You get what you ask for?

I was recently stranded in a Chinese airport while my flight was delayed for several hours. Because it is not possible to check in for a Chinese domestic flight more than an hour in advance, I was stuck, with my luggage, outside security, where there were no shops with Olympic paraphrenalia, no comfortable lounge (OK, there's no comfortable lounge in any Chinese domestic terminal, but a lounge anyway).

My only options were the Chinese airport restaurant - huge, with no customers, surly staff, plastic-wrapped dishes (more on that in another post), and food that manages to be at once bland and incredibly salty - or the Chinese airport bar - Chinese wine, Chinese beer, maotai, a couple of cocktails you've never heard of, and pickled anything snacks. I went with the bar.

The waitress appeared by my side as soon as I sat down, not saying a word but indicating with her bored countenance that I should order immediately. When I asked if I could have a minute with the menu, she said yes and kept standing there.

What to order? My new departure time had not been posted, but the airline representative reported our aircraft would not arrive for at least 3 hours. I didn't feel like beer, and I definitely did not want to take my chances with Chinese wine - after all, what I really needed was to relax. Every cocktail on the small list included either blue curacao or rice wine, not a good sign.

As I was about to resign myself to a bottle of water and some boiled peanuts, I spied "Bailey's coffee" on the list. I didn't feel like caffeine, but if they have Bailey's with coffee, they must have Bailey's right? But Bailey's as it's own drink was not on the list. Not on the list = will not compute with waitress.

I chose my words carefully. "You have Bailey's coffee, right?" Bailey's coffee, yes, she replied, turning around and walking away. "Wait! Wait!" She came back and stood over me silently. "So, can you bring a glass with Bailey's in it, like from the Bailey's coffee, but don't put any coffee?" She stared. "You get my meaning? Baileys, but I don't want any coffee?" Wait, she told me, and turned around and walked away again.

Wait, instead of the anticipated, No, sounded promising. Even better, she reappeared and said. Yes, we can do it. "Great, then, I'd like that - Baileys, no coffee. Oh - and I'll need some ice with that, OK?" She didn't reply, but slid off and I waited happily. And in fact, I did receive Bailey's, no coffee, with ice. Like many things in China, it was not exactly what I expected...
... but it did the trick.

The Beijing Terry Fox Run - Don't Run - Run

About half an hour after I got back from the gym Saturday morning, my friend Jenson called and told me the 7K Beijing 2007 Terry Fox Run would begin across the street in Chaoyang Park in an hour - did I want to run? I was a little concerned that the combined effects of jet lag and and additional 4+ miles on top of the previous hour of exercise might really wipe me out, but I decided to join.

I'm glad I did not miss it. Of course, I wanted to see my friends after a couple of weeks out of town, and I support the Terry Fox Foundation's cause - raising money for cancer research in the name of Terry Fox, an amputee with bone cancer who attempted to run across Canada in the early 80s to raise awareness and money for the National Cancer Institute of Canada. On top of that, the event had some memorable aspects, including the biggest foreign celebrity in China and an militant announcer who told the runners not to run.

Arriving around 9:30, Jenson, Mark, Ti-Ying and I were happy to see we had not yet missed the 9 am warm-ups. Warm-ups, when they did begin, consisted of two small, wiry Chinese guys in tank tops rolling their heads and shoulders and making what someone described as kissing motions toward the sky. As we looked around at the many people gathered for the event - alarmingly few actually dressed in running clothes, or even sneakers - we commented that 7K was an unusual distance for a run.

We also couldn't help scratching our heads a bit about the the dancers, who were dressed in traditional Chinese costumes but performing an odd, sort of neo-modern, jerky rowing motion back and forth across the stage. As they gave way to dancers dressed in nurse costumes singing, 'Thank you," then Beijing city officials, then the Canadian Ambassador, we knew we must be approaching starting time.

Of course, no Canadian-sponsored event in China would be complete without Da Shan, and we were not disappointed. Da Shan, for the unititiated, is simultaneously a symbol of friendship, hope, and unmitigated hatred for foreigners studying in China. Da Shan, whose Chinese name means "Big Mountain," is a Canadian named Mark Roswell who began studying Chinese in Beijing in the late 80s, when there weren't many foreigners running around. At some point, he ended up on a TV show - not an uncommon even for Chinese speaking foreigners, who were considered highly amusing novelties well into the 90s - and became noted for his particularly good Mandarin.

