Taxi Ride in Xian, China

In 2006, my husband Rich and I went to Xian, China as Global Volunteers to teach conversational English in grade schools.  Our friend who traveled to China frequently assured us that we did not have to change currency until we got to the airport in Xian. The exchange rate is better in China and banks are all over the airport.  Also, Global Volunteers assured us that we could easily get to our hotel from the airport with no problem in a taxi.

We got off the plane with great excitement as this was going to be an adventure. The first item of business was to find the money exchange booth as we would need money to pay for the taxi ride.  All booths of any kind were closed.  The shops were closed and the banks were closed.  We did see something like an ATM machine but since we did not read or speak Chinese, we did not know whether it was an ATM, or a bus and rail pass machine.  We finally found a desk with the English word “Tourist.”  We hurried there.

“Can you change money for us?

There were puzzled looks, head shaking and hand waving indicating “No”.

“Where can we change our money?”

More head shaking and negative hand waving.

“How can we get a taxi?”

After furtive looks from one agent to the other, one agent finally said, “Outside.”

“Where outside?” 

More head shaking and hand waving.

We then heard a voice off to the side about 50 feet away, “You need taxi?” he said with the Chinese lilt in his voice.

“Yes!”

“Where you going?”  I produced the address of the Hyatt hotel in downtown Xian which I had written out just for this kind of situation.

He said with a big smile, “Come, come. I take you.  Follow me.” 

We quickly looked at the agents at the desk for some sign of caution or approval.  They remained stone-faced so we decided to go.

The jaunty man offered to take our bags but we decided to keep our hands on our bags to make sure they stayed with us.  We entered a stark elevator that took us down several floors.  When the door opened, we found ourselves in a parking garage much like one in a James Bond movie.

The man kept saying with the Chinese lilt, “Come, come. Follow me.” 

We walked a long way through sections of the garage getting warier at each turn.  We finally came to a car ramp where we were told, “Wait here.”  We had no idea where we were and now we were in the hands of this stranger who spoke only a few English words.

          About 5 minutes later, which seemed an eternity, a car drove up toward the ramp.  It had no taxi markings.  It certainly was not a limousine, just an ordinary car that looked like it has seen many miles.  The driver jumped out.  He opened the trunk and the two men loaded our bags motioning us to get in the back seat.  The back seat was clean, a bit worn, but had seat belts.  The two men talked briefly.  Before we knew it, our English speaking escort disappeared and we were at the mercy of a taxi driver who did not speak any English.  We had no idea whether he knew where we wanted to go or where he was really taking us.  Thoughts of being kidnapped did cross our minds.

          Traffic in Xian was an adventure in itself as this driver plowed through the busy streets, barely missing the myriad of pedestrians who seem to just step off at any time.  We tried to find some English signs that would give us some idea where we were.  Everything was in Chinese.

Finally, we arrive at the Hyatt Hotel in Xian but we had no money to pay for the driver. 

“Welcome!” said the Bellman.  Oh, a sign he spoke English.

“Please wait.  We will get money to pay you,” we implored the Bellman to tell the taxi driver.

Rich went inside while I stayed on the curb not wanting the driver to think we were going to skip paying him. 

“You go inside.  You go inside.”  The Bellman insisted.  “It’s too hot here.  I wait here for you.”

Inside the hotel was cool but I fretted as Rich got money exchanged at the hotel desk.  He first had to check in as the service was for guests only.  It took a while to make the money exchange and figure out how much we owed the cab driver. 

When Rich went back out, the cab was gone.  

“I already paid the driver myself so he did not have to wait,” said the Bellman.  “You pay me.”  He asked for the exact amount of the ride.

          We found out that the whole country was on “vacation” for two weeks and all banks, government offices, and many businesses were closed.  To our relief, we learned the manager of the hotel, was an American from Minnesota who spoke perfect English and Chinese.  He graciously greeted and welcomed us.  We felt like we had a little piece of home after a twenty-three-hour plane ride from California and a wild ride in a cab.

          Later that night, I was reading the tour book that one should read before embarking on a trip.  I found a caution, against rides offered in the airport by anyone other than the official taxi union with a marked car. 

Angels watching over us.