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:

On the road again.

All right, I'm on my second annual Wieden + Kennedy road trip. Only this time, it's an around the world jaunt. First stop, London.

I got to my hotel around noon yesterday after a ride into London with a very lovely gentleman who has been driving a cab for 38 years. He can retire July 20-something, not that he's counting. We managed to get stuck in traffic during the changing of the guard, so I immediately felt like I had accomplished something. (If flopping my head around while the soldiers marched by counts as doing something, that is.) I also learned that he has been married 39 years, that his wife's first job was as a secretary for someone at the fruit market (this is where they met), that his uncle used to run a pub called the Porcupine in West London, that his other uncle had a butcher shop in the same neighborhood and that, for some reason-- I didn't pry--, he and his wife couldn't have kids. Oh, and that they're overly involved in one another's lives, that both sides of their families have moved out of London and that they are planning on moving to a nearby suburb soon. All without knowing his name or even talking all that much. Strange.

Anyhow, he guessed that I was travelling for work because he said I looked sad (but he used some charming British-ism for it). He was right about the work part, but not the sad part. I was perfectly happy, just panicking that my phone wasn't working and trying to fight off that embarrassingly uncontrollable head flop that happens when you're really, really tired. (So awkward.)

So, I arrive at my chi-chi hotel, get to my room, and decide immediately to log on. (Because, apparently, I can't tolerate being without email or my phone for more than 45 minutes. And it had been 12 hours. I'm going to have to work on that.) Except for one thing: I'd busted my computer screen. All black, with a disconcerting abstract design towards the top, right in the middle, it was clearly an incurable disease. But what the hell had happened? Being tired (did I mention I was tired?), I had a VERY hard time figuring it out. Then I remembered. Whilst sleepily maneuvering my schmancy Lufthansa Business Class seat-- in pursuit of my 432nd feeding of the flight, no doubt-- my footrest wouldn't go down. I didn't realize that it was my computer bag blocking it, so I kept at my seat controller, begging it to go down. Delirious maneuvering of a mechanical seat is clearly no bueno. Smashed to the point of death, it turns out. Thank goodness my hard drive works and I was able to (eventually) pull the more important bits off of my machine to transfer to a friendly loaner (from which I am now broadcasting). All thanks to the London office IT guy who so patiently dealt with me yesterday. I'd be in serious freak-out mode sans computer.

Which brings me to today. So much to tell considering I've been working since 7:30 am (got back to my hotel around 10pm), but I'm exhausted. Suffice it to say it included being chewed out over margins (you are correct- I have no bearing on margins. But I was happy to listen.) by a very surly retailer, three sullen and self-described “lazy” girls (aged 17), a stolen Corona, and a lot of coffee. Perhaps in the morning.

In the meantime, I thought I'd leave you with evidence of my $130 room service dinner, just to spice things up a bit. And no, there is no reason for this to cost $130. It's just London.

xo

Goodbye, Shanghai.

Detritus of an in-room buffet.

Somewhat fittingly, I spent my last night in Shanghai at the Regal Beagle with some friends, some take out (courtesy of Shanghai Sherpas, of course) and every bottle of mini-bar wine we could conjure up from the W+K dorm block. Although there are tons and tons of things I didn't get around to experiencing in Shanghai, spending it in my room with my buddies was the perfect end to this leg of the adventure.

Leaving the city, Wednesday morning.

On my way to Phuket, we had a layover in Bangkok for about 5 hours. We were hanging out in what I like to think of as the "vacation terminal" with flights mostly headed to the south of Thailand. Everyone's happy, tan, scantily clad. But I decided I should reevaluate my assessment when I saw this:

Yeah, not so much.

I'm in Phuket now, doing absolutely nothing. I could not be happier. At the moment, there's a massive downpour, with waves crashing in, wind blowing and vacationers heading for the indoors, but yesterday and the day before were absolutely picturesque. I read an embarrassingly trashy novel without a hint of shame. And so what if I paid $20 for Jackie Collins!?!? It was so worth it.

We leave here tomorrow afternoon, heading back north to Bangkok for one night. I'm sure it will be...interesting.

xoxo

Don't complain.

