchange we would have to be card members at the bank but that we could try the Bank of China which was about a mile up the street. While she explained this, Maatie and I took note of the B-movie storm trooper on guard. The security officer didn’t carry a gun, but wielded a big black night stick, wore a vest, and had a helmet on. Dea insisted that we could make the trek to the other bank ourselves, trying to be respectful of Yolanda’s time, but Yolanda insisted that it was no problem.

It wasn’t a terrible walk. The biggest thing was crossing the intersections. Yolanda made sure to follow the rules by the book, whereas I was eager to jaywalk and play chicken with traffic, like the natives. I got my chance later, but on the way to the bank, we were obliged to suffer the heat and amused expressions while waiting for the appropriate traffic signals.

When we entered the Bank of China, a branch no doubt that resembled a city permit office back home, the security guard gave us a once over, probably because I was the only person in the room sweating like a thief in a room full of cops. Mattie said I wasn’t allowed to leave the hotel anymore without a handkerchief or towel. The tension was palpable. While he circulated the room, he kept his eye on me, prepared to demonstrate some Kung-Fu should I get out of line.

The service agent behind the window pushed his buttons, scanned documents, ran calculations, and consulted with his supervisor for about 45 minutes… slowly eating into the time Yolanda had to be back at the hotel. Dea was feeling guiltier by the minute as Maatie and I, oblivious, cracked jokes about phrasing and translations. 

When it came time for the actual exchange, I dug into my pocket and pulled out the last of my cash. Dea took it all without so much as a thank you and handed it over. Of course she kept the new currency as well. Women.

When we left the bank, the security guard’s disposition went from that of a suspicious detective to that of a starstruck fan. He was all smiles, breaking character as we walked out the door. 

Zài Jiàn (Tzi Chyen - my phonetics) means goodbye.

We caught another cab leaving the bank. It was a female cabbie. We got dropped off at the Mall while Yolanda presumably went back to the hotel. The Mall wasn’t that different from Water Tower Place or Circle City Mall. There was a floor for fashion goods. There was a floor for food. There was a floor for kids, with toys and indoor playrooms (probably because of the outside pollution). There were even areas for electronics and knick knacks. What it didn’t have was a grocery store. Something must have gotten lost in translation. Speaking of translation - Maatie was a lifesaver, when she could be found. We often found ourselves looking around desperately to have her facilitate communication with the vendors.

Word to the wise: if you’re a spendthrift, patience is a virtue. Having a currency exchange app on my phone was useful when it came to figuring out if an item was overpriced based on its equivalent value in the United States. While there were quite a few great deals, like anywhere else there are items strategically advertised that are grossly overpriced. Smart shopping skills are invaluable no matter where you are.

wo bu zhidao means I don’t know.

We remembered passing a WuMart (not a Chinese Walmart) on our way to the bank, and decided to find our way back there. 

Although nearly everything was labeled in Chinese, I didn’t feel like such a stranger finding my way through the aisles and produce. A couple of things I noticed were that the eggs were not refrigerated and came in many colors, including black, while others were spotted and mottled. Needless to say I highly doubt that all of them were chicken eggs. There were foods I wasn’t familiar with, many vacuum packed, and meat and fish were set out like in a traditional fish or meat market, artfully presented, but unrefrigerated. Although I wanted to get ingredients for cooking back at the hotel, Dea was hungry and irritable, and in a “right now” kind of mood, so we ended up getting cups of noodles, fruit, and even some respirators.

Many stores had brand specific sales people whose job it was to push certain products on customers. Hand gestures for waving them off were an effective substitute for not speaking the language. I couldn’t find an adapter for my laptop and had to resign myself to the idea of ordering one online. In the meantime, I had to make do with Maatie’s power cord. 

As soon as we left WuMart, Dea and Maatie donned their masks. I caved and put mine on after about a block and was self conscious about how many looks we attracted. We weren’t the only ones on the street with masks on, but we were the only troop on the street wearing them. I couldn’t tell you how effective they were other than to say that I didn’t smell the pollution while wearing it; but while walking behind someone smoking, I still smelled the cigarette smoke. So many smokers in China! As if the smoke stacks belching pollution into the air wasn’t enough!

We had a decent walk back, and this time didn’t wait for signals. Cars did drive up on your ankles, though.

When we got back home, Maatie did a video on what we got and how much we spent. I got in the shower, ate, watched some television, and went to take a nap which turned into a coma lasting until 10pm. I’ll have to go back some time to take some pictures to go along with my accounts.