I Don't Make These Things Up: Carrefour in China is Scary

In my February 27, 2007 blog, I described the Carrefour experience in China:

... let me acknowledge to those familiar with Carrefour in China that I do know how ridiculously nuts it was to brave the wild, cart-wielding, desperate DVD-, chocolate-, clothing-, appliance-, and frozen-food-seeking masses in Carrefour on any Sunday, let alone the weekend of Spring Festival. For those of you who have never been, I'll say this: the store is a reminder that even though the middle class is only a tiny fraction of the Chinese population, a tiny fraction of 1.2 billion is a very large number. And they all shop at Carrefour on the weekends. And not one of them knows how to navigate a parking lot with either a shopping cart or a car.

On December 3, I wrote:

That I went to Carrefour on a Sunday afternoon, by the way, speaks volumes about my desire to have a bike. It's dangerous in there. Picture the grocery store snack food aisle the morning before the Superbowl, the toy store on Christmas Eve when it finally gets a shipment of Nintendo Wiis, teenagers vying for autographs from the Harry Potter actors. This is Carrefour, every weekend. From liver to auto accessories, you can get what you need at Carrefour - if you can survive the crowd.

Some readers might think I'm exaggerating. Perhaps, Nancy simply doesn't understand the Chinese and their ability to turn into a crowd that is larger than the sum of its individual human parts. Maybe I'm so mentally prepared for a bad experience when I go to Carrefour that I attract trouble.

Now read this: 31 people were injured and three died at the Carrefour in Chongching when they stampeded for discounted cooking oil. If you don't believe me, read it on bbc.com.

Cough, cough: It Couldn't Get Any Worse (but the scary thing is, it could)

421 was not, in fact, the height of Beijing's pollution the other day. That was the official Chinese Environmental Protection Agency reading in Beijing up to 6 pm. But the following day, the Beijing Environmental Protection Bureau reported that from noon Thursday to noon Friday, almost all of the monitors within the city limits of Beijing had readings of 500. Since the charts top out at 500, it is impossible to say how bad the pollution really was.

Follow this link to see the Beijing Environmental Protection Bureau readings for Thur-Fri. It's in Chinese, but each line is a different district of Beijing, so all you need to see is how many readings are above 400 and 500 to understand. Also, it includes all of Beijing's surrounding counties, where the pollution indexes are generally much lower. www.bjepb.gov

At the bottom of this post, I have copied an AFP article that includes quotes from Beijing environmental and Olympics officials, but I also highly recommend reading this Dec. 29 longer, in-depth New York Times article by Jim Yardley that accurately describes both the Olympic and long-term aspects of Beijing's pollution problem.

If you don't read the NYT article - and again, I think you should - this quote the author got from a factor worker assessing Beijing's efforts to ensure clean air for the Olympics tells a large part of the story, and the first photo in the article, also pasted below, is chilling.

“Yes, I heard about it,” said an engineer at one factory that may temporarily be shut down. He refused to identify himself because he was criticizing government policy. “It is like you invite some guests to your home, and hide all your children underneath the bed to make the house look nicer. If all the polluting factories are shut down for the Olympics, there will be a major pollution outbreak afterward when all the factories restart, right?”

Picture of Tiananmen Square on Thursday, from the NYT article (Oded Bality/AP):


The AFP article is copied below. Don't miss the last line.

Beijing air pollution 'as bad as it can get,' official says

BEIJING (AFP) — Beijingers were warned to stay indoors on Thursday as pollution levels across the capital hit the top of the scale, despite repeated assurances by the government that air quality was improving.

"This is as bad as it can get," a spokeswoman for the Beijing Environmental Protection Bureau told AFP.

"Level five is the worst level of air pollution. This is as bad as it has been all year."

According to the bureau's website, 15 out of the 16 pollution monitoring stations in urban Beijing registered a "five" for air quality rating.

