The Cab Driver and Kung-Fu

The morning we left Shenyang it was rainy and it was 6:45am.  We were staying in a hotel under construction on a street that was also under construction, and we hadn't thought to have the hotel right down "airport" in Chinese for us (do this anytime you take a cab in China).

The street was under construction so cars could drive part way down and then make a u-turn.  We should have walked down to the intersection to get a cab, but we waited in the rain for 10 minutes on the partially closed street and an empty cab turned down the road.  From the moment the guy pulled over, things did not go well.  We opened the back door and said airport and I think Rodney showed him airport in Chinese in the phrase book we have.  He started yelling at us loudly in Chinese.  We looked at each other and slammed the back door and started walking down to the main intersection to get a different cab.  Being yelled at before you get in is a bad sign.  Then the guy was out of his cab, continuing to yell at us, but now the trunk was open and he was grabbing one of our bags and gesturing wildly at the back seat.  We took the cab ride, we knew better, it sucked.  I hate that cab driver.  He drove incredibly slow the whole way because his cab was so janky (this also ran up the fare).  He smoked even though we made it clear we prefer he didn't.  He was an asshole of the first order, and we knew it from the moment we hailed the cab.

Earlier today, after a relaxing morning, Rodney and I went out for a bite to eat.  We thought we'd try some Chinese fast food (there is a huge variety near our hotel).  We landed on Kung-Fu, a chain with a Bruce Lee-like man (it might be Bruce Lee) on their sign.  At the counter we were presented with a menu with English descriptions.  We were debating our order when a small cockroach crawled into the center of the menu.  Rodney and I were visibly unnerved.  The girl behind the counter killed the roach and muttered an apology.  We should have left.  No doubt about it. Instead, we overplayed the cultural sensitivity card.  Things in our travels thus far are different from home, significantly different.  Standards are not the same.  We have stayed places that we likely would not have stayed in.  We have eaten meats that were not refrigerated cooked in place that do not conform to health department standards.  We have used bathrooms that I would not like to describe, and you would not like to imagine.

So, we ordered.  Rodney got tiny pork ribs with garlic, and I got chicken with mushrooms.  We got our food (which included two bowls of congealed soup).  Not too much of surprise, it was awful.  God awful.  The worst thing we've eaten since Mongolia.  This is saying a lot as almost everything we've eaten in China from street food to the nicest restaurants has been very good to spectacular.  We took not a lot of bites and walked out.

This may seem obvious from the two stories relayed here, but instincts are not lost in translation.  Trust them.