Conclusion to a long tale

Briefly put, my investment money was returned to me.

I sat in their offices for about an hour, as they tried to transfer the money into my account.  And this was the source of all their problems.

The way my name was entered into the bank account was a bit odd.  It seems that the bank ran all the letters together, without a space.  Each time the coffee company accountant tried to deposit money into my account, it bounced. She or he did not follow up, until I called them in May last year, and again in July, to get my interest payments.  It took them some days each time to get my money deposited.  Yet no one did any follow up, no one made a notation for the next time.

So the basic problem begins and ends with incompetence.  That is what Mr. Yang said at the dinner; it's a management problem.

I'm not saying that this kind of incompetence can't happen in America, but here it is commonplace.

Anyway, I am happy that now I can pay off all my creditors.  This has been slowed down by the simple fact that I came down with a bug, possibly the flu, Friday and have been fairly immobile since.  A happy ending is a happy ending; all goodness.

homestyle decorating

The walls look so plain.  I've had it in my mind to invite an artist, or at least an art student, to come and paint the walls with some wheat and bread themes.  This has come to pass.  One young man stepped forward, and started painting a few shafts of wheat, copying a picture he found on the internet.  On another wall he planned to paint some loaves of  bread.

Yesterday, while waiting for the sous chef and assistant to arrive, there were about five young people gathered around the wall. They were a few Web students, but also I saw Tina sitting on the high bench table with a paintbrush in hand. The young painter gave a couple of them paint brushes, and instructed them on how to fill in his penciled sketch.  The results are pretty much what I'd hoped for.  Grandma's grandkids painting on the wall.  I'll add photos soon.

guanxi

That's pronounced gwan shee.  It roughly translates 'relationship' but means much more.  It is a record of favors done.  In this culture, the record must always remain balanced, between individuals.  It can create an ever widening circle of influence.  For example.

My vet came to see my shop.  When I had the last cat spayed, last year, he said he wanted to hang out with me some to learn English.  We never followed up on that.  Then one day, out of the blue about a month ago, he calls me.  He is speaking Chinese, and it takes a while before I figure out who it is.  He identifies himself as the 'wuyi', which sounds an awful lot like 'wuye'.  The latter is the name of the management office that manages properties, like my apartment complex, and the shopping mall where my bakery is. When I buy things online, I get a call from my apartment's wuye office and they tell me about it.  My Chinese isn't that good, so I have to listen very carefully for key words and then guess the rest.

And of course, the wuye office at the mall has been actively engaged in my setting up the shop, involved in many aspects.

Wuyi, on the other hand, is shorthand for animal 'dongwu' doctor 'yisheng'.  His name is easy enough to remember, Dr. White, but I didn't hear him say it during this call.  Anyway, eventually I understood who was calling, though never did catch if he was just saying hi or proposing a get together.

I had picked up some phrase books for him, at Web, and they are collecting dust.  So I texted him a couple weeks ago, saying we should get together and practice English.  That's when he called, and said he'd come to the shop the next day.

He came Tuesday, with a friend in tow whose English was considerably better.  In the end, though, he spoke more to Tina, who tried to translate.  Tina did well in her college English classes, but her spoken English is a mix of adorable and frustrating.

He said he had a friend who worked in the kitchen of the famous Shangri-la restaurant, in the international Fudu Trader's Hotel in Xin Bei, which is the north end of Changzhou, about an hour by bus from me.  That guy spoke a little English.  Dr. White called him and let me speak to him. He said he would be happy to help me out.  Perhaps he could give me some tips, some instructions.  He apologized that policy prohibited him from inviting me into the Shangri-la kitchen, but he could send his staff down to my kitchen.

Dr. White came by again the next day, Wednesday. This was the day I was doing a lot of baking in order to bring samples up to Jolly's restaurant, who has been waiting for them.  I had brought a change of clothes to work with me, figuring to go right after work.

Dr. White wanted a favor.  There is a hand held instant blood analyzer that he dearly wants for his clinic.  But the cost in China is very high.  He believes that in the States it's much cheaper.  He wants me to buy one for him and have someone carry it over here in their suitcase.

Oh sure. Snap my fingers and find an American who has a vet in their pocket, who is coming here in the next couple of months, and has room in their suitcase, and who owes me a favor.

