Tea for two and other government scams

After our departure from gonorrhea gardens, is was tea plantation time. We were legitimately looking forward to the field trip — Clare loves tea and was interested in the education, and I just like to inch my photo collection a little closer to 34,000 images. (Not kidding – I need to do something about that.) Despite being ousted from our regular seats on the bus (it was a bit of a coup and it would throw the vibe off for the remainder of the day) we saddled in for what was to become a very long day. Another one I should say.

On the way to our tea time, our secondary guide Jin started talking. She must be a rookie since she hasn’t received her authentic American name yet. A story teller she is not but damn girl did she try. I was busy catching up on the blog and would pick up random bits and pieces. There was a story about buttfly lovers (pretty sure someone needs to tell her it’s butterfly) — the Romeo and Juliet of China. Someone was poor they both killed themselves. The father was sad. The next story to lift our spirits was about how back in the day, her family used to need coupons for meat and eggs. Her grandmother collected coupons to care for her 8 children (Not sure how she got away with that but as the story goes, there was nothing else to do after dinner. Result = babies. Thanks for sharing.) Then they did away with the coupons and you needed money now and her grandmother only had coupons. So she cried. Ok. We were depressed enough knowing we have to be treated for the clap and likely bedbugs when we get home. Now we wanted to feng shui ourselves and reflect on all our life choices.

The next bit I heard is about her 102 year old grandfather going to see the illuminations show during the G20 (they love to mention this as much as they profess their love of the government.) The beauty of the show made him cry because he missed his wife. That made them all cry. Then we all cried. It was a sweet story but gee zip! We’re here to learn about tea leaves! The last thing I heard was that you shouldn’t drink coffee as you age — it makes it harder to absorb calcium. Fab. Add that to my list of things that will bring about my early demise.

We arrive at the tea plantation — still raining — and we are sardined into the smallest presentation room yet. Grace explains the local green tea is Dragon Well tea. 3 portioned pours means “You. Are. Welcome.”

Tap the table 3x. “Thank you. Very. Much.” Then we get to the good stuff. Turns out that green tea can fix all that ails us. (And if you recall, this rotund conclave of barbarians has been in need of a cure since the herbal institute.)

Egg white + honey + green tea leaves around your eyes and mouth will erase those dark circles (I was professionally diagnosed as having some of those) and reduce the wrinkles around your pie hole. Looks like I will be a hot sticky mess for the foreseeable future. Green tea dissolves fat. Now you’ve really got our attention. Weight loss magic. You had me at the fountain of youth. But wait! That’s not all. Improve blood circulation and digestion. Uh oh. Now you’ve roped in Clare. Chew the leaves and alleviate constipation. No comment but being skinny and regular? What more could you want? Delay Alzheimer’s. Improve memory. Yes please. Sleep better. Rid yourself of allergies. Eliminate lactose intolerance. Lighten your liver spots. My head is spinning at the possibility of a life altering choice (because I haven’t had enough of those lately) all the while trying to figure out what booze will pair best with green tea so I can have it in constant rotation.

In summary. You’re telling me I can drink this leaf juice (never tea bags. Only the very worst of the late harvest is good enough for Lipton) and have the face, body, brain, and poop schedule of a 25 year old? I will sleep again, not have to worry about sneezing potato bits into my face, and I can stop worrying about being close enough to home after a trip to Cold Stone Creamery. I can poop in my old age AND remember it? Where do I sign?

Oh but wait. Since I’m ancient (by their definition anyone older than 35 is) I’d have to drink 30 cups a day to get all these benefits. Well I guess I don’t have to worry about being close to home. I won’t be leaving it. You can find me on the toilet throughout my detox. But damn am I going to look and feel great! Maybe I can convince my doctor to give me a catheter to leave the house once in awhile. Or i. An invest in a stadium pal (YouTube David Sedaris’ take on this product.)