The main pollutant was suspended particulate matter, which is usually attributed to coal burning and automotive exhaust.

"Old people and young children should reduce outdoor activities and protect their health," the spokeswoman said.

The Beijing Evening News warned residents not to do their morning exercises on Friday as pollution levels were likely to linger over the capital until a cold front moved in and blew some of the bad air away later in the day.

A lack of wind in the capital over recent days has led to a heavy cover of smog trapping in the pollutants, the paper said.

By nightfall, the pollution was still horrendously thick.

In the run up to the 2008 Olympic Games, Beijing has vowed to clean up its air and this year set a goal of 245 "blue sky days," or days with only light pollution.

As of Thursday, the city needed one more day to reach the annual goal, the bureau said. But official "blue sky days" are often hazy affairs with heavy pollution.

Beijing's air quality is routinely rated among the worst in the world by international agencies such as the United Nations and the World Bank, with rampant coal burning, regular dust storms and a growing number of cars cited as the main reasons.

The head of the government's information office, Cai Wu, told reporters on Thursday that Beijing's environment was improving and they should have "full confidence" that the Olympics would be pollution free.

The City in Smoke

Twice in my life I have thought, "This must be what it feels like in a war zone." Both times were in China.

The first time was in February 2004, as I celebrated my first Chinese New Year in Shanghai. I and a couple hundred other foreigners were holed up in the Blue Frog bar on the old Maoming Rd bar street, the bar filling with smoke and ash from the fireworks outside. Over a couple of hours, the scattered sound of fireworks going off in all the neighborhoods around us grew, like popcorn in a microwave bag, into a steady popping on all sides, then into a furious, dizzying stream of different explosions, crackling, booming, whizzing so loud that there was no guessing which direction they came from. I assumed the chaos would subside after midnight, but when we stumbled out of the bar two hours later, holding our ears and unable to talk, we had to dodge sparks and flame, trudge through the waves of ash and paper wrappings that were continuing to pile up, and communicate with hand signals through the din. On that festive occasion, the twinge of fear that mingled with the sensory assault only added to the novelty and excitement.

The second occasion was this afternoon, and it was neither exciting nor festive. Beijing is officially just one Blue Sky Day short of the 245 Blue Sky Day quota this year, and wind and storms are expected tomorrow. Confident the wind will clear the air enough to make a Blue Sky Day by Monday, the Beijing authorities have apparently given up all pretense of trying to protect the People's air. Not only that, they are refreshingly honest about it: the official pollution index was 421, the highest I've seen it since I started paying attention in July. Other days may have been just as bad - although today was certainly among the worst - but since no one wants to be the bearer of that kind of news, officials low-balled the pollution index.

When I first arrived to Beijing, I would gauge the pollution by how far a I could see or not see outside my window in the morning. Now that coal-heating season has arrived, I gauge by the smell. I woke up in the middle of the night Wednesday night with smoke in my nose. The charred pollutants in the air had completely permeated my tightly sealed 16-th floor apartment.

By morning, I could feel it in my eyes and throat. All winter, Beijing-ers from my employees to taxi drivers to store cashiers have been telling me, "Drink more water," as if that were the cure for living in a petri dish. Mostly they say, "Beijing air is dry, drink more water, drink hot water." The bolder sometimes day, "Beijing's air is bad in the winter, drink more water." Several times I've said to myself, if one more stranger tells me to drink more water, I'm going to wring his neck. Today, though, I was drinking that water. With a bottle of cool water and a tall mug of warm water with honey next to me at all times, my throat still felt parched and dusty all day. By closing time, I had used up a significant portion of my herbal tea and cough drops, but my voice was still raspy.

When I left the office, the temperature was cold, yet it felt like walking into a burning building, where you can't see the flames but the smoke tells you there must be a serious fire. I could feel the grit in my mouth when I breathed. Although I could hear the ongoing construction on a nearby half-finished office tower and I knew where it always breaks the skyline, I couldn't see it until I was almost next to it. Wafts of a faint, almost sweet, chemical smell occasionally mixed with the basic underlying burnt odor the air.

