It's that time again.

To say it feels like yesterday when I was summing up 2008 would be a tad bit cliche and understated. And this time next year will come even faster than this. Life, please. Slow down just a little so I can catch my breath.

Well, 2009 had a difficult take-off, but once it was in the air, it got good. It got really good. Let me begin with the beginning.

I rang in the new year by falling asleep just minutes after 2009 made its first appearance. Watching the clock tick from my shitty Chinese Nokia whilst sitting on a stool at Chali ba, I got drowsy and just wanted to pass out. I wasn't even that drunk. Fortunately, Chali ba can be very accommodating to those craving rest, so I found the couch in the back den and camped out in my oversize black coat, falling fast asleep until Misha woke me up at 4 am. I was so groggy, disappointed with myself that I could feel this tired on a day when I should feel energized. Truthfully I was sad to see it end. 2008 was a great year, one of the best years I've ever had, so I was hesitant to welcome the change. 

So my rockin' new year's eve wasn't so rockin'. However, I did manage to take some exciting trips very soon after 2009 hazily began.

My trip to Hong Kong was fabulous. Three days of unadulterated do-whatever-the-fuck-I-want-to-do-when-not-handling-visa-shit in one of the most fascinating cities I've ever been to. I dined, I tasted, I walked for miles. The best experience was the vegetarian restaurant, which turned my dislike for Indian food to pure love. Each corner of the city felt like a different country, in just three days I felt like I traveled the world. If I decide to return East, Hong Kong is surely on the top of my list of places I'd like to call home for a bit.

The day after I returned home to Baoding felt like my New Year's Day. All my work was done, grades were turned in, everything was complete so I could do what I wanted for the next month. I miss the crazy vacation time I had in China. That was fabulous. It got boring sometimes, with nothing to do, but now I'd do anything to have that time off now that I'm in Spain. My Xi'an excursion with Lee and Slava was a hilarious adventure. They are some of the best travel companions a girl could ask for. We dined on sushi, we brought an empty dance floor to life, we nicknamed a Terra Cotta warrior "Chester Cotta Warrior" and my Furby voice still echoes among us whenever we get the chance to talk. Xi'an felt like being in a treehouse with two silly playmates making Panda faces at one another. And oh, how could I forget the two of them pawning me off to the microphone so I could sing for free beer? Watching the two of them puke back to back after drinking leftover Baiju was a Mastercard moment. Thankfully, I was in the clear.

Springtime in China was weird. I was happy to experience warmer climate, but it brought about strange sensations that I'm not normally used to during that time. Usually I feel a boost of energy and gladness for the color and rebirth of flowers, scents and the lifting of a heavy winter mood. However, this time it was different. The newness of China had worn off completely and I was starting to experience real homesickness. An upside was the purchase of Figaro, my blue road bike. He made traveling around town more enjoyable than Claudio did. But I still fought the blues a lot more than I did in the winter. 

I impulsively played an April Fool's Day prank that led to a girl more or less hating me. After, the month took a serious nosedive. My mom got really, really sick. In fact, she flirted with death. I felt really helpless being so far away. She had double pneumonia and was stuck in a shit hospital that had no clue what they were doing. That sucked. I got into an altercation with another friend that left me feeling really hurt and disillusioned. The only glimmer of goodness from that shitty month was Alex Woolner. I had always liked her but I truly recognized her greatness during a moment of despair, hence lifting me out of that 30 day torture and jump-starting May to a mere decent.

I traveled to Shanghai in May, but truthfully I didn't like it all that much. The Bund is like a fancy tablecloth hanging off the side of a gloomy town. Something in me shifted, it was like I stepped into an invisible ball of black energy, and I was filled with hatred for so many things. I decided to spend the extra money on a first class sleeper. As soon as I got on the train to return to Beijing, my mood instantly lifted. It was definitely a bipolar moment, going from miserable to jubilant while exiting the city. I don't know why, but I just was not fond of it.

During the last weeks of school, I really bonded with my students. Some of them were little shits but the majority were so sweet and caring and innocent. I'm so grateful my first year of teaching was spent with them. The last week was especially fun, playing picture time with them all. They love to pose, flashing two fingers of victory in every single shot. I miss them, and I'm dedicating ANOMIE to them once it's signed sealed and delivered.

