Borderline Ethnocentric 2

The second installment of the journal I kept while studying abroad in China/Mongolia:

...My heart dropped.  How could I have been so careless?  It wasn't like I had a Louis Vuitton travel trunk that distinguished itself from all the other bags on the conveyor belt - it was just a typical 36 inch, black Samsonite bag.  It wouldn't have hurt to check the name tag on it before I left with the bag, which held my only possessions 12,000 miles away from Kansas, Dorothy!
Luckily for me, the concierge and Avic Hotel staff made it their top priority to retrieve my misplaced bag.  Never before had I ever experienced such hospitality.  It seemed as though every employee, including the custodial staff, was on the horn trying to resolve my impromptu dilemma.  After about a half hour, and ten chewed fingernails later, it was explained to me that the hotel had contacted the lost luggage representative at  Beijing International.  I was to travel back to the airport via taxi and rendezvous with the Representative who was to deliver my, apparently already located, luggage personally herself!

I felt almost uncomfortable about how well the entire staff went beyond their call of duty to accommodate me  - it was as though the concierge himself had lost his luggage.  Growing up in New York apparently has not conditioned me to expect wholesomeness in people.  Here, not only did an entire hotel's staff pause to accommodate a distressed American, they even influenced the lost luggage employee at the airport to look for my luggage, and once she had found it, she guarded it and delivered it personally as though I was President of the United States.  Is there that much a difference between how far an employee is willing to go to help you depending on which part of the world you are in?  I had lost luggage at JFK before and simply was given a customer service number to call.  Am I being treated biased here since I am indeed a tourist?
I returned to the Avic, luggage in hand, and now needed a drink.  I venture to the hotel bar.  By this time I had become quite popular amongst the employees.  The bartender Qi -Yi, whose name in English means handsome, had learned some English in training, and with the help of a pen and cocktail napkins, we conversed.  I learned that an iPod costs about 3200 yuan and that renting an apartment costs about 4000-7000 yuan.  Handsome was interested of Yao Ming and the Yankees...sports transcend cultures everywhere.  After taking a shot of "on-the-house" 56% proof Chines vodka, I was tanked and wished Handsome goodnight.  Surprisingly, as I was awaiting the elevator back to my room, Handsome came running towards me.  I thought to myself...First your luggage, now you leave your credit card at the bar too!  However, in Handsome's hand was money - the tip that I had left him for serving me.  Thus, I became aware first-hand that it is not custom to tip in China.  I learned earlier today that tipping is not accepted because the idea is to get entire staff is to act as a single unified team (communism ideal), and tipping implies that any one member in that team has more or has done a better job than another team member.  While at the restaurant...each waiter had a "number" on his or her name tag (as opposed to their actual name in the United States).  This was especially interesting to me since that I initially thought of it as condescending or degrading to address my waiter as "Number 312-478".  I am going to have to keep that in mind throughout my stay because back in the states, "its not tipping I believe in, it's over-tipping."

Next month's installment will desrcibe our 36 hour train commute on the Trans-Siberian railroad from Beijing, China, to Ulan Bataar, Mongolia!