As he continued to study Chinese and began learning traditional Chinese performance arts, Da Shan continued to get invited for appearances and shows, until all of China knew of Da Shan, the foreigner who speaks Chinese better than many natives, knows classical Chinese, reads poetry, and builds bridges between Canada and China. He's been in Chinese TV programs and movies and has his own Chinese learning TV show and web site, and he's plugged products from Chinese translators to Ford automobiles in China.

All this sounds delightful, unless you are unfortunate enough to be another foreigner studying Chinese here. Friendly Chinese making conversation always ask, "Do you know Da Shan?" (No, he's Canadian and much older than me.) "I mean, have you heard of Da Shan?" (Yes, about a million times...) "Your Chinese is good, but not as good as Da Shan." (Yes, I've heard that too.) "You can't really understand Chinese culture until you've learned classical Chinese like Da Shan. Da Shan can do xiangsheng [a traditional Chinese type of comedy routine involving very fast-spoken, quippy conversation among 2 or 3 performers with lots of puns and literary references], you probably don't know what xiangsheng is." (But I do! Sigh.)

Can you blame us other foreigners for making violent gestures whenever we hear his name? The following quote in the China Daily after Da Shan was appointed Canada's Olympic Attache to China didn't help his case with Americans, either:

When Chinese people see the red and white and 'there's a guy from Team Canada,' the image is, 'Oh, Dashan's on that team and they're our friends.' As opposed to the Americans.

As Da Shan introduced the run - given the prized role of speaking last on stage, even after the Canadian ambassador! - Mark noted that he would really like to catch up with Da Shan and give him a piece of his mind about that quote.

Finally, it was time for the race, which we knew because an announcer suddenly yelled in Chinese, "The Terry Fox 2007 Beijing Marathon of Hope begins now!" and not one, but two starters shot off guns. Excited but slightly confused runners looked right and left in front of the stage, not exactly sure which direction was the race course. They were saved by another announcer who quickly grabbed the microphone and yelled, "Don't run! Wait a minute! Don't run!"

Apparently, an enthusiastic rush of runners pouring across the starting line was not the chaotic image the organizers wanted associated with the Beijing Terry Fox run. The announcer then began listing groups of sponsors - universities, cancer-fighting organizations, companies, who may proceed across the starting line to the right, with their supporters behind the appropriate banner or flag.

We did not have a banner or flag, but we finally felt it would be OK for us to start on the loop through Chaoyang Park. We passed a variety of events occurring simultaneously with ours, including two weddings doing pictures and a couple of groups of Xinjiang-style dancer groups in multi-colored skirts and head-dresses. Unfortunately, it was a thick, dark gray day with light rain and palpable pollution in the air, probably not the best day for either an outdoor run or wedding pictures.

The course was a very simple loop, and we had been running for perhaps 20 minutes when Da Shan appeared by our side, chatting with a Chinese runner. A moment later, we found ourselves crossing the finish line. While one might expect celebrations and festivities at the end of a charity run, the plaza was surprisingly empty. We found almost no one there other than Mark, who had finished a few minutes in front of us. Mark confirmed with his GPS wristwatch that the run, advertised as 7K, had been only about 3.5 K, or 2.2 miles, and equally round number for a road race, I suppose.

With no fanfare, music, or even water at the finish line, there was nothing to do but head off for a nice brunch at Chef Too, which we did once Mark had taken the opportunity to talk to Da Shan. I don't want to steal Mark's thunder, so I will hold off on reporting that conversation to give him the opportunity to blog it on www.facethesun.org.

Back - but what does it all mean?

I'm back to blogging, after a frightfully long hiatus. There's lots to tell, but let's start with a language lesson. A colleague and I joined two Chinese teachers and a local guide on a trip to Qufu, which is the birthplace of Confucius, and Taishan, which is one of China's five most famous mountains. In addition to our Chinese immersion, however, we also tested our English with these translated signs. Let's see how you do...

1) In a (slightly smelly) public restroom. English text: Sweet memories go with you and clean environment leaves behind.

Chinese text - proper translation: Leave a beautiful environment, leave a beautiful memory.
What did they really mean? Please be neat!

2) In our hotel guest guide. English text: Respect guest hello, the guesthouse enters you in the room has electric heatingcanteen, Please directly receives in the basin tap the running water,after boils Then drinks uses.
Chinese text - proper translation: Greetings Respected Guest. There is an electric hot water pot in your room. Please boil the tap water before drinking.
What did they really mean? It takes 5000 years of civilization to learn how to use a tea kettle.

