The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman

Chapter 2937 Leisure Time (VII)

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 sound of wind chimes when the convenience store next to him opened the door was always clear. 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 at 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, West Coast rap is famous. This guy speaks 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\u0026B 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 hotel for tourists. Tim looked through the pictures and found that this is a typical cabin in the forest. The most popular spot is 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 jammed. 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 on the window and looked out, and soon smelled a strong smell of marijuana. After coughing twice, he took his head back.

Seeing the driver in front of him about to take out a cigarette, Tim immediately said: "Sorry sir, I'm underage, can you smoke again 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 his 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.

Chinese 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 up the cigarette, took a big puff, and exhaled the smoke with enjoyment. He looked at Schiller and said, "You look like a mixed-race. You should 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. He had been there, but when he went there, Chongqing was not 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 the visa is too troublesome." The black guy sighed, shook his head and said, "I have a friend who wants to go there. The visa process took three months, so I can only watch videos."

The car is not driving fast now. It should be very choking to smoke in the car, but Tim feels okay. He sniffed and didn't smell any strong smoke. At least it's not like the second-hand smoke in the past. The smoke stung people's noses as soon as it drifted into the 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 the two people in police uniforms next to him. The car passed quickly.

When the window was opened for inspection, Tim happened to be sitting by the window. The clothes on his body added up to several thousand dollars. The police didn't even look at him. They checked Schiller and Tim's handbags and let them go.

"Why are you checking so strictly recently?" Schiller asked with some confusion.

"Don't mention it. Isn't it time to elect the mayor again? Many big shots have been coming and going in Los Angeles recently."

Schiller then remembered that the mayoral election in Los Angeles is in autumn and winter, and it should be fierce at this 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 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 an outsider. The competition is quite fierce."

"Outsiders? Can the mayor choose someone who is not a local?"

"Not the outsider. They are both locals, but one is doing business locally and the other is an investor later. One represents the local circle on the West Coast and the other represents Congress."

"Whose support rate is higher now?" Tim asked again.

"You are quite strange. You come here to play, but you don't ask about the attractions first, but care about the election."

"Hehe, my dad is a big shot. He talks about these things all day long, so of course I follow suit. 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 boy. It's not surprising that you're interested in these things. In terms of support rate, they're actually about the same."

"Black women are of course more popular among ethnic 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. She's not as good as Tusoch."

"But it's hard to say. There are many emerging businessmen in the local area who support her. After all, they are fed up with those real estate developers."

The black guy said a lot intermittently. The congested road section passed. The car continued to drive forward until it was farther and farther away from the city, and there were more uphills. Not long after, it drove into a small town.

This town is still quite lively. Even if it's completely dark, the town is brightly lit, and you can see stalls selling goods. The black guy explained: "A video made this town popular. There are so many tourists recently, and people taking pictures and checking in everywhere."

"You made a fortune, right?" Schiller asked.

"That's not true." Although he said that, the young man still smiled from ear to ear. 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 tips?" Tim teased.

The black guy immediately wailed in a hoarse voice, "No, you rich guys!! You can't just bribe me with 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, mainly because some people cherish their cars and don't want to drive up. My uncle's broken car is about to be scrapped, and 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 his saliva. Schiller put the cigarette away and said, "Then it's better to give double the tip. Don't think about getting more good stuff from me. I still have it for use."

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 on the mountain. This kind of road consumes the most fuel, and ordinary drivers are unwilling to drive up. It seems that they had better find a way to rent a car.

The guy's driving skills are quite good. He is not in a hurry or slow when turning, and it is not very bumpy. He is not the kind of person who sacrifices comfort to save fuel. So when getting off 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!"

Tim laughed and stood in front of the door watching the colorful old car shaking its head and tail and driving 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're 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." expensive."