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I spent my first day in China wandering aimlessly around Hangzhou. I was relishing the time between jobs and decided to do absolutely nothing except get lost in the city. Unfortunately, being illiterate had left me with only my eyes and common sense with which to seek out such necessities. Not surprisingly, they made poor substitutes for signage.

With a future boss to contact as well as worried parents in upstate New York, finding internet access soon became a priority. It wasn't long before I found a place which looked somewhat like a Kinko's from back home. It had several copy machines, long tables and a few open workstations with computers. Although I couldn't read any of the signs out front, it appeared to be a place that would have public internet access.

There were several people working inside and four of them stood up when I entered. One of the first words I looked up in my Chinese-English dictionary was "Internet," but apparently my pronunciation was as bad as my reading. I found myself air typing and yelling "IN-TUH-WAHN" to a group of very confused Chinese. They dragged some poor kid out of the back room who apparently was the English expert. Turning bright red, he smiled at me and let out a meek "Yes, may I help you?"

"Internet?" I said trying to keep it simple.

The tilt of his head and raise of his eyebrows told me to try again. I alternated a few times between "internet" and "in-tuh-wahn" while pointing towards the nearest computer until, eventually, it seemed that I was understood. After a brief discussion among the employees, the young guy ushered me back into a maze of work spaces and sat me down in front of a computer. He helped me change the type setting from Chinese to English characters and left me to complete my email under the surprised gaze of a middle aged man whose desk occupied the other half of the cubicle I was in.

I wrote emails to my parents and to the university where I would be working to let everyone know I had arrived safely in Hangzhou. The whole process took about five minutes, and soon I was once again at the front of the store cuing the return of the English expert from the stock room.

"Yes, may I help you?" he said.

"Deja vou," I thought.

"I'm finished." I said reaching into my pockets.

He gave the same look of confusion, but this time I knew I could rely on the cash in my hand to translate for me.

"How much?" I asked once the money had emerged.

He stepped back slightly and looked around at his co-workers. A man at a nearby desk was quick to speak up, and another mini-conference took place across the office. It ended with the younger guy waving his hand at the cash and saying "no."

"No?" I confirmed in surprise. He just waved once more and turned back towards the stock room. Needless to say I was confused but figured they weren't charging me since I used the computer for such a short time.

When it came time later in the day to check for a reply from the university, I found a much smaller place which also looked hopeful for getting online. It was a tiny room with four computers set along the back wall. A young girl was watching a movie on one of the monitors and a middle-aged couple sat at a desk near the front door. All three of them stood up when I walked in. Undaunted by my previous failed attempts to speak Mandarin, I once again tried "In-tuh-wahn" but got the same confused looks. So, again, I resorted to miming before I was understood. Like last time, my request was momentarily delayed by a brief discussion, but the woman promptly powered up one of the computers and pulled out the chair in front of it. No reply from the university yet, so I was finished in a matter of seconds. Again, there was no charge, just bewilderment on their faces.

The third location brought about much the same kind of experience; my slaughtered mandarin caused confusion, but after an awkward conference between the people working there, I eventually got on a computer. Feeling experienced, I knew by now that there would be no charge since I only used it for a few minutes, so I didn't even offer to pay this time.

If you know anything about China, you're laughing at me already. Not only could I have used "e-mail" instead of "in-tuh-wan," I've also learned that actual internet bars are abundant in every city. In fact, they are so prevalent that a great controversy has arisen over internet addiction in China. Inside huge, dark rooms with hundreds of computers, young Chinese eat, sleep, smoke, watch pirated movies, chat online, and play World of War Craft for hours on end. I met a guy who claimed he lost his virginity in a net bar, but later clarified that it was through a webcam. As well as sex, he had a lot to learn about what not to say at a poker table.

Unfortunately for the newcomer, net bars are often tucked down alleys or under parking garages to protect the users' privacy. They do advertise their locations, but unless you automatically associate images from World of War Craft with internet use, there is nothing else but the Chinese characters to indicate a place where you can get online. Still, given the size and number of net bars around, I feel like a guy who went to Hawaii and couldn't find the beach. I walked right past several of them on my search but was completely unaware of what was inside. Instead, I imposed upon hard-working business people who were all accommodating enough to let me use their computers just for the asking. Do you think a scruffy stranger muttering unintelligible words would get the same kind of treatment in your hometown? Not mine.