i still have not left on a jet plane

JUST WHEN the memories from my flight over was fading, I've now been blessed with the promise of equally delightful memories of my soon-to-come trip back. My original booking had me flying out of Jacksonville today doing a quick layover in Detroit and then straight to Shanghai. Flight delays in Jacksonville made it impossible for me to catch any connecting flights to Shanghai. The next available flight that I've been put on starts tomorrow at the delightful hour of 6:30am and comes complete with 2 stopovers adding an additional 7-10 hours to the overall flight time of my original booking. A 27 hour flight for the price of an 18 hour! SCORE!

In other news, I'm currently reading NY Mag's 5 Reasons why Avatar won't make Best Picture which include things like Academy snobbiness and Oscar's innate hatred of all things sci-fi which may be true general observations on the film awards in general but, in my mind, completely misses the main reason why Avatar shouldn't - or, more aptly, doesn't deserve to win: It's basically a thinly veiled PSA on environmental conservation made from mishmash of recycled storylines. Fern Gully meets Princess Mononoke in space.

Also, (SPOILER ALERT) what was that completely inane animal uprising at the end? It was like the movie suddenly inserted scenes from the Fox show When Animals Attack...IN SPACE. The only thing that could have made that part of the ending worse if they actually voice overed the scene with the Fox announcer voice and/or created a rip in the space/time continuum to reveal this guy:

"My power blows!"

Remember him from Captain Planet? Yeah, he was the one with the worst power! Out of all the elements - Wind, Water, Fire, Earth no one wanted to be Heart. "I can make fire explode out in a vortex!" "I can call elephants and gazelles to help us!" Lame.

Food TV: Chopped

I'll bet Ted Allen regrets taking this glamour shot...

I'VE NOW BEEN HOME for over a week which means I've managed to indulge in America's favorite pasttimes - shopping, eating and watching TV. As a real tribute to Uncle Sam, I've opted to supersize my partaking of all three. For the third one - watching TV - I've stayed glued to my favorite channel of all time: Food Network. Only in America would they have an entire channel full of food related content. God bless America!

Over the last year, I've been diligently (read: obsessively) following Top Chef Season 6. 16 chefs fighting it out in a kitchen to create meals under intense time pressures complete with sharp knives, people falling and arguments! Riveting stuff. This last season was particularly wonderful and arrogant with such inspired comments like: "Oh, I guess to win, you just need to tell the judges you have cancer" and "The dishes Kevin makes are like the ones I made on my day OFF." However, unlike shows like Top Model and even Project Runway, the majority of the contestants this season were extraordinarly talented and intelligent.

Food skills > sewing skills > having an eating disorder and making bimbo remarks skills.

Michael Voltaggio, the chef who made a comment about Kevin, had received a Michelin star at 26 and Kevin Gillespie, whose restaurant I made a beeline for when I went back to Atlanta, had gotten a full scholarship to MIT prior to pursuing being a chef. Even Eli, the guy who made the crack about cancer, had some pretty serious kitchen skills that called for respect even with that amazingly douchey comment.

Unfortunately for Food Network however, Top Chef airs on Bravo and in an attempt, to compete with it, FN came up with Chopped, a competitive cooking show which centers around four chefs charged with creating a 3 course meal using ingredients that aren't revealed until the beginning of each course. One chef is eliminated or "chopped" per course until the last one standing is given $10,000.

Chopped is terrible.

The final dishes look sloppy and unappetising as if the contents of the pan just threw up onto the plate, the judges make comments that are about as illuminating as dead lightening bugs and what did they do to Ted Allen (the host)? I love that guy and wish fervently for him to be my gay buddy in some sort of alternate daydream universe where I have the body of Heidi Klum and spend my days eating creme brulee. Anyways, Ted Allen is normally so lovely with his dry wit but being on Chopped seems to have sucked him of any sort of personality. It's like the show is hosted by a board... a chopping board. HAHA.

The worst part in Chopped however would have to be the contestants. Every single one is annoying with some strange quirk that is probably meant to make them endearing but in reality just makes them obnoxious. There was the severe-looking vegan chef with thin lips from the pilot episode. I will say it here and now: You cannot be vegan or vegetarian and still command respect as a chef. It's like being a diplomat but religiously avoiding over half the cultures in the world. Ridiculous. Then there's the Cartman sounding chef who brayed his way through episode two. I can't give any more examples because I stopped watching after that. Watching paint dry felt more meaningful.

Food competition fail Food Network.

Cheap eats: Michelin starred dishes starting at $1.50

ASIDE FROM HAVING a name that sounds like a lead character in a Chinese children's book involving sea creatures, Tim Ho Wan - a tiny dim sum eatery in Hong Kong - is notable for being awarded a Michelin star last month. With dishes starting around 20HKD, this makes it the cheapest Michelin star rated restaurant in the world. When I read the news, I actually squealed out loud and did a little dance...at my desk where I sit in the middle of an open plan office. Note to self - work on internal celebrations.

