Closed on Mondays

I closed the shop to give everyone a day off, and to get caught up on errands.  Still chasing down a good legal status for myself.

I need a statement from my bank saying I have money and am changing $100 every day.  Ridiculous!  But that's the requirement for a tourist.  Got to the bank around 11:20.  It was closed for lunch.  Bummer.  Too far to go home, the bank is near my shop.  I decided to drop in on my neighbor.  They just opened a tea shop.  Fabulous huge wood table, wood from Africa.  Amazing, I'll just have to include a photo.  We sat and drank different teas for an hour.

When I first arrived in China in 2001 I lived in Guangdong province.  Tea culture is very big there.  That is where I learned to sit in a tea shop for hours just sampling one tea after another, and making conversation.  So this interlude was like a blast from the past.  They have great black teas, as well, not just the usual green teas.  Teas from Assam, Darjeeling, Ceylon.  And pu'er tea!  I never knew it could taste like that.  Pu'er may be like oolong that you may be familiar with.  Smokey flavor.  I usually steep it strong.  They steeped it weak, and I discovered new flavors.  They poured me a Ceylon tea mixed with mango, pineapple and I forget what other fruit.  A spectacular tea, quite pleasant on the tongue.

I went back to the bank at 1:00.  Nope, still closed, for another half hour at least.  Now, this is no small branch with three tellers.  This is a huge bank with back rooms for commercial accounts and international wires.  I went off and finally grabbed a bite for lunch, before returning.

I discovered that I had given my U.S. bank the wrong SWIFT code.  There's the Agricultural Bank of China, and the Agricultural Development Bank of China.  This wire was sent on July 25, and I'm only now getting around to checking on it.

So I am up at 2 a.m., calling Seattle to straighten out my mess.  They have to order a recall, and then resend the wire.  Good thing I'm not destitute, waiting on that money.  Had it arrived in a timely manner, however, I could easily have gotten a printout of my bank statement and taken it right back to the police station to process my visa.  The visa expires on Aug. 11, so I can't put it off anymore.  The bank I need to go to for the statement is a long bus ride away.  No local branch can give me a statement.  So I'll have to take more time off from the bakery.

My thinking is, the weekends are more important for the bakery business.  Mid week trade is just for the locals, and they like the sweet things that Tina does so well.  So if I spend Tuesday running around chasing a visa, no harm done.

I have a new worker starting Aug. 12.  He has experience at one of the better bakery chains, called 85 degrees.  I am eager to see what he knows, I suspect he can share a secret or two.  But of course, my way of baking is totally different, so there's a lot for him to learn.  His degree is in sports, he's currently wrapping up a job as swim instructor.  He is tall, whereas Tina and I are short.  He lives near enough so that, once he's trained, we can start opening the kitchen at 6 a.m., having bread on our shelves earlier in the day.  I just hope he melds quickly with our growing little family.  I suppose it takes a lot of luck to find a worker who actually stays.

Rye

I've not been pleased with the results from the rye flour.  I've got a good sourdough started, so on Sunday I began an experiment with a new recipe from Peter's book.

Did I mention that I emailed Peter for some advice, and that he answered me?  It was a thrill for me.  He seems very personable.

This recipe calls for mixing some rye flour into the sourdough starter, and then adding a lot of saute'd onions!  That mixture is still in the fridge, I should have used it yesterday but was too busy.  So today, Tuesday, I'll let it warm to room temperature and begin to make it. Can't wait to see how it will taste.

While at the police station, I ran into two people.  Usually when I go there, there is a foreigner and their Chinese helper.  I seem to be the only one to walk in there on my own.

This foreigner is Italian.  He had a certificate as a Foreign Owned Business.  Wow!  that's what I want.  I asked him what his business was.  He's opening an Italian restaurant downtown.  His helper speaks really good English, so I took her number.  I called her later, but she only referred me back to the agency whose number I already got three weeks ago.  They don't speak English.  Rachel has spoken with them for me, but so far I see no progress.  I want a form to fill out!  Instead I get a list of items, in Chinese, that I need.  Rachel hasn't translated the list yet.

I feel like I'm back to square one.  I think I need to call that woman again and see if I can't persuade her to help me more directly.

Dog Days of Summer

The edges of a typhoon system that passed through the South China Sea gave us a little relief with winds and the occasional shower.  But mostly, we are all slugs moving slowly in a sea of hot air.  Business is down all over.

I decided that, until we have more staff, we are closed Mondays.  It's just as well.  I need to renew my visa today, and check on a wire transfer of funds that is floating out in the electronic airwaves somewhere but after two weeks has not yet landed into my bank account here.  And of course, there are still things we lack in the kitchen.  There's a restaurant supply market at the east end of town, in an area called 'jiu long' or nine dragons.  It's a long bus ride, but I should be able to get everything there.  We need more towels, more bowls, larger plastic boxes.  I hope I remember everything, because I'd rather be sitting at home in an air conditioned room.  That is, I don't want to repeat this trip too often.

