Losing Momentum

May I have your permission to kvetch for just a little?

I'm getting tired of this.  It is all so overwhelming.  I wear too many hats, I fear I do no task completely well, but all half-baked and some not even tepid.  The latter refers to bookkeeping and cost accounting.

I decided to do more of the Sunday brunches, because people seemed to so enjoy the last one.  But here we are four days away from the next, and one person has signed up for it (it is RSVP).

Meanwhile, I run myself ragged trying to anticipate what I will need, like fruit juice, salt and pepper shakers for each table, more savory items beyond the scope of the bakery menu, and on and on.

Here it is July 30, the day before payday, and I haven't nearly enough to pay my two employees.

I am spending what little money I have on buying all the prep for a Sunday Brunch.

Why?

I am feeling totally overwhelmed.  I took on the new shop, the series of miracles seemed to point the way.  But now the vision is more like a mirage than a miracle.

Han Dan has abandoned me.  She had texted me that she was so eager to work with me, when her own coffee shop closed.  So she came.  She hauled with her a lot of her stuff that she wanted me to buy.  But then she left me, to work in a real estate office.  She came by to pick up a Taobao order that she had shipped to this address, and to pick up some money I owed her.  I told her that I thought I might have an investor, and I was prepared to pay Han Dan whatever she wanted, as long as she helped me set up the new shop.

Finally, a few days later, she texted me that she wants 5500 rmb/month.  Just for reference, this is the same total sum of my current payroll, for Julie and for XiaoLan combined.

I said I couldn't commit to that right now.  The investor has not come up with any money.  I said that if she is making that kind of money, why would she want to quit?  She said indeed, she liked to spend money on clothes and a good time, and so she couldn't work for me for less.

Then I realized that she had the impression that I was rich, and that's why she wanted to work for me.  What a disappointment!  I thought she was a sweet, very intelligent girl with a great personality.  Turns out she just a Material Girl.

I hate owing money.  And now that is where I find myself.  I have not come up with an idea or solid plan for the new space that would earn enough to pay my obligations.

Randy came by today to tell me that he thought the price I was asking for the buffet was too high.  I talked with Libby, and she said that our ladies didn't mind, because they understood I was fund-raising.  So I decided I needed to lower it.

I went on Facebook and reduced the price from 139 to 115 rmb.  I also detailed more of the non baked goods menu items.

A lot of people I know tell me that this Sunday isn't going to work for them, for one reason or another. Some have classes scheduled, others are out of town, and such.   Just bad timing, I guess.

And yet I will go through the effort, nonetheless.

I am tired.  December begins to loom large, as a target date for moving to Florida.

The First 'First Sunday Brunch'

First first Sunday Brunch

We rented the tea shop two doors to the north.  The previous tenant had done a lovely job of wood paneling the whole place, with lots of shelves.  The flooring is cheap linoleum in a gray narrow wood design, but the overall effect is warm and cozy.  The place is L shaped.  There is a room jutting out that has windows on two sides. 

The asking price was ridiculously low, only 26,000 rmb.  There is a hallway cutting the place across the back.  In the back off this hallway are three rooms.  A large bathroom empty but for a western toilet and a  

At one end of the hall, the only sink.
When funds increase, I plan
to move the wall making the
bathroom smaller and the sink area
larger.

urinal, a large store room with one window and only two sets of electric plugs side by side below the window, and the room on end which is  small and  square (maybe 10 feet by 10) with a window and the same electrical setup.  They share an air conditioning unit up high against the ceiling, with a cutout in the wall separating the two rooms.

For many months I’ve felt the need for more space.  We are dreadfully crowded in the bakery, yet more and more people want to come in and sit down.

My apartment has been used as a storage place for the bulk purchases, pretty much taking up my spare room.

store room and kitchen on the left,
the main shop through the door on right.
The blank space begs for a fridge,
but it has no electric outlet near.

Now we have this place, and no money left with which to outfit it.  At the same time, Han Dan texted me that she wanted to work with me.  She is a lovely bubbly early twenties lady who opened her own café in the downtown area, near WalMart.  She was giving it up as a lost cause.  I told her I would be very happy to have her work with me.  I knew she would be just the person I’d need to manage the new place, if we would be serving more customers. 

She straight away said that she wanted to give me her furniture.  We hopped on our ebikes and rode from the bakery to her café downtown.  I had wanted to go many times during the year, as she was a faithful customer to buy our brownies and cookies once a month or so.  Yet this was the first time. 

Her furniture consists of three sets of tables and upholstered benches.  She was also giving us three small tables and six chairs.

She walked me through her tiny place and asked what else I might need, to buy.  I told her I had no money, and could only buy if I could have six months to pay it off.  She made a long list of things I could use, and so we agreed.

Now the tea shop has furniture.  The previous owner left behind a very long three-tiered glass display table.  Also a very large freezer, that was too big to fit through the door to the back rooms.  There is also a black  onyx counter, wired under the floor for internet and power, but wires cut.  

The furnishings seem adequate, though not elegant

We inherited this table. It is so large,
Our foods seem so few

HanDan brought with her a POS terminal, a complex computer all in Chinese, of course, that has a lot of powerful functions for keeping tabs on the business.

 With the place looking so good, Randy and I went down to the second hand market near the railroad station and looked at furniture.  I picked out an eclectic set, for which I paid less than 2,000 rmb.

The glassed room would be the ‘salon’;  a comfortable place to sit, drink coffee, work on the internet, nibble on scones or muffins. 

As a trial run, my group of housewife ladies came for the biweekly gathering.  They arrayed themselves in the salon, and drank coffee.  Some ordered grilled cheese sandwiches, which I made on my new whiz bang appliance.  They had a god feel about the place.  It was hot and raining outside, but cool and cozy inside.

We were now ready for a slightly more ambitious dry run, a Sunday morning brunch buffet.

We advertised very little, really.  We published an event on the FB ex pat page, and I sent it out to my WeChat friends.  The rest was word of mouth.

I chose for pricing 138 rmb per person, 209 rmb per couple, kids under 10 free, above 10 half price.

Brotchen

I got to the bakery at 4 a.m. and began baking brotchen and making bear claws.  Fortunately, no one arrived at the designated opening time, as I was nowhere near ready.  People came closer to 10:30 than 9 a.m.

Bagels

We had waffles, bear claws slightly overcooked, cinnamon buns, bagels, English muffins, pumpernickel, Anadama slices, NY deli rye and Multigrain Sourdough, a bread popular with both foreigners and Chinese alike.  I offered a toaster, but it was off on the onyx counter, not on the buffet table.  I thought it interesting that no one used it, and made a note next time to put it on the buffet table.  The waffle iron was on the buffet table, and I periodically made a waffle and offered it.   I made Western omelets, without the ham; and Quiche Lorraine, 

XiaoBai cooking Randy's bacon

with bacon and so on.  Randy made a batch of baked beans and a bowl of SOS, or chipped meat in gravy.  He made biscuits to go with them, which were rather flat (he said his baking powder was too old).  He cooked up some bacon, but did not bring out his griller for sausage links.  I was disappointed about the last.