For full article click here.

If anyone is in/will be around Hong Kong please, please, plllllllllllllease go to this restaurant and give me a blow by blow account so I can eat vicariously through you. Yum.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Hope everyone's heads are filled with sugarplums dancing and your troubles are far away. xoxo.

Home Update: I've arrived on a jet plane!

Driving down I-75

AFTER WHAT felt like a lifetime in the air, I'm finally back in Atlanta for a short 2-day stop by before I drive down to Jacksonville with my parents. No work and unfettered, internet freedom means (drum roll) HOLIDAY UPDATES! (Cue applause and enthusiastic screaming)

PART ONE: The trip across the ocean

My flight in one word: Long.

First thing: Delta stopped running direct flights to Atlanta (thanks economic recession!) and so that meant a 2 hours stop over in Detroit which made the trip nearly 20 hours in total. Second thing: for the last five years of shuttling between the US and China, I've had phenomenal luck in getting seats in rows that have been partially or fully empty. The flight I just had definitively marks the day when my. luck. ran. out.

First leg (SH->Detroit)
Being short is definitely a handy trait when it comes to air travel. Normally, I get a window seat and promptly curl up and zzz my way through the trip; however, this time (horrors!) I was stuck in an aisle seat. For tall people aisle seat = more leg room. For a person with short, little legs, aisle seat = sitting with your body angled like a half open lounge chair as your ass simultaneously turns numb and sore at the same time. Also, being in the aisle seat meant that I had the annoying task of getting up for the people sitting on the inside.

It could just be Atlanta pride but I normally feel like Delta is like the Singapore Air amongs American airline providers. I mean it's main competitors are providers such as airTran (infamous for no frills flights) and United Air (which for awhile affectionaly dubbed 'Unsafe Air') so competition isn't exactly stiff. But still, when I book a Delta flight, I feel like it should bring some assurance of quality.

Not this time my friends. Not. this. time.

The attendants were totally surly. One in particular was on some sort of Headmistress Trunchbowl power kick, totally abusing the speaker system (which conveniently linked to the headphone system and paused whatever on flight program you were watching at the time) to bark out orders at the same 3 passengers who couldn't sit still. Obviously, it's annoying dealing with people who don't have the common sense to keep seated as the plane was buffetted around like the salad inside a McSalad Shaker (remember those?) but it would have been a lot more practical and a lot less disruptive if he just told the people directly to sit themselves down vs gunning it for the intercom. Then again, it's probably more fun yelling in stereo at an entire plane.

The food was abysmal. Airplane food has a bad reputation and Delta's culinary offerings this last trip did little to reverse that stereotype. My "roasted chicken" (off the "Western Choices" part of the menu) was pallid, stringy and obviously boiled. It was served with a tomato slop and chinese rice. That in combination with in-flight snack (a waxy cheese and turkey sandwhich) and the bland, leathery omlette taught me a valuable lesson of getting into the habit of packing my own meals when it comes to long flights.

The cherry on the top of this 13 hour flight came when the woman in the seat in front of me, while rifling through overhead compartment, dropped her purse on my head. Wonderful.

The transfer - Detroit Airport
We landed on time which meant I had a little bit under two hours to go through immigration, find my bags, go through customs, recheck my bags, get my boarding pass for my connecting flight and go through security. I'm already incredibly nervous when I travel and was reduced to quietly doing deep breathing exercizes in a pathetic attempt to not panic when we ended up sitting at the gate for an extra 30 minutes because the airport attendants NEVER REALIZED WE LANDED. How you manage to miss a massive, Boeing 747 ?

After finally getting off the plane and going through immigration, I found myself frantically trying to locate my two bags as the aiport obviously decided it wanted punish everyone traveling alone by splitting up the luggage between two carousels. Welcome home!

Second leg - Detroit to Atlanta
Miracles of miracles after a hectic run through the Detroit Airport, I managed to catch my flight just in time, snagging a window seat to boot. I promptly folded my body into my normal sleep position and passed out for...10 minutes. That's when the child behind me began to wail the mantra in long, drawn out sobs, "QUEEeeeEEEEEeeeee LooooOOOOOOOOOOOOO EEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeS mAAAAAAAaaaaAAAAAA AIEEEEEE!" It reminded me of both terrible, warbling karaoke and "Ken Li" which might have funny had he not continued unremittingly for the next THIRTY minutes until he basically passed out from lack of oxegyn getting to his brain.

During the height of his distress my seat neighbor, a large boned, solomn faced woman with short brown hair leaned over and whispered to me in a strong Eastern Europe accent, "Vy doesn't ze mother just HOLD heem?!" As she said the last part, her eyes widened and she made a motion that resembled a wrestler choke hold. That part of the ride was pretty cool.

