It was evening when Schiller arrived in Los Angeles, and the sunset on the West Coast was gentle and lingering.
Different from the blue sea and sky during the day, at sunset, a rich orange-red appears above the sea, and then a dreamy purple. Thin clouds are woven into gauze, and the sun is like a pearl rolling down shark gauze.
.
The mood of the West Coast of the United States is different from that of any other region in the world. It is busy but leisurely, lively and romantic. In the autumn evening, the cool evening breeze blows on your face, and you can always hear some cheerful and lively tunes when walking on the road, just like for
The city where jazz was born.
When you walk out of the airport, you can see row upon row of high-rise buildings shrouded in orange-red. The palm trees nearby look like men with long necks and afros, dancing happily with the wind.
Schiller stood in front of the airport and yawned. The sun was setting lower and lower. The ringing of wind chimes was always clear when the convenience store next to him opened the door. After buying a bottle of coffee, Tim closed the door of the convenience store and faced the seats.
He shook the coffee can in his hand.
Schiller waved his hand to him. He couldn't get used to drinking this kind of instant coffee. Tim tightened his backpack tightly, opened a can of coffee and poured it into his mouth.
He actually doesn't like drinking coffee that much, but he loves drinking it in other universes. When chatting with them, he would feel uncomfortable if he didn't have a cup of coffee. Over time, he became accustomed to drinking coffee regardless of time or place.
.
The hotel's car arrived quickly, but what was interesting was that it was not a serious extended luxury limousine, but a classic Ford car with bright flower patterns on it.
The driver was a black guy. He helped Schiller get his luggage into the trunk. From the moment he got in the car, he didn't stop talking. Otherwise, the West Coast is famous for rap. This guy spoke with a rap tone.
sense of rhythm.
"I promise you will fall in love with our green home and spend a very pleasant two weeks here. Sir, I know you are from New York, which is a big city, but Manutin is different from there. It is a very quiet little town."
The town is peaceful and beautiful..."
Tim had never heard of the place name he was talking about. He guessed that it might be the name of the locals, but he heard that it was a small town. He glanced at Schiller, who showed him the Airbnb booking interface.
It turned out that this time they did not book a hotel in the city center, but a B&B somewhere between Los Angeles and the Love Farm they were going to inspect.
This is a house on the hillside of a small town about 40 kilometers away from the farm. It seems to be a very popular guesthouse for tourists. Tim looked through the pictures and found that this is a typical forest cabin. The most popular spot
It should be that the living room window can see most of Los Angeles and even the coastline.
They soon drove onto California Route 10, which is also a very famous road. It has a winding route, and the background is an orange-red color that is as rich as undiluted paint. After the sky darkens slightly, you can still see a
A vast expanse of starry sky.
It seemed that after passing an important intersection, the car was a bit stuck. Schiller and Tim were eye-opening because they were surrounded by all kinds of classic cars. Tim suspected that many of them were older than Thomas.
He lay down at the window and looked out, and soon smelled a strong smell of marijuana. After coughing twice, he took his head back.
Seeing that the driver in front was about to take out a cigarette, Tim immediately said: "Sorry sir, I'm underage, can you smoke it later?"
"What do you mean? This is just an ordinary cigarette." The young man smiled and said, "Don't you smoke? Then I won't smoke either."
"Cigarettes don't matter, I really can't get used to the smell of marijuana." Tim wrinkled his nose in disgust. His sense of smell is very sensitive. It may be a problem developed from living in the uptown area for many years. He always smells marijuana.
The smell of vomit made him want to vomit.
At this time, Schiller skillfully took out a pack of cigarettes from his handbag and threw it to the driver.
The driver didn't think it was anything at first, but after seeing the packaging, his eyes widened in surprise.
"Chinese cigarettes?! God! You are such a lucky rich man. Could this be a mainland product?"
"Of course, authentic Su Yan, you are lucky." Schiller said: "My nephew's family is very rich, and he has not been allowed to smoke and drink since he was a child. You can't lead him astray, otherwise I won't be able to follow his father.
Explain."
"I understand." The black guy grinned with white teeth and smiled from ear to ear. Tim gave Schiller a thumbs up.
In fact, Chinese flue-cured tobacco is very popular in the West, and it is divided into parallel imports from Hong Kong and authentic mainland products. Authentic mainland flue-cured tobacco is much more expensive than marijuana, and even if you have money, you may not be able to buy it.
In fact, the main reason is that the way of processing cut tobacco in the West is very rough. Like the world-famous Camel brand, it is basically just smoking, which is equivalent to smoking tree leaves. Not to mention it is very choked and does not have any tobacco aroma.
China's flue-cured tobacco requires a lot of attention. The shredded tobacco is processed with sophisticated techniques and is cured just right. The nicotine content is not that high, but it is very fragrant. The most important thing is that the second-hand smoke exhaled is not choking.
Even during the Anti-Japanese War and the Liberation War, the People's Liberation Army relied on exporting cigarettes to earn foreign exchange. At that time, they were not cheap, so many fathers in Europe and the United States regarded being able to smoke Chinese cigarettes as a status symbol.
The black guy lit the cigarette, took a long puff, and exhaled the smoke with enjoyment. He looked at Schiller and said, "You look like you are of mixed race. You should have relatives in China, right? Have you been to Chongqing? I watched Tiktok
It says it’s the real cyber city.”