Bread basket remains, with Anadama
and Multigrain sourdough

When I arrived, shortly after 4 a.m.,  I went to the tea shop to get something from the storeroom.  That’s when I discovered that the power had been turned off by the management office!  When Randy heard this he gave up his griller, leaving it in the car.  But our baker, Julie, saved the day by going to the office at the dot of nine when it opened, and paying them off.  She returned breathless; the power came on immediately.

slightly overbaked bear claws

The usual suspects came, good friends all.  Perhaps around 20 people in all, many arriving at 11:30.  They had a good time, many meeting for the first time, especially the husbands.  Stephanie came with Emilio.  Ricky came and sat with them, thus they didn’t mingle much.  Still, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. 

Theresa came with her Swiss husband and two copper-headed children, and their golden retriever.  It 

Theresa and her son. Both son and daughter
kept coming back for waffles.

brought me cognitive dissonance seeing grown people afraid of the most mild and friendly animal in the world.  They and others used their VIP cards, which thwarted my goal of enhancing my cash flow.  Next time I will include in the flyers and announcements that VIP cards are not valid.

The service was abominable.  People had to ask for water.  The coffee pot stood full, while the foolish adolescent volunteers came to me with alarm, that there was no coffee.   I had bought dishes enough for about 20 people.  The diners were used to leaving a dirty dish behind and getting a clean one at the buffet table. We ran out of dishes.  Randy kept on eye on the kitchen; he organized the volunteers, making a blue tub into a bussing tray, and tried to unlock the bottle neck.  Dishwashing was at the bakery, not the Tea Shop.  At times it seems like there was a bit of Keystone Cops going on, with people chasing each other between the two venues.  

Randy had suggested our offering a ‘champagne’, which upon sampling earlier in the month we discovered was sparkling hard cider.  I planned to mix it with frozen strawberries, but he had not bought any cider.  I 

asked him to run to the store for it, but he said he was out of money.  His pecuniary ways were beginning to get on my nerves.  I gave him money based on what he said it costs, wanting two bottles.  He brought back one.  Later I sent someone else with more money.  They are actually 52 rmb per bottle, not the 35 he said he had paid previously.

I should have had fruit juice, but did not.  I had lots of cut of fruit, however, and some cheeses.

The waffles were a big hit, as were the Western omelets even without ham.  The quiche exhibited only mild interest.

Cinnamon Buns

One and all said it was an enjoyable experience, and wanted to do it again.  I decided then and there that we would do it on the first Sunday of the next two months, and wing it from there.

The next day I sat down with my team of summer volunteers, and Han Dan. There were Chris, XiaoBai and young Jim. We reviewed the experience, and talked about how we could do it better.  I was trying to express the concept of stations, where each person would be responsible for a particular thing (water, coffee, or clearing tables) while also focusing on a particular group of tables.  Han Dan understood what I meant immediately, and explained it to the others.  We all felt we could do a much better job the next time.

That was July 7.  By July 20 all my volunteers were gone, except for young Jim.  Chris needed to attend a class in Shanghai to prepare for her studies abroad in the Fall.  Xiao Bai’s mother insisted that if he hadn’t found a paying job in Changzhou (where his college is) he must return home, to Shanxi Province, for the summer.  Han Dan’s mother also insisted that if I could not pay her better and give her ‘benefits’, she had to come work for relatives.

This photo showed me how bare
the walls looked.  I've now bought
four very inexpensive vases
to 'fill' that space until such time.

The next event is scheduled for August 3.   Han Dan said she thought her work schedule for that day would allow her to come and help, but the August schedule had not yet been published.  .  It is up to the Lord to provide another miracle or two, to find me staff for that event.

Spring 2014

Eight months in a nutshell:  August 2013 sales were miserable.  We should have closed.  Since then I've gradually spruced the place up, buying nice covered display dishes, different sized carton boxes instead of just using plastic bags for wrapping, and adding cakes and new breads to our product line.  In the Summer 2014 I bought a label printer, and a price scanner.  In the Fall, 2013, there was a flurry of media attention, newspaper articles and TV news coverage.  That brought an incredible spike in business, which has now settled down but left us with twice the sales over this time last year.  A slow computer prompted me to backup important documents and reformat the hard drive.  I forgot one critical desktop folder, which had all last years revenue and expenses, which records are now gone.  New friends entered our life, and old ones left.  I broke an arm, and during recovery learned that the shop ran tolerably well without me.  Our plans for the immediate future include improving our digital presence.  We have made one remodel, so that now we have two tables indoors which seat three people each, and a table outside which the smokers enjoy.

We closed our first fiscal year with a whimper.  In fact, I laid off the workers for a week, without pay.  Had I not gone on the trip to Sichuan, or joined a gym, I would have had enough to pay them.  Selfish me.

Between February and May Peter twice threatened to quit, in February and again in April.  I raised his pay beyond what I could afford, and promised him that if he stayed with us I'd increase his salary again in December 2013.  Before this could happen, in July, Peter sent me a text message saying that his mother had 'given birth to a serious illness'.  Or some such comical Chinglish.The point was, he would have to return to his hometown to help the family take care of her.  He took us out for a final dinner, XiaoLan, Rachel and me.  He was very sweet about it.

We survived the summer with a few volunteers, the most notable of whom was a tall serious student home from Nanjing, we called Xiao Zhu.  He quickly mastered a number of recipes, and was very good at the cash register too.

In late September I found a new apprentice baker, but she had to give a month's notice before she could join us.  She volunteered for a couple of weeks, in her spare time, but mostly we were on our own, Xiao Lan and me. There was a college student who helped us, actually working full-time on evenings and weekends around her college schedule (YiFei). By the time Jean (JiangNingNing) joined us full-time, we had already begun the cycle of media exposure.  It was trial by fire for her. Our goods were flying off the shelf.  Customers would sit around and wait a half hour until a new batch of scones or bread came out of the oven.  Our shelves were bare, simply because the turnover was so fast.  The gross revenue for November was over 30,000 rmb.  I learned that this was the level we would need to sustain in order to cover all our expenses and break even.  However, we could not sustain this level. Our December sales were much lower even than the previous year.

Jean had previously worked at a bakery chain called 85 Degrees.  Her English fluency was not there, and so I had a hard time communicating with her.  Rachel and XiaoLan did that.  I was unclear about what she did at 85 degrees.  Months later I concluded that she swept the floor there.  She seemed to have no baking experience.  Peter had also worked for that same chain, but he at least brought with him some knowledge of the equipment.  Another thing they had in common was that they both were from XuZhou, a city in the north part of this province.  Peter used to need time off to travel home to his family, but Jean is more rooted in Changzhou.  She lives with her sister's family.

I was uncertain about Jean.  Her temperament seemed fragile.  I didn't think she would do well under pressure, or focus well enough to keep production high.  I expressed doubts to XiaoLan and Rachel, that I'd like to keep looking at applicants.  But they stood by her as our first choice.  They were so very right!

Jean is a hard worker.  She would prefer to be a pastry chef rather than a bread baker, but I choose not to focus on that end of the product spectrum.  She has learned bread baking very well, putting out a consistent product.