To make a long story short, he offered to drive me to Xin Bei and wait while I delivered my samples.  I knew Johnny wasn't going to be at his restaurant, as he had a last minute engagement taking him away.  I didn't think I'd tarry long there.

On the way, Dr. White stopped at the Fudu hotel, and I met his friend and the friend's assistant.  The friend had his name tag on, identifying himself as a sous chef.  While we stood in the coffee lounge, the old German head chef came in scrounging up a cup of coffee for himself at the wait station.  He is a tall, portly man, gray haired.  His English is heavily accented, but his Chinese sounded pretty good.  He seemed to be a jolly humorous fellow.  I don't recall that I was actually introduced to him.  Chinese cultural protocol would have this man on a pedestal, not disdaining to speak with his help outside the kitchen. A demigod.

We arranged that on July 25 the sous chef would come down to my bakery and help answer some questions, and teach me some stuff.

Then, after delivering the bread at the next stop, Dr. White pulled up to a vet clinic.  We all trudged inside, where he showed me the instrument he covets.

As we crossed the busy Nan Da Jie, the old Changzhou downtown district, we made one more stop to pick up a street-food treat that his wife particularly likes.  Kind of like egg McMuffins; vendors have a special griddle with six cup indentations.  They pour in the batter, then a piece of meat, then an egg, topped with more batter.  They turn them over half way through the cooking, and serve them piping hot.

So there it was.  He had given me a cheap price on two spays, in hopes of learning English or at least making an American friend.  Many months later, he collects on it.  He wants a blood analyzer.  In exchange, he gets me professional help for my bakery.

I've written my friend, Lori, who is spending the summer at home in Iowa.  When she worked at a high school here, she would come visit me of an evening, to get her cat fix.  She doesn't have a cat, I have two.  So we'd sit and watch a movie, or just drink wine and chat, while each of us cuddled with a cat on the lap.  I wrote her asking if she was on good terms with her vet there, and if she could ask him about pricing and ordering this analyzer.  She said she could do that.  She still doesn't have a job for September, so we don't know if she's coming back to China or will stay in the States.

I got a text message from him last night, asking me how it was going.  I told him I was working on it, I'd have news in a couple of days.  Then he asked about my visa situation.  I told him, no solution.  He wrote back, I may have solutions.  Now, this perks my curiosity.  I'll have to try calling him back when next I am with Tina, so she can translate for us and find out what he might have in mind.

I have cultured a sour dough starter.  I am not using the same technique that got me good results back in 2004, but rather the instructions by Peter Reinhart.  It grew quickly, in just four days.  Yesterday I should have done something with it, it was ready to either be stored or made into a barm.  Instead I left it neglected on the shelf, while we entertained our expert visitors and learned how to shape pretzels, and a tall boule.  Today I don't want to waste any more dough baking, so Tina and I are going to Metro to try to find some supplies that our new friends say we can buy there, rather than needing to do online shopping.  I have given myself the morning off, to stay home and try to catch up with my laundry and other tasks.  But I must go in at some point and do something with this sourdough culture before I lose it.

Still plodding on

It's now Saturday evening, July 21.  There's been just too much going on to write it all down, since I am exhausted by the time I get home.  Wish there were internet at the store.  Then I could sit and write during the down times, when I'm  waiting for dough to rise, or to bake.

The visa situation is unresolved.  I got the business visa for one month, then talked with a consultant in Shanghai by phone and email.  He said before he could do anything for me, like a 6 month business visa, I would have to have a fresh entry stamp in my passport.  So two weeks into my 30 day business visa, I made a mad dash to the border.  It was ill planned, ill advised, and cost a bundle of quickly dwindling bucks.  Once I got back I discovered that this agent has slunk away, no longer answering my calls and emails.

A passing remark by Jimmy, translated by Tina, now makes me think I could have renewed that one-month business visa for at least another month or two.  No one told me that before, however.

Jimmy, whose wife works at the Foreign Affairs Office that issues the visas, counseled me that the only choice left is to become a company.  He told me where the appropriate office was, and advised me to show up there at 8:30 a.m.