After I landed in Atlanta I met up with an old college friend who's just finishing up is third year of medical school. During the drive over, I told him about the wailing kid whereupon he mused why they don't give children sedatives on planes. It was a statement that defined why are such good friends.

long hiatus

When I turned the big 1-0 my parents threw me a birthday party at the local roller skating rink and bought me my first diary. At the time, I was existing on a heavy diet of Baby Sitters Club and Sweet Valley books and was absolutely convinced that this diary would be what would complete my life. It would become my closest confidant, be the secret keeper to my most secretest thoughts, an invaluable record the intricacies of my every day. It wouldn't just stop there. It would be the first in what would eventually grow to be a multi-volume collection of mini-autobiographies detailing my incredibly interesting life.

It would be something I would sit down with my own daughter and browse though, our mother-daughter bond growing ever stronger as we giggled over my crush on Alan Lovehart and his amazingly green braces. It would serve as an archive of anecdotes for my later autobiography after I'd "made it." The musings I would fill the diary with would be perhaps so profound, so inspirational, so artfully crafted that one day I'd leave my diary lying around and the sheer genius contained within those pages would draw a world renown literary agent to sign me on as the world's youngest authoress. The fact that the predominant location of the diary would be under my bed, never mind the extreme unlikelihood that anyone world renown would reside in Kennesaw, Georgia never entered my young, delusional head. As I clutched that cloth covered book with its garish rose and wildflower motif, I was just so ready. It was going to be amazing! No, better than amazing. "SUPER amazing." I scribbled enthusiastically in my first entry.

Seven years later, I found the diary, wedged between my mattress and box spring still a quarter empty. By that point, the Internet had hit and everyone was too busy setting up Geocities websites and AIM accounts to put pen to paper and I abandoned even the feeblest attempts at trying to fill up the rest of its pages altogether. As of today, I think I may still have it somewhere but have a suspicion that I actually destroyed it after reading one too many badly written and cringe-inducing entries on my middle school years.

This foray down memory lane is a rather long winded way of explaining my sudden disappearance since April. Work, the subsequent Chinese net nanny censure of blogger and washing my hair has distracted me from my once voracious blogging habits. It's true - I am a lazy updater but, on the bright side, at least I'm consistent.

it would be so awesome if...

...This was the playlist:

1. Don't know when but a day is gonna come - Bright Eyes
2. Attack of the 60 Ft. Lesbian Octapus - Does it Offend You, Yeah?
3. Time to Get Away - LCD Soundsystem
4. Call 1-800 Fear - Lali Puna
5. I'm Not Crazy - Matchbox 20

Costume weekends

I've become one of those crazy people who dress up their animals for photographs. Simon's being a pretty good sport though although this is seconds before he clawed off my new Fake Bans. Unfortunately for him and luckily for my Fake Bans, I had trimmed his nails that day. Claw fail. Sunglasses cat photo success.

summer mom hiatus part two

NEXT STOP: DAN YANG
My mother's side of the family, the Chen clan of Xuzhou, was always a neat and compact group consisting of one aunt, one uncle, one cousin, one grandfather and (up until a few years ago) one grandmother.

My father's side of the family however, the Ouyang clan hailing from Danyang, are a much harder group to pin down. With my grandfather, my step grandmother, my three uncles, my four aunts, my multiple cousins, my cousin's new son, my cousin's wife, her relatives, other step relatives and, finally on top of all that, good family friends who are like relatives, the exact family members I hear/see/find out about on any one trip to Dan Yang always felt like a nebulous, amoeba-like number, constantly in flux.

Since the Chen clan numbers are so diminutive (my cousin has since moved to Beijing and my uncle often goes away on business trips), family activities in Xuzhou consist primarily of slightly staid, intimately small gatherings. Each time I leave Xuzhou, my memories are filled with Polaroid-like pictures of one-on-one interactions - my grandfather showing me how words are conjugated in his latest dictionary, my aunt and my mom sitting together drinking tea, a simple, home cooked meal.

My times in Danyang are infinitely different. A far cry from the quiet snapshot memories from Xuzhou, my Danyang memories flow in a crazy raucous reel of gluttonous feasting and drinking amid an endless stream of rapid chatter in Danyang-tinged Mandarin. Meals melt into conversations melt into family members popping in melt into family members popping out melting into familiar faces melting into soon-to-be familiar faces. The weekend passes in a fast and frenetic and by the time it comes to leave, I'm enveloped in more or less a perpetual food daze and a good ten pounds heavier.

