“Hei1 Che1″, or literally “Black Vehicle”, is what you call illegal taxis in China.  Now, I will use these cars every so often.  Many people advise against using them for safety reasons.  Everyone has heard of stories of the “black taxis” who take someone somewhere and rob them.  I’ve used these cars a good bit, but in what I consider, safe situations.  Like in broad daylight, on a short route I know, and in places where I know multiple black taxis operate without incident.  For example, if I’ve bought some bulky items from the Hua Qiao Cheng Walmart, I’ll walk outside, looking for a guy standing around holding keys.  We make eye contact and I tell him my apartment name and offer the standard 10 RMB.  Never had any problems, and I’ve even picked up the business cards of a few.

Last night, upon returning from Hong Kong, I was tempted to take another, but started thinking that the situation was a bit more dangerous.  So I pulled the ripcord and got outta there, much to the anger of the would-be driver.  In Hong Kong, I repeated a routine that I enjoy:  Go to a coffee shop in Wanchai near the Admiralty station, buy a cappuchino, and sit for 2-3 hours enjoying the high speed internet.  I also enjoy meeting up with some folks for dinner at some local place.  Hong Kong is always enjoyable; it’s a nice, close escape into a more Western world that’s welcome every so often.  The coffee joint makes me feel like I’m back in Seattle.  Not that I miss Seattle so much, but it’s a nice reminder.  I also went to one of the big music stores to buy some guitar electronics (basically cheaper than China, prices are comparable to the US) and brought my backpack for “smuggling” it back into China (had to leave the box at the store).

So, I thoroughly enjoyed my evening in Hong Kong, but I took the train back to Shenzhen a little too late to catch the subway.  It was close; I arrived at 11:15, most likely it was too late, but I took a look anyway.  Yes, closed.  This basically meant I needed to take a taxi.  A man at the entrance to the subway told me it was closed and asked where I was going.  Obviously, he was a “hei1 che1″ driver.  I told him “Hua2 Qiao2 Cheng2″, which is the area that I lived.  He offered 50RMB, which is a reasonable price.  I didn’t make any signs, but he started motioning me to follow him, I did.  We went past the bus station, I looked at a few of the busses, they all looked closed too.  Lots of people were lined up for legit taxis.  And here I was following some guy, carrying some new guitar electronics, my iPhone, wallet and cash, passport, my laptop!  So, I started thinking, “This isn’t so wise.”

He led me out into the chaotic street and started making some phone calls.  My US-politically-correct conditioned brain was trying to tell me that I shouldn’t be suspicious, don’t judge, blah blah.  But, one quick incident late one night on the dark streets of Quito, Ecuador back in 2001 taught some friends and I the folly of that attitude (no damage or losses incurred, thankfully).  So, I started asking for a business card.  He blew me off and just pointed at the phone.  He then asked me to stand with him basically in the middle of the road.  They were coordinating a pickup of some kind.  In retrospect, I’d say that the chances that this was legit was probably higher than some sort of scheme, but for the difference in price of a legit taxi versus the illegal taxi made the risk involved ludicrous.  Besides, it was late at night, I’m in LuoHu, and it’s a long distance.  The only thing I had going for me, was that I knew the proper route, but that’s hardly an intelligent advantage to seize.  I saw taxis coming by and made eye contact.  One stopped and I asked how much to Hua Qiao Cheng (you can go off meter and bargain at late hours) to which he replied “60 RMB”.

I made the decision and jumped in.  The other guy tried to keep me by pleading (at least he wasn’t blocking the door).  He then shouted through the window at the taxi driver.  I couldn’t tell what was being said, but it was loud.  The taxi driver responded and the guys face became flushed with anger.  As I yelled, “Go! go!”, he frantically scraped at the ground picking up some bits of gravel and heaved it into the car.  The driver tried to dodge the car as he sped away but bits of shrapnel hit us.  The taxi driver then yelled something at me, to which I just apologized, “Sorry sorry!”

I was a little shocked, but glad at the choice.  I had about twenty minutes of peace listening to some music, but then jumped out into more chaos in my neighborhood.  OK, it wasn’t so bad, but some young man started to make friendly conversation with me.  “What’s he up to?”, I thought.  Eventually, he got to the point and asked, “I’m hungry, can you buy me some food?”  I’ve heard this one multiple times now.  I just responded “Bu yao, bu yao” (“no no”) with a smile.  He seemed to realize that I was wise to the scheme, and gave me a friendly, “Mei wen ti, bye bye.” (“No problem, bye bye” – yes, they say “bye bye” here).

Ah, back in Shenzhen!

The afternoon I arrived in Shenzhen, we caught a bus which was jam-packed with people, with no regard for the safety regulations about which we are so strict in the US: people were standing in the aisle, in the door-wells, and I was pressed up against the very front of the bus, such that, when new passengers somehow squeezed on board, they would have to pass their metro cards forward, then I would swipe them and pass them back. Theron and I, as fairly rare foreigners here, get lots of stares. It’s like being a celebrity. And these people are not shy about it: they will fix their gaze on you unapologetically for minutes.