Then the “deal” comes through. Not to worry you wrinkled, raccoon eyed, stopped up trough eaters. We can make life easy for you. All these benefits can be yours today in pill form! Take 2 a day and get the detox of your life. One year of these magic babies and you will change your blood and your life. Who needs the professor’s prescription? I’m sold on my pending tea transformation. The cost? A little pricey sure — around $250 for an 18 month supply. But I’ve spent more on other Dr. Oz “guarantees.” I’m willing to try. If it means an allergy free, sleep filled life, I can be on board with a health trend I’ve actually heard about. Plus you get some free tea leaves. Score!

I, like so many other suckers pushed and tripped my way over my bus friends turned tea enemies to take advantage of one extra free tin of green tea to the first 5 buyers. Hair was flying. Arms were flailing. I think someone sold their baby. I’VE GOT TO GET MY HANDS ON THAT UNICORN TEA!

It’s utter pandemonium in that room. Workers are dripping with sweat and panting heavily from running back and forth to grab more product.

They had finally worn us down to a malleable state. I get to the table. One box? I’m asked. Listen. It may look like I just fell off the bacon truck — which is why I need two of them geriatric boxes. Thank you. I heard what she said. That’s the deal of a lifetime – what I have left of it unless I pop some green pills. Since I started to feel a whole new level of jiggle about 4 days in, I’m ready for my detox. No sooner was it packed up and I’m handed a receipt to sign.

Um. Excuse me. She said two boxes for $250. This is double. “Oh no no no. This price.” Now it’s all painfully clear. A bunch of deals and prices are thrown out in rapid succession, we all jump at the “amazing price for you.” Then when it’s too late, it changes. And you’re looked at like you have no head. “That’s not what she said.” Oh no no no. One box that price. I’m exhausted, duped, and still recovering from last night’s chlamydia scare. An old habit rises up where someone tells me what I thought heard was never said or wrong and I start to think that maybe I’m crazy. Man! Do I need those pills! So I slink out of the room understanding how the magic pill works: Unable to afford food any longer, all you can manage is the two pills a day. BAM. Svelte little chicken. Brilliant.

Out in the courtyard I meet up with Russia and Haggler Helper (more nicknames.) They are equally confused. They ALSO heard what I heard. Now Russia already has all the things I hope to gain from my pill popping. So her mind and memory and I presume hearing is fine. Haggler Helper agrees as well. (She’s about to croak. Just like me.) Wherever three or more gather in his name, in this case it’s the tea god we first saw in the courtyard, you get taken. Liam Neeson couldn’t get us out of this mess. I vow to never buy again.

We’re all *super* stoked to get on the bus to Shanghai. It will be about a 3 hour drive give or take. Kelly tells us “try not to drink too much.” Check. No bathroom break. How are those pills at drying out a filled bladder? With the promise of a MUCH better hotel and a chance to scrub any residual spores from our bodies, we settle in. It’s raining at a pretty good clip so no big deal.

About 45 minutes into the trip, we hit traffic. Dead stop. It’s ok. I’m in the middle of my first children’s novel, The Hotel – A bedtime story so I don’t notice time passing. I do notice the man in the car next to me get out and take a piss in the middle of the standstill traffic. Ok. Then there’s that. Then when the quietest hipster on the bus (female) exited to cop a squat in the nearby brush, I realized I’d been in a zone. We’d been sitting there probably two hours. We hadn’t moved one inch. Natives restless. Kelly hauls out the bus boxed lunch containing the weirdest club sandwich ever containing an egg and other items I couldn’t identify layered on bread. I’m really missing yi purple potato and duck tongue right about now. Jack Daniel’s helps us pass the time with something he refereed to as Chinese moonshine. Couldn’t hurt! I drink. It makes the insides of my ears warm.

Long/short, we were on that bus for 6 hours. Talk about throwing off the schedule. We all just wanted to go to the hotel. No go succa. You haven’t relieved yourself of enough hard earned cash yet. We still have to go to the emerald showroom. OH COME ON!” the only legitimate “site” we’d seen in two days was this bus that has Chinese characters on the side. Enough already.