3) On the light switch above the night table in our hotel. English text: Bedside shoots the lamp.
Chinese text - proper translation: Bed head shoots the lamp.
What did they really mean? Since you are an American, we have booked you into our "Wild West" room. Please enjoy the violence. Tee hee.

4) Hotel night table. English text: For your safety, please keep chsh and valuable goods in head stage.
Chinese text - proper translation: For your safety, please leave cash and valuables at the front desk for safe keeping.

5) In hotel bathroom. English text: Please use slippery.
Chinese text - proper translation: Please take anti-slip precautions.
What did they really mean? This is the most dangerous bathroom ever. Because this is an old state run hotel in a provincial capital, it is not well kept and the bathroom floor is never dry.

August 8

Well, give Beijing one thing: they managed a blue sky day for August 8.

I really don't think we can give credit to Chinese calendar's assertion that
yesterday must have been a clear, warm day because it was the first day of autumn, though.

Yesterday, citizens of Beijing definitely saw blue sky. But while we were out there staring out the blue sky, we were sweating our eyeballs out: it was 93 degrees and humidity once again reached 100%. According to weather.com, the humidity went as low as 56%, almost refreshing, although I was inside at that time and can't confirm.

As for pollution, this could not possibly be a coincidence: the pollution index for Beijing yesterday was 88.

So how did the weather turn so blue and half-bearably dry? I am sure the rain storm the day before had something to do with clearing the air. Did the heavens cooperate to bring honor on the descendants of the dragon as they prepare for the historic 2008 Olympics? Perhaps, but the heavens surely had help from a little seeding of the clouds.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, don't mind that peasant farmer over there manning the anti-aircraft gun. Those shells he's shooting into the clouds will make it rain. Like all other Olympics preparation systems, the rain-making (in more ways than one!) system was tested for the one-year countdown. Beijing officials have committed to preventing rain at Olympic venues during athletic events, and they also plan to rely on manufactured rain storms to clean the air.

There are a few minor flaws in this plan, however. One, noted yesterday, is that the effects of a seeded rainstorm don't last that long. This morning looks a little bluer than normal, but in general these storms clear the air for only a little more than a day. On top of that, the effect is not always dramatic as one would like. Sure, the sky was blue yesterday. But would you want to be an Olympic marathoner in 93 degree heat and over 70% humidity most of the day? Even without pollution, August in Beijing is just not an ideal setting for athletic competition.

Finally, cloud seeding is just one of many, many aspects of Olympic preparations where the effects on ordinary citizens don't seem to be taken into account. Last year, farmers complained when officials seeded clouds to make a convenient rainfall. Without interference, they pointed out, the rain would have eventually fallen on their fields, instead of falling prematurely on the city of Shanghai. Their crops suffered in favor of Shanghai's cleansing shower.

Waiting for August 8

For the last eight weeks, Beijing has been a humid, soggy, gray mess. I have seen blue sky twice. It's hot - in the 90s almost every day. And, it's wet - humidity over 90%. I used to believe that 100% humidity = rain, but that's not true. Beijing reaches 100% humidity, and it doesn't rain. For days.

With this level of humidity, it's impossible to differentiate between the fog and the pollution. You know they're both out there, but on any given day, you can't tell which one is responsible for the fact that you can barely see across the street.

The Chinese government's Air Quality Report (SEPA) gave Bejiing a "3A" rating for yesterday, which means, according to SEPA,

"The symptom of the susceptible is aggravated slightly, while the healthy people will appear stimulate symptom. The cardiac and respiratory system patients should reduce strength draining and outdoor activities."

As a healthy people, I can confirm I did appear stimulate symptom: nose running, sneezing, and an occasional stinging in the eyes when outdoors.

I should be clear, though, not all of the blame lies on the pollution or the failure of the authorities to curb pollution. Even with a normal level of pollutants, it would be difficult to be outdoors in this weather, and in the States it would be recommended for many folks to reduce strength draining and outdoor activities. And, with this level of humidity, it would be difficult for even minor levels of pollution to dissipate from the city air.

When one points out to Chinese acquaintances, especially Beijingers, that even if Beijing achieves its pollution control goals, 90-degree heat with 90-percent humidity are not conducive conditions for Olympic athletic performance, they all say, "It will be clear by August 8." Every one agrees, on August 8, the heat will break. On August 8, the air will be dry. August 8 is a magic date. And so, I wait, for August 8.

