The Real Deal Part 3 Putian
After spending two years in Taiwan, I moved to Hong Kong to search for a job on the mainland. However, in 1994, few Western companies had plans to operate in China. I hunted for three months before finding an opportunity to travel around the country, check the quality of goods, hire staff, and open offices. My base of operations was Putian in Fujian Province. For the next four months, I called the Heavenly Concubine Hot Springs Hotel my home. The round circular building was the karaoke. It was next to my room.
I assumed the pond in front was the “hot spring.” People told me they fished out a body shortly before I arrived.
I was fortunate to have the whole second floor, including a two-room suite. I lost some of my belongings because of a flood in my lounge room. No matter where you traveled, you could find a hot water thermos in every hotel room. Drinking tap water could lead to a hospital visit. I also had two ashtrays since one was not enough.
A few months into my stay, the owner sold the hotel, and it closed, forcing me to move. These were my only options, and I chose the XHBG. The awful, peel-on blue tint gave me a depressing disposition. Plus, the karaoke was louder than the Hot Springs. I didn’t have the entire second floor, but they gave me a king for about $10 a night. That price did not include hot water or English TV.
To avoid my room, I asked a friend to find me an (unfurnished) apartment. I had plans to cook, but I didn’t expect the difficulties of not having access to a grocery store. For decorations, I hung the only posters available at the town bookstore without children or fruit. When I moved to Shanghai, someone robbed my place. It turned out to be an inside job by one of my staff. I didn’t sweat the cheap furniture but missed my videos filmed around China. (Note that Raging Bull is on the TV, along with the stack of green bottles).
When production started, I visited the factories daily to prevent inferior products from coming down the line. The workers didn’t know what to say. They had never experienced a foreigner sitting next to them, telling them to take shoes out. We called this workshop “Fried Rice.” It had a miserable quality rate. If I didn’t show up, all those defective shoes would get packed.
Usually, I took a motorcycle taxi to the factory. Outside the gate, I walked down what I called “Latrine Street” with an array of outhouses in front of each small hut.
And I dodged the black, potbellied pigs roaming around town and near my apartment
When I had free time, I attempted fishing at the reservoir with my QC Posse.
Or we rented one of these boats to cross the channel to Mei Zhou Island. The Island had fresh seafood and empty beaches with few people knowing how to swim or having the time.
Wherever we went, the roads were being rebuilt, and traffic jams were a way of life. On the right is one of those “Mad Max” machines that roamed the streets with a mind of their own.
When I arrived in China, I looked for Tsingtao beer, but the stores never stocked it. Fortunately, Putian had a Beck’s Brewery next to my hotel. I drank Beck’s, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and Snow Beer. The city lacked wine, whiskey, or other Western liquor, so I abstained until my trips to Hong Kong. We drank baijiu at the wild animal restaurants near the execution grounds. Bicycle taxis were a standard mode of transportation, but I felt guilty about how hard these old guys had to pedal to go uphill with my weight. The minibusses traveled between towns and usually had vomit sprayed along the sides. They almost got me when I attempted to ride a bike.
After a night of drinking, I usually ended up at the grilled chicken leg stand to fill my belly. (Note the book of CDS in hand and the extra weight due to all that drinking and zero exercise. You can’t have it both ways.)