Realizing that resistance is futile, we shuffle into yet another showroom. This time it appears to be a legitimate jewelry establishment. Doesn’t matter. At this point, no F’s are being given. We sit around a large boardroom table and ‘Grace’ begins her shpeel. We’re not having any of it. First of all, we haven’t eaten since the Kelly cuisine on the bus followed by a second China truck stop. Second of all, we were all still reeling from being raped by the tea vixens. (They’re just dried leaves! But they’re priced and coveted like Black Diamonds. (That might just be a type of ski slope and not an actual rare gem. I’m exhausted, hungry, and really over transportation shaped like a rolling bread loaf.) Third, and quite possibly the most important. They’re talking about JADE! We were under the impression today’s bait and switch would be about emeralds. As the itinerary states. (I’m not quite sure why I’m even referring to this document anymore. It’s not worth the paper in the squatty potties….which 9 times out of 10 is no paper.) The bus fumes may be making us loopy, but we already know all this shit. We’re jadite warriors and we’re not having any of it.

‘Grace’ stops mid presentation and asks “why you all look so tired?” We’ve been on the bus as long as it takes to binge watch the latest season of The Crown. For the love of all things zen, get on with it and let us out of here. After insulting one of our group by asking him ‘do you like beer? {no.} Then why you have Buddha belly if you don’t like beer?” He took it like a champ but we were all aghast. Way to go ‘Grace.’ Good luck getting a sale now. She called in reinforcements in the form of her boss (the owner’s son) whose claim to fame is while traveling to the states, he always gets stopped to have his picture taken. He bears an uncanny resemblance to William Hung of American Idol: The Mean Years.

He’s funny, bringing a little life into the room. He gives us free stuff (a small ring/pendant of white jade, we think) because he feels so bad about our long day and utter lack of interest in his bobbles. He doesn’t ever do this. Grace is even surprised. Yay! We finally feel listened to. I mean we hurt. We really hurt. Thanks Mr. Hung. (I later learn from a Chinese American immigrant in our group that she now has 4 of these likely glass ring thingys collected from other demonstrations like this during past return trips to her homeland. Man. They are good. Really really good.

Yet there was still a flurry of purchasing and time spent. I start hanging out in the back with the men who have long before cut off their wives (no one listened) and the other China-wise folk who know better than to fall for any of it. They never would have let William through to Vegas. Hung out to dry. It actually felt like some of those purchasing were intentionally delaying departure. It’s a good thought. There was a show of acrobatic skill and other death defying show stoppers planned for that night but it was perilously close to being way to late to make showtime. Kelly! Doesn’t the show start in 10 minutes? Yes! It does. You’re going whether you like it or not. “We make the second half. First half no good anyway.” We are so worn down, cash poor and sleep deprived, we shrug and get on the bus. Those who didn’t purchase tickets got the distinct pleasure of riding on the bus an extra hour while the lucky show-goers were dropped off. On after then would they be able to get to their hotel.

Despite our whining about it, the show was quite entertaining — at least the parts that we saw. (We did get half price tickets, but even that was a struggle.) Men and women propelled through the air from teeter totters.

It reminded me of our tea party earlier. I took a moment to reminisce and be grateful that I could remember that far back given my age and all. Beautiful aerial work on ribbons where the man and woman whip around the arena without a net or safety harness. All was well for the trampoliners until one bounced way too high, landed on the outer rim (it’s not bouncy) slipped off, hit is head on that rim then on the concrete floor. Terrifying. They briefly checked him out, rubbed a little dirt in it, and he trotted off as if nothing had happened. He must be taking green tea pill, I thought.

Finally we get to return to our last and final hotel in Shanghai. Not near anything mind you, but it appears to be free of madams, stains, and sexual innuendo. It’s absolute bliss. The toilet is free range. The sink drains. All the room doors are closed. And nary a Karen Carpenter song to be heard. And the very best part? An 1800 watt hair dryer with a nozzle. I’ve died and gone to heaven.