2009 took a turn for the best on my birthday. It was my favorite birthday ever. I've had bad luck in the past with throwing parties. Either no one shows up or they do and shit gets stolen. But this year, I was leaving China two days later, as well as others, and it would be the last time I'd see many folks, so I coordinated a party at a restaurant the Russians like to hold birthday bashes at. I invited 25 people and 24 showed up. It was brilliant. The serenade of different countries toasting in their respective languages was both awesome and humbling. I was filled with so much love that by the end of it I was crying. Here, I had been so damn homesick then all of a sudden I wasn't ready for it to end. My two days were filled with tears. Saying goodbye to Misha, to Alex, to Lee Yusi Megan John Julie Luna Chali Dauchin Yang Yang and Kim, dearest Kim, she rode with me all the way to the airport while I cried and laughed at what a fucking strange and fabulous year it had been in the big fat Red. And just like that, it was all over.

Well, it ended rather slowly, the very last day. My flight was delayed six hours and the school already got me there six hours in advance, so I wound up waiting 12 hours in the Beijing airport until I finally took off. But I slept like a baby for the very first time on an airplane. AirCanada is the best airline I've flown to date.

Coming home was a bit strange. I was filled with stories eager to be told yet I couldn't seem to find the outlet. It wasn't that no one was interested, but they couldn't really relate. Like my mom, for example. That took some time getting used to. Leigh Anne got me a badass present for my birthday- two tickets to Sonic Youth. SO good. She always gets the best presents. That was a good way to ease into being home. That, and a few good trips to Valdosta to visit old friends and hang with Colleen. I taught Mike, Kari and Cliff some Chinese. Some good, dirty slang Chinese. Niobi. That felt really good.

My original plan was to move to Atlanta. Then it changed to Jacksonville, then St. Augustine. Then I realized my momentum was there to keep trotting the globe, and it was of no use to stop now. So I decided to come to Spain.

My first day was an adventure, to say the least. I didn't sleep at all the night before, instead I spent the wee hours packing my bags and talking on the phone with my good friend Matt. On the plane I didn't sleep much at all, so arriving to Madrid I was a bit winded and my Spanish was buried underneath the Chinese I gathered from the year. The man at the train kiosk was such a dick, unlike most Spanish people. "You need to learn Spanish," he said coldly as I winced my way through getting a ticket to Granada. There are so many things I could've said but I was too exhausted to retort. I got on the train and watched the countryside roll past me with a sunset that artists would marvel at. My arrival to Granada was when things got, well, interesting.

First, my taxi ride. This was my first experience in Spain of really having to retrieve the Spanish I knew. I had no clue where I was going, just an address. All my technology was dead, batteries empty and no electrical adapter to charge them with. I couldn't get back into my email to find the correct address of the residencia I was supposed to stay in, only to the school where I'd get my TEFL degree four weeks later. So the cute little taxi driver and I stumbled our way through a conversation, and I was surprised I was able to communicate even that much, considering I was going on no sleep. He led me to the school then drove away, and I stood at the green doors with my heavier than hell suitcase, bowling ball of a backpack and eyelids like anchors. And no one answered. I was, well, fucked. And this was at 11 pm.

A group of Polish miracles appeared from the intersecting alley, noticing immediately that I looked lost. I was having a difficult time remaining coherent. "Come with us," they said as they gripped my bags and began walking down the alley. "You can stay with us and figure it all out tomorrow." What a fucking relief. I can't even begin to express my gratitude for that fateful blessing. We walked up the road and one girl pointed in the right direction. "Look, it's the Alhambra." I turned around and gasped, then looked away. I just wasn't capable of absorbing it. I needed rest so I could feel enthusiastic and breathless like I did days later when I got to really sit there and stare at it. Breathtaking is the absolute best way to describe a monument like the Alhambra. 