Why do Beijingers have such faith in August 8? There are probably a few reasons. The first two are most straightforward:

• August 8 is 8/8. 8 is the most auspicious number, so this date must be an auspicious one. Not as auspicious as it will be next year, when the Olympic opening ceremonies will begin at 8 pm on 8/8/08, of course, but an auspicious date in any year to be sure.
• August 8 or this year kicks off the 1-year Olympic countdown activities. As part of the countdown kickoff activities, sporting events are being held all over the country to test China's level of preparation. Festivals and banquets will be held to evaluate the progress of the service industry. 1 million cars will be taken off the road in Beijing to practice for the Olympics and see if it makes any difference in the air. In case you're curious, the way officials get 1 million cars, 1/3 of the automobile population, off the road in Beijing, is to tell all the public servants not to drive. (No, foreign diplomats don't count.) When 1.3 billion people, all descendants of the dragon, join forces in this way to bring honor to the Middle Kingdom, it's not too much to expect the heavens will force the weather to cooperate.
  

But there is another reason, entirely separate from the Olympics. In the Chinese traditional calendar, August 8 represents the beginning of a new season: Autumn. By the time we in the West start Autumn on September 23, the Chinese are halfway through it.

The Chinese also subdivide their seasons into smaller portions, so that August 7 (today!) is not only the last say of summer, but also the last day of the most unbearable sub-portion of the hottest sub-season of summer.

Summer starts in early May, on a day called 立夏 (li xia), or the standing up of summer. But the real heat starts at the beginning of the 三伏天 (san fu tian), which literally means three lying down days, and perhaps could be described as the three periods when it's so hot you want to lie down all day. This stretch of time is about 30 days of the hottest, most humid weather in China.

More over, the hot san fu tian 三伏天 is further broken down into three 伏天 (fu tian) periods of about 10 days (I say about, because there are some years when the whole 三伏天 period is actually 40 days - a fact that requires a far deeper understanding of the Chinese calendar than I posess.) There's early fu, middle fu, and end fu. End fu is the hottest and most humid of them all, and August 7 is the last day of that final fu.

So, today I will bask in the end of the 末伏 "final fu" of the sanfutian of summer. And let's hope Chinese are right about tomorrow!

Like a Train Wreck... on a Bike

Don't worry, I'm OK. The accident I am about to recount did not happen to me; I was just a witness.

In my previous post on biking in Beijing, I mentioned the commuters who cram their way to the front of the bike lane at the intersection, then cut through the two lines of left turning cars rather than waiting through lights at both corners.

One day, as usual on my commute to work, I skirted a congested bus station and prepared to cross one portion of a major 5-way intersection in accordance with the light and the traffic assistant. I had cleverly maneuvered my way to the front of the bike pack waiting at the intersection, so I was feeling pretty proud of myself as I sailed across the street ahead of the herd.

Among the usual din of honks, bells, yells, and squealing brakes, I noticed a particularly long and annoying whine to my left. It was a motor-scooter, crossing diagonally between the left-turning cars at full speed, the driver holding his hand on the horn and his small son on his lap. Just as I shook my head and turned my attention back to the road, I heard a loud CRUNCH!

The father-on-scooter had just T-boned a young couple riding to work on a single bicycle about 10 yards behind me, right in the middle of the pack crossing the road. The girl was trying to pick herself up from under the bike, which was wedged under the front of the scooter, and the bike-riding boyfriend was standing up and yelling at the scooter driver. Unconcerned, the driver backed off of the bike and started to drive away (son still on lap), as the boyfriend tried to call the police on his cell phone. Not about to let the scooter get away, the boyfriend dodged in front of the scooter to prevent it from leaving the scene.

The boyfriend and scooter danced back and forth for a while, until the scooter driver had enough and decided if he couldn't get around the bike victim, he should just to drive away through him. Next thing you know, the scooter has rammed directly into the bike boyfriend's stomach and is pushing him backward down the street as the boyfriend grabs the handlebars with one hand, continues trying to call the police with the other hand, and drags his feet along the ground. Did I mention the son is still on the scooter driver's lap?

There were about 35 people on bikes and foot on that side of the intersection, but as far as I could see, none of them did anything.

My own light changed then, and it was time for me to safely - or as safely as possible under the circumstances - cross the street. I realized, if I had not worked my way to the front of the pack at the intersection, I would have been right where that bike couple was when they got hit.

