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| At a
nearby intersection, a range of interesting stores are grouped
around a corner of the street. |
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| I wonder if this
transportation services business serves the international travel
needs of the inhabitants of the new building. |
My inexperienced
eye cannot see any difference between these shoes and those that
I see in Bloomingdales back home. There is a small difference in
price, however. Everything here is 15 RMB - just under $2 a
pair...! |
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A man
emerging from the rear of a book store (presumably stocking up
on his supplies) sees us and recognizes potential customers for
local guides and postcards. He quickly searches through his bags
and hurries over. Bob decides to educate himself from
"Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-Tung". The purchase is quickly
negotiated so Bob knows he has paid too much...!
But when the difference between a bargain and paying too much is
less than $1, the significance - and corresponding urge to
bargain - becomes just a little lost... |
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|
Traffic is predictably chaotic. |
 |
 |
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| New fashions
arrive at the shoe store. |
A Mother and her
baby brave street traffic. |
 |
We
cross the bridge over the third of the six ring roads that circle
Beijing.
Food sellers endure the noise and fumes to serve passers-by. |
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 |
We
pass by what appears to be a bank. A 'greeter' at the door - who
looks as though he is ready for an invasion rather than a
depositor - doesn't seem to think that I have caught his best
profile. I hold my hand up and smile in apology.
Not satisfied, he rushes over and grabs me firmly by the arm and
indicates that I should accompany him into the bank.
I equally firmly remove his hand and smilingly advise him that I
already have an account elsewhere.
The little stick that is presumably reserved for reluctant
depositors starts to swing ominously.
I smile again, wish him a "good-day" and continue along the
street. After a little hesitation, he rushes into the bank.
Shortly afterwards I mention to Bob that the bank manager is
clearly not happy at his lost depositors and that his 'customer
services person' is running down the street towards us still
swinging his little stick.
I tell
him, if things get nasty, to hit him with Chairman Mao's collected wisdom
(see picture above) if I knock his steel
helmet off...
The fingers again close around my arm and he again seems
insistent that we open an account at the bank.
I treat him to my best smile and apology and again remove the
fingers before nodding at whatever incentive rate he is offering
us to reconsider. We continue along the road. He finally accepts
the loss of his customers and retreats back to the bank. He is
still muttering and clearly having a hard time deciding how he
is going to explain the loss of new customers to his manager. |
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