At one of our last family banquets this visit, my Danyang grandfather was asked to make a toast. A slender man with an angular jaw and dramatically heavy eyes, my Danyang grandfather is the polar visual opposite of my soft, jellybean Xuzhou grandfather. Standing up from his chair, Danyang grandfather is pushing 6 foot, tall by Chinese standards. He raises his glass, filled with a blindingly strong homemade wine,and announces with gravity, "I am very happy tonight. I am happy because we are all together, under one roof. There are four generations here and there will be more to come. I feel lucky to be able to see this day. We have been through much but working together we've made it through them. This is the true fortune of having a family. We are together. We are one." The table top shakes as glasses clink on and above it.

Growing up in the States meant that I saw very little of my relatives from either Xuzhou or Danyang. In the decades I spent in another country, I had visited China only a handful of times and most of my communications those relatives were exchanged by way of my parents. During my visits, I couldn't help but always feel a disconnect between me and the rest of my China family. Sure we were related but in terms of how well we knew each other, we might as well have been strangers.

That night, after my grandfather's speech, I looked around the room and felt a new warmth spread through my body. In the smiling faces, I saw my parents, I saw myself, I saw where I came from - the past generations, the new generation and me. And all those years of my parent's telling me about how family is the most important thing you have in your life finally clicked. I felt something that night that ran deeper than just familial obligation. I felt a connection in that room that ran beyond the erasing grasp of time or distance. I felt the connection of of blood.

summer mom hiatus part one

Sometime mid-April, Mom came to visit, staying with me in my cramped, studio apartment. For the next three weeks we bickered and made up and bickered again as Chinese mothers and daughters are wont to do (especially when they share small confined spaces). Amidst the emotional explosions and home cooked meals, we also took two weekend journeys along the eastern China coast to visit both sides of my extended family.

FIRST STOP: XUZHOU
My mother's side of the family lives in Xuzhou. When I tell people this, they often say, "Suzhou? That must be nice." and then I have to explain that I'm in fact not going to SUzhou but XUzhou.

For those who don't know, Suzhou is filled with sprawling Chinese gardens and ponds covered with lush, platter-sized water lilies, Xuzhou is filled with dirty buildings and coal smog. In the past Suzhou served a favored vacationing spot for the Imperial Court. Xuzhou served as a favored relocation spot for the Chinese Government seeking to punish people they deemed counter-revolutionaries. "You have some thoughts on what the Chinese government might be doing wrong do you? Why don't you and your entire family think about them in this extremely shitty town where you'll have to live forever."

I've included a link for pictures of Suzhou and wanted to do the same for Xuzhou when I came to this site that calls Xuzhou the "City of Joy." A dubbing that would be more apt would be perhaps Xuzhou, City of Coal Producing Factories or maybe Xuzhou, City of Hoteliers who try to rip you off when they see your US passport, or even Xuzhou, City where I always come down with stomach ailments that last through my stay and then some. As if unsure the moniker, "City of Joy," could adequately sell the city to potential tourists unfamiliar with the Xuzhou's charms, the site also has a variety of obviously doctored snapshots of the city

When I was little, Mom bought me a box of Trix. The box promised that the inside contents yielded not just corn syrup enriched sugar pellets but also A MAGICAL COLOR CHANGING SPOON!! An ordinary spoon when dry, this magical wonder would turn a vivid shade of neon pink when immersed in milk (and apparently according to the drawing on the box, it might also emit a bright sunlike halo of light).

I fidgeted impatiently on the entire ride home and even before my mom had taken the key out of the car ignition, I had leaped out of the car, dashing for the kitchen with my prize. I ripped open the box and lo and behold, there it was, AN ORDINARY SPOON. I grabbed milk out of the fridge, sloshed it into a bowl and stuck my spoon in. Nothing happened. I stirred it around and looked...hard. The tip of the spoon had darkened slightly to a sickly orange hue. I dipped the spoon in the milk for a third time. The orange hue spread slightly. Needless to say, it didn't emit a bright sunlike halo of light. A near-euphoric high of expectation was replaced by the heavy depression of disappointment. Tricked by Trix.

Unless you have an awesome grandfather who lives in Xuzhou like I do, going to there armed with only the images and information garnered from Xuzhou, City of Joy website will yield you much the same experience as my Trix spoon fail. That being said, I DO have a lovely grandfather and an aunt who enjoys giving me presents there. These two factors change Xuzhou from a city that I would never, ever, ever, ever want to visit to a city that I don't mind (and actually kind of look forward to) going to...once in awhile (usually when I forget how bad the stomach issues were during the last trip).

My grandmother passed away a few years ago. After that happened, Grandfather moved out of his apartment to live with my aunt and uncle. Never a slim man in his youth, my grandfather has gotten decidedly more vertically compact and jelly bean shaped in his old age. I know I may be a little biased but my Xuzhou grandfather might just be the most adorable grandfather ever. I mean let's just look at the facts - deep baritone voice, shuffling gate, a santa clause belly, twinkly eyes, an insatiable sweet tooth and a strange fondness for giving me old dictionaries and odd promotional pamphlets that other people would just throw away but he keeps = extreme adorability.

