I Have No Idea What Happened Today

We switched hotels. I wanted to be closer to the university area because I’m planning to take at least a part-time course load in Mandarin. We had a nice two bedroom apartment over by the 798 Art Zone, but it’s over an hour by bus to the university, so we packed up our stuff and moved across town.

It was a huge hassle. Packing up our stuff all morning, check out, wait an hour at reception while they do something, we’re not sure what because they relay this information in Mandarin (which they should, this being China and all, but still it doesn’t help us much). Cole wants to touch the bubbling water feature in the lobby, which I am inclined to let him, but the doorman has already come over to show me through a series of dramatic miming, how my son will burst into flames and die if he so much as makes eye contact with the thing. There’s a tangled knot of wires and extension cords powering the wet and sputtering installment. Jesus, maybe he’s right.

Paid. Receipt. Bundled. Outside. Hail. Taxi. Hour drive. Boom. We’re at the new place.

The new place is more expensive than the last and for that price, they include the smell of boiled cabbage. There’s empty beverage containers in the bathroom and before I can say, “what the hell?” I notice the evaporated residue of shaving cream and the tell-tale black stubble of some man’s shaving. Uh, okay, so they haven’t cleaned the room?

I go into the bedroom and there’s no sheets! No pillows, no blankets. I look in the kitchen and there’s a stove top but no pots or pans. No cutlery. There’s a hole in the cabinets where the microwave would go but it’s empty. On the counter there’s an imprint of the dust of what must have been an electric tea kettle, maybe a rice cooker. Why have a kitchen with only a single burner and no way to actually cook anything?

This is weird.

Drew goes to the front desk to inquire and I try to put Cole down for a nap. Drew’s a little confused-looking when he returns.

“So what did they say?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t. We typed to each other through Google Translate. But I don’t really understand the translation. I think they are sending someone up.”

Meanwhile the internet isn’t working so we try to get that fixed too.

Three men come to our apartment and talk to us in progressively louder and louder Chinese. By now, I have my English-Chinese dictionary open but it’s no use. Without knowing the question it’s hard to answer anything. They are fixing the internet? We show them the computers. They play around and shout things at us.

Uh…

The cleaning lady comes. She doesn’t bring sheets. We mime “sheets” by stroking the bed. See! Nice Bed. Better with sheets! “Sheeeeetsssssss,” we say as we stroke the bed. She takes her rag and starts wiping down the bed.

Dear Lord.

By the way, we know this is our responsibility to learn the language. I do not for a second expect anyone to speak English to me. That would be crazy.

On Drew’s last trip he notices a sign, in English, at reception with the listed prices. For about 100 RMB less per night than what they are charging us. He takes a picture of it and returns to the room.

“Look. Why. More. See.” Drew hands the guy his iPhone. The guy types on his phone and shows Drew. A translation.

“The owner sets the price of the dwelling when the accommodation is in full setting.”

What.

We switch tacts. I looked up the word for blanket and ask.

“No. This. No. Hotel.”

What.

They leave. The cleaning lady wants something. Money? I have no idea. She’s is increasingly emphatic. Drew’s gone back down to the lobby with our cash. I look up the word for husband. I try to say, “Go ask my husband, he’s in the lobby” but she just stands there looking at me and talking. Talking. Talking.

What is going on?

By this point, I am pretty sure I just stiffed the cleaning lady, pissed off the internet guy and rented a hotel room that is actually some guy’s apartment.

I go back to check on Cole and there’s something by his head. A little black hair. Gross.

That’s it. We’re out of here. We’re obviously not in a hotel-hotel. We’re in a random-guy-who-knows-how-to-set-up-a-fake-hotel-on-Ctrip hotel. I think. Honestly, this could all be our fault.

Maybe they were saying, “You know, if you want, we can bring you to a fully furnished and much nicer room. Just say the word!”

Us: Uh…..

Them: “Okay, if you insist on staying here, but really this is just the staff overnight room. But it’s up to you!”

Us: half-shrug and smile.

To each other: “Wow, Americans are so weird.”