Good morning, Tokyo.

We arrived in Tokyo yesterday, hopped on a very civilized bus to our hotel and promptly headed into the office to meet with our moderator and coworkers here. Post-meeting, Asia and I ran to Muji for a quick shopping spree. Asia had been raving about Muji forever, but I'd never been. It's amazing. Super clean, simple design for pretty much anything you could ever want or need in life. Remember how fun it was to buy school supplies when you were little? I bought 7 notebooks yesterday and plan to go back to buy more (hope y'all like notebooks for gifts! ha.). They're perfect. I could go nuts in there.

After the Muji-spree, we went to dinner with a couple of folks from the office here. We ate like maniacs, talked about all sorts of good stuff and generally had a good time. It was incredibly nice to a) see friendly faces and b) NOT talk about this project. After dinner we stopped at a 7-11 and had another mini shopping spree: pre-packages starbucks lattes for this morning (yum) and ice cream for everyone, which we proceeded to eat while walking home in the balmy Tokyo night. Life is good.

Tokyo, 7:30 AM. View from my bed.

And this is how I woke up this morning. Not a bad way to start the day.

We have a very busy day today, but plenty of time for exploring tomorrow. So looking forward to it. Then more work on Saturday and home on Sunday. Very excited.

xo

Sometimes a cab ride is the best thing EVER.

I promise he was singing along.

(To a compilation of western soft rock.)

(That he played for my benefit.)

A lot worse for wear.

Courtesy of Asia (the person, not the continent):

China: Greatest hits.
(Can you tell we like the "pretending to be asian girls" pose?)

Um, how much worse off do we look than our Barcelona pictures? Jeez. The good news is that I am continuing on my downward spiral here in Seoul. Which is very unfair of me considering the people here are ridiculously sweet, the city is very peaceful and my hotel is the coolest. But I'm pretty sure it's a lost cause at this point. A cold is chasing me down and I keep falling asleep in cabs and, um, interviews. Two more groups at a facility tonight. Here's to hoping I don't do the head nodding thing in front of clients.

Oy vey. Back to work.

"The city you won't want to leave once you come."

When in Rome...

Today's title comes from a billboard we saw on our way out of Shanghai, in reference to Chengdu (a city in the south). Having been there, I would like to contest the validity of the claim, but that is neither here nor there. Let's simply have a round of applause for erring on the side of modesty. Bravo!

Speaking of modesty, I have the video you have all been waiting for. Twenty year old Chinese girls performing a scintillating dance routine for their university P.E. class. Hold onto your hats, now:

20, 15. Whatever.

Today has been good. The flight from Shanghai to Seoul is very short-- under 2 hours and quite painless. (Unless you count Asia spilling her Coke Light in her seat pocket it was downright uneventful.) We even got our own farewell performance:

Look closely, it's just for us!

At the end of the day, there is ridiculous sweetness in the world. Kind of nice after the general insanity of modern China and spending a boat load of time with not-s0-nice people.

Hello, Korea.
About 10 minutes before landing in Seoul.

Really, all day I have been imbued with a sense of optimism. Maybe it's the Jamie Foxx I've been listening to. Or perhaps it's the fact that I only have one week left and get to go to two cities I've never visited. Any way you slice it, I'm thrilled to feel a little less crushed with stress.

That said, I totally wimped out and couldn't manage to get out of the hotel for a drink or dinner. Boo to me. But, if it's any consolation (sorry, Asia), the bar at the W is a pretty cool place to hang out and we were the only gringos there. Granted, we had to explain what a gin gimlet was, but once they figured it out it was pretty tasty. And the people watching was ridiculous... I mean, Damn, girls. Have a snack!

We've heard so much from women about body issues on this trip and-- based on what I saw at the bar tonight-- I assume it'll be much more of the same here. These are some skinny girls. They look 14, perpetually. So bizarre. The west clearly has more than our fair share of ass. Kinda makes me proud.

Anyhow, I'm up late again. I've got to stop this nonsense.

Do write. Miss you.

P.S.

My cell phone won't work from here on out.
(But feel free to email, away.)

Foul Fowl.

CCTV's new buildings. No, my camera was not tilted.
In the end, it's gonna look like this.