And so that weekend, after Mom and I visited my grandmother's grave, I spent quite a bit of time sitting with my grandfather in his room, leafing through a pamphlet on the benefits of bee pollen that he had been saving just for this particular occasion and eating M+M's, one by one.

eavesdropping and profile sketches

ONE: Overheard conversation while waiting for mom at airport arrivals gate:

Indian babies truely so beautiful! But they are only beautiful when young. They grow up and no longer pretty. Skin too dark.

TWO: More profile pictures fresh off the presses and on their way to a Facebook profile near you.

Christian


Lucy

drawings: facebook profile pictures first batch

It all started with this...
Jamie: can i ask an exceptionally vain question?
me: yeah. go.
Jamie: just seen the photos jordan put up on facebook. seen them?
me: yeah?
Jamie: hao ma?
me: you look fine. it's cute.
Jamie: facebook profile worthy?
me: oh.
no.
Jamie: ha ha
me: do you want me to draw you one?
Jamie: yes please

Jamie + Tilly


Me+Simon


Jordan + Tilly


More to come! (and yes, I'm taking requests)

infestation!!

There are few things that irrationally scare me more than insects. I don't mean scared as in like "ew, bugs are gross." I mean body-gripping, throat-tightening, arms-flailing, trembling-in-a-corner scared. When I was little, it was only really obvious ones that scared me - cockroaches, large spiders, crickets, moths basically anything larger than half an inch I kept wide berth from but the older I get, the larger my circle of fear becomes.

When I was 8, a dragonfly landed on my arm and clutched on with its spindly legs. All I can remember from that encounter was the way its sticky grip felt along my arm, the way it's bulbous eyes kept staring straight at me and the cold, all encompassing fear that filled my entire body. In the end, after what felt like eons of furious arm flailing the creature decided it was bored of its perch and lazily buzzed away. Even to this day, I get a nervous flutter when I see dragonflies in my vicinity.

When I was 11, I was getting into my parents' car when I noticed a what looked like a butterfly sticker stuck onto the pavement. I leaned in closer and felt my body tense and my stomach lurch - it was a dead monarch butterfly that must have gotten run over by our car. There it was laying there, perfectly flat, plastered like some decal ironed onto our driveway. Lifeless. Disgusting. And that was how butterflies were added to my ever expanding neurotic repertoire of bug paranoia.

My most scarring bug experience however, occurred one sunny afternoon when I was in college. My friend Amy and I were walking along a quiet, residential road in Decatur on our way to some bohemian, outdoorsy festival being held in the Virgina Highlands when suddenly Amy stopped and fidgeted.

"I think a leaf fell into my shirt," she said turning to me, "I can't seem to shake it out, would you mind taking a look?"

I peeked down the back of her shirt. Squirming against the small of her back and the loose yellow fabric of her tee-shirt was a buggy eyed insect with spindly legs and long, translucently veined wings. My worst nightmare had been realized. Inner world implodes. My memory of the events that followed are rather hazy as I'm pretty sure my brain promptly shut down out of blind fear.

Afterwards, Amy told me that as soon as I had looked down her shirt, my eyes got this crazy look in them and in a matter of seconds, my face had turned ashen. At first she wasn't freaked out but then I started hyperventilating and gasping something about "wings! wings!" In short, I started having a panic attack and became completely incomprehensible.

I remember trying to put as much distance between Amy and I as possible but failing spectacularly as Amy by then had clenched onto me with a vice-like grip and proceeded to whack me repeatedly with her free hand. All the while she kept yelping, her voice rising an octave with each repetition, "WHAT'S IN MY SHIRT? WHAT'S IN MY SHIRT??"

In the melee, the bug I suppose decided that everything was getting a bit too hectic for his liking and flew off. Of course Amy and I were so busy mutually driving each other to higher states of hysterics that we didn't even notice when the winged menace left. I can only imagine what an insane sight we must have been to all the residents looking out from their windows. Two girls flipping out in broad daylight to an invisible assailant. Embarrassing.

Today, I walked out of my apartment and was greeted by sunshine and warm winds. Pleasant surprise. I walked to my office and found the walls of the bottom floor dotted with small fruit flies. Unpleasant surprise.

I put the memory out of my mind and went to my desk. I was enjoying my morning breakfast of orange juice and a meat bun when all of a sudden, I saw a fly the size of a large California raisin buzzing around my cubical. I immediately froze up like a deer in the headlights and felt the familiar creep of incapacitating fear. I watched powerlessly on as it had its way with all my mini foods moving from my mini ice creams over to my mini airline tray and finally on my mini pastries collection (nooo! not my mini doughnut eraser!!). After it had satisfied itself it flew off, circling my head twice to make sure I knew who was boss. I haven't seen it since but needless to say, today has been quite stressful.