It was around September that a German young man, Silvio Hoglinger, began hanging out at the bakery.  I had met him before my bakery opened, at the new  German restaurant three floors above my bakery.  I barely noticed him at the time, because he spent his time in the kitchen, but his suave, handsome blue-eyed blond younger brother was waiting tables and handling the dining room, and it was he I connected with more often.  Then the two of them moved to Suzhou, to start a sausage shop.  Eventually they gave up on that, the younger brother returned to Germany to finish his studies, while the older brother came back here where their father is a manager in a German factory.

Silvio had discovered that in the basement parking garage below our bakery there was a strip of electric outlets for charging ebikes.  While his ebike was recharging, he would hang out at the bakery.  He struck me with an air of the lost Ugly Duckling.  He doesn't have the good loocks of his brother, he butchers the English language, and has lots of stories of other restaurants he worked at in Changzhou.  All negative, all about Chinese businessmen exploiting the foreign expert.  He has a child-like sensibility in many ways, trusting, open, thoroughly likable yet slightly jaded.

In Germany his education entailed entering the vocational track in high school, where he entered into a culinary training  program and came out very knowledgable about every aspect of the business.  Cooking, baking, managing, he is well grounded in all areas.

He decided to open a small bistro.  It took months to materialize, finally opening in November, and during that time he hung out more and more often in our kitchen.  He taught Jean and XiaoLan how to bake simple cakes, a category called kuglehopf. (sp?)  He taught them to make a delightful lemon pan cake, topped with a brushing of fresh lemon juice, water and confectioners sugar.  These have become staples in our line of products, popular with the customers.  He improved our pretzels, which now have a steady following among our few German customers.  We also experimented with a mousse cake that never came out to my satisfaction and I finally dumped it.

Mousse is not in keeping with our 'down home country' persona.

He has helped me in many small ways.  He helped me expand the sourcing of my supplies, knowing that side of Changzhou much better than me.  He introduced me to new products, like gelatin sheets.  We would kick around ideas, for his place, for my place, and for collaborations. It meant a lot to me, reducing my sense of isolation, until he went to Germany.

China has changed the visa laws again, putting a limit to how many times a person can leave the country to Hong Kong and come back again on a tourist visa.  This affects Silvio directly, and so now he is in Germany.  He thought he might have to spend three to six months there before he could arrange another visa to come back.  Meanwhile, the Bistro sits empty.  I miss him.

During this year and a half at the bakery, my health has declined.  At the beginning it was easy to abstain from our products.  I tend to prefer savory snacks to sweet ones.  But I was working long days, often 12 plus hours.  I did not take the time to properly shop and prepare meals for myself. I ate whatever was on hand.   I got no exercise.  And so I put on weight.

I tried to diet, but without exercise and proper meals, it was discouraging.  I gave up, and started doing quality control sampling of my products.

Blood pressure, arthritis, these things were aggravated.  I would have symptoms that concerned me, and I wanted to know what to do about them.  That's how I wound up visiting the nearest hospital, a TCM (traditional Chinese medicine) hospital.  I had some discomfort left over from an earlier ebike accident, pains in the abdomen, and wanted it checked out.  After frustrating attempts at communication, the doctor made a phone call, and soon a doctor arrived who spoke English.

I call him Doc Wilson.  In the end, the doctor reassured me that there was nothing seriously wrong with my abdomen. The soreness may or may not go away with time.  We left the doctor's office and wound up standing in the corridor having a long conversation.  He wanted to know more about the relationship between doctor and patient in the west.  He had a lot of questions, and also needed practice speaking English lest he forget it.  He had worked a year in Dubai at a hospital, which had been an eye opener.

I wound up calling upon him when small matters, like athlete's foot, cropped up.  I'd text him for an OTC medicine recommendation.  He'd text me back a product name, which I could show at any pharmacy.  We'd get together occasionally.

On April 11 his new daughter completed 100 days on earth. Traditionally this calls for a celebration.  He was hiring out a dining room in a ritzy hotel, and needed gift boxes of pastries to give the guests, all 120 of them.  The traditional box should have six different baked items.  He came to me, saying that everyone buys them from the same large bakery chain here, called Happiness (da xi lai) , but usually threw the ingredients away.  This store produces products high in sugar and low in natural flavors.  He wanted to do something different, and in the process help me bring in new customers.

I wound up giving him such a low price that my employees protested to me.  They took the solution into their own hands, making the muffins a little smaller, etc.  They do watch out for me, curbing my natural tendency towards generosity (leading to bankruptcy).  It was an incredibly difficult project.  I am proud of the staff for how they organized the work over two weeks, and on the last day stayed 14 hours to see all the boxes properly packed.  I came in at 6 am the last morning.  Doc was to come in at noon.  I was amazed to find all the boxes packed. There was nothing left to do but wrap them in ribbon.  The ladies backed off from that, saying they didn't know how.

Randy came in around nine, and helped.  We streamlined measuring and cutting 120 ribbons, and then he held his finger on the ribbon while I tied the knot.

Randy is a customer who I began to notice in October or November.  He would come in a few times a week for a cup of coffee.  Over time the frequency increased.  He is American, early 60's, who has been in China for 20 years.  He is single.  He owns a large apartment within walking distance of the bakery.  He has worked for large European and American companies through that time, but now is on his own.  He has fingers in many pies; consultancies and joint venture factories prominent among them.  As I would find out much later, despite his apparent success, he is a pauper.

I started looking forward to his daily arrival.  I would take a break from work and sit with him.  I found him very easy to talk to.  We seemed to have a lot in common.

True to Chinese culture, XiaoLan decided he and I ought to get together. She asked me if he was married.  I didn't know.  So she approached him next visit and asked him.  His Chinese is pretty good.

He grew up in a large family on a farm in South Dakota.  His mother died when he was around 10, and he wound up doing a lot of the cooking.  I am often reminded of Garrison Kiehler's stereotype, the Norwegian Bachelor Farmer.  Randy is painfully shy and reclusive.  He is well known in the community here, because he does attend social events as a means to expand his business connections.  He speaks easily to strangers.  So how is he shy and reclusive?  It is that no one gets passed the gate into his person.  He is self reliant, and for all his acquaintances he has no apparent emotionally supportive social circle of friends. Much later, I would discover how much he was hiding from us. He is an enigma.

In an effort to get to know him better I devised ways to spend time with him away from the bakery. It took a week of monosyllabic text messaging before we arranged a dinner date. It was a very pleasant event, with no follow up. I arranged long rides out to the edge of the city, where the wholesale food suppliers are, for my flour and other supplies.  We get along great, but nothing is ever initiated from his side.

He had been kicking around the idea of starting a business making sausages.  I encouraged him in that, we kicked around models of cooperation, where I'd move the bakery into a larger space where I could also serve meals featuring his products.   This month he has built his smoker, and has started producing breakfast sausage patties and bacon. He has many more items to come.  I suggested he package his product in vacuum sealed bags.  I own a sealer, so he comes to the bakery to use our meat slicer and vacuum sealer.

