About the same time, farmers around Taipei were hugely compensated for land as the city expanded and needed more space. Suddenly, they found themselves with a little more money than they knew what to do with. They headed out as well, sealing a reputation that still stings despite the fact that their sons and daughters have now learned better manners.

They were really the first generation of the Chinese tuhao, although the term was not quite invented and in popular use yet.

As a wise old Chinese saying goes: It takes the first generation to get the money, the second generation to keep the money, and the third generation to appreciate the money. Some even say it takes four generations for the nouveau riche to upgrade to gentility, something money cannot buy.

In comparison, Japanese and South Korean tourists abroad eager to spend their money were much better behaved, frightening only in their precisely organized numbers and their insistence in taking photographs of everything lying across their paths.

Language differences added to their unfamiliarity and it took awhile before shopkeepers adapted and even Harrods of London had shop girls who spoke fluent Japanese or Korean.

Shopkeepers are catering to the Chinese mainland tuhao as well. Apart from diligently learning Putonghua, the shops in Hong Kong's Tsimshatsui, for example, bring out all the bling power they possess. On a recent trip, I had to wear sunglasses to shut out the glare from the shop windows.

The Chinese tuhao is only a younger brother who has yet to know better and the only thing truly intimidating about the tuhao is how many there are and will be. With a huge population that's still largely rural, it may really get worse before it gets any better.

After all, it may take a few generations to take out the yokel, and leave the tycoon.

Related: Beijing's road warriors

Donkeys and dogs, snakes and guinea pigs

Delivering door-to-door

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