The Polish clan and I went out for tinto de veranos in this small bar off the beaten path. I really took to Malgorzata, a delightful girl who wants to visit the States some day. I told her--I promised her--that if she makes it there and I'm there too, I'll do whatever I can to extend my hand and help make her experience a good one. Because if it weren't for her and her friends, my first night in Europe would've been me sitting on cobblestone, clutching my bags and waiting for daylight, only to still not know what was next.

I found my way the next day, and enjoyed my first night of a proper bar hop in Spain with three guys. I sort of felt like a pimp, for I more or less found each of them a woman by the end of the night. Apparently I got in a fight with a wall on the way back to the residencia, but this is arguable. My toe was caked with dried blood the next day when I woke up--at 3:45 in the afternoon. Then the TEFL course began. 

Oh the mindfucks. The lesson plans. The oh so fun finishes. Overall I enjoyed the experience but I was really glad it was over. In four weeks I was excited, frustrated, humbled, delirious, pissed and pleased. I experienced my first Spanish kiss on a Saturday night out for salsa and it was fantastic. An absolute work of art, from the beginning to the end. I'll never forget that kiss, never ever.

I developed really sound friendships during the course, especially Ashley, Amanda, Tom and Roisin. I learned more British English than I did Spanish in Granada, which was mildly detrimental for immersion. After the course was finished, I had two weeks with my dad and stepmom so we traveled around Andalusia. I ate so many friggin' olives. They're the absolute best here.

I landed a job interview in Madrid for a position in Zaragoza. I got the job, then lost it, then got it again. For the full version, read the entry. Anyway, I packed my bags and said Adios to Granada, then headed to Zaragoza. Halloween is not my favorite time of year. Those close to me understand why, and it was particularly difficult this time around because I didn't know anyone in Zaragoza and felt really alone. To make matters worse, some money was stolen from me. Not a lot, but enough to make me feel unwelcome in such an unfamiliar place. I licked my wounds, then found an apartment on the 14th floor of a building overlooking the city. 

November was a difficult one. Not as bad as April but it still sucked. Learning to adjust was taking longer because this was the first time in my life I moved somewhere with no base of friends or boyfriend waiting for me. It's also a lot more difficult to meet people in Zaragoza than it is in Granada. Loneliness dutifully describes November but it was followed by a fabulous month of December, one I'm sad to see finish in just a couple of days.

The company Christmas party was absolutely fantastic. The food was magnificent, the conversations were light-hearted and hysterical. It felt so good to be a part of it. I spent a lot of hours teaching folks in the army and they were truly a pleasure to teach. I've become so much more comfortable in my teaching style and I'm starting to establish relationships with co-workers. The 'hellos' have extended to 'how's your day' to jokes ridden with sarcasm in both Spanish and English. I like everyone and I'm pretty sure they like me too. This is a definite perk with any job.

For the first time in years, I've had some excellent holidays! My mom came to visit and she's still here as I type this excruciatingly long entry. I met her down in Benalmadena, then we went to Malaga and had the best sangria. After two days in Malaga, we came to Granada-my turf. Today we had a delicious meal alongside the Alhambra. New Years will be spent in Zaragoza, and it's looking like it's going to be a very lucky New Year's. I'll divulge more later. 

More than just travel, 2009 was about growing up. I entered it unsure about everything and I'm leaving it feeling confident and more aware of who I am as an adult. I understand my weaknesses more and am less willing to criticize them because they're a part of me. For some, what makes them such weaknesses is my idea that they are weaknesses. When I change the way I look at them, they become less harsh and I feel better about everything. I've developed a love for cooking and I'm good at it. I finished my songs for my second album. My Spanish is improving every day and I'm a working adult in a beautiful city with some of the strongest winds you'd ever experience.

My resolutions for 2010? Don't laugh, but primarily to embrace my femininity. I'm 28, going on 29. This is my prime. I want to fully enjoy being a woman since I'm no longer a kid. This means wearing beautiful clothes and walking with confidence. This means surrounding myself with good friends and sharing laughter. This means looking a man dead in the eye and knowing he sees a strong, capable woman. Because that's how I feel, so different than when I woke up in that groggy haze at 4 am on New Year's Day. 

