On last Chinese New Year’s Eve in Shanghai, while waiting in a pub for the annual spectacle of zillions of firecrackers and fireworks going off at the same time, I felt like having a cigar. I inquired of a waiter if the pub sold cigars. He said someone outside on the street would. I stepped out. Sure enough, a middle-aged migrant type had a huge stash of cigars hanging on the side of a bicycle, all cuban. The Partagas 4 went for Rmb 50 each, about half the price in Hong Kong. The excitement over a very good price didn’t last. The reality soon dawned on me that someone on the sidewalk selling Cuban cigars was probably not kosher. The cigar certainly didn’t taste cuban.
去年除夕，我在上海一间酒吧等待观看一年一度的壮观景象——海量的爆竹和烟花齐齐燃放，就在那一刻，我想吸一支雪茄。我问侍者酒吧里是否卖雪茄。他说，外面马路上有人卖。我走出了酒吧。果不其然，有个看上去是外来工模样的中年人身旁停着一辆自行车，车的一侧挂着一捆雪茄，全是古巴来的。帕特加斯四号(Partagas 4)每支50元人民币，大约是香港价格的一半。如此便宜的价格带给我的激动没能持续太久。不一会儿，我开始意识到真相：有人在上海的人行道上销售古巴雪茄可能不大对劲。这雪茄绝不是古巴雪茄的味道。