My plucky, intrepid self now wanted to get to Beijing. I visited three travel agencies in Hong Kong, but they quoted me rather expensive rates for a five-day English-language tour.
How about a Chinese-language tour? I asked.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
Why not? I pursued.
You might be misplaced and make very much trouble for us.
No, I wouldn't. Really, I'd be good and not get misplaced, I promise.
No, sorry, no.
Then I found Leo.
Dejected after my initial inquiries, I popped into one last travel office on my way back to our apartment. There he was, all alone at a desk. Leo.
He was in maybe his early twenties and greeted me with a handshake. Leo had mastered a few English phrases and acted like he wanted to be the world's best travel agent. He dug into his notes, pulled out brochures and tapped on his computer keyboard.
Leo found a Chinese tour that would take me. A promotional offer, he said. Four nights, five days, return flight from Hong Kong, meals, hotel and the big sites (Forbidden City, Great Wall, Tiananmen, and so on) for $353.
The English tours were all well over a thousand. Sold.
There would be a meeting with my tour mates in a restaurant. Leo promised an English version of the agenda for me. At the meeting I would receive an itinerary and a tour bag. I'd never been on an organized tour and was jazzed about the bag.
A few days later at the restaurant, I met the rest of the tour group: a pair of older ladies; a young man, perhaps with his mother; and three middle-aged married couples. All Chinese. Our tour director, Bryan, stepped forward and began to speak in Cantonese. Bryan, I later found out, was all of twenty years of age and this was his second tour ever.
From a brown leather briefcase he pulled out reams of paper and handed sheets to everyone. When he came to me, he paused, ran back to his briefcase and returned with the English material and a big smile.
As Bryan continued his delivery I was disturbed to see the audience otherwise engaged. Some watched the televisions on the wall, a few read newspapers or worked on crosswords, and others openly chatted. All while Bryan talked.
My heart went out to the guy and I found myself picking up the slack for the entire group by giving him my undivided attention. I leaned forward, nodded and diligently referred to my papers. In turn, he played his entire speech to me. In Chinese.
We continued this charade for a good ten minutes, to the point where I was ready to raise my hand and ask questions. Wait a second. I don't speak Chinese.
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