Putting the China in KFC

Before I begin this story, a disclaimer: This is not my story. I was not present, and I can not possibly tell it with the hilarity of the original protagonist, who related it to me. But I do have his permission to post it on the blog. And, while the setting and the exact dialog are unique, this conversation plays out in various forms in various situations hundreds of times a day in China. It's one of the reasons ex-pats, even those who know and love China and know this type of interaction is coming and even understand the cultural background, still occasionally end up tearing our hair out and screaming that we hate this place. So, without further ado...

Two white men walk into a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Beijing. The first one says to the girl at the counter, "We'd like some chicken in a bucket." The counter girl replies, in English, "Oh, we don't do that." The following conversation ensues.

American guy 1, thinking she didn't understand: Oh, all we want is some chicken, in one of those buckets.

Counter girl, still in English: We don't do that.

American 1: But, there's chicken in the bucket right here in this picture on the menu. And on the sign up there. And I can see the buckets right there on the shelf.

Counter girl: I'm sorry, we don't have chicken in a bucket.

American 1, now frustrated, launching into Chinese: Listen, you might think I'm just a big dumb foreigner, but I know you serve chicken in a bucket. You can't tell me you don't have chicken, in the bucket, because I can see you have the buckets. Don't make fun of me and lie to me... (and on this way for several minutes, which, I will note, is an impressively long time to rant and rave in a foreign language, particularly one as difficult as Chinese)

American 2, interrupting American 1: Wait. That's enough.

American 2, to the Counter Girl, in English: Ok. How about this. We would like 20 pieces of chicken. Can you do that?

Counter Girl: Sure, we can do that. Would you like that in a bucket?

I promise not to complain about the 13-1/2 hour flight to DC

My ayi, the incredible, cheerful Xiao Ping, mentioned she would be taking some time off over Chinese New Year. She, like most of the Chinese population, will return by train to her home province. Her home happens to be Anhui, one of the poorest provinces in China.

I asked her how long the ride would take, and she responded:

It's not too long. I'll get on the train at night and in the morning I'll be almost there. It's only 17 hours. It will be even better if I can get a seat instead of standing room.

It's when I get there that it gets harder. From the train I have to take a bus, then when I get near my home I have to take a boat across a small river. The river isn't wide, but sometimes you have to wait half a day for a boat to come.