Out of Cash

Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing

No. Not me. Well, not exactly.

Given how lopsided the exchange rate is between Chinese yuan and US dollars, I wildly underestimated how much cash I had on me. Thought it was a fair amount, but after you do the math, it was the equivelent of, well...like a buck eighty.

So I head to the ATM (which I checked into at my bank before leaving Minneapolis). Sure 'nuff, it's on the same system as me. Cool.

While Holly stands at a discreet distance, I punch numbers (you'd be amazed how universal this process is), but keep hitting a final screen of Mandarin without money spitting out. Tried three times. No luck.

So I summon Holly, who respectfully walks up with caution (this is private stuff, after all). She watches me try it again. Still no luck.

As we're walking off, we finally catch the issue. There's a big, handwritten sign hanging just above the machine that, apparently says (again, in Mandarin) "Out of money."

I'm not doing so well with signs on this trip, am I?