On the way home, I was reflecting on how completely the smell and feel of smoke had covered the city. Everything was darker than usual, as thick layer dampened the glow of street lamps and fluorescent signs. The muted colors of Beijing, already a fairly gray place, faded into a e exhausted monochrome. Not only was there no identifiable source of the smoke and darkness, there's no way to know how long it will last - everyone tells me January is the worst month, and for all I know it might be this bad all winter. Everything looked depressed, from the tired commuters waiting for their buses with masks over their mouths to the coughing motorbikes to the friendly noodle shops that are usually oases of warmth and light. As I rounded the corner into my neighborhood, I saw one young child running. Her dainty, happy skip was so incongruous that it only magnified the gloom surrounding her. That's when, for the second time in China, I thought, it must feel like this in a war zone.

Lost: The Story of a Bike and a Nosy Bystander

I have previously written how much I enjoy my daily two-wheeled commute, despite the constant peril in the bike lane and the additional exposure to Beijing's toxic air. Even now that it takes some seriously creative engineering to determine the correct distribution of layers to both survive the morning cold and arrive to work looking at least somewhat professional, I am willing to do what it takes to ride to work.

Imagine my frustration, then, when I walked into the parking garage, excited for my first day back to work after two weeks in the States, and found my bike was missing. I searched the two bike racks by our entrance and walked the parking lot looking for a security guard, to no avail. The driver of the illegal taxi I grabbed to try to make it to work on time said, check Building 9. If you didn't use your bike for two weeks, they probably moved it to Building 9.

Sadly, the cluttered repository in Building 9 did not have my bike. I was chagrined, especially considering I definitely shared some blame for the loss. With the nice SUVs, high end vehicles, motorcycles, and other, much more expensive bikes parked in the garage, I had assumed there would be no reason for anyone to steal my bike, so I was not 100% diligent about locking it up. Clearly, I was not thinking about the scourge of bike theft in Beijing, as reported in this China Daily article. The author notes, "That 3,686 people have so far this year been caught stealing bicycles speaks volumes about the efforts of the local public security departments."

After a frustrating week of taxi-ing to work, I was relieved when the weekend came and I had time to buy a new bike. I headed to Carrefour, where I had originally purchased my 289 RMB bike at the discounted price of 189 RMB - plus, of course, the price of a basket, lock, bell, and light.

That I went to Carrefour on a Sunday afternoon, by the way, speaks volumes about my desire to have a bike. It's dangerous in there. Picture the grocery store snack food aisle the morning before the Superbowl, the toy store on Christmas Eve when it finally gets a shipment of Nintendo Wiis, teenagers vying for autographs from the Harry Potter actors. This is Carrefour, every weekend. From liver to auto accessories, you can get what you need at Carrefour - if you can survive the crowd.

It took me about 10 minutes to make my way to the bicycle section on the third floor. I
browsed the bicycle section, looking for the least expensive item that seems sturdy enough to survive the rigors of my commute, namely, getting up the ramp out of the parking lot and getting hit by other bikers without stopping. Two salesmen in yellow work suits watched me, and muttered about whether I might or might not understand Chinese. I settled on a 99 RMB number that one salesman said was too cheap for me. I replied my last one had been stolen and he nodded with an understanding sigh.

I tested the bike, dodging customers and carts in the mops & buckets aisle, the hats & jackets aisle, and the children's musical instruments section, which are all sensibly located around the bicycle department. As I returned to the bike salesman and told him I would need the handlebars and the seat raised, a 50-ish man in a slightly crumpled, mismatched brown suit appeared and started giving orders. First, he told me to get a more expensive bike, to which the salesman responded, she doesn't want to spend too much money because it will get stolen. Then, he told the salesman to raise the handlebars and put air in the tires.