Nanjing pictoral: surfaces

When I lived in Beijing my very talented friend with the hippiest name ever (Oak Taylor Smith) did this photo series called Numbers that documented Beijing's fight against xiao guang gao (grafitti like advertisments that are illegally painted onto surfaces consisting of a phone number and a simple description of the type of service offered - water, visas, etc). For years, these ad scrawls covered Beijing's walls, sidewalks and even telphone poles until the summer before the Olympics when the Beijing government began an aggressive campaign to paint over all of them.

Soon a pattern emerged where someone would post their xiao guang gao, the goverment would then paint over it , someone else scrawls their ad on the newly blank surface, the goverment paints over that and so on. Typical to China, the paint used to cover the ads were always a different color; however, atypical to China, rather than looking like crap, this actulaly created an unexpectedly lovely layered effect when photographed at close range. Street Rothko!

Ever since I saw Oak's photos, I've been fastidiously taking my own surface pictures. Below are a few near the front gate of Nanjing Normal University (insert clever joke about what Nanjing Abnormal University might be like):

Nanjing pictoral: night scenes

The first night we arrived in the city we herded over to Nanjing's historic Confucious Temple. Back in day, scores of aristocrataic hopefuls would come to this destination to to take the imperial examinations in an effort to gain admittance into the emperor's entourage of advisors and ambassadors. Nowadays, this once august landmark is surrounded by a warren-like maze cluttered with small shops selling kitch, tat and food on sticks. It's glittery, its crowded, it's neon-riffic.

Nanjing pictoral: the things we ate

Other than apparently being known for being the Bible printing capital of the world and the place where the Japanese plowed down over 100,000 people in the period of three months (eek!), Nanjing is also known for its amazing food (yum!). With roads constantly lined with sprawling plane trees and small vendors selling steamers full of delicious street buns and pastries, we walked and ate our way through the city over the long weekend.

Candied fruit kebabs


Roadside scallion pancakes

Candy art man and groupies

The lost art of cotton candy pulling

Nanjing pictoral: trains, incense, mountains and massacres

Sometimes with my job I feel like I'm having the boarding school experience I never had when I was actually in high school. We spend the majority of our lives in the same place, 95% of my social interactions outside the office involve at least two or more work friends and if I organize any gathering without inviting the whole "gang" someone gets inevitably upset and sends passive aggressive texts/emails to me for the next week. How old are we again?

Two weekends ago, a herd of my work friends and I took a train trip up to Nanjing for the Tomb Sweeping Holidays. We didn't sweep any tombs but we did burn incense at a temple where buddahs were carved into the rock face, hiked up a mountain to see Sun Yat Sen's mausoleum and the Ming Tombs, and visited to the Nanjing massacre museum so I suppose we paid our respects to the dead in one form or another.


Nanjing train station


In this week's episode of "Super Tourist"...


Sun Yat Sen mausoleum. All the people here are secretly wondering, "We waited in line for half an hour for this??"


Qixia Temple grottos




View from the top



Paying respects

company confidential: cutbacks in hell - an email from lucifer

An extraordinary email has come our way from the underworld aka Hell. Drafted by the company's CEO/Ruler Lucifer McSkittle and sent to all staff. Guess the economic crisis is really hitting all corners of the universe now...

To: Hell Minions Company List
From: Lucifer McSkittle
Sent: Tues 4/24/2009 10:21am
Subject: Ch-Ch-Changes

Greetings Minions,

There is no easy way to begin this email so I will get right to the point – due to several miscalculations in the past year in the Florida housing market in the last fiscal year, and an inability to reach our projections for Q1, company budgets within the Eternal Judgment Group
are being re-evaluated across the board.

In the face the deteriorating economy, both Hell and Heaven management are sharpening and deepening our focus on cost savings in an effort to preserve jobs. I want to take this time to assure you that we are not considering layoffs at this time here in Hell; however, a number of
out-of-the-box changes will be made effective immediately to make sure we can meet our targeted projections for the rest of this year.

The changes are detailed below:

1. LIMBO RESTRUCTURE
First and foremost, I would like to address a topic that has been widely debated over the past month. As we are all aware, ever since the Different Culture Fairness Act of 1912 and the widespread usage of the “I didn’t know God existed” defense, numbers in Limbo have dropped
drastically. Due to the cost inefficiencies of keeping this department open, Board of Directors voted last month to disband Limbo.

Since then numerous petitions have been submitted and reviewed. Unfortunately, while your petitions were unanimously signed by everyone in Limbo, 27 signatures are not nearly enough to reverse the board’s decision. Moreover, avoiding people you’d rather not meet in Heaven does not provide adequate justification for why this department is necessary. That being said, all of you are valued employees and we appreciate your past contributions so I have aligned with top
management and I believe we have found a solution that will satisfy everyone’s needs.