I went out for a really great dinner with two of the most recent Portland arrivals (Lis and Dani), Cal (of sing-along fame) and Marci on Saturday night and had one of the best meals in recent memory--really fresh, spicy Thai food. Afterwards we went outside to the garden bar for a nightcap, which is where we found these two:

Does this count as sleeping together on the first date?

This wouldn't be so alarming if this couple was a) not on a date, b) homeless or c) really drunk. But they didn't appear to be any of the above. Just tired. Or really boring. It was hard to tell. In my un-subtle attempts to get a photo, I did manage to wake them up. They can thank me at the wedding toast.

--------------------

Final update.

In perhaps the least inspiring storyline of this blog, I feel compelled to update you all on the construction site near my office. So, here you go. A cement wall has gone up in recent days...or rather, recent nights. During the day, the workers sleep shirtless on mats in the alley to avoid the heat, which really only makes sense. It's damn hot.

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I'll miss you, Element Fresh.

It's Monday afternoon, which means I have less than two days before hopping a plane for a Thailand and then home. Wherever that is. I feel like I've been gone a thousand years. In a lot of ways, this trip has been one of the best I've ever taken. I've met great people, seen a lot of the country, laughed, done some good work and just generally learned a lot. I've also semi-lost my mind, so that's good too.

Ah, China.

China-cidal.

I have been refused rides by four cab drivers today. I have no idea why.

On the way home two nights ago my cab driver was cursing to himself for at least half the ride before speeding off before I could properly get out and close the door. He was angry because one of the main roads was blocked off by police and all of the side streets were stop and go. My 5 minute cab ride home turned into 20 minutes of angry muttering, followed by the unceremonious dumping off, which was then followed by a very mysterious man in my elevator with a secret service-esque ear piece who got off on the 13th floor.

I cannot explain any of this.

This is Marci.

Although Marci cannot explain any of this either, she has managed to keep me sane. She has taught me about foot massages, pointed out that my masseur looks like Chucky from Child's Play, convinced me to stop in Thailand on my way back to Portland, encouraged me to speak more slowly to my office-mates, and given me Tiger Balm for all 500 mosquito bites below my ankles. She also cracks me up by saying that nothing sounds appealing at our quadri-cultural breakfast buffet. Mind you, options range from cocoa crispies to pickled vegetables to miso soup to fresh waffles to steamed dumplings to sausage to beans to salad to canned peaches to yogurt to cheese to made-to-order omelette's to fried rice...you get the point.

Good times and yeah, Marci!

Squint if you have to. It's a mobile chicken coop.

I have 4 whole days left in China before leaving for Thailand on Wednesday. I must say, I am ready. My nerves are fried, my hair looks bad, I almost staged a sit-in in an uncooperative cab tonight...It's getting dicey and I'm beginning to succumb to "China Rage" with greater and greater frequency.

But no matter the minor inconveniences, I will truly miss things like this:

Cover page of China Daily.

For those of you without the ability to read 5 point font, the caption reads as follows: "Cooling-down measures. About 4,000 buses with no air-conditioning have been equipped with buckets of ice since yesterday in Chongqing Municipality. The temperatures in the city have been hovering around 40 C in recent days."

Subject matter aside, the staged-ness of the photo is priceless. And the guy in front who wouldn't play along?!?! I love him.

With that, I am off.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Bra shopping and other weekend adventures.

So, Briana challenged me several weeks ago to go bra shopping and to report back on it. I passed a classy-looking lingerie shop on Sunday while out shopping, remembered the challenged and decided to duck in.

I should have known it was going to be an adventure when she grabbed my boob to determine which size bra I wore (I am illiterate and mute in lingerie stores, too), then selected several bras for me to try on and followed me into the dressing room. Mind you, the dressing room was the size of a small coat closet. Yet another sign that this was going to get uncomfortable. I'll spare the embarrassing details (yes, it gets much more embarrassing than this) and just tell you that the whole experience gets filed under "Different". Definitely, definitely different.

Briana, I hope this makes you happy.

And friendly, too!