Ok, I'm a jerk. There have been no updates. However, there has also been virtually no sleep. You would think the latter would help the former, but it has not. Instead, I have been battling my urge to f-i-g-h-t the know-it-alls, trying to deal with all that is China (oh, I do love it here, do not get me wrong), and maintain a teeny, tiny bit of sanity.

I have not been particularly successful in any of the above, but I promise that I have given it my best shot. (Although not socking someone in the face Grange Middle School style has been a massive win for me...)

Oh, and my friends here BLOCK blogger (the host of this site), so I can post, but can't see what I write. I promise you, I am not inciting rebellion or anything of the sort. (In fact, maybe I should wait to write about this 'til I get to Korea tomorrow...) This also means I'm missing out on Pink is the New Blog, a dire tragedy in my little world...and yet Perez Hilton is still accessible. Someone needs to reevaluate priorities, I'll tell you that.

Beijing traffic. Delicious.

Beijing was, well, OK. Not my favorite place in the world. But interesting nonetheless. And like I mentioned before, no one was socked in the face, so that was good.

I've been in Shanghai for a few days and leave tomorrow. I'm VERY sad about that. I genuinely dig it here. It's sort of New York to Beijing's DC. Bustling, tons of character, walkable, efficient, just a little more friendly. That and I feel at home here. Last summer was incredible for me, so it has provided a much needed dose of home. Funny how 'home' shows up half way around the world with a bunch of strangers, but it does. It's an incredible city.

As soon as Asia and I arrived on Thursday and checked into the hotel (an experience unto itself-- the Regal Beagle has decided to become way fancier since I was here last...), I ordered from Shanghai Sherpa's. Lifesaver, I tell you. It was a weird hour, so the Indian restaurant I wanted to order from was "on break", so we went to the gym for a bit where I promptly sweated out 1/2 my body weight over the course of 30 minutes on the clunky elliptical machine. China has its own breed of heat, even when it's not technically hot outside. So bizarre. But never fear, once the food arrived we re-consumed said 50% of our body weight in Indian food, then headed down the street to the local blind massage place for an amazing foot massage (from what I understand, the government gives tax breaks for employing the blind).

I think on this particular occasion that my masseuse was, in fact, blind, but couldn't be sure. Hmmm. Weird. However Asia's definitely was not (blind). This made it tough to make all the cringing faces I wanted to make as this woman worked out whatever ailments I may have had-- could she see me screwing my face up? This was essential information that I just couldn't sort out. Any way you sliced it, I could not make a noise without her misunderstanding and thinking I was asking her to stop or change or bring me some more flower tea or turn the English TV station back on. So I zipped it and tried to pretend my cringing was some sort of American non-verbal communication style between Asia and myself. Asia was suitably baffled. But, in the end, it worked out well enough. My feet felt amazing and I don't think I gave myself away. All in all, 63 RMB for an hour of cringe-inducing acupressure makes for $8 very well spent.

Yesterday we visited a university P.E. class. I have video, but can't post it at the moment. I promise, you will not be disappointed. Moments like this make the insomnia, stress and general insanity all worth it.

One of the most striking things about Chinese girls is that they are (at least) 3-5 years behind other girls in age. No joke, 26 year olds think of themselves as girls, and act correspondingly immature. The 20 year old girls we met yesterday may as well have been 14 in both stature and demeanor. And I don't mean that derogatorily, it's even the way they speak about themselves. And their bodies? Holy. As my grandmother would say, these girls have "teacup butts".

Anyhow, it is-- once again-- 2:30AM. Never in my life have I been so incapable of sleeping normally. We are off to Seoul tomorrow, albeit very briefly, then to Tokyo on Wednesday.

Oh, and I didn't cut my hair. It just looks like it in the picture.

xoox

Greatest hits.

Barcelona, in a nutshell.

Jet lag: 1, Me: 0

The motto of our trip, in visual form: Asia, in Barcelona.

After I was done posting to the blog last night, I was chilling in bed, watching Lost in Translation (very appropriate) and gmail chatting with Guinevere. Mostly about work, her studies for the bar and all that. However, somewhere along the way, things went a little sideways:

10:32 PM me: '

10:35 PM Guinevere: ?

14 minutes

10:49 PM me: di==]]]]=====slffj odon=fffll/

That pretty much sums it up. I guess it was time for bed.

