mtl008 Chapter 2937 Leisure Time (7)
Chapter 2937 Leisure Time (7)
Chapter 2937 Leisure Time (VII)
It was evening when Schiller arrived in Los Angeles, and the sunset on the west coast was gentle and affectionate.
Different from the azure sea and sky during the day, at sunset, a rich orange-red color appears above the sea surface, and then a dreamy purple. Thin cloud lines weave into a gauze curtain, and the sun looks like a jewel rolling down the shark gauze.
The atmosphere of the West Coast of the United States is different from that of any other region in the world. It is busy yet leisurely, lively and romantic. In the autumn evening, the cool breeze blows on your face, and you can always hear some cheerful and lively tunes while walking on the road. It seems like a city born for jazz.
As you walk out of the airport, you can see rows of high-rise buildings shrouded in orange and red. The palm trees closer look like men with long necks and afro, swaying gently in the wind as if they are dancing a happy dance.
Schiller yawned as he stood in front of the airport. The sun was setting lower and lower. The sound of wind chimes when the door of the convenience store next to him was always crisp. Tim, who had bought a bottle of coffee, closed the door of the convenience store and shook the coffee can in his hand at Schiller.
Schiller waved at him, he was not used to this instant coffee. Tim tightened his backpack, opened a can of coffee and poured it into his mouth.
He actually doesn't like coffee that much, but he loves it very much in other universes. When he is chatting with them, he will feel uncomfortable without a cup of coffee. Over time, he has become accustomed to drinking coffee regardless of time and place.
The hotel car arrived very quickly, but what was interesting was that it was not a formal stretched luxury limousine, but a vintage Ford car with bright flower patterns.
The driver was a black guy. He helped Schiller put the luggage into the trunk. From the moment he got in the car, he never stopped talking. That's why West Coast rap is so famous. This guy speaks with a rap rhythm.
"I promise you will love 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 town, peaceful and beautiful..."
Tim had never heard of the place name he was talking about. He guessed it might be what the locals called it. But when he heard it was a small town, he looked at Schiller, and Schiller showed him the Airbnb booking interface.
It turned out that this time they did not book a hotel in the city center, but instead booked a B&B between Los Angeles and the Love Farm they were going to visit.
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 B&B. Tim flipped through the pictures and found that it was a typical cabin in the woods. The most popular point should be that the living room window can see most of the city of Los Angeles, and even the coastline.
They soon drove onto California Highway 10, which is also a very famous highway. The winding route has a background of orange-red that is as rich as undiluted paint. When the sky darkens a little, a large starry sky can be seen.
It seemed that they passed an important intersection and the traffic was a bit congested. Schiller and Tim were amazed because there were all kinds of classic cars around them. Tim suspected that many of them were older than Thomas.
He leaned over the window and looked out, and soon smelled a strong smell of marijuana. After coughing twice, he retracted his head.
Seeing the driver in front of him about to take out a cigarette, Tim immediately said, "Sorry sir, I'm underage, can you wait a while before smoking?"
"You mean this? This is just an ordinary cigarette." The young man smiled and said, "You don't smoke? Then I don't smoke either."
"Cigarettes are okay, but I just can't get used to the smell of marijuana." Tim wrinkled his nose in disgust. He had a very sensitive sense of smell, which might be a problem developed from living in the upper city for many years. Marijuana always smelled like vomit to him, and he wanted to vomit when he smelled it.
At this time, Schiller skillfully took out a box of cigarettes from his handbag and threw it to the driver.
The driver didn't think anything of it at first, but when he saw the packaging, his eyes widened in surprise.
"Chinese cigarettes?! God! You are such a lucky rich man, are these not from the mainland?"
"Of course, genuine Su cigarettes, you are lucky." Schiller said, "My nephew's family is very rich, and he has never been allowed to touch cigarettes or alcohol since he was a child. You can't lead him astray, otherwise I won't be able to explain to his father."
"I understand." The black guy grinned, unable to close his mouth, and Tim gave Schiller a thumbs up.
In fact, Chinese flue-cured tobacco is very popular in the West, and it is divided into Hong Kong parallel imports and authentic mainland products. Authentic mainland flue-cured tobacco is much more expensive than marijuana, and you may not be able to buy it even if you have money.
In fact, it is mainly because the method of processing tobacco in the West is very rough. For example, the world-famous Camel brand is basically raw tobacco, which is equivalent to smoking tree leaves. Not only is it very pungent, but it also does not have any tobacco aroma.
China's flue-cured tobacco is much more particular. The tobacco is processed with sophisticated techniques and roasted just right. The nicotine content is not that high, but it is very fragrant. Most importantly, the second-hand smoke exhaled is not choking.
Even during the Anti-Japanese War and the War of Liberation, the People's Liberation Army relied on exporting cigarettes to earn foreign exchange. Cigarettes were not cheap at that time, so many fathers in Europe and the United States regarded being able to smoke Chinese cigarettes as a symbol of status.
The black guy lit up a cigarette, took a long puff, and exhaled the smoke with enjoyment. He looked at Schiller and said, "You look like you are mixed-race. You must have relatives in China, right? Have you been to Chongqing? I saw on Tiktok that it is a real cyber city."