Friday morning, July 20

I rode my ebike, Tina rode the bus.  I thought Jimmy had told her where to go, she being the Chinese speaker and native to the city.  I arrived and didn't see her, so headed into the building.  The guards at the gate questioned me.  I tried to tell them what I want, but haven't yet the vocabulary I'd need.  They were trying to redirect me to the government office where you get a business license.  I knew that wasn't right. A young man came along just then, and asked me what I wanted, in English.  I told him. He was in his early twenties, dressed very casually in a loose tan T-shirt and baggy tan slacks.  He said he'd take me there, it was on his way.  As we walked through one building and out again, and into another, he explained that there were 9 buildings housing government offices in that complex.  My first two years in Changzhou were spent not far from this complex, and so I was aware of its existence as an important local government center.  I guess Tina was not.

He took me to 'his' office, and made inquiries.  Then we walked along a corridor or two to the other side of that building, same floor.  Someone else then picked me up and escorted me to another office, and I sort of waved a goodbye to this young man.  Fortunately, he hung around.  Turns out, his English was the best of the rest, and he was invaluable.  Talk about kismet, he is an 'intern' and only there for a short number of weeks.

The nice gentlemen put their heads together, asking questions, gathering information, and finally coming up with an instruction sheet for how to form a company as a foreigner.  They went further, and interviewed me until they had built up a good description of my company, that would include present enterprises and future growth.  I took the stance of a consultant to those wanting to open a western style bakery and coffee shop in this city.  Advising, consulting and training for concept, recipes, decor, quality control.

They warned me that it was very complicated and time consuming.  They asked if I wanted a consultant to help me.  They gave me the name of a private agency that does that work. I was glad to have it.

We even kicked around names, so that if the first one I chose was already taken I would have alternatives all ready. They were extremely helpful and friendly.

Kind of reminded me of the time Dean and I took the properly marked photo of the front of my shop with the mock-up sign, to get the city's approval of it.  We walked into a small office on the second floor, where four desks were lined up along a window in a narrow room.  We took our photo to one desk, and all four clerks perked up and started chatting about it.  What was this store?  A western-style bakery?  Are you doing it by yourself?  How old are you?  No!  You're not retired?  What a great name! And so it went.  We glowed with celebrity as we exited the small office with the appropriate approval stamp on our application.

Back to Friday morning, halfway through I called Tina to see where she was.  She had gone to the wrong government offices, a few blocks away.  I felt sorry for her, because we are having a heat wave and she is on foot.  She eventually found us, and quickly got up to speed.

When we left there, the internet company was just a block away so we went there before heading back to the bakery.

I had done my homework, but now I'd need a native to do the legwork for me.  The first step would be to call the agency and see if they could help.  That would have to wait until tomorrow, and a chat with Rachel.

We got back to the bakery and baked a bunch of bread, from the starters of the previous day.  I did my signature bread, pain a l'ancienne.  With my professional oven they come out so much more beautiful than when I baked them at home, with a great crust.

I made whole wheat dinner rolls, which I needed to deliver to Johnny at Jolly's. The ones I made Wednesday were all wrong!  I had had a mind block, forgetting how to properly shape rolls (between trying to instruct Tina, keeping three recipes going through pre-ferment, shaping, baking, and also having a rare visit from ex-pat friend AnnMarie whom I hadn't seen in a couple of months).  So Wednesday's dinner rolls were more like hamburger buns, that is flat and not tall.  But they were white whole wheat, so the flavor and texture was appropriate.  Today I made the recipe with brown whole wheat, and properly shaped the rolls.

Also made ciabatta, filling them with a meaty mushroom cooked with garlic.  Don't know the proper name of it, but it is probably my favorite kind of mushroom.  There's a story to these mushrooms, going back to my trip to Ganzi a few years back.  But, as they say, that's another story.  Tina really liked this variety.

Friday night.  After a long day of baking, took a quick nap and a shower, gussied up and hauled my heavy bag of breads onto the bus to the north end of the city, where the ex pats live.  Hit three western restaurants, gave away all my samples.  Jolly's restaurant was pleased to offer me space in his lobby for my shipment of orders phoned in.  Now, if I can just get the internet link set up so that people can actually go online and see what they want, and phone in their orders!  Aug. 1 is the target for Grand Opening.

