My cab arrived in minutes. Thedriver came out to help to put my bags in the booth. Did I say booth? I say booth, you say trunk.
“Ni Hao,” I said to the Driver. He shot off a rapid fire of Mandarin, good thing the attendant had waited with me. She stepped in to bridge the translation divide then off we went!
My goodness! This ride is more than the thirty minutes I had expected. He was whizzing in and out of traffic. I had to close my eyes on a few close calls.
My phone rang. It was my party who was waiting at Building # 2: “I have been waiting outside the building, but I have to go back inside, call me when your cab gets here.”
Why do I get the feeling that this cabbie is lost. He finally pulled up to the building but there was no number two written on it. “ jianzao liang sou” Is this building two? He went off speaking rapidly in Mandarin again. I understood as much that we were not at building two.
He took out his cell phone and called someone. After the conversation, he pointed in the opposite direction. Finally, after whizzing in and out of traffic we arrived at building two. The number was written clearly in English as well as Mandarin. My host was standing on the step. I waved and he immediately hurried down the steps to meet me. My experience riding in a cab in Beijing was like riding on a roller coaster. It is not for the Faint of heart.
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