Reluctantly I've realized that I have to back off.  This man is set in his ways, and does not want or need a woman introduced into his small social circle of old Chinese friends. (Foreigners make terrible friends, because sooner or later they all move on, returning to their home country or another foreign assignment.)

I am content and grateful that I have him as a friend.  He is very generous with his time.  In the first weeks of my broken arm, he came to my apartment to clean.  He spent hours vacuuming, dusting, sorting out the dirt pile on my balcony that had been a garden before my new cat, Fella, demolished it. He is a really good-hearted man.  And after all, I am also set in my ways, and don't cherish the thought of someone moving into my life making demands on my time.

This past weekend in April AJ, his wife Jenny, and baby Amber came to the bakery for a visit.  They had moved to Shanghai, so it has been many, many months since I've seen them.  They came at noon and tried out my pizzas.  It was wonderful to see them, and know they are happy in Shanghai.

I asked AJ if he still had the Android app he made for me, but he said he deleted it all.  Next I asked about the web domain he built, called YourChangzhou.org.  Randy and I had been talking about starting a web site with touristy kind of news of Changzhou, as well as infomercials for local ex pat businesses and functions.  I asked AJ to look into finding out how we could take over that domain name, which he still owns.

There is a tourist magazine for many cities in China.  That's.   That's Beijing, That's Chengdu, etc.  We couldn't afford to set up such an elaborate magazine, but we thought we could put together a similar concept with only an online presence.  The That's magazines are usually distributed in the larger hotels of their cities. Randy thinks it is still useful to maintain just a digital presence.  He plans to solicit sponsorship from the large hotels and restaurants who would advertise there.  It's all still in the talking stage, but we might be able to put it together.  It's possible.

On February 13 I drowned my iPhone.  It would take two weeks to fix.  Having a phone is crucial to shopping online, and so this caused no small inconvenience. At least half of our daily supplies comes from online shopping.  Finally the Apple Service Center called me and said I could pick the phone up on February 28.  On the evening of February 27, two blocks from my home, an ebike crashed into me while I was initiating a left turn.  I broke my arm.

That day I had parked my bike at Libby's apartment complex, and we took the bus to Metro for shopping.  By the time we got back the rain had stopped and dusk had fallen.  I was riding my bike the two blocks to my house when it happened.  On a narrow two lane black top road lined with housing complexes, the area called collectively 'Xin Cheng Nan Du' or New South City, I was preparing to make a left turn.  I slowed down, watched the traffic ahead and behind me, waiting for an opening.  Just as I turned my wheel left, a small yellow ebike sped from behind, heedlessly heading straight across an intersection.  My front wheel clipped his rear, dragging my bike for an instant before he stopped.  I toppled left, with forward momentum, landing full on my elbow.  The force of the blow ran up the bone to the crown of the joint, fracturing the bone where it met the ball.

I had never felt such pain.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't even open my eyes, focusing all my concentration on containing the pain.  The man and his woman passenger, all decked out for a night on the town, were trying to talk to me.  They ran through the usual dialogue (call your family, should we call the police?  Let's get you out of the road).  I managed to utter a few words, enough so they knew I understood, but I was dazed and could not enter into a conversation.

It took a few moments to collect my thoughts, but then I remembered Randy.  His apartment is next door to Libby's, and he has a car.  I called him, and he immediately went into action.  When he arrived he put me into his car, and then took care of my ebike.  The bike was only superficially damaged, with scrapes and dents.

A hospital had opened a couple of years ago in University Town where I used to live.  Randy drove me there.  The x-ray showed the fractured bone, and it looked like a clean and shallow fracture.  I was in severe pain.  Randy stood helplessly by, looking over the shoulder of the 'doctor'.  Perhaps he was an intern, though he had some years on him.  He started running a spiel.  There could be complications, you may need surgery, you should have a CT scan.  Do you want to stay in the hospital overnight, and have the scan in the morning?  I was in shock, incapable of conceiving how I could take care of myself at home.  It is a totally helpless, vulnerable state to be in.  At the question, an image arrived of being in a clean, warm and quiet room, with capable nurses knowing how to make me comfortable.  I said 'yes'.

Randy disappeared to pay upfront.  Then they rolled my gurney up to the fourth floor.  They parked me in the hallway.  Randy hung around until the nurse brought a blanket and I was made as comfortable as possible, and then he left.

When the nurse brought the clean blanket, she remarked that my clothes were wet and dirty (from being dragged in the street), that I should remove them.  Great, I thought, now she'll bring me a nightgown and slippers.  No, that is not what happened.  She left.  Then I realized I had to pee, and couldn't put it off.  I tried to raise myself up.  Even just the thought made me grunt, as I commanded my muscles and limbs to rally to the effort to no result.  But I kept trying.  Down the corridor there was another gurney.  A man and woman lie on it.  I couldn't tell who was the patient.  They lifted their heads at my grunts, seemed disconcerted.  Helplessly, I started calling out.  Nurse, nurse, nurse.  I don't know the word in Chinese, but I figured eventually some one would come.  A man came.  I said I needed the toilet.  He helped me get up, I struggled into my sneakers, and we walk around the end of the gurney to the toilet.  What, no bed pan????

He opened the door for me, and then left.  There I was, in a tiny cubicle with a (western) toilet and three layers of clothes on to be removed by one good hand.  Every movement of any part of my body sent out waves of pain.  I struggled to lift up my dress and pull down the long johns, then the panties, but it took too long  The bladder let loose before I was ready.

I found my way back to the gurney.  I don't remember how I got back into the bed; probably a nurse showed up to help me.  As I lay there, fruitlessly trying to get comfortable, I played with my phone  The bakery's smart phone was the only distraction I had.  It wasn't like my iPhone, which would have afforded me more distractions  (games, WeChat, podcasts).  I called Rachel, just to let her know I wouldn't be into work in the morning.   I also call Stephanie, asking her to cross the street and bring me slippers.  She said that no, she didn't have a spare pair, but would bring me hers.  Her apartment is literally on the corner opposite the hospital.

I had just woke up when I saw Rachel rounding the corner of an adjacent corridor.  Behind her was XiaoLan, and Rachel's aunt and grandmother.  They had been out shopping for the wedding, and Xiao Lan had planned to take the next day off.

It wasn't long before the doctor appeared, the same guy.  He is wanted to bind up the shoulder in some way, to protect the healing.  He explains the fracture to Rachel, and the 'need' for the CT scan.  Then he asks a nurse to bring him a sling.  It is two one-foot long strips of padding, held together by about eight inches of broad elastic.  Then there are straps to go across the chest, to hold it in place.

He stretched out the elastic and slipped it around my shoulder and elbow.  Then he tried to fasten the straps, but he said I was too fat.  The straps didn't reach.  The next option is plaster.  He leaves, and comes back with a long broad strip of layered gauze soaked in wet plaster.  He tries to put it on my arm shouldter to elbow, over my clothes.  I was incredulous.  Righteous indignation at such stupidity and incompetence was barely contained.  Rachel explained that I'd like to take my clothes off first.  He argued indignantly, but finally retreated.  The ladies help me get out of my denim jumper and my turtle neck shirt., and remove the bra.  Then he came back, and applied the plaster.  He then secured it to my body by encasing my chest in gauze.