I don't have proper business cards, so I had to give people my English Teacher persona cards.  I told them to call and ask what was being prepared, and place orders.  But of course, they need more than that.  I'm working on getting an internet link through which to make announcements about the next day's baking so people can properly text me their orders.  Tina set me up with a blog, but it is in its early stages.  We need to upload photos and so much more.

Johnny was my last stop.  It was well past 9:00.  The last bus would leave around ten. I resigned myself to the high cost of a taxi home. We went into his office (the Filipino ladies twosome band was in full swing; they play really good music) so we could hear ourselves think.  We had a nice long and friendly chat.  What a nice guy!  In case you haven't read all the previous posts, he is a Chinese guy who lived seven years in Ireland.  His English is excellent, and he is a marvelous host.

He said that of the breads I brought Wednesday, the multigrain was by far his favorite.  AnnMarie had bought a couple of loaves during her visit, and she also gave it rave reviews on our ex pat Facebook page.  It was the sort of bread you would typically find in Europe.  Dense, chewy, brown, slightly acidic with a good crust.

He told me what quantity order I could be expecting from him.  I was disappointed, but it is a beginning.  He generously gave me a spot next to his wine display, where I could place my basket of orders for people to pick up.  His computer system easily allowed him to keep track of my money separate from his.  So now I have a distribution plan for my potentially many northern customers.  Finding means of delivery will be relatively simple when the time comes.

I stood by the road in front of his shop with an empty bag, wondering how long I'd have to wait for a taxi.  Fairly soon, one without flag up slowed down, saw a foreigner, and started speeding up again.  I chased him and called after him in Chinese, however, so he and his front-seat passenger stopped and asked where I was heading.  He said it was an OK destination (cabbies can be choosy in such a large city) and I got in.  I was hoping to get a break on the fare.  The other passenger got off and paid him 20 rmb, as the meter read.  When we got to my apartment the meter read 38 and he wanted me to pay 30!  We settled for 25.  A little cheaper than a single fare, but not much.

Saturday was a slow day.  I created a soaker, which is what I should have done for the multi grain bread.  Instead of doing properly last week, I soaked whole grains, then mashed them up.  But the correct way is to grind the grains first, lightly moisten them, and let them soak overnight.  I blended a few grains and ground up extra for a later batch.

I also started a sour dough.  The last time I did this, in 2004 in Sichuan, I used the method described in Ruth Berenbaum's book.  That one took two weeks, but before I got a successful one I got two throw-away attempts.  This one takes less than a week to grow.  It will be interesting to see how it turns out.  It calls for rye flour and fresh pineapple juice.  I had to buy a pineapple, cut it up and put it in the blender.  I don't have a proper juicer, with a screen.  Two days of juice treatment, and then after that the feed is simply the clear wheat flour and water.

I failed to mention the other part of Wednesday.  The last of the loaves were half cooled down when in walks Dr. White  (bai in Chinese).  He is my vet, who spayed my two cats over the past year.  He had come by Tuesday, after we texted back and forth and tried to reconnect.  His English is almost non existent, but Tuesday he brought a friend whose English was passable. He checked out my new venture.  I told him I had five kittens.  He said I should stop spending so much money on stray cats.

The Wednesday visit was totally unexpected.  We chatted, and I said I needed to take these breads up to Xin Bei, to deliver to Jolly's.  He said, I'll take you, I have a car.  Wow!!!  Tina came with us.  On the way, he explained that he wanted to buy an instant blood analyzer for his vet clinic.  He felt that it was much cheaper in the States, so could we arrange for him to buy one there and have someone traveling here in August carry it to him.  Hmm.  We made a couple of stops along the way, mostly in Xin Bei; one was to another vet clinic where he showed me the device he wanted to buy.

Since I knew that Johnny wasn't going to be at his restaurant, I did not stay long.  The kitchen crew came out to greet me, however, and showed great interest in my wares.  I identified everything, including the ciabatta with sun-dried tomatoes and fresh basil.  One guy perked up.  You could see he knew what was what.  He asked if I had dried the tomatoes myself, and was impressed with that and also with the fresh basil.

Dr. White also took me to meet his good friend, who is a sous chef at the Shangri-la restaurant.  This is a famous restaurant in this city, housed in the 4-star Trader's Fudu Hotel.  Through the years I've been a guest there as various ex pat groups have planned gatherings there.

