I’m such a glutton for new experiences
It’s great when everything goes according to plan but some of the experiences I enjoy most in China happen when things go wrong.
One recent Saturday morning I got up early to travel to the Public Security Bureau in Beijing to renew my residence permit. I hailed a taxi and nodded patiently at the now-familiar protests of a driver acting like I was asking to be transported to Alpha Centauri.
It was just a five-minute drive to the bureau and I’d gone prepared. Experience has taught me that nothing connected with officialdom happens quickly in China, so I took along my Kindle and got stuck into a Jo Nesbo book after taking my place in the queue. There were hundreds of foreigners milling around, quietly tearing out their hair at the prospect of a very long wait.
After more than two hours my number was called and I went to the desk, handed over my documents and was told to come back for my passport in two weeks. At flipping last! Mission accomplished.
After that ordeal I was extremely hungry and decided I was going to give myself a treat. I would take the subway to the area where I live, find a nice restaurant and have a large and tasty lunch.
I’d had my eye on a new barbecue place so I decided to give it a whirl. I walked in, took a table and a waiter gave me a menu, kindly pointing out the English translations.
I was starving by then so I pointed to noodles and a pork dish. The waiter looked puzzled. He pointed to my choices and gave me a quizzical look, which I took to mean, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Yes,” I said. “This is a restaurant. That is food. I want to eat it.” I’d always understood this to be the basis of all restaurant transactions.
He beckoned to several more waiters and the manager and they all came over and started pointing at my choices and giving me searching looks. What on earth had I done in my innocent pursuit of grub?
They called over a female customer who could speak English and she explained that the dishes I had ordered would be too much for one person. The portions were too large.
Ah, I see. That’s something I have trouble with in Chinese restaurants. I never know whether I’m going to get several small bowls of food or one large platter.
So I settled for just the pork, which was indeed a sufficient meal and very tasty as well.
Then a large silver platter of kebabs arrived on my table. There must have been about 20 of them. Now I could see what they meant about ordering too much food. I reasoned that this was a barbecue restaurant and any food ordered from the menu must be in addition to a plate of kebabs.
Even though I was hungry, the kebabs took some getting through but I’d just about finished eating them when the waiters started giving me those funny looks again. They began milling around the restaurant in an agitated manner, talking to other customers. Finally, a young waiter came to my table with a crestfallen look on his face. Even though I don’t speak Chinese, I could tell what he was saying. He’d brought the kebabs to the wrong customer – they were meant for a family of four on another table.
I could also tell that the young lad was in trouble with his boss, who was going to make him pay for his mistake. I intervened in the row and said it was quite OK, I would pay. The waiter was incredibly grateful.
I wasn’t hungry for days after that meal, which ended up costing me 80 yuan ($12) instead of 18 yuan. But crazy experiences like that would be cheap at twice the price.