As one of the oldest non-profit organizations in history, a portion of our expenses here in Hell has always been covered through charitable contributions. During these tough economic times, giving has been at an all time low. Starting Monday, Limbo will be reinstated as a sub-branch of the Marketing and Communications department. It will oversee all our telemarketing and fundraising endeavors as we launch an aggressive campaign to re-engage our supporters. We need refocus on cultivating and deepening our B2C relationships. Remember, it’s not how much they give; it’s that we maintain their habit of giving.

Sidenote: I think it would behoove us to look into starting a new corporate givings incentive program as well. Julie, could you have someone in MnC look into getting the tobacco and weapons trading industry call lists to Sally in Limbo end of play today? Also, Mike let’s have Accounting look into what kinds of special tax benefits we can wrangle for the corporations who give (if we’re able to get extra tax breaks, it would be smart to target AIG first). Let's all circle
back re this issue at next Tuesday's company meeting.

2. NEW FLATTENED COMPANY STRUCTURE
Aside from Limbo being merged with MnC, the rest of our original 9-circle organizational hierarchy will be replaced with a more democratic, flattened system in an effort to reduce redundancies. Our original structure has caused inefficiencies and confusion across the
entire company. Starting next week, Hell will be a one size fits all solution. I want everyone thinking in terms of Krispy Kreme, not Starbucks.

3. AGGRESSIVE ACTION AGAINST BOOTLEG HELLS
We have been aware of certain humans creating their own personal versions of hell up on earth for quite some time now; however, in better economic times, we were able to turn a blind eye to it. We no longer have that luxury. In recent months, the number of copycat hells (most notable being the Personal Finance Hell and the Married to a Shopaholic Hell) has skyrocketed out of control.

Hell has been copyrighted since the early 1800’s and therefore we are entitled licensing fees. Larry, let’s get the Legal Department on this one right away. These new pirate versions of Hell are costing us thousands every week! Additionally, we will begin a new aggressive in-house PR campaign to remind people that there’s only one true Hell and that is ours. I expect everyone to post this news on their Facebooks and Twitter (don’t think I don’t notice you checking those
sites during work hours).

4. ETERNAL DAMNATION SCALE BACK
Eternal damnation has always been a standard incentive in our customer package; however, in recent years the number of patrons in Hell has gone up exponentially. Currently the cost of us keeping this incentive is roughly twice the profit it brings in. Instead of offering eternal damnation, new patrons will be offered a scaled back version – Extended Lifetime Damnation.

Due to the grandfather clause in our current patrons' contracts, we have to honor their rights to Eternal Damnation (Larry, let’s have Legal look into this for any loopholes). For the time being however, we will be begin offering current patrons an extra two months access to our gymnasium and a brand new pewter pitchfork should they switch to the Extended Lifetime Damnation Plan. ALL HELL STAFF ARE EXPECTED TO JOIN IN THIS EFFORT. As an extra incentive, all employees of the department that converts the most patrons will receive a $1,000 post tax bonus. This money will be taken from the salaries from employees in the other departments who failed to convert as many patrons.

Sidenote: Due to poor economic performance, Hell will not be giving out any other annual bonuses or promotions this year.

5. ENERGY CONSERVATION
Massive amounts of money are spent on heating and gas bills every month to keep Hell at this temperature. In an effort to be more environmentally friendly and cost effective, Hell will turn the furnaces off every Monday and Wednesday. Please prepare accordingly as it can get quite cold. The Hell gift shop has already begun sourcing the latest winter wear from our sister store, Wal-Mart so that we can enjoy always low prices, everyday.

I am aware that these changes may very well be painful as is the way when companies restructure; however let us all keep in mind that, in the end, these changes will be what will propel our company, pushing us to greater heights. Hell remains in the leadership position in the
greater universe and, irrespective of the downturn, is still regarded as the best option in the eyes of many clients.

We started out as a small company with a big vision. We are now a big company with an even bigger vision but still the heart of a small company. Now is the time for us to look to the future rather than dwelling the past. Let us take that great leap forward.

Cheers,
Lucifer McSkittle
CEO/Ruler of the Underworld
Eternal Judgment Group

P.S. Due to low productivity and the rise in psychological health care costs, fallen angels can no longer remain in Hell. Starting Monday, we will begin a month long relocation program to return you back to your original residences.

P.P.S. For this month only, all sweaters will be 10% off at the Hell gift shop for full time employees only.

here comes the sun

feeling infinite.

now the evening news report brought to you by dad

I was chatting with my dad online about the girl renting our condo in Atlanta. Apparently there have been a few stray dogs wandering around the area which freaked her out. My mom's solution was to tell her to carry an umbrella around with her at all times, opening and closing it intermittently, to defend herself against the dogs.

Dad: A small Korean girl lives in our condo, she drives a big van, carries a long umbrellar always in and out, is it a vivid picture.

Me: Hahah. that's really awesome.