The sous chef had fairly good English.  The master chef passed through looking for a cup of coffee, and made a few jokes and comments.  He was tall and grey haired and portly, with a German accent and quite good Chinese.  The sous chef regretted that the company policy would not permit me to enter their kitchen, but that he would bring down a cook or two to my kitchen to spend the day with me and show me a thing or two.  Unbelievable!  So we set up the date for July 25.

I did try hard to find a good price for the blood analyzer, although he had not told me how much he could buy it for in China.  The prices I found online were, in the end, higher than what he would pay here.  So I hope that idea has died now.  I can't imagine who I could ask to carry it here in their luggage.

After Tina and I left the government offices Friday morning we went to the Telecom office to see about getting internet service.  I had held off until I had the business license, a requirement.  That was obtained Thursday by Rachel's mom.  I took a photo of it with my phone and was ready to order internet.  But we hit a snag.

My theory is that Telecom wants to upset the balance.  As it is, China Telecom has the reputation of being the best, most reliable internet service in Changzhou.  China Mobile, on the other hand, has lousy home internet service but the best mobile phone service.  The saleslady at the Telecom office tried to explain the package she was selling.  It was confusing.  In the end, it seems that they no longer will supply simply internet service.  They will only sell a bundled package that includes two cell phones (free) and phone numbers (not free).  That forces an additional charge of 116 a month.  If I bought a SIM card straight up from China Mobile, I wouldn't spend 30 rmb a month on cell phone service.  Until I have that new phone number, I am not able to get my new business cards printed.

I went to China Mobile on Saturday, to order internet service.  My friend at that desk looked my shop address up on her computer.  Three times.  She made a phone call.  It just didn't show up.  Clearly, Telecom had wired the shop for service, and it is not possible to switch it over.  I am forced to pay the high price for the Telecom package.  I will try to find someone whose English is better than Tina's to try again Monday, to talk with a salesman at the Telecom office.  I would hope that it is possible to buy the internet service alone, without the phones.  Meanwhile, still no business cards.

Today I gave Rachel the sheet of instructions and information picked up at the government office.  She read through it, and concluded that it was a very complicated process. She called the agency, and had a very long talk with the woman there.  One conclusion was that it would cost perhaps six or seven thousand rmb, around $1,000 US.  And that is just government fees, it does not include the agency fee. What recourse do I have?  I would spend more than that in six months having to go to Hong Kong for a new tourist visa, not to mention the dread that I might be prevented from returning to China.

Now I have to decide whether to sell the house in Florida, or just try to rent it out and generate a monthly income.  I am in desperate need of an infusion of capital.  The coffee investment money may or may not materialize in the next ten days.  I'm not counting on it.

Dean, my guardian angel

I don't even know his Chinese name.  A thin man with slightly receding chin, an overbite, his skin is dark, his hair is short.  He is about forty years old.  He is the man who took it upon himself to find me an apartment, when it was time for me to finish my Changzhou University contract and begin working full time for Web.

He doesn't have a car.  He walks, or takes the bus.  So we bused, taxied, and got rides to see a wide selection of apartments until we finally found the one I'm in now.  I love this apartment!  It couldn't be better, and a steal.  Then he taught me another Chinese tradition.  He, his wife and son came and 'dirtied' my kitchen.  That is, they cooked the first meal in my new home.

The Web school uses the vocational education philosophy to teach English.  Anyone, given proper instruction and enough time, can learn any skill, thank you John Dewey.  So Dean made a decision.  He would learn English from the beginning, and give himself three years to do it.  I was his first foreign teacher, when this branch of Web opened in December, 2010.

We would occasionally have English corner on a weekday afternoon, where the only attendees were Dean, Daniel, Jimmy, Shirley, Vanna and sometimes Zoe and Lisa.  Most of these students owned their own businesses.  As my business idea slowly began to evolve, they would enjoy talking to me about what was going on.  They gave me lots of good advice, as well as instruction about how things work in China.

In time, each acquired their area of special interest.  Jimmy would make sure I got my sanitation inspection certificate.  In time, when visa issues erupted, his wife would smooth the waters since she works at the police department that issues visas.  Daniel helped in buying supplies and equipment.  We spent hours on the internet tracking down specialty equipment.  He is the go-to man for getting stuff, finding resources.  Dean was always there to offer his wisdom and sound judgment, and ultimately, his filial concern for me.