To summarize the experience of biking to work, it's like being in a documentary on Beijing city life, a low-speed police chase, and an action film all at once.

Getting to Pingyao

On our way to the ancient walled city of Pingyao, my cousins Michelle and David were treated to a Chinese airline customer service experience.

First, picture US airline customer service. Then, move that out of an overly litigious and customer-focused society into a context where it is accepted that the customer has no rights but those the vendor tells him to have, and no one has ever received a refund or compensation for poor treatment, ever.

Very early in the morning, we hopped a taxi to the airport. We walked in about 55 minutes before our flight and split up into different lines to see who would make it to the counter first. Exactly 30 minutes before our flight, we handed our passports and boarding passes to the agent, who said, "Flight is closed. I cannot check you in." What! We've been here almost a 1/2 hour already! And there was no announcement the flight was closing, no effort to get passengers checked in. I was furious. The gate agent deflected me with a classic Chinese send-them-to-someone-else-for-bad-news maneuver, "Go to the Duty Manager. He can help you."

We headed across the hall to the Duty Manager, who said, "The flight is closed. Of course I cannot help you. It's already 30 minutes before departure." At that moment, a Chinese customer approached the counter with the same situation for the same flight - as well as proof that he was actually at the check-in counter a full 33 minutes ahead of the flight, but he was denied check-in as well. Now I realize, the flight was likely overbooked. Perhaps a group of VIPs needed to get on the flight, or perhaps they sold just a couple of extra tickets, but either way, the airline saved face by declaring us at fault.

The duty manager said, "There is another flight at 9:20." Ok, less than 2 hours later, we can manage that. We dashed to the ticket counter only to find out the flight was a 9:20 pm, not am. Score 2 for the duty manager, 0 for customer service. Ultimately, we ended up going to a different airline and buying first class tickets to Taiyuan, the nearest city to Pingyao, because those were the only seats available. At 900 RMB (about US$130), the price was quadruple our original ticket price, but still acceptable.

Perhaps if I had known what we were headed to in Pingyao, I would not have been in such a rush or felt so frustrated at the delay. But as it was, the taste of my fury at the duty manager was still lingering in my mouth as I nursed my instant noodle cup in the first class lounge.

Closer to Beijing Life, Closer to Death

For the last three weeks, I've been biking to work at least three times per week. Participating in the great Beijing two- and three-wheeled commute is a fantastically stimulating experience. It really cannot be understood unless you've done it, but I'll try to paint a picture. (An actual picture of me on my Chinese bike will be forthcoming soon, I promise.)

First, you might ask, why am I risking near-certain death on the way to work and absolute certain sweatiness on arrival at work by biking? I can easily afford a few dollars for inexpensive Beijing taxis, or I could pay a small fee to ride a commuter shuttle to the office with my colleagues, or a I could take the bus. But all forms of car transportation are frustratingly slow and unpredictable during rush hour, and the ride to work ranges from 20-40 minutes. Amazingly, drivers manage to endanger a maximum number of people while moving at a minimum speed. One morning, I sat in my taxi for over 15 minutes at a single intersection, all the while watching bikes pass by. Looking around the taxi, I realized it was filthy inside, the air conditioning didn't work, the polluted outside air and the exhaust from the cars around me was stifling, and I was getting aggravated at the driver's inability to move the vehicle forward. I decided it was time to join the bicycles.

From the first moment in the bike lane, it was liberating. The commute is 20 minutes each way, no matter what the traffic. On top of that, I have full control. I can leave when I want and stop as many times as I want along the way home, running errands and filling my bike basket with groceries, and I don't have to pay a new 10 RMB minumum taxi fare with each new leg of the journey.

Best of all, just by rolling outside my gate on two wheels, I joined the community of Beijing residents in a way I hadn't in 6 months of walking, taxi-ing, and busing around. One look at the swarms in the bike lane and you'll know biking is very much a part of Beijing life: small children bike to school (or more often, sit on their parent's lap on the bike - I still don't know how they do that), adults ride to work, old men pull carts with their bird cages to the park, workers haul supplies, young women perch carefully on the book rack of their boyfriends' Flying Pigeons. From the bike, I also have the chance to really observe what's happening on and along the road and get a better handle on the layout of the streets in my neighborhood. I wouldn't call myself a Beijinger, but suddenly I feel like a real resident of the city.