Then he talked with me through Rachel about needing the CT scan in the morning, and possibly surgery.  And that point I had had enough with that doctor.  I had seen enough of the x-ray to feel that it was a clean break, not needing surgery.  I told him I wanted to leave the hospital and go home.  He puffed himself up with arrogance and indignation, laying down his commands for his patient.  I said clearly and assertively, that there would be no operation and no overnight stay in the hallway of a hospital.  I was going home.  He said well, if you won't do what I tell you to do then I'm done with you.  You can take your chances.

He signed the necessary papers for us to get Randy's money back, and we checked out.  As it turns out, Randy had only 200 rmb on him when he came.  You get what you pay for.  Had he 1,000 rmb in his pocket I would have been given a bed in a room.

Me, Emilio, Stephanie, Ricky

Rachel had called Stephanie back, and suggested she bring some clothes as well.  So we covered my upper body as best we could with her long-sleeved shirt, tried to secure the jumper with a spandex mini skirt, and we moved to the exit. Stephanie could no go home, because of an ongoing issue with her apartment security card  The outside door needed an electronic key, her key no longer worked but after a month of negotiating she had still not obtained a new one, and since it was past 10 p.m. she was locked out.  Rachel's car was full of her family and their purchases.  So Stephanie helped me get home in a taxi, and spent the short night with me.  She was very good natured about it.  I felt relief knowing someone else was there.  I gave her sheets and blankets for the couch.  But she had an 8 a.m. class, so I had to set the alarm for 6 a.m.  She later admitted that she was also enduring an uncomfortable mensis.

Stephanie is not angelic.  She is an angel.

That is a synopsis of what's been going on up until the Spring.  One day I will make a book from these notes, so this is my effort not to forget too much.

A series of miracles

A series of Miracles

We have felt cramped in our store.  Even my apartment spare room is filled and overflowing.  As I have invested earned money back into the business, we have acquired more appliances and gadgets.  In our efforts to be more cost efficient, we are buying our food supplies in bulk, much of which comes home with me until we need it.  Little by little, the bakery is appearing more and more ‘cozy’.  Read, ‘cluttered’. 

“XiaoLan”, I said, bent elbows pushing out against imaginary walls, “we need more space.”

Two serious considerations applied in our search for more space.  One, our severe lack of capital funds.  Two, our need to stay in the same location, for all those folks who told us it took them so long to find us.  We wouldn’t want to disappear and make them search all over again.

Over the months, a shop three doors up towards the north came up for rent.  It was too expensive, because you could see it from the street in the openings between the two buildings.  This was a desirable advantage, but we couldn’t raise the funds.

Two years ago when we opened, the two shops south of mine were vacant.  The furthest had never been used. The latter was slightly deeper than mine, perhaps 60 sq meters to my 50 sq meters.  It was bare white walls and bands of red pipes across the ceiling.  The shop directly next to ours southward had been remodeled, and then the shopkeeper changed her mind and never opened a shop there.  She was holding the shop ransom for a huge sum of money.  It didn’t matter, because at that time all our funds were tied up and we had no way to finance its acquisition.  At that time I envisioned us connecting and moving into all three shops, with a great concept.  Similar to a small chain called ‘Bookworm’, it would be a cultural center that also provided food.

Then last summer I noticed activity at the shop furthest south of we three.  I watched as carpenters created a bar, rounded the edges smooth and stained it dark mahogany.  They built boxes and diamonds on the wall behind the bar, for the bottles that were to come.  As I chatted with the young woman overseeing the work, I said jocularly, when in six months you decide to close, please remember me.  I’ll make you an offer.

Bless her heart, during the ensuing year we noticed very few customers coming to her darkened night space.  She stuck it out a full year.  At the end of that first business year, she put the ‘for rent’ sign up.

We tried to talk with her.  Randy stepped in and did some heavy serious negotiations.  His skills have been honed by years of negotiating for factory space, and outfitting factories.  He knows the cost of things, and has valuable experience negotiating with the Chinese.  He knows the Chinese equivalent of ‘you’ve been scalped’, useful when she told us how much she paid to remodel the place.  I looked at what money I could scrape together in the States, between my retirement social security check and the rent from my Florida house, and settled on 30,000 rmb as my line.  She lowered her sights to 50,000.  And there we stood. 

Honestly, the space was not a very good one for us. It would need a lot of renovation to use either as a deli, Randy’s idea, or as a bakery outlet.  Meantime, it could only be used for storage, and as a packaging and shipping station once all our delivery orders came in.  I was simply thinking to hold it until the middle shop became available too, and then expanding.

The standoff continued into a new month, the barkeep had to pay the landlord.  I thought she’d cave.  She dug her heels in and waited for someone who wanted a bar.  I thought it is a stupid location for a bar, in the midst of boutiques and nail salons; no one would be such a fool.

I was wrong.  Perhaps it was a wealthy relative who stepped in.  I don’t know.  One day I saw someone unpacking new wicker-style chairs and small round tables.  This was the new owner, and he was adding a couple of outdoor tables.  This is a good idea!  When we first rented our space the management office was reluctant to allow outdoor seating and service, but over the years they have changed their thinking.  We also have a table outside every day.  Though it is not often used, it serves as a landmark.

But before this event, I noticed that the tea shop two doors to the north had a for-rent sign on the window.  I did not hesitate.  I went in and started making enquiries.  They invited me to sit down at their long table and drink tea with them.  Ah, this reminded me of my first year in China, in Zhuhai, Guangdong, where tea tasting was a rich cultural tradition.  I sat comfortably, having my tea cup filled and refilled.  We talked about tea, and other light banter, and occasionally about their plans.

In the end, I stood to go, and I asked them to take down the for-rent sign.  There had already been other enquiries from people more alert than me, so they said.  They made no promises, and then I realized my request had to be accompanied by cash.  They were asking 26,000 for renovations on 145 sq meters.

I slept on it.  I talked with Randy about it.  He and I had been having conversations over many weeks, over many cups of coffee, about how he could best make his meats more available.  He needed a commercial base of operation. He shared a couple of his dreams.  At first, he loved the idea of opening a deli.  He felt there was a need for such a unique and western shop.  We tossed that one around for a couple of days.  Then he drifted away from that, and eyed a larger shop to the south that was not available.  There, he said, he'd like to open a dry goods store for hard-to-find western goods.  I nodded, but silently didn't think much of that idea.

This tea shop offered an attractive option.  At 145 square meters, this space is large enough to house his frozen and fresh-smoked sausages and meats.  If we build a small kitchen in the store room in back, we could make sandwiches and some hot dishes that highlighted his meats.  There was plenty of room for tables and chairs.  We only had two tables and six chairs acquired from Silvio’s Bistro, and two folding tables.  That could be a start.

We would keep the current smaller shop as a ‘factory’.

