Ripped Off Again!
Yangshou to Guangzhou, China
Let my guard down once, just once, and the bastards were straight in there. Another sucker getting off the night bus. New in town, take him to the cleaners and spin-dry him.
Okay, it wasn’t quite that bad. They took me for a $10 cab ride that I should have paid $3 for, maybe.
But before that it was a slow night bus from Yangshou to Guangzhou, and I mean sloooooow. Very unusual for Chinese bus drivers; mopeds were overtaking us!
Got there in one piece, be it a 5 a.m., ever-so-groggy one piece. One success: I had held onto the double seats. I just smiled crazy-like and spread myself further across the sleeper beds when anyone attempted to come close.
So it was on this high that I made eye contact with the first taxi driver outside the bus station, slapped him on the back, said “I’m yours” and jumped into the front seat and flicked the meter on.
MISTAKE! Three months in bloody China, last couple of coins rubbing together in my sky rocket. Don’t want to change any more money; I can smell the border. My ticket takes me all the way to cash-point heaven in Hong Kong. Just the small matter of getting from the bus station to the ferry boat terminal.
ARRRRRRRRGH! I didn’t even negotiate a price before I got in the cab, didn’t even take a mean average from the thousands of cabbies hollering for my business. Buyer’s market, must be.
Watched through sleep-starved eyes and over the sound of a food-starved stomach as the little neon numbers on the meter cruised way past the amount of cash I had in my pocket.
Time to negotiate, I wasn’t in a good position. Holding 2’s and 3’s while the cabbie’s got a Royal Flush. Come to a halt on some Godforsaken flyover, me fumbling in my pockets showing the discrepancy between my cash flow and the meter reading. From my misunderstanding of Chinese, the driver was trying to tell me how far we had to go. It was a long way.
Play my trump card, unfold a pristine single dollar bill! No emotion from the driver. With my Chinese currency it still doesn’t cover the fare. Bastards! Time to use the emergency $10 bill. What happens if there is another emergency? The cabbie takes the note, gives me less than the bank rate, no competition on this flyover. Which I immediately give back to him to cover the fare. Business completed, smiling to himself, the cabbie flicks the meter off and takes me to my destination.
Feeling thoroughly fleeced I ask the guy at the reception of the hotel that served as the starting point for the ferry: “How much should a taxi be from the bus station to here?” I know I’ve been ripped off, just need it confirmed.
After about 20 minutes, where I’ve stopped them from ordering me a cab to the bus station:
“No, I don’t want to stay here.”
“No, I don’t have a bus to catch.”
“No, I’m not an English teacher.”
Doesn’t anybody speak English? No. I would have given up if I hadn’t been in the middle of a rugby scrum of Chinese trying, ever so politely, to answer my question. Draw a line on a map, from the bus station to my current location. It clicks, someone understands.
“You should pay 20 Yuan, no more.”
I tell them I paid 60.
“You’ve been ripped off, one born every minute.”
Well they never said it, but that’s what I read into their smiles.
Points of Reference