On this same shopping trip I wandered into a shoe store and happened upon these beauties. (I realize that by posting pictures of gold sequined shoes that I am drifting towards boring the hell out of anyone who is reading this. But, still.) I found these puppies for right around $12 and I couldn't resist. They were on super-sale and only had my size. My giant-ness has finally paid off...in sequins!

-------------

I just got back from work tonight and discovered that neither of my phones were working. (Here at the Regal Beagle, we have phones on BOTH sides of the bed.) So I went to the bathroom (site of the 3rd phone in my 400 square foot room) and called downstairs to alert the authorities. They sent a very lovely engineer to come fix the problem. I have no idea what he did, but he did it swiftly and it did not involve me looking like a total ass for just not properly hanging up the phone (or something else obvious). I tried to get a picture of him, but he ducked out before I could swing it. So here is his back instead:

Try not to be too engrossed in the excitement of this post.
I'm exhausted. I apologize.

----------------

With that, good night.

Same/Different, take 3.

I've been a very neglectful blogger this week. It's not that China has ceased to amuse me (I'm not sure that's possible), it's just that work has really picked up, on both sides of the ocean. All that said, I am feeling a little stumped for funny commentary. Sometimes you just need to be here.

So, here's the next best thing to you being here. Another round of Same/Different:

Different.

I have seen a lot of Chinese men in their underwear. This is not because I am some sort of hussy. Rather, it is because Chinese men insist on wearing their underwear on the street. And on their scooters. And in their stores. It is everywhere. (I'm working on getting a photo of this. I feel like a pervert pointing my camera at some old dude in his boxers.)

Strictly Business.

But perhaps even more popular than the "just my boxers" crowd is the "sensible pajamas" contingent. This group includes both men and women, young and old, pedestrians and motorists.

For those of you who are interested in joining in on the fun, there are only a few requirements to belong to this hip crowd: First, the pj's must match, top and bottom. Second, you must be utterly un-sexy. Third, you must not acknowledge that you are in your pj's. In fact, as far as you're concerned, you're wearing Prada. Like this guy:



---------------

I hate to admit it, but this next one gets filed under Same:

Good lord.

Tails are wrong, and they should be stopped. And yet, they persist. I can't help but this "we" started this...and now look how out of control it is? A tail in China?!?!?

And as much as I hate to say it, this is not the only tail in China. In fact, I saw a 20-ish girl sporting a bob + tail combo, just this morning. The mullet has a strong presence amongst the fashionable, and you've already seen the abominable perms sported by both men and women.

Which leads me to the conclusion that here in China, bad hair = good hair.

-----------------

This one's easy.
Same. Big Blue Sky = Happy Day.

I took this shot on my walk home yesterday. As some of you may have read, a big typhoon rolled into the southeast coast of China today, killing 100+ and forcing well over a million to evacuate. Scary stuff. (Is this a good time to mention that you should all go see An Inconvenient Truth if you haven't already? Well, you should.) I'm not certain, but I think the blue sky and billowing clouds were courtesy of said typhoon.

--------------------

Different.

I hope you already wrote your poem.

Remember that pile of rubble from a couple of weeks ago? Well, this is that same pile of rubble. Except it't not much of a pile anymore. It has actually looked like this for over a week, but I keep forgetting to post this. Can you believe that? Where did the old building go? It's pretty amazing how quickly things change around here. Truly, truly overnight.

-------------

In the case of mysteries, I don't think Same/Different applies:


I took this picture surreptitiously as I walked home the other day, without looking at the view finder. I was hoping to get a clear shot of a family who lives in a little lean-to type of structure in the field of rubble pictured above. What I got was this, which I think is a person's head under a towel. But I'm not sure. Anyhow, it's a little strange. Enjoy.

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Happy Friday, y'all. I'm off to M on the Bund tonight. Tres chic!

An auspicious day.

I had incredibly good luck down at my hotel bar tonight. (And no, I don't mean it that way.) My friend Marci and I decided to head down there with our laptops for a change of venue and a quick meal. I'd heard that our lounge singer, Dave, was fond of Billy Joel and Elton John medleys, so I was looking forward to many a ballad of the unattractive piano man as accompaniment to my weird vegetarian food and quantitative data analysis (ick).

