From The International Herald Tribune (link):
At the mouth of the most charming little lane in old Beijing stands a yogurt vendor, waiting for my question.
“Hello,” I say. “I’m looking for a real estate agency called I Love My House.”
She pauses, searches my foreign eyes for signs of madness and shakes her head.
“Why would you want to talk to one of them?” she asks through front teeth untouched by modern dentistry. We both flatten our bodies against a wall of dusty gray bricks to allow a taxi to squeeze by.