Schiller thought about it and realized that he had been there before, but when he was there, Chongqing was not yet considered a cyber city, so he told the truth, "I have been there, but that was a long time ago. Do you want to travel to China?"
"I want to, but getting a visa is too troublesome." The black guy sighed, shook his head and said, "I have a friend who wants to go, but the visa process took three months. I can only watch videos."
The car was not driving fast now, and smoking in the car should be very choking, but Tim felt it was okay. He sniffed and didn't smell any strong smell of smoke, at least not like the second-hand smoke in the past, which would sting and hurt as soon as the smoke drifted into his nose.
After a while, they 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. The car quickly passed by.
When the window was opened for inspection, Tim was sitting by the window. The clothes on him must have worth several thousand dollars. The police didn't even look at him. They checked Schiller and Tim's handbags and let them go.
"Why are the inspections so strict recently?" Schiller asked with some confusion.
"Don't mention it. Isn't it time to elect a mayor again? A lot of big shots have been coming and going in Los Angeles lately."
Schiller then remembered that the mayoral election in Los Angeles was in the fall and winter, and it should be very intense now.
Before he could say anything, Tim asked curiously, "Who are the candidates? What are their backgrounds?"
"There are many candidates, but there are only two or three who are promising. To be precise, there are only two. One is a white man named Tusoch, who seems to be a big business owner, and the other is a black woman named Karena. One of them is a local, and the other is from outside. The competition is quite fierce."
"Outsider? Can the mayor choose someone who is not a local?"
"They are not the outsiders. They are both locals. It's just that one is doing business here, and the other is an investor. One represents the local circle on the West Coast, and the other represents Congress."
"Which one has a higher approval rating now?" Tim asked again.
"You guys are quite strange. You come here to play but you don't ask about the attractions first, but are concerned about the election instead."
"Oh, my dad is a big shot. He talks about these things all the time, so of course I follow his example. Besides, I still have a social survey report to do, so I probably don't have much time to play." Tim pretended to complain.
The black guy laughed and said, "You look like a spoiled rich kid, so it's no surprise that you're interested in these things. In terms of support rates, the two of them are actually about the same."
"Of course, black women are more popular among minorities. She has a high support rate among Latino African Americans and women. I support her more, but she did come to Los Angeles to invest and do business in recent years. In this respect, she is not as good as Tusoch."
"But it's hard to say. There are many emerging local business people who support her. After all, they are fed up with those real estate developers."
The black guy spoke a lot in a halting manner, and the congested section of the road passed. The car continued to move forward until it was getting farther and farther away from the city, and there were more uphill roads. Not long after, it drove into a small town.
The town is quite lively. Even when it is completely dark, the lights are on and people can be seen setting up stalls to sell goods. The black guy explained: "A video has made this town popular. Recently, there are so many tourists and people are taking photos and checking in everywhere."
"You made a killing, didn't you?" Schiller asked.
"Not really." Even though he said that, the young man still couldn't stop smiling. He said, "This car belongs to my uncle, and I have to give him a share of the profits. But if I give him half a pack of cigarettes today, maybe all your tips will belong to me."
"I've already given you a pack of cigarettes, and you still want a tip?" Tim teased.
The black guy immediately screamed at the top of his lungs, "No, you rich guys! You can't bribe me with just cigarettes! Otherwise, if you need a car in the mountains, I won't come!"
“Is it difficult to use a car in the mountains?”
"It's okay. It's mainly because some people cherish their cars and don't want to drive them higher. My uncle's car is almost broken. I don't care, but you have to give double the tip, or..."
The black guy stared at the cigarette in Schiller's hand and swallowed. Schiller put the cigarette away and said, "Then I'll give you a double tip. Don't think about getting more good stuff from me. I still have some use for it."
The black guy started wailing again.
Driving up along the winding mountain road, Schiller finally understood why the black guy said it was difficult to use a car in the mountains. This kind of road consumes the most fuel, and ordinary drivers are unwilling to drive up. It seems that they'd better find a way to rent a car.
The guy was a pretty good driver. He turned neither too fast nor too slow, and the car wasn't too bumpy. He wasn't the type to sacrifice comfort for fuel efficiency, so when he got out of the car, Schiller threw him another pack of cigarettes and a generous tip.
The black guy screamed, half of his body leaned out of the car window and said, "Damn rich guy, call me next time you need a car! If anyone dares to steal my business, I will beat his dog head off!"
Tim laughed and stood at the door, watching the colorful old car swaying as it drove down the hill.
He pushed open the door. The lights in the room were on. A tall white man in a floral shirt was waiting for them in the room.
"Oh my god, you guys are finally here. I didn't expect you guys would ride in the little black dog's car."
"Oh my god, you're a racist..." Tim said in surprise.
The big white man waved his hand and said, "Those are their nicknames. His uncle is called Old Black Dog, so his nephew is naturally called Little Black Dog. He's a sly fellow. Did he ask you for a double tip? Just because the mountain road is difficult to drive?"
"He drives really well." Schiller and Tim hadn't put their things down yet because they were not used to touching the furniture before the owner of the house spoke.
"He says this to everyone. In fact, because of the boom in tourism, the government subsidizes fuel costs, so he can get double the money... Just throw your bag on the sofa. You're welcome. After all, your bag is more expensive than my sofa."