Strider, one of my former students at Changzhou University, has put an ad on the internet again to help me find more workers.  I found a guy who looks like a good candidate to learn to be a baker.  He starts Aug. 12.  He graduated from the Engineering college (equivalent to our AA) with a major in sports.  He's a swim coach.  He lives near enough so that I can ask him to open up at 6 am. each day, once he's trained, which will help enormously in our ability to crank out more items suitable to the Chinese lunch habits.

I've made a few trips up to visit Johnny at his restaurant, Jolly's, in Xin Bei.  He is very supportive, but although he doesn't want to admit it, in fact his business is way down too.  He keeps nit picking the things I bring him, but I think it is more that he just hasn't the customer traffic right now to support buying my bread.

I've cultivated a nice sour dough culture.  The taste is good.  Now I have to work on shape and presentation.  I suppose it all has to do with having the right equipment.  This kind of dough is very soft.  The only way to create a nice shape is to support it firmly in something like a mold, from hours of proofing all the way into the oven without ever removing the support.

I made a nice cheese-garlic round loaf.  This will be a nice addition to the menu, once I have regular western customers.

I have a few of my former Web students who make it a point to come in regularly and each time try something different.  I love their spirit!

Another best seller among the Chinese is the cinnamon raisin loaf.  The westerners also buy it, the few who come in.  It's easy to make, I enrich it with whole wheat and oats yet keep the white soft texture.  It bakes up into a nice tall loaf and looks attractive.  We've posted the pics at our web site.  I don't have them on this computer, but you can follow the link:  grandmasnook.com, and then click on the link there which will take you to our blog.

Tina is maintaining the blog. She is such a blessing!  I told her to take the day off today.  She asked if I'd mind her coming in anyway, because she is worried about discouraging the local customer base we're nurturing.

Saturday is her regular day off.  She has Japanese lessons in the afternoon.  I came into the shop that day before 8 bursting with energy and purpose.  The day before I had prepared a large dough base, enough for twenty loaves.  I also had other things on the back burner, like my rustic bread and also the sourdough.

With that huge base, which is made from 50% flour and 100% water fermented overnight with yeast, I was able to come up with a large variety of breads.  For example, 1/4 rye flour, 1/4 rough whole wheat.  Or another using oats, a special Canadian wheat that smells like chocolate, and again the rough whole wheat.  I was able to make three cinnamon loaves with that base as well.

It was a mad house in the kitchen, with all the equipment, doughs, flours and other ingredients spilling out across the work table.  I haven't a large enough plastic box for overnight proofing, so the dough always explodes and seeps out onto the under pan.  I had to keep that messy pan on the table for most of the afternoon, as I gradually dipped into the dough to concoct some other bread.  Xiao Lan is Rachel's mother, and it is her name on my business license.  She has taken the position of our kitchen slave (for a salary).  I kept her sink full the whole day!  When she wasn't washing and drying pots, scrapers, pans, she was mopping up the floor, cleaning surfaces as I moved from the big work table to the small work table and back again.

Some breads I baked the same day.  I good number of them I put in the refrigerator to be baked on Sunday morning.  On Sunday I augmented that start with another batch of a type of bread that doesn't need the overnight fermentation.  I figured that the weekend might bring us in a bit more traffic, so I wanted to have as much on the shelves as I thought would sell.

One hiccup.  On Saturday night I asked the night shift guy to put certain breads in the freezer.  I figured we'd have them for Tuesday, since we're closing Monday.  On Sunday when I came in, Tina had those loaves put back on the shelves already!  The guy had put them in the fridge, not the freezer, and Tina without thinking took everything out of the fridge.  It was frustrating.  At the end of the day I had to throw that stuff out.

Tina wanted to make cranberry butter cookies.  She was well on her way when I arrived at 9.  I was a little worried that she was getting bored with making scones everyday.  They are our best seller, so I don't want a day to go buy without them on the shelf.  We compromised.  After her cookies were done, she'd make scones.

I decided I also needed to make a focaccia.  Customers are coming in asking for that, too.  On Friday I made one that was pizza-like.  I added minced sun-dried tomato to the dough, then before baking I brushed it with garlic olive oil, added pepperoni, and then five minutes before it was fully baked I pulled it out of the oven and added grated cheddar.  That flew off the shelf.

Sunday's was a simpler one.  I soak chopped dry mushrooms, and add them to the dough along with a couple cloves of garlic.  Then I saute fresh mushrooms with five spices seasoning, and add that as a topping before the final proof, along with a layer of olive oil.  I need to find the name of that mushroom.  I love it!  It is all stem, and no head.  It is meaty, with a nice taste.  I chopped it fairly fine before cooking it.

Before I left on Sunday night, I prepared a large biga.  This is a pre-ferment that can sit in the fridge for up to three days.  When I come back to work on Tuesday I can immediately begin some new loaves and have them on the shelf pretty close to noon, when we open.

In our first five days of business we grossed about 1,400 rmb.  Not much, but by gosh it's a start.  It helps to figure out what the customer likes, as well, at least until the westerners start coming in September.

You may not have a sense of salaries.  I pay Tina 2,000 rmb a month; she asked for less.  The new guy will start at 1,800 on probation, and then in three months (sooner if he does well and business has increased) I'll move him up to 2,000.  The kitchen slave makes 1,800, as does the night counter man, who is only working during his summer vacation.

