I went to the bank last week.  Here in Xining I have an account at the Bank of China.  In the States I have an account at the Bank of America because it just makes sense to keep your financial transactions at an institution with your country’s name in its title.

Anyway, the bank was pretty crowded after the new year.  Quite a few Chinese and foreign patrons were there.  Contrary to one’s general assumptions, there is an orderly process for carrying out transactions in the bank here.  You take a number and take a seat.  They post the numbers with the different tellers and you head to the window when your number is called.

Well, I like to watch people when I’m waiting.  On this particular day I was watching an older lady who was talking heatedly with the teller behind the window.  The little old lady was pretty wrinkly, had silver hair, and a warm knitted hat on the top of her head.

When people talk in Chinese it can seem very animated…even if it is a discussion about the weather.  But I could tell that this old lady was not having a friendly conversation.  The longer she stood at the window, the more apparent it was that she was not having fun.

I knew she was also not having fun because I could catch pieces of her conversation:

"Bu xing!  Bu xing!  Wo bu dong!"  (It’s NOT OK!  It’s NOT OK!  I don’t understand!)

After a while, a young manager type figure in a suit appeared from the woodwork (where did he come from?) and tried to calm the lady down.  He escorted her away from the window and to another part of the bank.  A foreign girl stepped up to the window that the old lady had left.

I scratched my head and waited for my number to be called.

After a few minutes, the disgruntled lady pushed her way back to the same window and started spewing some more angry-sounding Chinese.  The foreign girl tried to ignore the tirade for a while, but it was pretty hard to do.  Eventually, the foreigner eased to the side of the window so that the old lady could continue berating the bank employee behind the window.

This time all I could pick up from the Chinese was the word "weiguoren" (foreigners).  The woman then sat down in front of the teller and refused to move.  She also refused to let any other patron carry out business at that window.  It was like a demonstration going on right in the middle of the bank!

I’m not sure if the woman’s grievance was ever rectified.  My number was called; I carried out my transaction and left the bank.  On the way out, I asked my friend,  Tomas,  what the lady’s deal was.

He told me that she was obviously from the country and did not understand the bank’s policies on certain transactions.  She probably got an ATM fee she didn’t like or  something along those lines.

"And what was all that stuff she was saying about foreigners?"

"Oh," Tomas replied smiling, "she said, ‘This is supposed to be The Bank of China! What are soooo many foreigners doing in the Bank of China!‘" As if we were to blame for her banking woes…

(Believe me, lady, if there were a Bank of America here I’d be there AND my ‘mafan’ level would drop substantially…IF only!)

Strangely enough, another Chinese lady approached us on the street after this conversation and asked us if we could "change" some money for her.  She had Peruvian dollars that the Bank of China would not exchange.  Peruvian dollars!!!  It was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on such currency.  When we asked where the money came from she told us a long story involving trains, a bet, and a man throwing Peruvian money at her and a companion…

Unfortunately, we were not able to help her since a.) we did not know the current RMB to Peruvian dollar exchange rate and b.) we did not know any other Peruvians we could pass the bills on to.

I guess, "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get…"