 

New and Old, Han Dan and Randy

AT this same time I received a text message from Han Dan.  She is a young lady who, a year ago, came to us excited about her plans to open a small café in the South Street (nan da jie) shopping mall, downtown Changzhou.  She wanted to sell some of our products there.  We got to know her over the year.  Nearly every month she would place a small order with us, for brownies and cookies, sometimes muffins.  She is a bubbly person, with a good head on her shoulders and lots of optimism. 

In her message she said she would like to work with me. “I want make a job” I had to read between the lines. She reworded it.  “Can I work for you?”  She tried again in Chinese, my iPhone translated this as “I could go to work that thing you.”

I replied, “ha ha.  Are you giving up on your café”  But the between-the-lines was seeping into my brain, so I added ‘we are expanding.  I will need a good manager very soon.”  She replied, “I will Learn”  “do my best”  So I replied, “come see me when you have time”  She whipped back, “1:00 p.m.”

So she came, and we talked. 

She had indeed decided to call it quits after a year.  She needed to empty out her shop, because the people interested in renting it wanted a dance studio there.  She said she wanted to give me three tables and six benches.  And if I was interested, she had three more small tables and five chairs, that weren’t worth much but I could have them free.

We hopped on our ebikes and rode into the city.  I finally got to see her shop.  I had wanted to visit her many times, but never could figure out where the shop was.  She was unable to give me directions to it.  Now she led me there, and I realized it was right behind WalMart.  It would have been easy to find, had I taken the time to call her when I was in the city center. It was much smaller than I had imagined, but just as cute.  She has a feminine touch, and an elfish whimsy.  She had cleverly created recessed shelving along a wall, that disguised the door leading to the kitchen. I longed to have her intelligence, energy, humor and good heart working alongside me.

She walked me through the appliances and equipment she had.  She wanted to sell it, but cheaply.  She had bought quality stuff, no junk.

I told her I had no money.  If I bought the stuff, I’d need time to pay it off.  I thought six months was a safe length of time.  She agreed.  It took a day or two for us to finally arrive at what she could be comfortable with.  She practically gave the stuff to me!  Included in the stash was an expensive POS terminal, very sophisticated.  I told her she would have to come with it, because no one else on my staff would be able to figure out how to work it.

Han Dan is inside the large area.  I am shooting from the salon.
Windows to my right and back

Her salary was a problem.  Her mother was pushing her to demand high wages and benefits.  It put me in an awkward spot. 

We had agreed with the tea shop that we could take possession on the 20^th.  That day came and went, but we neither had the key nor an empty tea shop.  They had moved most of the big stuff, but clearly they were not done moving out.

On the 21^st Han Dan appeared for work.  I had nothing for her to do!  She helped me make some phone calls and we finally got ahold of a key to the tea shop.  She took off for downtown and an arranged truck, to load the stuff and bring it down.  It was late afternoon; Yi Fei had already arrived for the night shift.  Yi Fei and I went in there with brooms and a mop, and cleaned up what we could.  We cleared away one full room in which to put Han Dan’s stuff, the furniture and equipment, even though this one clear room happened to be the one in the front with lots of windows.  I was exhausted and finally left, before Han Dan returned.

Next day we finished cleaning and rearranged the furniture.  It filled the large main room admirably.  The windowed room was still empty.  So was my bank account, as I met with the landlord who wanted his 55,000 rmb.

I had already emptied out my savings account at the credit union in order to pay for rent at my home and at the shop.  I didn’t even have enough to pay the full 26,000 to the Tea Shop people.  I saw that the rent money from the Florida home had accumulated, and was almost enough to cover these new expenses.  I called the bank and asked them to transfer the money.  They said they could not!

Apparently, the money movement laws have tightened in the US recently, because of some fraud or other.  The bank informed me that the law required me to request an overseas transfer in person.  After that initial order, following orders could be done by phone.  Of course, to fly home and do that would pretty much wipe out what was in the account.

I started panicking. My brain went on overdrive, as I tried to unravel this knot.  At last I decided I could send a check to my brother in Florida, and he could cash it and forward the money to me.  In the meantime, people were lining up with their hands out.

I have a long-time customer and former Web student, named Lisa.  She and her husband own a denim factory.  In the winter she would come in frequently to have a cup of coffee.  She lives quite near.  I hadn’t seen her in some time, however.  Then she walked into the store just to say hi.  Before I could think too much about it, I asked her on the spot if she could lend me 7,000 rmb (a little over $1,000).  She said, ‘Of course.’  She was back a few hours later, having gone to an ATM, and handed me the money.

With that, I had the remainder of the 26,000 rmb for the tea shop owners. 

Lisa

Way back when Tina was working for us, there was a tall pretty lady who would come in for coffee.  They hit it off, and she, Louisa, would come often.  She worked nearby, and would come in at odd times and stay an hour.  I thought, her boss must not be very strict.  I asked her about it, and she said it was a small office and she had a lot of freedom.

She was one of the few people who would read my blog at www.grandmasnook.com, and write comments.  She is thin, wears glasses and has a gentle elegance about her.  She is soft spoken.  For many months after Tina left we did not see her.  But gradually she started coming again.

In late June I put a sign in the window.  I was announcing a VIP program for loyal customers who would prepay 500 rmb.  The VIP card would give them 5% off on all purchases as they spent that balance down.  In response to this, Louisa came in one day and said she’d like to be a partner or something, to help financially.  I was flummoxed by this, not knowing quite how to deal with it.  How to define ‘partner’?  We had a short conversation about it, and I said I’d think about it.  The next time she came in, I asked her to lend us 10,000 rmb short-term.  She said fine, and if I needed more there was another 10,000 where that came from.

Knowing that I’d have the US money before too long, I took some of that money and went to the second hand furniture market.  There, for less than thousand rmb, I furnished the room with the windows.  I bought a sofa, a mauve futon love seat, and two arm chairs.  Also two end tables and a coffee table.  I now had a salon, eclectically furnished.  A perfect spot to sit with laptop and surf the net,

The second-hand furniture now in the Salon

or meet with friends for a chat and a cuppa.

The rent was still due, two weeks away.  Even if I could negotiate the new landlord into accepting just six months rent, my bank account stood at zero.  I needed money fast. 

This summer we have an intern.  His father sent him to us, because the young man has enrolled in a PhD program in Minnesota but his English and social skills were, in his father’s opinion, needing work.  The student’s name is JieXue.  I nicknamed him Jae.  He has an oval face with a large forehead and very short hair.  His chin is small, and he tends to keep his mouth open.  His darting eyes are serious, his infrequent smiles never quite reach them.  It took some dogged interviewing before I learned what he would be studying in Minnesota.  His major is computer science, and algorithms are his specialty.  His father took us out to dinner once, at a Japanese restaurant, and I realized I was not alone in thinking Jae had a lot in common with Sheldon, of ‘Big Bang Theory’.  His father has been trying to get him to watch the show, but Jae thinks it is too frivolous.

I had mentioned to Jae that I’d like to meet with his father and discuss borrowing some money.  One day Jae came in and said he had asked his father for me, and he had said no.  After thinking about it for many days, I finally screwed up my courage to call Jae’s dad.  He was apologetic, but politely asked how much I needed.  At that point, I thought 10,000 rmb would cover my immediate needs. 