The rent for the shop is 25,000 rmb per year.

I am thinking about publicity.  One vendor came in and made an arrangement with us that he would offer his customers coupons to our shop.  I think it happens on the phone.  Technology beyond me.  For the coupon we offer I think it's 10% off a loaf of bread, and rolls 'buy three get one free'.  We'll see if people start coming in flashing their phone screens at us, asking to redeem the 'coupon'.

I would like to do a wine tasting party at the end of August.  I once ran into a distributor of the Greatwall brand of Chinese wine.  I hope I can find his card again, it's been probably a year since I bumped into him at a supermarket.  I'll have to invest in some good cheeses at Metro (our Costco equivalent), and carefully choose breads.  I'll sell tickets, limiting the number of guests.  This will bring in the westerners who are returning back from their vacations, and hopefully also reach some of the new arrivals.  I need to find the 'tipping point'.  I'm reading that book by Malcolm Gladwell.  Of course, I don't want to find it too soon!  It's important that I have a well-trained staff that can actually crank out volumes of breads, to satisfy the demand when it finally builds.

Opening Day

Anticlimactic might be the right word.

I was in the shop by 3 a.m., getting the doughs, which were started yesterday, on their way to baking.  But not using bread enhancers, all those chemical short cuts used by all other bakeries here, leaves me with a long slow process. By ten there was still no bread on the shelves, though at least one of the ovens was full.

The place looks empty, after all that baking. Yet at the end of the day I may still throw away bread, or try to flog it tomorrow morning as 'day-old'.

It's hard to keep motivated to get up every morning and come to the shop.  How long will it take to build up a customer base?  The summer is vacation time, so there aren't many ex pats around.

I'd like to hire and train two more bakers.  Don't see how I can actually build momentum without more workers, and it takes time to train them.

I have one worker who I think is very good.  She has a college degree, baking experience in a big factory, and some kind of training around running a bakery.  But she is a giggly flighty youngster, for all that.  It's hard for her to gain confidence enough to be decisive.  I seem to repeat myself an awful lot, on basic matters that I consider fundamental.  Even simple matters of hygiene.

I don't know what Tina's future will be, but we have instantly become fond of each other.  She is a dear girl, making the frustrations far more bearable.

Now it's the end of the day, 5:00.  The workers left, except one guy who'll hang out with me until 8, in case some customers notice us on their way to the German restaurant upstairs.

Tina left without starting any breads for tomorrow.  In all fairness, she asked me for tomorrow's 'menu', but I didn't know what to tell her  What's the point of baking when no one comes to buy?

So I'll have to get off my duff here, no rest for the wicked, and start thinking about tomorrow.

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 

Ten days past decorator completion date

It has been an incredibly busy week.  The decorator's completion date of June 21 came and went.  What was the holdup?  I kept getting different answers.  Waiting for the paint retouches to dry. The sign. Getting the water turned on. The plumbing.  I puzzled and tried to push things along, but in the end I believe it was just that the contractor was over booked and didn't have time to finish.

The sign model finally got done more or less correctly, printed, and stamped by the Mall administration.  On Monday it should go to the government office for a business license.  Once it is approved, the decorator's team can make and place the sign.

The water.  What a joke.  One day a couple weeks ago I had an hour break between classes, so I went to the Mall office and applied for the water and electric debit card.  I turned over the money and received change.  I was shown the cards, and the meter in a box, but was told that they would keep the cards.  I simply needed to check with them periodically to make sure I still had money in the account, and add it when needed through them.  The box was sitting aside the clerk as he officiously sat at his desk.  With the speed that made molasses look mercurial, he took out his receipt book and began writing receipts.  I sat there waiting for the receipts and, more importantly, the meter which the plumber needed to install.  In exasperation, I looked at my watch and realized I had a class beginning in five minutes.  The doleful eyes and protruding lower lip turned my way as I explained that I had to go to class; I left, empty handed.

The next day I returned for the box, but did not get the receipts.

The plumber installed the meter.  Days later when I asked the decorator what the holdup was, he said the water wasn't turned on, I needed a card.  At least, that is what I understood.  Oh my what confusion!

I returned to the Mall office and asked for my card.  It was no where to be found.  After 15 minutes of head shaking and chin rubbing and furrowed brows, I asked to simply let me buy another card.  No, I was told, it couldn't be done.

We had reached an impasse.  So I went back to my classes, and waited.  Later that pompous weasel came chasing after me at Web.  He explained that he flushed out the old account and, using a new card and account number, had once again added 45 million gallons, or whatever, to the meter.  We went to my shop and he showed me the meter, set at zero.  I asked what I owed, he said I owed nothing.  I had already paid for that much water.  Problem solved.

So, then, what was holding up the decorator's team?  The sink had arrived on the 22nd, but there was no hardware.  Who was in charge of that?  I didn't know.  As far as I could tell, the restaurant equipment store did not sell sink faucets.

On the 28th the decorator had my oven wired up to the wall.  I wanted a plug, but was told that a 380 volt plug was not possible; the control switch was on the opposite wall, in the new junction box that had been installed.

Now I had a situation where all the big equipment had arrived, including my two work tables and the very heavy bread slicer machine.  At the same time, the floor was littered with dust, paint droppings, crating material.  The place was a mess.