So far today I have gone to the gym with Asia, spewed water all over the treadmill whilst making a horrifying retching sound (I am VERY graceful), thoroughly enjoyed the complementary breakfast buffet (my choices today: an omelet, some salad, fried rice, cocoa krispies, strawberry yogurt, coffee and watermelon juice. All at once.), and begun watching Lost in Translation. Again.

Beijing has a lot to offer. Blue skies are not one of those things.

The good news is, it looks like a lovely day for a suntan.

We start research again tomorrow, at which point we go, go, go until we get home the 24th. Will do my best to post more often, though.

Ciao.

Not for all the tea in China

This trip has felt like one continuous day. No breaks, no sleep, no time zones it seems. It's a fembot moment waiting to happen:

Conference calling on the streets of Barcelona, on the way to dinner, 10pm.

But all fun. The city is stunning. Wide, wide boulevards, brilliant sunshine, super- fashionable people, delicious food. And late. Oh, lordy it's a late town. I was the early bird on Thursday night while out with some friends of Asia's who live in town-- in bed by 4am. Damn.

We arrived in Beijing this morning (Sunday) and have managed to make it through the day with virtually no jet lag. (I've just cursed myself for tomorrow, undoubtedly.) I think the near total lack of sleep in Barcelona was to our advantage.

The big activity for the day-- after enjoying the complementary breakfast buffet-- was the Beijing silk market, home to more knock-offs than you can shake a stick at. We were starving when we got there, and decided to grab a bite to eat at the sixth floor Chinese restaurant (as opposed to Subway downstairs...tempting, but American guilt won out). It was a great decision.

To set the scene: Asia and I ordered, carefully navigating around frog ovary soup and fried duck tongues and hearts (although it was clearly tempting). We decided on cucumbers, pumpkin soup and some shrimp.

We're already through our first course when Waitress, bearing a liquor menu, returns.

Inexplicably, she shoves the menu in Asia's direction.

Waitress: "No."
Asia: "Excuse me?"
Waitress: "No tea."
Asia: ???

The liquor menu is entirely in Chinese.

Waitress repeats herself: "No tea, want drink?"
Asia: "Um, no thank you."
Waitress: "Want drink?" (holding menu in Asia's lap)
Asia: "That's ok, no tea?" (????)
Waitress: No tea.

Alright, then. No tea in China. Sure. Of course. What were we thinking?

So our pumpkin soup arrives. Except it tastes like chicken. Or saffron, depends on who you ask. We eat it anyway. When suddenly, Waitress reappears with tea pot and beautiful little tea cups:

"Sorry."

And with that, I am back in China. I gotta say, I love it here. Preposterousness abounds.

I think it's good for the soul.

Off to bed.

xo

Tougher than the rest.

My coworker (and friend), Asia, arrived in Barcelona on Monday to join me for the rest of the trip. Happily, she was just in time to enjoy the Spanish holiday and our (mostly) day off before heading into research all day Tuesday. She's quite a trooper, so sans sleep, we got a recommendation for a lunch place and headed down to the water. Twas really, really lovely. We ate outside, had some wine, de-veined some shrimp (ok, Asia did), bought some self-tanner. Very exciting business.

Anyhow, the past two days have been a blur. I woke up at 5 am yesterday and couldn't go back to sleep. So I woke up Asia (we're sharing a room. Budgets.) and she convinced me to go on a run. Very good of her, I must say. And it was amazing. Early enough that the streets were empty, the weather was picturesque.

Except we got lost. Really lost. Completely lost.

We ran from our hotel down through the old, gothic part of town, down to the beach and then back. Which is when things went a bit sideways. In a moment of inspiration, I suggested we go left, thinking we'd run parallel to our original path down to the beach, back to the hotel. Not so much. An hour and a half, 8 miles (I had Nike + on, tracking our distance), two bus stop maps, one police officer and more dumbfounded-street corner-twirls than I care to admit, later, we arrived back at the hotel.

Barely in time for our 9am meeting with the moderator. Ever the consummate professionals, we pulled on some non-work out clothes and headed downstairs for the meeting. (I couldn't help but be self-conscious as her eyes drifted towards the top of my head...was my hair sticking straight up, damp with sweat? Or was she smelling me? Both distinct possibilities. Ugh.)