I didn't know who this man was, and I didn't particularly appreciate him inserting himself into my bicycle transaction, but it was in fact time for the salesman to adjust the handlebars and tires, so I ignored it. You would be amazed how long it takes to adjust some handles bars and inflate tires in a busy Carrefour, and I was convinced this random brown-suited man was delaying the whole process. I pointedly ignored him as he attempted to advise me on what basket and lock to purchase (I was taking the lock more seriously this time than last), so he devoted himself to bossing around the salesman.

Almost minutes later, the bike was ready for me to test again. As soon as I climbed on it, I said, "You haven't raised the seat yet." The salesman replied, "Oh, the seat can't be raised on this model." I nearly lost my head, "But the FIRST thing I said was that I needed the handlebars and seat raised!" To which the salesman responded, "The seat can't be raised," and the brown suit guy chimed in, "He's right, it can't be raised."

I tried to explain that while I was annoyed that the seat couldn't be raised, what I was most bothered by is that because they failed to listen to me when I told them what I needed, I had just wasted over half an hour in their crowed, noisy, stuffy store. The brown suit then ordered the salesman to raise the seat - even though it couldn't be done - to show me that it couldn't be done. Moments later, we were in a shouting match, the brown suit and I, both tugging on the bike and telling the other to let go, as he insisted he could show me that the seat could not be raised and I insisted the last thing I wanted in the world was to watch him and the salesman futilely attempt to achieve the impossible task of raising the seat just to prove to me that I was wrong about wanting a bike with a seat at the appropriate height.

As you can image, we attracted onlookers. Finally, the salesman told the brown suit, she doesn't want to see me raise the seat. "Who is this guy?" I asked the salesman, but I got no reply. I was ready to ditch the store and go home without a bike, but how would I get home if I didn't buy a bike? With the throngs of people pouring out of Carrefour on a Sunday afternoon, it could be an hour wait for a taxi.

I sullenly refused to talk to anyone as I again browsed the section for a new bicycle. Brown suit man would not take a hint, however. And by hint, I mean, my turning to him and snapping, "I do not want to listen to you! Leave me alone!" as he gave me unsolicited advice about which bike to buy. He said, "But I'm just trying to tell you the right bike to get," until the salesman finally came over and repeated to him, "She does not want to listen to you. She wants you to leave her alone." at which point the brown suit shuffled off to the other end of the bicycle section to watch from a safe distance.

Finally, I saw it, for 289 RMB (plus the price of basket, bell, light, and lock). The same model bike I had originally lost. The one I knew could be adjusted to my height. And could fit the basket, bell, and light I liked. No discount this time, but in the face of the serene stability of the purple MANTX Bike, and the possibility of leaving the store without another fight, suddenly my fear of spending a chunk of money on something that was likely to be stolen again didn't seem so important.

As I completed my second spin through the mops and jackets and mini-instruments, the brown suit approached me again. He opened his mouth to comment on my choice of bike again, but I cut him off. It was time for a showdown. Here's how it went:

Me - Who are you anyway? Do you work here?
Him - Rolling his eyes, Oh, come on.
Me -Do you work here?
Him - No reply.
Me- You're not wearing a yellow uniform. Do you work here?
Him- (finally!) No, I don't work here.
Me - Then what does my purchase have to do with you?!?!?
Him - Silence.
Me - Nothing to do with you! Do not interfere with me again!

The salesman again came and told the brown suit, "She doesn't want your help." He huffed, annoyed, then finally shrugged and walked off.

Without the brown suit's "help", the process of exchanging my previous receipt for the n0-seat-raising bike, adjusting the new bike, and adding my accoutrement took about 15 minutes. Then it took only about another 12 minutes to navigate my way out of the store again to freedom.

So this was the tale of the hard fight I fought to obtain my second bike in China. The second bike is in for more adventures very soon, though, so stay tuned...