I met with the decorator Friday, and the plumber/wirer.  He assured me that on Saturday afternoon the technician would return and finish everything, and all the garbage would be taken out. The floors would be cleaned.

Meanwhile, I still had no electric outlet for the work table, where I'd need to boil water to dip the pretzels and bagels.  There was no outlet for the bread slicer.  The windowed partition between the kitchen and the shop was still missing lower sliding panels.

At the very beginning I had asked that fans be installed in the ceiling.  I had asked if they could strengthen the ceiling mounts to hold a fan.  I asked that question again when they had the scaffolding in place and were working with the sub and upper ceiling.  Yes, they assured me.

Now they say, no, can't put in fans, the ceiling won't hold it.

I have run out of money before I bought the air conditioner.  The contractor made sure that the wall plug that was originally there was live. He assured me that the placement of the air conditioner in the middle of the room at this high location would be adequate, even without the additional fans to distribute the air.  But now Dean tells me the one air conditioner won't be enough.

Saturday was my last scheduled day at Web, beginning with a 10 a.m. class, and ending with the flea market ECA at 5 p.m.  I had planned to sell bread at that event, but I haven't baked in weeks.

I left the house at 8 a.m., and grabbed a gypsy taxi at the corner of my block.  We went to Hongbei Rd East, where Daniel had his kitchen cabinet shop.  It is an area many blocks long, with many side alleys, holding lots of shops for supplies.  This is where the textile market is, as well.  I had bought my cold sink and faucet here, with Daniel's help.  I wished I could have found that shop again in that labyrinth, it would have been nice to have two faucets the same.

My task was to find one cold faucet and one hot and cold mix faucet for the double stainless steel sink.  They needed to arch up, they couldn't come straight out horizontally.  The humidity was high; I was soaked to the skin in  no time.  The driver drove me slowly through the lanes and alleyways, waiting while I hopped out and made inquiries.  Finally I was pointed in the right direction by one storekeeper.  I ran down the block to that other shop.  They had just one faucet that seemed to meet my requirements.  I bought it, and another cold faucet.  I still don't know if these necks swivel.  I delivered them to my shop.

The workman came in the late afternoon, while I was in my last class.  I sent Dean down to talk with him.  He was gone before Dean arrived!  He didn't stay long, and he didn't install the sink faucets.  As far as I could tell, he did nothing.

Dean called him, and called the decorator.  They will meet me Sunday morning at 9 a.m.

comments please

come on, you two or three readers.  Don't be shy.  send me your thoughts upon reading these entries.  Let's dialogue.

the swindle addendum

Yesterday I spent time at the Bali coffee offices trying to talk with the new financial officer, about getting my money back.  I may kick myself, in the end, for being so nice.  You see, I am fighting a deadline.  Once this company files bankruptcy, my money will forever be gone.  Have they done that already?

I went back again today, as agreed, to draw up our payback agreement.  In it she says that I propose to terminate the contract, therefore these are the conditions.  A lump sum will be paid on July 25. But of course, there was no indication of the company's culpability in neglecting to deposit the agreed upon moneys, the back interest they owe me.  I refused to sign it.  I have sent the document on to Atlanta, from the TV station.

Is there even such a thing as a class action lawsuit in this country?  I hope I'm about to find out.

I just want to make a difference.  Even if I don't get my money back, I want to be sure that these people are shamed.  It is what they have earned.

Dragon Boat Festival outing

June 23 is Dragon Boat Festival.  Rena, who has been the Head Tutor during most of my time at this Web center in Wujin, Changzhou, was also finishing up her contract with Web on June 30.  So she and her husband hosted us to a day at an ecology park.  There were three car loads of us, tutors and foreign teachers (only two of the latter).  The weather wasn't great, in that it was drizzling or misting on and off. But I saw that as better than a scorching hot day, which would have been the alternative at this time of year.

The plan was to end the afternoon climbing a mountain.

I met Rena and her carload at the Web center.  We rode out together.  She and her husband, their adorable four-year old son, Rachel, Christina and me.  We got there a little after 10:30.  The appointed meeting time was 11:00.

There were two parallel large glass buildings, one on either side of the driveway with a lobby connecting the two.  Inside was a fabulous garden scene.  There were tall trees, shrubs, gardens with begonias and petunias, and lots of streams filled with coi.  The lofts and balconies that were dining rooms were made of bamboo and wood, giving a feel of nature and tradition.  There were open dining rooms on the first floor, and separate rooms.  We took one of the latter, with a round table for 10. It was open on one side, facing the garden interior; a large window on the opposite wall reminded us of the gray day outside.

It was a quite pleasant hour spent, strolling around the different landscaped areas, resting at tables, climbing stairs to open balconies, standing over the coi as they swam.  Terry was the last guest to arrive.  Rena drove out to a meeting point and showed him the rest of the way to the park, in their two cars.

Terry is the one who had successfully applied for the promotion to her job.  He is a tall, thin unsmiling fop still single at 33.  He usually drapes his slender frame elegantly, in suit and tie.  Where Rena is totally approachable and without ego, he is aloof and taciturn. Though the government will deny it through their teeth, homosexuality is rampant in China.  He is not a Changzhou native.  At times, at the Center, I had observed his inability to speak with local delivery men and such in the common local language. This has further set him apart from the tight knit group of tutors.