So that was the start of the day. A wonderful start, really, and a good story.

Post-run, pre-meeting growl. It's the proper start to the day:



The two days since have been packed with work. Retail tours, interviews with girls, awkward translations, no translations, being mute (this appears to be a trend of mine when in a foreign land), a famous hip-hop instructor named Fidel, picking sardines off of tapas, barfing (no, not from drinking and not from the sardines), espresso with lots of sugar (a starbucks grande coffee with milk = espresso with sugar en espana), insomnia (it's almost 3am), more old men out clubbing than I can count and soon, some sleep.

The next couple of days are more low-key before we head to Beijing on Saturday. I'm hoping for another run, some more sleep and a little clear headed-ness before the cacophony of the future Olympic city.

ciao.

Dayum.

Blogger is in Spanish today. Don't know why. (Ok, I know why, but it's still.) I'm kicking myself for the 4,722nd time for taking French all those years.

Anyhow, I arrived to my hotel an hour or so ago and am thrilled. OMG. This place is gorgeous. Every nook and cranny is designed for function, which means there's all sorts of little efficiencies hiding in every corner. Fully adjustable lighting (hit one button and lights all over the room adjust), electric curtains (the nice kind, not the cheesy kind), a super-sleek tub, oy. Not only that, but it's GORGEOUS. There's no way I'll do it justice tonight, but suffice it to say, I walked around with my jaw dropped open. It's that nice.

I even have a balcony, opening out into the center of the building, complete with chairs and a tiny table. Ridiculous. There's no way I'm doing it justice:



So much so that I tried to tell the room service lady that the hotel was beautiful. Unfortunately, she just looked at me, puzzled, and said "The salad is beautiful?". So I nodded yes. The salad was also beautiful, but that really wasn't my point. I considered trying to communicate that I meant the room, but was afraid my non-Spanish speaking gesticulating may seem a little creepy. (Imagine wild hand waving towards the bed, the bathtub, even the toilet area and the word "beautiful" repeated. Awkward.)

Yesterday was a day off in London, which was also really, really nice. I spent most of the day at the Tate Modern, which was, of course, incredible. I walked over to the museum from where I was staying in Covent Garden which took me along the south side of the Thames, and, more importantly, through a traditional English festival of sorts (the citified version, of course). All I know is that it included a folk band, a long line for beer, and some sort of sausage product. I didn't stay.

But the people watching along the way kicked ass:



But, perhaps more importantly, I got to see the Rothko's Seagram Building paintings. No words at all for that. They were displayed per his wishes, all in one room, darkened and enclosing the space. They're huge, and much darker than his earlier stuff. Just my absolute favorite thing in the world.

Also saw really cool stuff by a couple of artists from the Democratic Republic of Congo. I don't remember their names off the top of my head, but it was certainly arresting. I'll post pictures later, blogger's misbehaving.

xo

P.S. Formatting is funny, but I can't figure it out since everything's in Spanish. Boo. I'll fix it later.

Vast generalizations.

17 year old British girls depress me. Granted, this is after meeting only 6 of them. But still. I need a drink. Or something to restore my faith in humanity. I feel like the whole lot of them need a giant talking to re: the benefits of motivation, self esteem and a lust for life. (Although they seem to have plenty of lust for other things...)

The three I spoke with tonight were the worst. Best quote of the evening: Me: "Tell me about your boyfriend going to prison-- what happened? (concealed eye roll)" Her: "He told me he had to go to prison, but didn't tell me when...I'm not going to wait for him, though. If he calls me when he gets out, I might meet up with him, but if I find someone else in the meantime, I'll take him. (giggle, giggle)"

Painful. I didn't get the goods on why he went to prison, but it turns out he has to stay there for 2 or 3 years. Did I mention this girl's idol is Paris Hilton? Help!

The moral of this story is this: Parents: Beware. Make sure you're kid really loves something good for them, or else it's bad news bears. No passion = bad passion. It's going to be my new bumper sticker. Really depressing. But all is not lost, as the older girls have been great. Very fun and interesting.

Tomorrow is museum day. I hope to hit the Tate Modern and one or two others. Sunday it's off to Barcelona. Any recos?

And because every post deserves a photo, here's a little bit of vertigo for you: