Capitalism
I saw an old work friend online this morning, and decided to say Hi, and ask how he's doing.
"I'm in Beijing," he said, and I remembered having talked to him at length about his China-visiting plans from the computer in the lobby of the hostel in Hangzhou. I was excited that someone I knew was going to get to visit Beijing so soon, but, upon further contemplation, began to worry a little. Randy is a Nice Guy. He's honest, congenial, generous, and, well, the kind of person you worry about in a city like Beijing. I had decided that it wasn't worth worrying about, and that he could take care of himself.
Then I talked to him this morning. (Conversation has been edited some for clarity).
Matt: How's Beijing treating you?
Randy: Just got here —
Matt: Any people chase after you selling you a hotel room or taxi?
Randy: The hotel was prearranged via the conference I was there for.
Randy: The taxi ripped me off, though.
Matt: How's that? Aside from communication difficulties, I found the cab drivers fairly honest.
Randy: Well — unmarked taxis aren't.
Matt: Oh, you mean the illegal unmarked taxis?
Matt: The ones you're supposed to avoid at all costs?
Randy: I paid double.
Matt: Yeah. Wow. Of course with the difference in cost of living, double still came out to what, $15 or something? It's so cheap there. . . .
Randy: $56
Matt: Holy crap — $56 as in 400-something kuai?
Randy: 450
Matt: Um, yeah, you got more than ripped off. That should have cost you about 50 kuai.
Randy: Lesson learned.
Matt: The highest cab fare we ever paid was to the Shanghai airport, which is like 80km away from downtown Shanghai, and it was still only 115 kuai or so.
Randy: Yikes
Matt: So you can get anywhere in Beijing for less than 60
Randy: That's good to know
Matt: Yeah, be careful.
Now realizing that my fears about Randy's trusting nature were not unfounded, I violated my usual tenet against overt preachiness and gave him some survival advice for his remaining week there. What to pay for things. Whom not to trust. Luckily for him, the conference has chartered guided tours for most things, so he doesn't have to worry too much, but is still vulnerable for overpriced bottled water and sports drinks, people posing as tour guides or information clerks, and the like. I feel like he'll have a little better time now.
* * *
I stopped by the Green Pepper for lunch today, to get one last serving of Thai Pineapple Fish before leaving the state. The place seems to be under new management (speaking of, I also passed Citizen, which has a temporary sign hanging from it that says "Samba Sushi Asian Kitchen" — what the heck? Even the things I like here are going to hell), and now the Green Pepper boasts an expanded menu and full service (you used to order at the front and they'd bring it out to you).
Even though my purpose in going there was the pineapple fish, I gave the new menu a good looking through, just in case there was something I couldn't resist trying. Seeing some intriguing dishes but no irresistible ones, I decided to check whether Thai Pineapple Fish was still around. The new menu is kind of a mess, visually, but fortunately, most of the fifty or so main entrees (aside from the ones in Noodle Dishes or Fried Rice) are roughly in alphabetical order. I checked the T's. I checked the P's. I even checked the F's, looking for "Fish, Pineapple, Thai Style," or some other creative inversion. No luck.
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: Have you decided what you'd like?
Matt: I have a question. You no longer have the Thai Pineapple Fish? It was my favorite.
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: Of course we do, let me show you. [Takes menu, and begins running his finger down the pages.] It's right . . . well, just a minute. Hm. How awkward. . . . [Tucks the menu under his arm and regains his composure.] So, you'd like Thai Pineapple Fish. For one?
Matt: [Nods.]
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: Anything else?
Matt: No thanks.
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: Great, I'll have that right out to you. [Walks slowly over to the cash counter, again pulling the menu back out and looking through it. Writes out the order on an order ticket and puts it through the window to the kitchen.]
Apathetic Cook: [Mumbling.] Do I know what this is?
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: [Whispering.] It's the Thai Pineapple Fish. You know.
Apathetic Cook: . . .
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: [Sighs. Whispers, barely audible.] Fish fillets . . . fried . . . sauce . . . peppers . . . just in case.
When he finally brought it out, about 15 minutes later, the fish was great. The cook had made the sauce in a bowl on the side, presumably just in case it wasn't right, so he wouldn't have to redo the fish as well, but it all turned out fine. It looks like there's one more item on my Best Food in Dallas list which has met an early retirement. Maybe it's a good sign that it's about to time to start the Best Food in Vancouver list instead.
* * *
After lunch I wandered over to the new uptown Borders for a cup of coffee, and hoping I might catch some more live music like the other day. No paid performers this time, but walking down the sidewalk out side was an elderly man (he appeared to be in his early 70s), with an iridescent silver shirt which sparkled in the sunlight, a mess of arm tattoos which made it difficult to discern precisely where his shirt ended and his skin began, and very unmistakable breast implants.
He was pointed out to me by a woman I held the door for — she looking (if I had to make the generalization) like the friendly lesbian type, or at least a very tomboyish nature, but, no matter which, with an expression and tone of voice that seemed to indicate, "Yeah, goodness. That's a lifestyle much more alternative than I care for. . . ."
"I'm in Beijing," he said, and I remembered having talked to him at length about his China-visiting plans from the computer in the lobby of the hostel in Hangzhou. I was excited that someone I knew was going to get to visit Beijing so soon, but, upon further contemplation, began to worry a little. Randy is a Nice Guy. He's honest, congenial, generous, and, well, the kind of person you worry about in a city like Beijing. I had decided that it wasn't worth worrying about, and that he could take care of himself.
Then I talked to him this morning. (Conversation has been edited some for clarity).
Matt: How's Beijing treating you?
Randy: Just got here —
Matt: Any people chase after you selling you a hotel room or taxi?
Randy: The hotel was prearranged via the conference I was there for.
Randy: The taxi ripped me off, though.
Matt: How's that? Aside from communication difficulties, I found the cab drivers fairly honest.
Randy: Well — unmarked taxis aren't.
Matt: Oh, you mean the illegal unmarked taxis?
Matt: The ones you're supposed to avoid at all costs?
Randy: I paid double.
Matt: Yeah. Wow. Of course with the difference in cost of living, double still came out to what, $15 or something? It's so cheap there. . . .
Randy: $56
Matt: Holy crap — $56 as in 400-something kuai?
Randy: 450
Matt: Um, yeah, you got more than ripped off. That should have cost you about 50 kuai.
Randy: Lesson learned.
Matt: The highest cab fare we ever paid was to the Shanghai airport, which is like 80km away from downtown Shanghai, and it was still only 115 kuai or so.
Randy: Yikes
Matt: So you can get anywhere in Beijing for less than 60
Randy: That's good to know
Matt: Yeah, be careful.
Now realizing that my fears about Randy's trusting nature were not unfounded, I violated my usual tenet against overt preachiness and gave him some survival advice for his remaining week there. What to pay for things. Whom not to trust. Luckily for him, the conference has chartered guided tours for most things, so he doesn't have to worry too much, but is still vulnerable for overpriced bottled water and sports drinks, people posing as tour guides or information clerks, and the like. I feel like he'll have a little better time now.
* * *
I stopped by the Green Pepper for lunch today, to get one last serving of Thai Pineapple Fish before leaving the state. The place seems to be under new management (speaking of, I also passed Citizen, which has a temporary sign hanging from it that says "Samba Sushi Asian Kitchen" — what the heck? Even the things I like here are going to hell), and now the Green Pepper boasts an expanded menu and full service (you used to order at the front and they'd bring it out to you).
Even though my purpose in going there was the pineapple fish, I gave the new menu a good looking through, just in case there was something I couldn't resist trying. Seeing some intriguing dishes but no irresistible ones, I decided to check whether Thai Pineapple Fish was still around. The new menu is kind of a mess, visually, but fortunately, most of the fifty or so main entrees (aside from the ones in Noodle Dishes or Fried Rice) are roughly in alphabetical order. I checked the T's. I checked the P's. I even checked the F's, looking for "Fish, Pineapple, Thai Style," or some other creative inversion. No luck.
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: Have you decided what you'd like?
Matt: I have a question. You no longer have the Thai Pineapple Fish? It was my favorite.
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: Of course we do, let me show you. [Takes menu, and begins running his finger down the pages.] It's right . . . well, just a minute. Hm. How awkward. . . . [Tucks the menu under his arm and regains his composure.] So, you'd like Thai Pineapple Fish. For one?
Matt: [Nods.]
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: Anything else?
Matt: No thanks.
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: Great, I'll have that right out to you. [Walks slowly over to the cash counter, again pulling the menu back out and looking through it. Writes out the order on an order ticket and puts it through the window to the kitchen.]
Apathetic Cook: [Mumbling.] Do I know what this is?
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: [Whispering.] It's the Thai Pineapple Fish. You know.
Apathetic Cook: . . .
Waiter/Host/Manager Guy: [Sighs. Whispers, barely audible.] Fish fillets . . . fried . . . sauce . . . peppers . . . just in case.
When he finally brought it out, about 15 minutes later, the fish was great. The cook had made the sauce in a bowl on the side, presumably just in case it wasn't right, so he wouldn't have to redo the fish as well, but it all turned out fine. It looks like there's one more item on my Best Food in Dallas list which has met an early retirement. Maybe it's a good sign that it's about to time to start the Best Food in Vancouver list instead.
* * *
After lunch I wandered over to the new uptown Borders for a cup of coffee, and hoping I might catch some more live music like the other day. No paid performers this time, but walking down the sidewalk out side was an elderly man (he appeared to be in his early 70s), with an iridescent silver shirt which sparkled in the sunlight, a mess of arm tattoos which made it difficult to discern precisely where his shirt ended and his skin began, and very unmistakable breast implants.
He was pointed out to me by a woman I held the door for — she looking (if I had to make the generalization) like the friendly lesbian type, or at least a very tomboyish nature, but, no matter which, with an expression and tone of voice that seemed to indicate, "Yeah, goodness. That's a lifestyle much more alternative than I care for. . . ."