Goodbye 2009. You were complicated but worth it. And as for the decade, I experienced some truly bipolar events I could write a book about, which I intend to do sooner or later, as long as I can make it interesting enough for others to read. That's my goal for the next decade, to publish a book. We'll see what happens. With just a touch of salt, life has been good to me.
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Lost in Shanghai 05/17/2009
 

I just returned to Baoding after a long weekend spent in Shanghai, China.

Remember when I tried to go last fall but couldn't because there were no tickets? That time, I wound up spending the Chinese independence day (otherwise known as National Day) in Beijing, which wasn't a shabby plan B since I had a lot of fun. This time, however, I made sure to purchase my Shanghai ticket well enough in advance so I wouldn't have a repeat performance.

I purchased a seat for the K-train, third class. This was not my intention. For a 12-hour ride, I wanted to be able to rest enough so I could enjoy a full day in Shanghai without having to crash. But a hard seat on the slow train was going to prove a daunting task if I wanted any rest. I also purchased a ticket to Beijing so I would be able to board my train to Shanghai later that evening after I arrived.

I arrived in Beijing around 5 pm. I looked at my ticket, did the math...if my train left at 11 pm, I had enough time to meet Slava for dinner at my favorite restaurant in Beijing--Matsuko Japanese. It was fantastic as always. We dined on fabulous sushi and sashimi, while swallowing hot sake and Kirin Ichiban, my favorite Japanese beer. My limbs felt like silk instead of the rusty wires they were before. As I parted with Slava, I hugged him and told him I wished he was coming to Shanghai, too.

I took the subway to Beijing West Railway Station, lugging a very heavy backpack filled to the brim with more than enough shit. I'm notorious for overpacking. The long walk from the subway stop to the railway station exuded any sake buzz I may have had, and the tension came back in my shoulders. I was tired and eager to get on the train, regardless if it was the shit train or not. I finally made it through the door and looked on the screen, clutching my ticket, wondering which gate it would be at. I couldn't find my train code anywhere. Then it dawned on me. I was at the wrong station. The train to Shanghai leaves from Beijing Railway, not Beijing West Railway. I had never been to Beijing Railway before, but fortunately there was still an hour and a half before my train. Or at least, I thought.

I took a taxi this time. We rode past Tian'men Square and I glanced at Mao's head, his relaxed eyes watching me back, silently berading me. "Shouldn't you know your way around by now, stupid weiguoren?" he snickered. "I DO know my way around, I'm just taking the scenic route," I mutter back, avoiding any more eye contact than I'd already given.

I arrived at Beijing Railway and wandered around, trying to find my gate. It said "2" on the main hallway screen but in terminal 2, my train code was nowhere to be seen. Now I was getting confused. So I went up to a man selling beverages and held my ticket. "Zai nar?" I asked. I apologized for no reason and waited for him to point in a direction. But he didn't. He waved his arms around a bit then pointed at the time, then waved them around some more. My eyebrows turned, pulling my forehead down. I had successfully managed to miss my train by misreading the time.

China (and the rest of the world) relies on Celsius, not Fahrenheit. China also uses kilometers instead of miles, kilograms instead of pounds, and, like the rest of the world, sets its watch by a 24-hour period, not 12 hours like America. Military time, if you will. I managed to look at 22:10 and think 23:10. I don't have a reasonable explanation. In fact, I'm ashamed to say this is the second time I've done this--mistakened 10 pm for 11 pm. I felt so stupid and ashamed at my mistake. I muttered, "Fuck." and walked away, holding my useless piao. Then I called Slava.

"Did you miss your train?" he asked jokingly, unprepared for the answer I had. I told him earlier if he heard from me it was because I missed my train. He didn't expect me to actually miss it, especially considering how much time we thought I had when I left the restaurant. He started cackling when I told him it was true. We agreed to meet at Dongsi Shitiao so I could crash at his apartment that night. I bought another train ticket for the next evening. The plus side to this was I got a Z train soft seat ticket. Z is the best train to Shanghai. And, I didn't have to pay full price for it. The price I paid for the shit train was deducted. So really, I couldn't complain. The only thing I was bummed about was missing a day in Shanghai.

In retrospect, I'm glad it went that way. My ride down there was so smooth. the guy next to me spoke English and was no fuss at all. Didn't talk my ear off, didn't snore, was pleasant the whole trip. I even slept a little, and I never sleep in seats! So all in all, I enjoyed the trip down. Made it halfway through River Town, pausing between pages to nibble on roasted watermelon seeds, a common Chinese snack. A very interesting read thus far, about an American man living in China, teaching English. It was funny to see how me and this complete stranger related with one another, especially in struggling to communicate with what often feels like an opposite world. I took a break and listened to my iPod, then drifted off and dreamt.

China is never what it your imagination may tell you, so it's best to just disregard any image you have in your mind before arriving somewhere you haven't been. I had this idea that Shanghai--the city with the modern infrastructures, the "Manhattan" of China, the Pearl of the Orient--would look like a white-gloved hand of some sort. Maybe I'd even forget I was actually in China for a couple of days and explore a new water town thoroughly infused with western culture. Sometimes it's good to get a fix. Maybe that's what I was after. I don't really know. I just wanted to get away for a few days, really, and relax myself. Baoding often feels like four walls, and when they start to cave, better start running or you'll get crushed.

The first things I saw while I was on the train... the buildings were stacked condos and apartments, dirty and beaten by typhoons and time. Rust was under the windows as though it was dark water still dripping. Alleyways looked like piles of rubble, nothing could be coherently recognized other than dust and debris. All this from my window. I lugged the heavy backpack over my shoulders, got off the train and made way to the subway.

I had been told by several that the Shanghai subway was easier to navigate but a lot more crowded than Beijing's. Actually, I thought the opposite. It seemed slightly more confusing (but manageable all the same), and far less crowded. In a Beijing subway, especially on Line 1, some days you get so damn close to the next person you can sniff and tell them what their blood type is. I had room to relax and play Othello on my iPhone, something a friend recently showed me is the best way to kill time on a subway (plus, I'm practicing so I'll get good and beat him!). When I arrived at Caoyang, I had to find my hostel.

I think subconsciously I enjoy making things more difficult for myself than what they should be. I could've just as easily asked someone as soon as I exited the station which direction I should go to find the hostel. I had a brochure. I knew enough Chinese to find out. But instead, I stepped out and took a deep breath, then followed the crowd of people, as though they were going there too. I was looking for Wuning lu, the street the hostel was on. I walked for an hour, making a large square, delirious and tired from carrying all my crap. Finally I asked a street patrolman which way, he pointed straight ahead. Walking further, my shoulders were aching and I was considering a taxi, even if it was just a short distance away. I called the hostel, telling them the hotel I was standing near, and just how far was this place? "10 more minutes, walk straight ahead," answered the receptionist, so I started counting steps to distract myself from the dents in my shoulders.

Had I taken the easy route, I would've just taken a right out of the subway instead of the left. But I crave difficulty, like I said. Either that or I'm just an airhead. Ok, yes. Sometimes. But, in my defense, I'm an airhead who frequently travels alone and is grounded enough not to completely lose it and start panicking when things don't seem right. My brain is wired in such a way that other possible answers and reasons appear first before the most obvious, rather than no answer or reason at all. So rather than having a head full of air, it's just a head full of other ideas.

The hostel felt like a hotel. Computers were everywhere. The lounge/bar area had a skylight. Free breakfast. Five floors of rooms. The beds were super comfortable. The bathrooms, not disgusting whatsoever. Strange for me to admit, I actually liked the smell of the water when I turned it on to shower. And oh, that shower felt good. Washing off the past two days was the first thing I did after checking in.

My first excursion was to visit the French Concession, located in the heart of busy Shanghai, but quiet enough to feel like you're strolling a neighborhood.




After the French Concession, I knew I couldn't fight it any longer. I had to have a nap. I was at the point where I could hardly enjoy anything unless I got a little rest. So I went back to the hostel and took a three-hour snooze. Totally, totally worth it, because after I got up and got dressed, it was time to check out the Bund!






The Bund really comes alive at night. This was my favorite part of my trip to Shanghai, walking along the river, looking at all the buildings. It was very NYC. Here are some pictures of this luminescent city. Words can't describe having a glass of long-desired wine whilst sitting on top of a high tower, watching a city come alive. That part was pretty great.




After strolling around the Bund for hours, including having a glass of wine on a high tower, I found a vegetarian restaurant called Godly's Vegetarian. Total disappointment. The door was open with a large "open" sign, but the staff was mentally closed. The food was mediocre and they handed me the bill before I had the chance to ask for a second Tsingtao. Lame.

The next day, I made plans to see the Jade Buddhist Temple. This was something I had wanted to see since October.

I am not Buddhist, but I find it to be a calm and peaceful religion that makes more sense to me than others. I was looking forward to this for several reasons. Number one, it'd be great to see a Buddha or two while I'm in China. Number two, it's one of the still-active places of Buddhist worship. Number three, I thought that maybe, by going, I'd get a little sense of perspective. Hell, I might even meditate.

But when I got there, I was instantly turned off.

As I was walking toward the entrance, an eager and excited Chinese girl ran up to me. "Are you here to see the Temple?" she asked. "Yes, I am," I responded. "Oh! Well, you should come look at my tea, I have lots of tea," she urged me. "Um, yeah, maybe. But I'm here to see the Temple first," I said. "Okay! You come look at the tea after! Lots of great tea!" she said excitedly. "Yes. I'm going to see the Temple now," I said. "20 yuan," she said.

20 yuan? The big China book Kim lent me said it was 10. I told her, "I heard it was 10 kuai to see the Temple." Then she just laughed at me like that was the dumbest idea ever. "No, no. It's 20." Fine. I forked over the cash and prepared to be enlightened.

As soon as I walked in, another eager young man began walking by my side. I was on a mission and not in the mood for small talk. I wanted to come here alone, to think and to feel, without meddlesome peddlers. I've had so much on my mind, so much confusion that needs to be sorted out that I was hoping maybe a place like this, which provides comfort to so many other people, might help me too. But how could I when every direction I turned, I was being summoned to come look at all this junk for sale, overpriced jewelry, Jade, calligraphy saying "I'm with Stupid" for all I know. In fact, a really creepy calligraphist kept begging me to come over and watch him paint so I did, just to shut him up and boy was that a mistake. He asked me my name, and I said cooly, "Tara," and he exclaimed, "Kara! I can do this, see, watch!" and paints Kara's name on a white piece of paper, and even still all the letters looked the same. The way he was talking, I thought he might be sick or drunk. He asked me if I was married and I said no, then he said he wasn't either and maybe we could get together, something to that effect. It was kind of disgusting. I immediately turned away and started walking toward another Buddha. I heard him say he was just joking, but he was still lonely if I change my mind. Not my idea of a good time in a Buddhist temple.

Incense floated in the air. Dozens of Buddhas stood behind glass cases. I felt nothing looking at them, like average pieces in a museum. Boxes for offerings were strewn everywhere, of course, as if the entrance fee or the prices of shitty jewellry weren't enough. I was getting more and more repulsed. This is why I don't care for organized religion. I'd rather it just be me and God, nothing in between with alterior motives. I find more peace in the state before I fall asleep than I did anywhere in that stupid temple.

I went back to the hostel for lunch, then met up with a friend. He and his band, from Beijing, were playing a show nearby. It was my first metal show in China. I had seen many in the States, especially when I worked at a bar that had metal shows all the time. You see the young kids, yes, dressed in black. You see a lot of dread locks, long t-shirts, sullen faces. In Shanghai, it was a little different. No kids, which was nice. The preppy audience looked like people you would not expect to be into metal. It was a bit refreshing, actually. Who says you have to wear all that shit just to be into a genre? I met a Chinese man named Simon who worked as a counselor, majored in psychology. We had an interesting conversation about Chinese and Americans, and for the first time, rather than speak as though it was for a China tourism commercial, I spoke candidly about the Big Red and the people who habitate it. I also expressed my frustration with the language. I said I don't mind when my students laugh at my Chinese but I get fed up with the empty looks when people don't understand. When I'm pantomiming using a mop, and I'm in the grocery isle where all the mopping products are, using a little reasoning, I might be asking for a mop? He laughed, then brought up a very good point. This is a problem I have within myself, not something others have with me. I argued some but relented after awhile. It IS something I'm insecure about, but it doesn't help when others (especially other foreigners) call to attention just how bad it really is. Sure, it's difficult for me to have a conversation with someone who speaks little to no English. But I can still communicate some, a hell of a lot more than when I first got here, which hasn't been all that long ago. We shut up when the bands started playing.

Later, my friend Robbie and I got drunk. We wound up at some rave thing in an office building somewhere, I have no idea where it was. The fun game was spotting which preppy foreigner was on drugs and who wasn't. Then I went home.

The last day of my trip to Shanghai, I went to the bookstore and bought something I'm already almost finished with...and this was yesterday! The book is called Undress Me In The Temple of Heaven, by Susan Jane Gilmer. It's about two American girls who backpack around China, starting in Shanghai. All the places are mentioned that I just saw. It was cool. One thing about crack books...once I buy them I can't put them down, then I'm back to square one, bookless and wanting more. So that's going to be me in a couple of hours.

I spent a little extra cash and got a sleeper back to Beijing. Best money I could've spent. Soft sleepers on the Z train are NICE. Yes. I cuddled up with my book on the train and read for hours. Didn't sleep very well but it wasn't the bed or train's fault. Honestly, I felt the best on that train, better than I had the whole trip. Don't get me wrong, it was a good trip overall, but the train was my favorite.

Shanghai's an interesting city but three days was more than enough time. Aside from the glowing lights of the Bund, the city lacks personality. I felt like I was in Houston a lot... high rise buildings everywhere that virtually say nothing. Dirty, polluted of course. I like Beijing so much more. The Olympics really cleaned up the city a lot, because I rarely see a gray day in Beijing like I saw in Shanghai. Beijing may not have as many flashy sights as Shanghai does, but it's got more to do, more of a vibe, and definitely more of an artistic edge. It speaks a hell of a lot louder to me than Shanghai ever could.

I'm happy to be home. The four walls have expanded again. I have been wanting to go to Dalian now for quite some time but I'm starting to have second thoughts. I haven't been to western China at all and am interested in seeing something, maybe Yunnan or elsewhere down south. We'll see. I'll keep you posted regardless.

xox Thanks for reading.
MISU

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Weebly kind of sucks. I had several paragraphs typed then clicked on the scroll, then hit the delete button to erase a couple of words, then bam, I'm on the previous page and everything is erased. STUPID WEEBLY.

Let me try and regurgitate what I typed before.

Ni hao, I am in Beijing. Came here for a little escape from Baoding, for a quick city fix.

It's really easy to come here, just walk to the ticket office (smack dab next to campus) and buy a ticket for dirt cheap, and bam I'm in Beijing the next day. I love this city, flaws and all.

I would say the biggest flaw is the pollution, but that's no secret. I read a Beijing magazine awhile back that had interviews with local ex-pats. One was an artist who said he thought the pollution here was beautiful, that the milky skies added an air of mystique. Walking around today, I tried to reason with him and look at it the way he did. But I just couldn't. I'm normally a very positive person but I just couldn't help but look at it as another example of human mistake. But at least Beijing is more clean than Baoding.

I went to the Yashow Clothing Market today to buy some clothes. I had pretty decent luck. However, I had a bad experience with one of the sales clerks. Most clothing markets you can bargain at, and it's a bit of a game to test out your bargaining (and Chinese) skills with them. I was looking at belts, and wasn't sure if I wanted to purchase any. At first she seemed totally nice, in a not-so-fake way like most of the other salespeople. Plus she was a bit young and seemed relatively honest. I'll admit it's annoying getting hassled by everyone to buy shit when you're just looking around. So I took ease with her, she didn't seem so eager to sell but more to be friendly. Cool. So I was debating on a belt, then she told me her starting price: 250 kuai, only because I spoke Chinese (if I hadn't, the starting price would've been 400). 250 kuai for this huinushka? No way. The quality of the belt was shit. I wouldn't have been surprised if it fell apart in three months. I said in Chinese that the price was expensive so she asked me what my starting price was. "15 kuai," I told her, knowing perfectly well I was going to move up from that price, since that's part of the game. She instantly got pissed. "If I had known you were going to say that I would not have shown you any of the other belts! That is a joke!" Her demeanor totally changed. I could tell she was new at this, but still, it pissed me off. It made me not want to buy anything at all, so I said, "Ok cool, see ya later," then I heard her yell 70 kuai or something, but I just ignored her and left. Truth is I could really use a new belt but to have someone openly insult me like that left me with no desire to purchase one.