Then a time came when Dean was around a lot.  In fact, he was around all day, even on week days.  He said that his factory was closed down for repairs for a couple of weeks.  But those weeks passed.  Meanwhile, he started taking over on site responsibilities.  He connected with the contractor, and continued to push and guide him.  Daniel was not having success coming up with the shelves that I need, to hold the bread for display behind the counter.  I took a photo of the shelving used at Tesco supermarket, but Daniel could not find them online.  Dean met me at Tesco at 8:30 one morning, and we asked the managers about it.  They came up with a manufacturer's name, in Shanghai.

Dean took it from there.  He phoned the company, ordered the shelves, arranged for me to pay, followed through when hiccups arose (they always do).

I needed to deal with packaging.  I had heard there was a specialty market, over many concrete acres, somewhere in the east of Changzhou.  He stayed with me one day while we tried to find it, asking here and there at other markets.  We finally found it, and it offered so many things I thought I could find only on the internet.  We walked around for a couple of hours.  We found a shop selling paper and plastic bags, but not what I was looking for.  They said they could customize.  I took a sample.  I had already talked with Eric, a new Web student, about packaging.  That was his company's specialty.  I would take the sample to Eric, and we would work it out from there.  We were exhausted and it was getting towards the dinner hour, so we left the market.  But I knew I'd be back soon.

During the long bus ride, Dean confided in me.  [I know none of you will betray his secret.] He told me that his new job with an Israeli had not worked out.  He felt like such a failure!  He had left a good job for this new job, thinking he was advancing his career, and now he was unemployed and not getting any nibbles from his online resume.  He had not yet brought himself to tell his wife. This explained his availability.  He comes to Web every day as if he were going to a job, to keep up appearances.  I see him as my guardian angel, put there to take care of me during this difficult time.  I pray every day that the Lord will generously bless his kind and generous heart many times over with a great job where he will be truly appreciated.

Then we discovered that my baked goods, from this 200 kg shipment of flour, had a gritty texture.  I was horrified!  On Friday, July 6, some ex pats organized a little get together at the German restaurant above my shop.  I baked all day long, in anticipation of finally getting a decent audience to buy my wares.  Buy they did.  There were still some things left over, so I took a mushroom/onion ciabatta home for my Saturday breakfast.  I noticed that it was gritty.

I emailed an apology to those who attended the dinner, promising that they would receive a free loaf once I'd opened shop.  Some wrote back that the bread was delicious.  They noticed a little grit, but didn't mind it.

Dean, myself and this new wonderful discovery, Tina, went back to the supply market and hunted down sifters.  I had searched on the internet, but they seemed pricey.  We spent another long day there, during which I found so many necessary items.  And a sifter.

Back at the store the next day, Tina and I sifted.  We found lots of black flat stony pieces.  The whole shipment was spoiled, useless.

Dean called Mike for me, the supplier.  He had a number of conversations.  Mike promised to have a replacement shipment to us by Friday.  So here it was Monday, I had hired one worker and interviewed a few others.  The counter had been put in place, as well as a high table along a wall.  We were so close to being ready to open.  And now I had no flour!

Meanwhile, my visa needed to be dealt with.  I spoke with an agent in Shanghai who specializes in difficult visa cases.  He cockily told me he could get me a residence permit.  But there was one problem.  I had been in China too long continuously.  I would need to leave the country, and come back with a tourist visa.  Well, I had been trying to avoid the tourist visa.  It can be a death sentence.  But I didn't know what else to do, so I planned to spend the flourless down time making a visa run.

It was a tough decision.  Tenzin Mullin, my dear friend now living in New Zealand, was in Shanghai.  We had planned to get together Tuesday and Wednesday, when he would finally visit me in Changzhou.  This visa run would preclude that visit.

I had been way too busy to sit down and spend the hours I would need, consulting with others about how to do this visa run.  I would just wing it, and make all the wrong choices along the way.  In the end I spent almost $1,000, all but about $125, in those two days.  Including a return air ticket that I could not use.

Those two and a half days are themselves worthy of their own story.

When I got back to Changzhou with my tourist visa, I called the guy in Shanghai.  He told me he was busy and would call me right back.  I emailed him.  He had stopped communicating with me.