A real adventure ensued on Saturday night (December 13) when we went in search of DVD knock-offs. The main market for these–also one of the world’s largest markets for imitation electronic products (i-Pods, i-Phones and more)–is a wide and winding alley among a series of six-to-eight-story buildings, all plastered with neon signs, like Times Square on crack. The crowds are thick and the noise is intensified by hip, young vendors in Santa hats barking their wares in microphones accompanied by hip-hop or techno beats. McDonald’s (which they call MaDaNa) is situated at the center under some towers made to look like old-fashioned pagodas, the only nominal tip of the hat to old China. Also very prevalent here is KFC! Since the Colonel is pictured here as in the US, only from the collar up, the locals refer to this chain as “Old Head.”

We perused the impressive contents of one DVD store which had beautiful packaging (though still fake) and a wide selection. (“Frost/Nixon” is already available here.) Theron went to another store and, not finding what we were after (TV shows), consulted a 16-ish shop girl, stylishly dressed in something like “swindler-chic” and possessed of a certain whimsically sly demeanor. She then beckoned us to follow her. So we did. Off into the crowds we went, dodging random people who approached and, in broken English, offered “electronic,” “DVD,” “Rolex,” and, best of all, “Sexy DVD.” Occasionally, it was hard for me to keep up with Theron and our guide because of the number of people and the chaos of their movements. Several blocks away, we entered a building full of more vendors and more stalls of fake merchandise. Rows and rows and shelves and shelves of cell phones, cameras, i-Pods, etc. The sheer amount of items is staggering. We jammed into a packed elevator and went up a few flights, being thoroughly checked out by the locals. Continuing in our guide’s footsteps, we exited the elevator and followed a corridor which took turns at odd angles. It seemed that we were coming to the back of the mall, the place where one might find restrooms (you don’t want to imagine what these would have been like in this place), security (which was not at all in evidence) and administrative offices. At the end of an especially blank segment, a fellow who may have been some kind of maintenance man was washing something in a kind of wet-room. As we passed along the blank, dirty-white walls, our guide casually knocked along a shallow recess that might have been a shop window at one time, now closed over with something like dry-wall. She continued knocking on the wall as she approached an equally blank and seemingly sealed doorway with no knob or handle. She paused at it for a second before it was opened from the inside by another teenager. We were ushered in through a curtain to a secret DVD store, the walls of which were lined with fake DVDs, including a collection of [D]ruce Lee [sic] films (which I just had to get as a laugh for a friend), copies of “Lost” (our guide pointed to it as I held it and said, “very good, very good”), “Rome,” “The Simpsons,” “Pushing Up Daisies,” “Dexter,” you name it. I even found a complete set of my beloved “Arrested Development.” If nothing else, the English subtitles will be a riot. A couple of nights before, we had bought a copy of “Burn After Reading” which had hilariously erroneous English subtitles, e.g. whenever the actors spoke the f-word, “mama” was inexplicably given in the subtitles. On the floor of the shop, a kid was stuffing packages with new DVDs and stacking them to be shelved. It was a thrilling glimpse of the underground industry.

Of course, the question arises: why should some shops be able to sell what are obviously illegal copies openly, while another has to keep a secret shop? Theron’s friend Coco suggested that perhaps it’s due to “guan xi,” the somewhat mysterious, unwritten, unofficial good-business relations that are necessary to thrive in the Chinese market. Perhaps the secret store had not cultivated good “guan xi,” Coco suggested.

There was another little adventure that night. We had just left the secret room and emerged in the streets again. Sure enough, people started walking up to us saying, “Sexy DVD! Sexy DVD!” One slight, middle-aged woman came up to us and would not go away. Usually Theron and I are good about ignoring these people, but this woman would not give up. She kept saying “DVD 5 RMB! DVD 5 RMB!” 5RMB being about half what you normally pay for fake DVDs. So Theron gave in, and we followed her across the crowded plaza, into an indoor market that was very seedy and run-down (a whole set of escalators sat dormant) into another open market and then she told us to wait. She came back with a big notebook of DVD labels. Theron selected two. When I expressed the slightest interest or amusement in any, she assumed I wanted them. Finally, we clarified that Theron only wanted 2. She went away again, and we waited a few minutes. She returned accompanied by a guy who looked somewhat official (blue uniform shirt, or so it appeared); she seemed annoyed with him, and so we got a little nervous. Nevertheless, at her insistent beckoning, we followed the two of them as they crossed to one end of the open market and then darted behind a clothes or fabric booth. We couldn’t figure out why they were being so secretive. Oddly, at the back of the fabric booth, a lady slumped face-down on a pile of samples, presumably sleeping. Our peddler gave Theron his two DVDs; he checked them out and gave them two 5-RMB bills. The lady protested, saying that the bills had tears in them and were no good. The tears were insignificant.  It all seemed fishy.  Theron said the deal was off and asked for his money back, but she wouldn’t give it to him. He tried to give back the discs, but she wouldn’t take them. She asked him to pay with a 50- or 100-RMB note, and they would give us change. The man opened his wallet to reveal a ton of 10-yuan notes. Theron was suspicious of this from stories he had heard and asked me for a 10. Fortunately, I had a 10-RMB note which we gave it to them.  At last, the deal was done, somewhat to the dealers’ disappointment. In retrospect, we realized they were trying to get us to give them a big note (100 or 50) so they could give us back change…in counterfeit bills!!! Apparently this is a common scam! So glad we were wise to it! All in a night’s adventure.