Schiller thought about it and realized that he had indeed been there, but at the time he went there, Chongqing was not a cyber city, so he said truthfully, "I have been there, but it was a long time ago.
, do you want to travel to China?"
"I thought about it, but getting a visa is too troublesome." The black guy sighed, shook his head and said, "I have a friend who wants to go there, but the visa process took three months, so I can only watch videos."
The car doesn't drive very fast now, so smoking in the car should be very choking, but Tim felt fine. He sniffed and didn't smell any strong smoke, at least not like second-hand smoke before.
The smoke wafts into the nose and stings.
After a while, when we arrived at the intersection, the black guy got out of the car with the pack of cigarettes and handed two cigarettes to two people in police uniforms next to him, and the car passed quickly.
When the window was opened for inspection, Tim happened to be sitting by the window. The total amount of clothes he wore was worth thousands of dollars. The police didn't even look at him. They checked Schiller and Tim's handbags and put them away.
It's past.
"Why are the investigations so strict recently?" Schiller asked with some confusion.
"Forget it, aren't we going to elect the mayor again? Many big names have been coming and going in Los Angeles recently."
Schiller then remembered that the mayoral election in Los Angeles was in the fall and winter, and it should be an intense time.
Before he said anything, Tim asked curiously: "Who are the candidates? What are their backgrounds?"
"There are many candidates, but there are only two or three that are promising. To be precise, there are only two. One is a white man named Tusoch, who seems to be a big business boss, and the other is a black female named Karenna.
, one of them is a local and the other is from outside, the competition is quite fierce.”
"Outside? Can the mayor choose someone who is not a local?"
"It's not the outsider. Both of them are actually locals. It's just that one is doing business locally, and the other came to invest later. One represents the local circle on the West Coast, and the other represents Congress."
"Which one has the highest approval rating now?" Tim asked again.
"It's strange for you. When you come here to play, you don't ask about the attractions first, but you care about the election."
"Oh, my dad is a big shot. He talks about these things all day long, so of course I have to imitate him. Besides, I still have a social survey report to complete, so I probably don't have much time to play." Tim pretended to complain.
The black guy laughed and said, "Looking at you, you look like a pampered rich boy. It's not surprising that you would be interested in these things. In terms of support rates, they are actually about the same."
"Black women are of course more popular with ethnic minorities. She has a high support rate among Latinos and women, and I support her even more. However, she has only come to Los Angeles to invest and do business in recent years. This
Not at all as good as that Tusoch."
"But it's hard to say that there are many emerging local businessmen who support her. After all, they are fed up with that group of real estate developers."
The black guy talked a lot intermittently, and the congested section of the road passed. The car continued to drive forward until it got farther and farther away from the city, and went uphill more. It didn't take long before it drove into a small town.
This town is still quite lively. Even if it is completely dark, the lights in the town are bright, and you can see stalls selling goods. The black guy explained: "A video made this town popular. Recently, tourists
There are so many people taking photos and checking in everywhere.”
"Have you made a lot of money?" Schiller asked.
"That's not true." Although he said this, the young man was still smiling from ear to ear. He said: "This car belongs to my uncle, and I have to pay him dividends. But if I give him half a pack of cigarettes today,
Maybe all your tips will belong to me."
"I've given you a pack of cigarettes, and you still want a tip?" Tim joked.
The black guy immediately started wailing at the top of his lungs, "No, you rich guys!! You can't just bribe me with cigarettes! Otherwise, if you want to use a car in the mountains, I won't come!"
"Is it difficult to use a car in the mountains?"
"It's okay. The main reason is that some people take good care of the car and don't want to drive it up. My uncle's old car is about to be scrapped, and I don't care, but you have to tip double, or..."
The black boy stared at the cigarette in Schiller's hand and swallowed. Schiller put the cigarette away and said, "Then it's better to double the tip. Don't expect to get more good stuff from me. I still have it for use."
"
The black guy started wailing again.
Driving all the way up the winding mountain road, Schiller finally understood why the black guy said that it was difficult to use a car on the mountain. This kind of road consumes the most fuel, and ordinary drivers are unwilling to drive up it. It seems that they had better find a way.
Rent a car.
This guy's driving skills are quite good. He doesn't turn quickly or slowly, nor is he very bumpy. He doesn't sacrifice comfort in order to save fuel. So when he got off the car, Schiller threw him a pack of cigarettes and plenty of cigarettes.
tip.
The black guy screamed, leaned half of his body out of the car window and said, "Damn rich guy, call me when you use the car next time! If anyone dares to steal business from me, I'll blow his head off!"
Tim laughed loudly and stood in front of the door watching the colorful old car swaying down the mountain.
He opened the door, the light in the room was on, and a tall white man wearing a floral shirt was waiting for them in the room.
"Oh my god, you guys are here, I didn't expect you to be riding in the little black dog's car."
"Oh my God, you are a racist..." Tim said with some surprise.
The big white man waved his hand and said: "That's their nickname. His uncle is called Old Black Dog, and his nephew is naturally called Little Black Dog. That's a slippery man. Did he ask you for a double tip? Just because the mountain road is difficult
open?"
"He drove it really well." Schiller and Tim never put their things down because they were not used to touching furniture before the owner of the house spoke.
"He says this to everyone. In fact, because of the rise of tourism and the government's fuel subsidy, he can get double the money... Just throw your bag on the sofa. You're welcome. After all, your bag is bigger than my sofa."