Tomorrow I plan to get work done. I want to come up with a skeleton of a syllabus for next semester and do some writing. I've been on a considerable hiatus from writing lately and it's time to come to a close. I have two prose ideas that have been floating in my mind so it's time to make them come to life. Other than that, greetings from Beijing!!!

xox
MISU

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I love China but I hate the music around these parts. It's so. damn. happy. Fake sugar sweet, like aspartame. Nauseates me at times. I wonder how no one gets sick of it? Shops, taxis, the ring-back on phones, you name it and that sound is there, the sound of "We wish you happy every day."

That is the rule of thumb here, to be happy every day, even if you're not. I don't quite understand it. I think happiness can only be a genuine emotion, one that does not fake itself, one that cannot be forced. What if I don't want to have a happy every day? What if I want to feel like shit and curse everything in sight because, well, it makes me happy?

Other than feeling a cold coming on, I don't feel like that today. But sometimes I'll get waves of it, I'll clench my teeth and think not so happy thoughts. The folks who stare, the oh-so-slow people in my way (I call them Chinese turtles), the buses shitting exhaust in the air, the air itself. The happy music. Fortunately I don't act on these kinds of thoughts, I keep them inside except for an occasional mutter that no one around me understands. There is a comfortable privacy in speaking a foreign language. Sometimes I like to hide behind it.

I was riding home today from a task and a female announcer was on the radio. I think she was telling a story. Her voice was so grating I found myself imagining I could reach inside the speaker and grab her face, squeeze it shut. I tried not to let it bug me and instead concentrate on what she was saying. I could maybe pick up a word here and there but nothing substantial for me to understand. And she kept making the pre-cough noise, the throat drag. I found myself wondering, How is the Chinese language pleasing to the ear? Why can't it be like French or Italian? And why, WHY must it be so damn difficult to learn? Wai shen ma, wai shen ma?

There's another radio announcer here who's pretty popular, a man whose voice sounds like Satan if I knew what Satan sounded like. He's always growling and slurring, he sounds so angry. There's been a few early mornings here and there when I had to take a cab home, and the driver would have Satan blasting on the radio. If I didn't have my headphones I was in big trouble, because Satan and my hangovers would not get along. I found myself wondering, Why are you listening? What is he saying? And why doesn't his voice bother you? It doesn't sound happy any day...or night.

I find myself craving Beijing more frequently for the mixed culture. We're going tomorrow to see DJ Shadow. I don't really get much of my punk/indie fix here but that's fine. I like electronic as long as it's good. None of this Madonna remixy crap, or friggin' Avril Lavigne. Ohmylanta, they love her here, it's sickening and insane. I sat in on one of Kim's classes and a student asked me if I liked Avril. Rather than responding with a  "Hell no!" I gently suggested she check out some other artists. I wrote down Jeff Buckley and Bjork. Later I ran into her on the street, she ran up to me with an excited smile on her face. "I love Jeff Buckley!" she gushed. "He's so cute!" I wholeheartedly agreed, then broke the news that he was dead.

I started my sound project over the weekend when we went to the Great Wall. I won't disclose too much, other than I'm really happy with the quality. Thank you, Levus, for letting me borrow your microphone. It really picked up some good stuff. I will be posting my Great Wall pics shortly, once I have them all gathered and put together.

Thank you for reading. I wish you happy, every day.

xo
misu

p.s. Dear family and friends, I can't get a stable connection to call anyone at this point. Lamesauce. But hopefully that will change in the near future. P.S.S. My phone can send texts to the States, apparently.

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