So I went back to Jimmy, and asked him if we couldn't have another consultation with is wife and with the visa officer at her police station.

While I was gone, Strider came by the shop to oversee the installation of the second air conditioner.  Strider is a former student of mine, who is now to be a junior at Changzhou University in the fall.  He needed to go home to Xuzhou to visit his family, but he wanted to help me for a week or two before he left.

He had trouble with the air conditioning installer.  Apart from the fact that the installer promised to come in the afternoon but didn't arrive until 8 p.m., leaving Strider alone and fuming in the bakery, there were technical issues.  He called Dean.  The two of them spent hours over a couple of days working things out.  Strider paid the installation costs from his own pocket, because I thought installation was included in the purchase price and had not left money for him.

And Dean continued to deal with Mike and the spoiled flour.  I called a shipper I work with, but left town before he could come and see the job.  Dean took that over for me.

And now Friday has come and gone, without a delivery of flour.  Mike now says it will come Monday.  Had I known, I could have visited with Tenzin and left for Hong Kong on Thursday.   Grrr.

And now Tina has come, it is Saturday and no baking to be done.  So we will discuss recipes, and hopefully develop a plan.  Menus, worker schedules, so many things need to be worked out.  We will spend the day at my air conditioned apartment, doing just that.

Ponzi Shmanzi, I want my money back

Jeff, Wu Gang, the guy who introduced me to the coffee investment scheme, told me that the coffee muckety mucks were inviting me to dinner Saturday night.  I should meet them at the fancy restaurant where they held a huge kick-off dinner in January, 2011.  Jeff's home is just north of there, my home considerably further south.

I took the bus and got there a few minutes before 6.  The Bali Coffee people were waiting outside for me.  Jeff had not yet arrived.  We went to our private room (that's how it's done in Chinese restaurants) and gradually assembled.  There were 7 chairs.

In attendance were the general manager, his deputy manager, the financial manager and his deputy manager, who was the Ms. Ma I had dealt with a couple times recently.  Rounding out the table was their driver, Jeff when he finally arrived, and me.

A lot of lip service was given.  They showed me newspaper articles praising their company.  All in Chinese, I couldn't read it.  Jeff was there supposedly as the translator, but he did very little of that.  It seemed as if he had suddenly lost his former fluency.  He stuttered and stammered and took forever to say anything, by which time the Chinese would start speaking again and Jeff would give up.

The financial director entertained us the whole evening.  I have no idea what he was saying.  He was lively, moving from one story to another.  At one point they said, 'Please don't tell Obama that!  you'll cause international problems.'  They all laughed. I sure wish I knew what had been said.  I asked Jeff, and he said 'they're talking politics'.  I was in no way drawn in to the dinner conversation, except for the congratulatory toasts.


The day I sat with Ms. Ma at their offices, trying to work out a solution, Rachel served as our translator by phone.  She let the cat out of the bag, that I was opening a bakery.  Previously, Jane Wang had dealt with Ms. Ma for me, telling her that I was sick and leaving the country and needing the money right away.  That's the Chinese business way.  But Rachel is just an honest worker, without guile.  So at this dinner there were many toasts to the success of my new business. 


They had bought some bottles of bai jiu, the Chinese distilled rice liquor that is so horrible.  But we sipped a cheap Great Wall red wine, and the good cheer never rose high enough to justify breaking out this expensive stuff.  They bundled it up at the end of the meal and carried it home.


Three-quarters of the way through the dinner the deputy manager was the one to give me the bad news.  He told me that the check would be cut at the end of the month.  Translated, just one more delay.  I keep thinking there is a bankruptcy filing, or a company disbanding, or some gloomy thing for which they are stalling me until it is too late to reclaim any funds.


As we rose to leave the table (I have never seen a lazy susan so empty of dishes at a Chinese restaurant as at that dinner, an indication of the importance of the guest) Mr Yang, the general manager, inquired of Jeff about my transportation.  Jeff dismissed the inquiry without even asking me how I was getting home.  Bundled in a full belly and empty promises, I trailed the crowd down the elegant stairway.  With chin dragging, in my fine silk dress, I walked to the bus stop through streets still damp from a sprinkling of rain