So, what have I seen from my new mobile vantage point? A few observations:

• China really stretches the definition of "bicycle." My cousin David noted, "In Beijing, bicycles are like snowflakes - no two are exactly alike." You've got your ordinary Chinese bike, with flat handle bars, very tall wheels, adorned with any combination of baskets on the front and back, seats on the back and front, a safety - "safety" - light, a bell, and an old plastic bag tied around the seat. Then there's also the bikes pulling open carts full or trash down the bike lane, motor scooters, motor bikes, hybrid pedal-and-motor bikes, and three-wheeled tuk-tuks. Environmentalists might be delighted to see such abundant non-car flora and fauna, but I assure you no victories are being won against air pollution in the bike lane. (Did you see I mentioned open carts of trash and old diesel motor scooters?)

• Biking is far more dangerous than driving. Sure, Beijing's crazy taxi drivers are a serious threat (that bike lane doesn't confer magical safety powers, you know), but the bikers are really scary. Lane space is a commodity to be claimed at any price.
  

• There's no point in going fast. Intersections are the great equalizer. Ah, the Great Third Ring Road Intersection. At rush hour, uniformed traffic monitors, with no particular training, whistle incessantly and wave a red flag in erratic patterns. It's impossible to know what they are trying to communicate, especially when you're 15 yards back from the intersection packed in pedal-to-pedal with a couple hundred of your favorite Beijing neighbors, but you just go when everyone else goes.

• Without a bike bell, you're toast. For cars, the horn is an essential tool of communication. To us Americans, a blast of the horn means, "Look out!" Either you're about to kill me or I'm about to kill you. In China, the many meanings of the horn have yet to be fully cataloged, but a few of them include: I'm passing you on the right or left; you're going too slow; you're going too fast; hello; I have no intention of obeying the light/ sign/ traffic cop ahead; the light is green; hey look! did you see that foreigner on a bike?; you had better stop because I'm going no matter what; you had better go because I'm yielding to you, but I'm really impatient; this red light/ toll booth/ motorcade/ storm/ earthquake/ song/ bridge/ run-up to the Olympics is too long so I decided to make some noise because that might help. It turns out, the bike bell is every bit as adaptable and communicative as the horn. And it's brave, too - I have seen many a trill little bike bell take on a taxi, pick-up truck, or van.

• Finally, a lesson that pops up in almost every aspect of Beijing life: people are nuts. Do you want to know why Beijing bikers push their way to the front of the intersection, scraping my legs and jostling all the little children precariously balanced on the crossbar of their parents bikes? So they can streak across the intersection diagonally in the brief moment between when the light changes and the cars in the left turn lanes from both directions actually reach the center of the intersection. And, those cars in the left turn lanes include buses.
  

A Seriously "China" China Visit

My cousins Michelle and David are here for two weeks, getting their name on the Visitors Point Tally with 1 and 2 points, respectively (David gets and extra point because it's his first ever trip outside the United States). While any trip to China is sure to include some unexpected events, David and Michelle have had a lot of "only here" moments. To name a few:

- received counterfeit 50 RMB bill; found out when they tried to pay for something with it
- saw a car on fire, Chinese firefighters put it out (a real Chinese fire drill!)
- received counterfeit 50 RMB bill (again!)
- their taxi slammed into a pedestrian and sent her flying; driver yelled at victim
- a vendor reached into Michelle's wallet to take money from her at Great Wall; 1 fake 50 RMB note disposed of

Of course, this is on top of the bajillion taxi close calls with their life, a 4-hour hike up an almost vertical mountain; the usual bargaining adventures; watching me fight (unsuccessfully) with an Air China Duty Manager after our flight's check-in closed early so we couldn't get on it; sleeping on a traditional "kang" bed in one of the dirtiest supposed tourist sites I've seen in China (more on Pingyao in a later post); a Cultural Revolution restaurant experience where they denied us food while we were in a VIP room and forbid us to take pictures.

Suffice to say, this is a trip that is going to make even more stories than the usual China jaunt. Also, Michelle is now expertly trained in identifying fake Chinese bills.

New Color Scheme for Summer

I haven't been blogging for the last couple of weeks because now is time to get ready for my Chinese exam next week, so not only haven't I wanted to spend much time blogging, but I also haven't been seeing a lot of blog-worthy things. What I'm really looking forward to is not the test, but the the arrival of two special visitors the following day.

Since both Michelle and David will be getting their names on the Visitors Point Tally with this
visit, I've re-posted the details of the VPT in the comment below.

I promise more postings after this week!