But things turned out even better than I imagined.

(My apologies for the near-black video. Digital camera + desire to be discreet = crazy dark video. I am not a videographer, in case you couldn't tell.)

Mysteries of my Orient.

A floor tile at the Peking Duck restaurant I went to on Saturday night.

In any other place it may seem strange or unusual for a semi-famous restaurant to feature well-known, lovable cartoon characters as a design motif. But I'll chalk that up to a difference in taste and leave it at that. However, try as I might, I really can't get over the fact that this is a restaurant famous for its DUCK. Hello? Anyone? I don't think this is the vegetarian in me. I think it's the sane person in me.

After almost three weeks here, I've decided that this is reason enough to love China. Totally unselfconscious ridiculous-ness at every turn. Which brings me to my next gem...

Leaving Huey, Dewey and Louie and heading to the Tiger Beer party on Saturday night (fun, BTW), we saw this sign along the side of the road:

Being illiterate rocks.

Is the cop reprimanding the man-powered cart guy for looking so beat-down? Is he admiring the softness of the scooter-guy's sweater? Is he telling them both to have a nice day and try not to work too hard?

I will never know, because I am an illiterate foreigner.

-------

I went to the USA vs. China exhibition game in Guangzhou last night. Before arriving, Guangzhou was described to me as "China's armpit" as well as "China's Miami" (insert smart ass-ness here). Gray-ness and more soupy humidty greeted me at the airport. It was a joyous reunion.

From the 8th row.

I had a great time at the game. The enthusiasm of the Chinese fans was remarkable...in that it was totally delusional. Despite being down by 40+ in the fourth quarter, the crowd went wild; banging inflatable yellow tubes together, clapping and shouting with each bucket. I'm not sure if they actually thought there was hope of winning the game ("Three minutes left, and we're within 40! Exactly where we need to be!"), didn't care who won but were looking for an excuse to bang the yellow inflatable tube-things together, or if they were simply being polite. Whatever the answer, it was a good time.

It was a really quick trip, and I caught an early flight back to Shanghai this morning.

Guangzhou from a cab, very, very early in the morning.

10 ways to say "sour milk".

Don't mess with my Cocoa Puffs.

My half of the conversation:

"Hi, I just ordered some cereal, and the milk you brought me is sour.
The milk you brought me is bad.
The milk in my cereal is rotten.
The milk is sour.
Rancid!
Old milk.
Not good.
It's bad, not good, rotten.
Sour, rotten, not good, bad!
Please bring me new milk.
Yes.
Thank you."

(I admit that "rancid" may have been a bit of a vocabulary stretch, but, as you can see, I was running out of rudimentary adjectives.)

Off to explore the 'Hai.

Good day, sunshine.

I had to go to the front desk when I arrived back at my hotel in Shanghai last night to ask which room I was staying in. I could have told you that I was room 1618 in Nanjing or 752 in Beijing, but I couldn't remember where I lived in Shanghai. Once I got a new room key (which I didn't actually need, I just needed to know which door the key I had opened), the bellhop insisted on helping me upstairs with my bags. When he opened my door and saw my books and clothes strewn about, he looked at me with alarm in his eyes and said "You already check in?!" Like I was nuts. Which I am.

This same thing happened to me in January with corporate housing; fresh from several weeks of travel, two bags in tow, lost in my own hallway. A proud moment, for sure.

It's this sort of thing that makes the people who love me worry and chase after me at airports to make sure I zip my purse and tell me 47 times to be careful. But I digress.

First day back in Shanghai was really, really nice. I walked to work, I didn't feel lost. I bought a Coke Light, I knew where the vending machine was. I printed out some emails, the printer was already hooked up. On my way home I recognized the smell of the noodle shop, pondered the prices at the outdoor dress "shop" and pushed through the congested sidewalk to walk at my own pace. It's the little things that tell me I'm finally getting my sea legs here in Shanghai.

Ah, Shanghai.

Big news of the day: A bunch of us from the agency are going to the USA vs. China exhibition game in Guangzhou on Monday night. A really lovely gift and totally unexpected. Good times, good times.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Alone with everybody.