“Is that all?” he asked.

“yes,” I replied, “and I’ll have it back to you quickly.”

He texted me asking for my bank account number.  By the afternoon, the money was in my account.

At about the same time the letter with the check was arriving at my brother’s home, I went back to the Wells Fargo bank account web site.  I noticed a tab that said ‘transfers’.  I thought it couldn’t possibly be that easy, but as it turned out, it was.  With a few keystrokes I was able to add my credit union account to the Florida rent bank account.  In no time, I had transferred the money.  I learned that credit unions do not have the same restrictions as commercial banks, and so there was no interruption to my ability to transfer money from the CU to China.

I felt touched by the Spirit when I watched all of this so quickly unfold.  I have no definite plans for the new space.  When people ask, I tell them we’ll open it in September. 

Randy has proven to be more of a dreamer than a doer, although he is an admirable fixit man.  He loves to clean, and spent days erasing all odors and residue from the previous tenants.  He has nothing new to contribute on what form the new space should take.  He has put a freezer in there filled with his meats.  He has let people know that they can get their meats at Grandma’s Nook.  Jae wrote a computer program that allows me to input sales of Randy’s meats, taking off 10% for me to pay electricity.  He is content, and has no further interest in the space.

My ladies group meets twice a month for morning coffee.  They chose to try out my new space.  It was fun hosting them, and creating a menu with choices such as they’d find at other places.  Aside from my usual muffins, scones, brownies, I added grilled cheese sandwiches. I had just bought online a waffle maker that also had a plate for grilling sandwiches. That proved very popular.  The ladies seemed to enjoy the salon.

The rent was paid on July 1.  The Fourth of July was around the corner.  I decided to offer a special celebratory brunch on that weekend.  It proved so popular that I decided to have a series called ‘First Sunday Brunch’, held on the first Sunday of each month.

That event is worthy of its own chapter.  When I came in at 4 a.m. to bake, the power at the new shop had been turned off!  The posted start time for the brunch was 9 a.m. but the management office wouldn’t open until 9 a.m.  In the end, about 20 people came and all agreed this should become a regular event.

All in all, it seems to me I have been touched by a series of miracles.  Just a few months back I could never have anticipated all this.

Tantine. Competition or cooperation?

Tantine

There is a French bakery in Shanghai called Tartine.  I had heard that name before, or was it Tantine?  I was on my ebike making a delivery to a customer, riding north through the center of Changzhou downtown, when I saw a shop with the name Tartine.  It took nanoseconds to consider my choices.  I was carrying an insulated pack of frozen Calzones, with not that much ice packed into it.  I was still maybe 20 minutes away from my destination.  On the other hand, how often do I get downtown?  My curiosity, leavened with my chronic feeling of isolation in my chosen avocation, pushed through the objections.  I looked for the next sidewalk access curb and turned my bike around.

Today was Sunday afternoon.  My good customer, Theresa from Kentucky, had messaged me through WeChat last Monday, the day after my first Sunday Brunch at the new and unfinished larger shop I had rented, next door to the bakery.  The Brunch had been a marathon push, up at 4 a.m. and running full bore until late afternoon.  I remember only this about Monday:  I was brain dead and physically exhausted. 

A few days ago on Wednesday morning  Randy came to the bakery.  As his coffee was brewing he was chatting.  He said that Theresa would be coming, and he was eager to talk with her about his idea for a tourist magazine or ezine for Changzhou.  Still, nothing clicked in my brain.

Theresa arrived, and she and Randy sat at the table outside.  I made her a cup of coffee, and let them talk as I went about my business.  I was able to join them for a short time.  Theresa opened her web page, Tguide.org, on her smart phone. It was slick, professional layout, interesting articles.  I listened to them discussing things, like content, distribution, calcitrant self-proclaimed writers.  From my seat at the outdoor table I noticed a figure walking away from the glass elevator, and thought I recognized Rich.  He is the American at the Information Technology College who took my baby, kitten Spock.  I called out to him, and he joined us.

He is that kind of guy, that if he isn’t buying anything he feels guilty just dropping in.  I hate that.  Rich is a tall guy well padded.  Prior to coming to China he spent a number of years in New Jersey.  He wears his hair short except at the forehead, where he lets it grow long.  It would fall over his eyes except that he combs it up, and it drops to the side of his forehead like an exhausted spring.  While he talks he has a habit of pulling on a strand, alternately tugging it and winding it between fingers.  The summer heat is rough on him, so as he stood at the table talking with his characteristic lisp, his skin glistened.  Occasionally he ran a thumb over his forehead and flicked away the accumulated sweat.

We shared with him the topic of our discussion, writing and publishing on line.  It was then that we all discovered he was a published author of at least one novel in the horror genre, and travel articles in ezines.  He pulled up his blog on his smart phone to show us, and it was packed with reflections on his experiences with life in China.

Theresa and Rich exchanged phone numbers, and then he left.  The next day I was delighted to see that he had contributed an article to Theresa.  He also posted it to the Ex Pat FB page.

As the conversations wound around, encompassing many topics, it kept returning back to the main stuck point.  Publications in China are tightly controlled by the government.  Theresa’s web page cannot go online until she has a publishing license.  This is a huge obstacle.  They each knew someone who had currently or in the past such a license, and speculated whether or not these people could be as an umbrella for this Tguide.

I went into the bakery for something, and came out with a slice of cake for Theresa, perhaps it was Almond Cake.  These cakes take a long time to sell, and I’ll throw them out after two days, so I saw no loss in offering her a piece while it was still fresh.

Towards the end of her visit she asked me if her calzones were ready.  It was then that my memory retrieved a vaguely imprinted WeChat message from her asking for 20 calzones and five loaves of multigrain bread, to be picked up on Wednesday.  I looked up the message on my WeChat history, and there it was, posted on Monday.  Hard to imagine that I would blow off such a significant order, but there you are.  Believe it when I say I feel overwhelmed these days.

She brushed it off and said she’d be back in a week, if I could have it ready by then.

Theresa is married to a Swiss named Christian.  They have two children, Nico and Serafina, ages about 5 and 3.  Both children have her burnt copper hair, both bright and confident children raised by a gentile southern woman.  They are global citizens, home being defined by their current location.  Christian works for an international company here, and is well paid.

That afternoon I went online and ordered mozzarella cheese.  There was nothing else I could do, but wait until its delivery in a day or two.

On Thursday Julie, the current baker-apprentice, made up 20 150 gram balls of pizza dough, wrapped them and put them in the fridge.  Each time I opened the fridge they were there, glaring at me.  I started every time a delivery man came near our door, tensely waiting for the arrival of the mozzarella. 

The cheese finally arrived on Saturday, a little worse for wear from the summer heat.  I put the soft cheese into the freezer and waited as long as I could.  Finally it was hard enough to grate, and XiaoLan got right to it.  Meanwhile, I thawed and cooked up four of Randy’s sausages to put into the calzones.  As they cooled, I rolled out the dough in an assembly line.  It took perhaps 90 minutes to get them all done, wrapped and into the freezer. 