It never ceases to amaze me how addicted Chinese women are to high heel shoes.  Knowing they were going to 'climb a mountain' or 'go hiking', still Rena and Christina wore high heels, Rachel and Lisa wore platform heels.

At one point, a group of us piled into Rena's car and her husband drove us around the grounds.  There were neat rows of organic gardens.  There were open fields of corn, as well as many large sections domed with plastic sheeting  .  We stopped and went in one.  Squash and cucumber plants were climbing up webbed plastic lines.  Speaking of webs, we group of Web workers encountered many spider webs as we walked the outdoor grounds.


I was a little surprised to see the heavy winter squashes hanging down.  

This one got caught early in the netting.

We left that lovely park after an excellent lunch, and went on to climb the mountain.  We were near Rena's parents' home, so we all went over there for a while.  No one was home.  It was interesting to see a countryside single-family home, since China is determined to get people off the land and into high rises.  this one had been modernized by adding another room out back for the kitchen.  The old kitchen has been preserved, though no one is using it, at the advise of the remodeler.  It looks like the kitchen I know so well up in the mountains of Kham.

I had brought along my box of 'Mexican Train', a dominoes-based game.  About five of us played it.  Rena loved it, and asked where she could buy it.  Of course, even Taobao doesn't offer this one.  She's trying to persuade one of our American teachers to bring it back for her after his summer visit to California.

We walked up the steps of the not-so-high mountain.  We rested at the main platform, although a few hardy souls climbed the last 100 meters to the top.  That portion has just a beaten path, no cement stairs had been added.

The girls played around, taking lots of pictures of each other.  Rena is the one in the middle.  Rachel, whose family has taken on the responsibility of having their name on my bakery business license, is just above her.

As we sorted ourselves into separate cars in the mountain parking lot, Rena opened her trunk and distributed gifts to us all.  Bundles of 'sheet tofu', a specialty of this small region, and the basis of one of the excellent dishes we had just eaten; tins of 'pork floss', a unique product of the consistency of spun sugar (cotton candy) but dried.  In China this method is used with fish, as well.  Delightful gifts, appreciated by all of us.


As we were driving home I asked Rachel if we were organizing a farewell dinner for Rena.  My assumption is culturally based; we honor the person who is leaving, by hosting them and showing them our appreciation. But in China it is not that way.  Rachel said that this day was for that purpose.  But this day has been sponsored by Rachel and her husband, rather than us.  


Just one more unexpected cultural difference that sets my thinking on its head.

The Ponzi Scheme

This is a draft of a letter I'm sending to a Chinese TV reporter here in Changzhou.  His beat is the ex pat community.  He has set up a blog in English to help us be in touch with culture activities in the city.  He provides many interesting links on his site.  Atlanta's blog (汪健的博客)  I won't send it until after tomorrow.  Tomorrow I will make one last attempt to go to the offices of what I think of as a Ponzi scheme, and see if I am somehow mistaken and all will be put right.

Dear Mr. Wang Jiang,

I don’t expect you’d remember meeting me.  It was at Jagerwirt’s German Restaurant, they hadn’t been open long.  You were with Linda.  In fact, I didn’t recognize either of you until afterwards.  It took time before I realized you were the author of the Atlanta blog I’ve been reading, and that Linda was the elusive recluse I’ve been hearing about for years. Perhaps if my iTV service provided the local TV station I would have recognized your face.

In an email Linda told me you were looking into the difficulties encountered by foreigners trying to open small businesses here in Changzhou.  I am such a person, and I’d be interested to hear about others like me.  But that’s not why I’m writing.

I think that I have been swindled.  It is too small an amount to take to a lawyer and court, but for my fledgling business it would be enough to carry me through the first year.

Then again, maybe it’s all a bad misunderstanding.  I was thinking that someone in your position might have a better chance of finding out than me.

In the Fall of 2010 I brought over from the States my life savings.  I thought I could find an investment, or buy a home.  I have lived in China off and on since 2001.  I found Changzhou to my liking, with decent business opportunities.  I was too invested in China, its changes, its future, to leave.  It would be like walking out of a movie theater just as the hero begins to unravel the mystery, but before the audience is fully clued in.

At that time my circle of Chinese friends was extremely small.  It has since grown vast.  At that time I met a guy who lived in the same building as the apartments rented by the school for its foreign teachers.  “Jeff” WuGang’s English was well mastered, and he was an interesting guy.  I did some copy editing work for him now and again.  So when I was looking around for investments, I asked his advice.  He led me to the Bali Coffee Co.  He had contracted with them to put together a team for the interior design of a new factory they were building, and also a small retail shop in the Landmark area of downtown.

They sat me down at their offices, in the east side of University Town, and explained the proposition.  They were offering investments in blocks of 50,000 rmb.  In return, they were guaranteeing 18% annual interest and, at the end of the contract (either 3 or 5 years), a full return of the capital.

I said to Jeff, this is too good to be true.  What’s the catch?  No, no, he assured me, this is legit.  These guys are well connected.  Mr. Yang went to high school with the vice Mayor of Changzhou, he said.

I saw lots of certificates, signatures, stamps, photos on the walls to verify their authenticity.

The scheme is that they are making coffee vending machines.  Investors buy X number of machines, which the company then leases back from them.  Filling these machines is very profitable (I know that), and that is how they can share such high profits.

I asked them what their marketing strategy was.  Where were they planning to place the machines.  I pumped them for details.  I got nothing in return but platitudes.  Well, I thought, maybe that’s just the way Chinese do business.  Westerners tend to be more direct, to the bottom line.   Maybe I was experiencing this cultural difference right here.

Jeff was so persuasive.  I wanted to laugh at his naivete.  Instead, I said OK, let’s prove it.  Although I had at one point mentioned to Director Yang that I might invest 200,000, by the end of our talk sessions I knew I was already taking a big risk just giving up 50,000.

After the signatures were dry (the copy he gave me was stamped but not signed by him), he said that he would show his good faith by putting the first quarter’s interest into my bank account immediately.  The alarm bells went clanging and echoing in my head.  Ponzi scheme!

A couple of months later I was invited to the grand opening of their little ‘coffee culture’ shop in downtown, followed by a gala banquet.  The guests piled into two buses and were ushered from the shopping center to a hotel nearby.

There had to be at least 200 people in that hall.  Many speeches were made, you know how that sort of thing goes.  I had to leave before the end, because I had a class to teach.  There were boxes of goodies stacked near the entrance, which looked to me to be gifts that would be handed out.  Jeff swears none were, but I assume he kept my share.  He never did invest a nickel of his own money.

I visited the downtown shop a couple of times that winter, as I had a part-time job nearby.  They had asked my advice about how to decorate the stuff in ‘western coffee style’.  But I never did get a clear picture of what they were planning to sell there.

The shop was empty, except for the counter worker.  The shelves were lined with very expensive gift packages combining coffee pots, cups, and coffee.  There were also expensive wines, and tea sets.  I could go on Taobao and buy the same things much more cheaply.

I saw a number of examples of extravagance that belied good sound business practices, such as a day at the Dinosaur Park hot springs for a large number of guests.  Is this really the way Chinese business is conducted?  I had nothing to compare it to.

Now let’s get to the part about these quarterly payments of 2,250, totaling 9,000 rmb per year.  As I said , the first one came immediately.  So the next one wasn’t due for about 5 months.  I was busy at that time, having a full-time and two part-time jobs, and so I didn’t check my bank account.  When I finally did, in May, no additional funds had been deposited. 

I wrote to Jeff.  He spoke to his friends.  After some time, he emailed me to check my account.  I did; nothing.  It took a week before money showed up.  By then it was June, and the next payment was almost due. 

When next I checked, again no money had been deposited.  Again I contacted Jeff, and through his efforts another sum was deposited.  After that I put it out of my mind.  My fears either would or would not be confirmed.  I felt powerless.

Then I started working for Web full-time, and began to talk to smart business people.  I began to change my impression entirely of business is conducted in China.  I didn’t bring up the matter of this investment, however, until events thrust me onto this path of opening my own business. 

One of my new friends liked my business idea.  And while she was already deep into her career and so couldn’t get involved as my partner, she said she would back me up financially if and when my own funds ran out.  Eventually, I told her about the lost investment of 50,000 rmb.

Her husband is a policeman, and they thought I should fight for the money.

I waged what campaign I could, but I got the clear feeling that the coffee team was about to fold up tent and steal away in the night.  They kept promising me that on June 16 they would pay me my money.  That sounded to me like the day they would file bankruptcy, if such things transpire in China.

I am sending you the documents involved.  The original contract, and the history of the bank account they set up for me to receive their funds.  There is also an email sent me by a new man on the team, after I went to the offices to talk with Director Yang, who of course was not there.  That man, I believe his name is Liu Ming or perhaps Li Ming, was very nice, very sincere.  He gravely told me he would bring the matter to the attention of the Director, and resolve it.  This email was the promise of resolution.  But of course, the 16^th came and went, and there was no money nor were people answering the phones.

A friend looked into the business a few days ago, and found that the accountant was no longer working there.  Did she leave because she was uncomfortable with what was going on?  Or did she embezzle money?  Or did the Director fire her so he would have no witnesses?  I have no way to get answers to these questions.

I welcome your suggestions, if any come to mind.  If you find this story to be unusual and newsworthy, I can give you contact information.  Thank you for your time.

Business License meeting

Business License

On Thursdays I work the night shift, 1 pm to 9 pm.  It’s a good day to sleep in a little, and to put some time in on the treadmill.  But this day I have a number of things to do for the business. 

I need to get the flour sacks up off the shop floor while the men are painting.  This means a trip to the restaurant equipment store to buy some food-grade ‘trash’ bins.  They open at 8, so this is something I can get done quickly before turning to the task of getting the business license.  It seemed that I had all the papers collected to do that task.  Except one.  I need a photo of the shop front stamped by the ‘Logistics Office’.   I had printed out the designer’s mock up, but had not yet gotten it stamped.

So, get the barrels, deliver them to the store, take the photo to the Logistics office, get the stamp, then gather the documents and a Chinese person and go to the right government office.  Pretty straightforward.  My Web colleague Rachel’s mother had agreed to be that Chinese person.

Some days, however, are simply governed by ‘Murphy’s Law’ [Everything that can go wrong will go wrong].  The sooner you discover this fact, the better.

I woke after 7, got dressed, grabbed a granola bar and some soy milk and headed out the door.

I should have seen it right then, but such is the spell of the day.  I know too well that on a long and busy day I simply must start out with a hearty bowl of oatmeal, to carry me through.  But I slipped out the door with only a meager snack.

I caught the number 2 bus in front of the apartment complex.  While sitting in the bus, a text message came through.  It was in Chinese, and no name registered.  I assumed it was from someone envolved in the store decoration.  They asked me to come to the.  I texted back that I would be there at 9:00. 

The bus took me to the equipment store, and I was greeted by friendly faces at the door.  I told them what I wanted.  I knew from the past visit that this sort of goods they kept at a different location.  I said, let’s go.  They hesitated.  They spoke a lot of unintelligible Chinese.  I realized this was getting complicated.  I cut it off quickly, politely exited, and walked down to the other such store on that road.

As I walked, I mentally ticked the minutes away.  I was supposed to be at Web at 9:00.  It was already well past 8:00.

I reached the other store, and again was greeted with familiar smiles.  I explained what I wanted, and we climbed to the third floor.  I measured the tubs.  I asked repeatedly if it was OK to put ‘food’ in there.  I don’t know how to say, “Is it food-grade material?”  I always got the same answer.  “Flour?  Sure.”

The sticker price was 198 rmb, and I needed four.  I pulled out my tape measure.  I had a maximum clearance of 56 cms.  These, with protruding lock tabs, measured every bit of that.  But I decided I could put them into the under-counter bins on the diagonal, and they would fit.  They seemed much more expensive than I had anticipated.

I asked for a price of 700 rmb, about 10% off.  That seemed as far as they would go on the price.  Driven by desperation, I agreed and paid up.  One lady put the tubs on a cart and wheeled it out to the street, where we tried to hail a cab.  None would stop!  There weren’t many empty cabs to begin with, but of the couple we saw in ten minutes one avoided eye contact, the other waved his hand side to side and shook his head “no”. 

Obviously it was the cargo that was putting them off.  I dialed 96196 and handed her the phone, asking her to get the taxi dispatcher to send a car.  But she had no luck connecting to them.  And I thought it had been my bad Chinese, in my previous unsuccessful attempts! 

Another associate drove up on her ebike.  They chatted.  The clock was ticking.  She said we should hang back, and she would hail a cab.  It worked.  We managed to put the tubs in the back seat of the taxi, and I drove off. 

But at the moment I picked my bag up to put it in the taxi, I realized liquid was pouring out of it.  I had tucked a bottle of Mr. Muscle in my bag, thinking to finish cleaning the shop’s wall.  I so easily forgot the last experience, when the squirt top worked its way loose and doused that bag.  The same thing happened again.  This time, all the precious papers I’d been collecting: contracts, leases, copies of ID cards, my passport, designer’s blueprints; all were drenched with cleanser.  I cursed, and cursed and cursed as I scooped up the soggy mess and threw it in the floor well of the passenger side, and jumped in after it.

It was now well past 9:00.  Rachel had called me, reminding me that her parents were waiting.  I assured her I was in the taxi and on my way.

When we arrived at the mall, I asked the driver to continue on south to Hongbei Road where the entrance to the underground parking was.  This added 5 rmb to the fee.  I would take the elevator up, to avoid dragging the tubs from the curb to the shop.

Foiled!  The nearest elevator was out of service.  I had the taxi driver back up to another elevator, though he was uncertain what I was doing.  I jumped out of the taxi, tossed the tubs into the elevator and rose to the ground floor.  As the elevator doors opened, I realized I was just about as far away as if I had gotten out on the ground level.  I struggled a few feet with the tubs, but a shopkeeper noticed and said to his companion, ‘Let’s help our neighbor.’

They each took two, and off we went.

With the help of the painters, I got the flour sacks put away safely in the four tubs; they fit exactly, two sacks to the bin.  I showed them the message on my cell phone.  They nodded.  I had not brought a translator, and so these two workers, fresh faces to me, just made some vague gestures.  The lead man shrugged his shoulders, without really trying to talk with me.  They had almost finished with the off-white blue kitchen paint.  The main room had a white bottom coat on.  They had not yet started with the two ‘toast’ colors I had chosen.  I nodded approval and left.

I rushed upstairs, sweaty and already feeling tired. 

As I gathered the papers together, I remembered the photo.  I searched everywhere for it.  I hadn’t seen it when I scooped up the wet mess.  Where was it?  Had I left it home in the other bag?  Of all days to change bags!

I asked Rachel if I could borrow her ebike.  I quickly rode home.  I immediately noticed how comfortable and smooth her bike was compared to mine, over the very very rough terrain of the city roads and bike lanes.  My second hand bike had no shocks left.  It was the cause for the sudden ‘arthritic’ ache up and down my spine these days.

A careful search uncovered neither the photo, nor the USB stick I had used at the photo shop at the Tesco Mall.

On the drive back to Web I had time to reflect coolly on the morning events.  It was then that I realized that Murphy ruled that day, and “resistance is futile.”

I took Rachel’s mother into a classroom, and realized the father was there too.  Rachel bears a strong resemblance to her father.  Her mother looks young, with a stylish short haircut combed to the front, the bangs on a diagonal.  She wore a rich purple dress.

I apologized for making her wait so long.  I tried, in my poor Chinese, to say how grateful ‘happy’ I was that she was willing to help.  I said I didn’t think this would be a good day.  Sorry she had come out for nothing, but I was happy to meet her.

When we rejoined the group at the tutor’s desks there was a lot of discussion going on.  Daniel walked in then, with his wife.  What happened next was like watching a movie where the tension builds, each party following a different thread, conversations here, phone calls there, and a half hour later the plot has taken shape.  At last the audience is let in on the future direction of the film.

The parents were concerned about liability, if they put the name on the license.  I said, through Daniel, that we would go to a lawyer and draw up a contract releasing them from any liability.  Rena called a lawyer. 

A long conversation ensued. The gathered crowd of tutors and the two couples continued their conversations in halting rhythms.  They were also listening to Rena.  Something she said sparked the conversations in a new direction.  Another snippet of the one-sided conversation spurred another spat of chatter.  Rena hung up and reported that the lawyer said there was no way for such a release, legally.

While all this was going on, I checked my email.  The artist had finally got the sign board right!  But as I tried to download and open it, a problem arose.  The computer couldn’t find the software to open it.  This is puzzling, because it seemed to be a jpg file.  So how would I copy it off and bring it to the color printer?

Daniel came to my right, and spoke in English.

“Look, this is all so that you could get a visa.  What about forming a company?”

 We had talked about this before.  My logic ran this way.. since I would be supplying bread to restaurants that made me a wholesaler, just like any other factory, so I should have a company license. 

“Or, what about getting another company to sponsor me.”  I said Dean’s company was my preference, but Dean had not yet been convinced, and had not yet arranged a meeting with his Israeli boss.  Having spent three years in Israel, I love Israeli people and just wanted to meet this guy on general principals.  But I also thought, knowing Israeli ethics, he might be amenable whereas a German company, of which there are many here in Changzhou, would be too law-and-order to agree to such an arrangement.  Dean is conservative, and I felt Daniel would need to chat with him to bring him into the plan.  Daniel filed that piece of information away and returned to the knot of Chinese conversations going on to my left.

Next, Rachel walked to my right, away from the group speaking in Chinese.  What she said was probably a suggestion from the lawyer.  

“If my parents are going to take on this liability, maybe it would be appropriate for there to be some money involved.  Like shareholder.  What do you think of that?”

“Sure.”  I said, “They should be shareholders, 10%.”

She wrinkled her eyebrows and gave an embarrassed smile, “No, I think that is too much.”

I reminded her that at least for the next year, 10% would mean nothing.  She also then asked if they were to share in the profits, would they also need to put in some money, and what if I incurred debts, would they owe also.  I assured her that all the responsibility was mine, they were contributing significantly by just being the ‘face’ on the license.  The mother had also repeated to my face what she had said weeks earlier through Rachel,  that she wanted to actually help out in the store.

This was translated, smiles all around. 

Rachel blew me a kiss.

Now down to the specifics.  I pointed out that if we were not going to use my name, the lease was invalid.  Rachel’s dad assured me he would have no problem duplicating (faking) another lease.

I would not be needed, then, when they finally went to the government business administration office.  They could arrange that to suit themselves.

We still needed to find an attorney and draw up the papers.

Daniel and I got together over the papers they would need for the license application.  I pointed out that I needed to go back to Tesco to print another picture, as it was necessary to have it stamped by the WuYe “logistics’ office and I had misplaced the original.  He looked off into space.  Oh, yeah.  He had taken it home with him, to ask another opinion about the cost.  He had done that, and said the cost was reasonable.  But he had put the photo aside, forgetting that it needed the official stamp.

We had previously agreed that at this point, whatever photo we used wouldn’t matter.  Later, when the Wu Ye was ready to include us in their mall advertising, they would have a proper photo of the actual signage.  I could use this latest mock up received by email today, if the print shop at Tesco succeeded where I failed in opening  it.

It was 11:30.  I still hadn’t eaten.  Things were finally beginning to wind down.  My attention was drifting off.  I wanted food, and sleep, not necessarily in that order.  My first class was at 2 pm, and I still hadn’t done my preparation.  I had English corner at three, and had not yet decided on a topic.

The conversations began to slow.  The knot disentangled.  Rachel’s parents moved towards the door.  Before they left, Rachel said that they would like me to be their guest in their home for dinner.  We worked out when we would all have time for that.  As they left, so did Daniel and his wife.

The plan was laid.  Others would play out their role, and bring me in when needed.  Quickly the area emptied out.  The visitors left, the staff went their ways in groups to lunch.  I went back to the furthest, darkest classroom and lay down on the floor for a quick nap.