It's the name of a Richard Ashcroft album and a poem by Charles Bukowski, but it's also what I feel like in China. Which is not a bad thing, it just is what it is.

Instead of talking, reading or understanding what I hear around me, I observe. It's sort of beautiful, really. Isolating in one sense, expansive in the other. It just depends how closely I'm willing to pay attention to what I see and sense and intuit. At least half of the time I feel like the village idiot; laughter and nuance and niceties and deep thoughts and inane commentary all sounding the same.

In all of this blissful ignorance, I feel remarkably calm and grounded, able to function on my own terms without the self-consciousness that comes along with familiar surroundings and an (unjustly) assumed knowledge of what makes other people tick.

(Although I must admit that my assumptive nature has not left for vacation entirely-- I was pretty sure of what was going on when a woman looked at me, turned to her friend, then turned back at me, pointing, with her fingers forming big circles around her eyes. God bless the subtlety.)

With all this observing comes photo-taking, so here you go:

From the National Museum in Beijing.

I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why there are night lights displayed at a museum. But, here you go. Night lights displayed at a museum.

Kitsch, anyone? Irony? Are we trying to be avant-guard? I'm afraid the answer to all of the above is "No, thank you. We'll take our night lights straight-up, please."

Beijing airport. More bad socks.

I'd give these a solid B+ in the "working sock" category for their aggressive constriction of the ankles. Well done.

Stairwell, Nanjing.

The first time I walked up one of these staircases- dark, dusty, empty- I didn't know what to expect on the other side of the door. And as I sit here, I'm still not sure how to describe the kids' homes.

Super clean. Really, really small. Modest. Austere. Precise. Well-loved. Bright. Nothing wasted.

Suffice it to say, I'm humbled.

From our final interview in Nanjing:
The bed/A door.

Earlier in the day I sat down on a kid's bed expecting a mattress, but landed on a very hard surface. Although that bed was covered in a blanket of some sort, I assume it looked a lot like this underneath; a door laid horizontally across a twin bed frame.

Off to work now.

And thanks for all the emails and comments. I'm so honored y'all are reading. XO

I really should have known.

From a kid's bedroom wall, Beijing:

Yes, you're probably right.

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I met a mostly toothless grandmother today while doing in-home interviews. And although we sat across the table from each other for an hour without exchanging a single word, I really liked her. I anticipate a long and fruitful friendship.

The kid on the right, with the arguably more unfortunate hair of the two, is her grandson. As you may have guessed, he is not the most athletics-driven kid. He's more interested in pissing his parent's off with his truly objectionable hair and mediocre grades. But, as always, the parent's have the upper hand. Until he gets his grades up, he isn't allowed to have a girlfriend.

Who thought this was a good idea? I want him fined.

God bless bad perms and teenagers.

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More camps tomorrow, then to Nanjing for a day. And then finally back to Shanghai Thursday night. I cannot wait.

G'night.

Same/Different, sing-along style.

Like a cameo, this Richard Marx.

Same: Being subjected to bad American love songs in public places.

I went for round two at the Silk Market today (not so fun this time) and got stuck there by a thunder storm on the way back to the hotel. So, rather than fight the throngs for a cab, Cal (my truly lovely coworker) and I decided to wait it out in a cafe and called the driver to come pick us up. (Love this whole 'driver' thing. Very nice.)

We ordered tea and were chatting when we both noticed the first few notes of a familiar tune-- Richard Marx's Right Here Waiting-- playing very loudly over the cafe's sound system. Which got us talking. Turns out this was a very popular song in China. In fact, Cal remembers is being played on the news, both morning and night, for a long time. Presumably this happened in the 80's, but I didn't verify. But either way, WTF?!?

Obviously, I am so jealous. Which brings me to the next phase of the exercise...

Different: While we are relentlessly subjected to cheesy love songs in elevators, grocery stores and dentist's offices, we are not so lucky (or so smart) as to add a little mood music to our daily horrors...err, news. We clearly have a lot to learn from this place.

And for those of you still reading (thank you, by the way), here is a clip of Cal singing along to our main man Richard Marx. Priceless.