On this Sunday morning Julie made a fresh batch of multigrain bread.  When it was mostly cooled off, I packed the cooler bag with ice packs and loaded up the calzones.  The ebike battery had a fairly fresh charge, so I was off for the long journey north.

I was traveling north on the Hua Yuan Jie new extension.  This had been a major construction job, tying up my neighborhood roads for more than a year, but now that it is open I can leave my shop and head directly into downtown Changzhou and beyond, without needing to make a single turn.  In large sections it is still lightly traveled, and so it is a pleasant drive.  It takes me over the main canal on a long bridge, where the hot summer air is stirred by a stiff breeze. 

I was on the northbound road just east of the People’s Park.  Just west of that park is the main shopping area of downtown Changzhou, commonly referred to as NanDaJie, or South Road.  When I worked for Web I was lent out to the NanDaJie Web campus for many weeks running, and so I felt comfortable in this place so far from my own community.

I had almost reached the main ‘east-west’ (though not true to compass) road, JiangLing, when I noticed a shiny block-print sign above a shop, ‘Tantine’.  For some reason, the name rang a bell although I couldn’t make a connection.  A hand written sign on the window, on a piece of white paper, said in English ‘We need your help’ and the rest was in Chinese.  There was a hand drawn loaf of bread there.  I turned my bike around and parked.  The windows were otherwise blank and dark. The door, however, when I pulled it opened easily.

A dark wide-planked hard wood floor met my feet.  After a few feet of industrial concrete wall the white kitchen tiling began.  At the back there is a white kitchen area through a glass that extends from ceiling to waist height.  A three-deck stainless steel oven is against the left wall, then a cooling rack, and then the entrance to the L-shaped kitchen.  Through the door I saw the proof box, and the pastry extruder.  This is a moving belt from 1 to 2 meters long, ending at a right angle where there are a pair of rollers.  The pastry is passed through the rollers, and as it moves along the belt the baker catches it, folds it over and puts it back through the rollers.  In four quick mechanized passes it accomplishes what it takes me a half hour to do by hand, with a wooden roller and copious amounts of flour.  One batch put out by such a machine would equal four of mine, each laboriously rolled by hand alternating with waiting while it hardens in the fridge, to be brought out again and rolled.

A large bread mixer, small work table and sacks of flour filled the rest of that room.  The other part, seen by the customers, has two long work tables.  The walls have mounted racks that store the tips, bags and other accoutrement of pastry and cake decoration.

The young man I first meet is tall and thin, with a long thin face, a tiny goatee and hair that is slicked back at the sides and high on top.  He is, of course, Chinese.  The pants he is wearing must have a special name, of which I am ignorant.  Black, broad waistband, loose fabric draped and pleated that falls to the knees almost like a dress, then tapers to the ankles.  He is a striking figure, to state the obvious.  I introduce myself, and he recognizes the name.  On that first visit I feel pressured for time, so after a brief introduction I ask if I can return the next day.  He graciously assents.  This is their countdown week, the hope to open the next weekend.

I continued on my journey to Theresa’s home apartment complex.  I managed to pick the right road to cut west, and quickly found myself at her intersection.  I called her for further directions, to bring me to her apartment building.  Since she is a VIP customer, no money changed hands.  I simply deducted her order from the prepaid balance.  Honestly, she is not the customer I was thinking about when I devised the VIP system.  She uses her balance up within a month, and gets a 5% discount on everything she orders, including Randy’s meats.

I returned directly to the bakery and hooked the battery up for a recharge.  I was scheduled for night shift, since Han Dan has left us after less than a month.

That evening Libby texted our WeChat Ladies group that there would a luncheon in Xin Bei on Monday, organized by AnnMarie who is apparently back after two months of traveling.  The event will welcome the newcomers.  I was eager to see AnnMarie again, and other old acquaintances in Xin Bei.  However, I had already arranged to go back to the Tantine Bakery.  I was torn.  I thought I might pop in to the bakery on the way north and just reschedule.  I did not have any contact information for them, so I couldn’t call or text.  I was in a quandary.  Randy came into the bakery, moments after I had texted him asking if he was aware of the luncheon.  He hadn’t read the text, so I asked him.  His reply was that he had been in touch with AnnMarie all week, and was indeed planning to go.

I was busy in and out of the kitchen, while Randy went out to smoke.  The next thing I know, a woman calls my number and asks for Randy.  Taken aback, I tell her he’s not there at the moment, but he can’t be far.  I see his bike bag on the floor.  He had asked me for some flyers for the Sunday Brunch, which I was printing out for him to take.  Not knowing what else to do, I searched out Randy’s phone number on a label and dictated it to her.  As it turned out, Randy had left without saying a word, going by himself, probably by bus, to the luncheon.

I fixed myself a  lunch, and headed out to Tantines to get there around 1 p.m.

The same man met with me, and showed me around.  We sat and chatted.  He had worked at Tantine in Shanghai for many years.  With this training, he was well prepared to go it alone.  I did not ask what kind of support and how much he received from the home bakery.  Is he a branch?  An independently owned franchise?  We didn’t get into that side of it, mostly because my Chinese isn’t good enough.  What I did want to know was materials.  What flours did he use?  Did he do his own sourdough?  On Sunday I had shown him my multigrain bread, packed into my ebike for Theresa.  He was surprised that I could sell such a crusty bread to Chinese and westerners alike.  He was told the Chinese would not accept such breads.  I reminded him that it was all about Healthy.  If you tell them it is healthy, they will at least try it.

A young woman came in halfway through my Monday visit to Tantine.  She was friendly, excited about this new venture.  She also had trained in Shanghai at Tantine’s.  She agreed with me, that we should not feel competitive but rather collaborative, since we share a passion for bread.

I mentioned the best flour we had come across, the Golden Statue from Hong Kong which costs us 150 rmb per 50 lb sack.  He dismissed this flour as no good.  He says he buys imported flour from France, also costing 150 per 50 lb or 25 kg sack.  There is a delivery fee of 100 rmb, but it does not change whether you order three sacks or 20 sacks.  I raised my hopes that they would share some of this booty with me.  Let my order piggy back on theirs, to save on shipping costs.

I left, with a warm feeling that maybe I wasn’t so alone in this work.

Back in my own kitchen over the rest of the week, I tried some simple breads that relied heavily on quality of flour to induce flavor.  They laid flat on the tongue.  I finally texted the young lady on her WeChat, and asked if I couldn’t please please please buy one sack of flour from them.  She checked with her boss.  He said no.  And that was that.

Maybe what I need to do is ask to be a volunteer there, just like people ask me.  Of course, they will probably say no for the same reason I say no; I don’t wish to share my secrets.

On Friday night I will go to the Spanish restaurant, Viva, next door to Tantine.  My dinner group, Stephanie, Emilio and Ricky, will gather there.  I hope to pop in to say hi, if the doors aren’t locked.  And then after dinner, I hope to bring my friends with me to the Blank Space, where AnnMarie will once again be ‘holding court’.  I am ready to kick loose, sit with familiar people and listen to some good jazz.