Dad: Well, you get it. By the way, 1) Obarma is in Turky to make a peace with Islum. 2) An earth quake in Italy. 3) March 18, Chinese government turned down a buying deal proposed by Coca Cola.

think before you speak

When I lived in Beijing, I found the place populated with a very specific type of expat male - the I'm a Foreigner so I am God's Gift to Women kind. In short, they were letches with swelled egos due to the sheer overabundance of easy, local girls. Guys with no marketable skills in either the job, money, personality or look departments could land a girlfriend (or at the very least a girl for the night) if they had even just a tenuous grasp of the Chinese language. Sometimes, it felt like it didn't even take them learning any Chinese at all. They could just smile idiotically and a local girl would land in their laps.

In the face of such a buyers market, normal boys who were most likely "nice guys" back in their home countries turned a total Dr. Jekyl/Mr. Hyde and just went insane. It was a common occurrence to see not one, not two but a bar full of men chasing after girls who were many, many times out of their leagues charmlessly yelling, "NI HEN PIAO LIANG! (You're very beautiful!)" with the overblown confidence of people who have clearly lost their minds.

While this has happened to me countless times, the one instance that really sticks out happened during the Beijing Midi Music Festival. Dusk had fallen and I was ambling towards the exit after a day of rock, breathing in the warm night air, totally lost in thought. Suddenly my reverie was rudely interrupted by a group of three Americans. In an unbelievably brash move that they probably would never have attempted back in the States, someone in their posse reached over and grabbed my arm, pulling me towards him shouting (despite the fact that by that point I was mere inches away from his stupid face), "NI HEN PIAO LIANG!" as his equally stupid friends laughed.

By that time, it had gotten pretty dark so all I saw was some dark form grab me and it freaked me out to the extent that I yanked my arm away so forcefully I nearly threw him to the ground. I suppose I added insult to surprise injury when I then shrieked, "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME ASSHOLE!"

Through the darkness I saw all their dumbfounded surprise as the wheels clicked slowly away in their dimmed brains (Chinese looking girl -> Speaks perfect english -> Used colloquial grammer structure and curse word -> maybe not from China? -> Mistake). As I stomped away I faintly heard one of them yell, "NI BU HEN PIAO LIANG! (You are not pretty!)"

So that was Beijing, a city where accosting a girl is the most charming thing most guys can think of to approach her.

Since I moved to Shanghai, I haven't been really been bothered by any guys who have tried to pick me purely on the merit of him being foreign. Most of them will attempt intelligent conversation or at the very least pretend that they have a lot of money. After not having contact with the I'm Special Because I'm Foreign expat guy for so long, I nearly forgot that they existed until a couple weeks ago when one tried to pick not just me up but my friend Y all in one, rather unimpressive swoop.

Y and I were intently rifling through a book cart on a street corner. For those of you not versed in book carts, a very Shanghai thing, they are literally vendors towing wooden carts full of bootlegged books. The selection is not that great and consists of a pretty schizophrenic selection of books from either A list (Malcolm Gladwell) or D list (Sophie Kinsella) authors but still each book costs only USD3 so they tend to be well worth a browse.

I had just picked up Huxley's Brave New World when I heard a voice next to me.

"I read that."

I turn and saw a short, squat, 30 something with beady eyes and a balding head.

"Yeah, is it good?" I asked silently wondering why good looking males never seem to browse bootleg book carts.

"It's okay." he pauses and then continues carefully articulating his words as if speaking to a child "Did you know? That author is a verrrry famous author,"

Y let out a loud snort of repressed laughter and I felt my inner nerd prickling with indignance. "I know he's famous." I glared.

"Thanks for telling us though. That was so... helpful." Y chimed in, her voice laced with barely contained mean girl glee.

I'll have to give it to baldy. While most guys would have taken the hint from the way I was stabbing him with my pupiles and left he continued, "Oh. Yeah. You girls look pretty smart."

Silence.

"You know how I know you girls are smart?" he continued unfazed.

"How?"

"Your English is so good."

This was so unexpected that it caused Y and I to stop and turn to look at him incredulously.

Finally Y spoke, "Gee, thanks."

Sensing he may have misspoke, the guy faltered. "Oh, you girls aren't from Shanghai are you?"

"No."

"Are you students?" he pressed on hopefully.

I guess for some people, if you can't be a local, the next best thing is if you're a student. Financial desperation is almost a good a target as passport desperation for a smarmy guy with not many - or any - redeeming qualities?

"No," I replied evenly, my eyes unconsciously narrowing (Y later told me that I looked like I was about to club him over the head with my copy of Brave New World), "are you a student?"

"No, I work for a magazine," bald man said uncomfortably, shrinking away from my gaze.

"Oh really? Do tell us. Which one?" I purred venomously.

"You wouldn't have heard of it. It's a magazine for..." he pauses and on his face, I saw a look that seemed oddly reminiscent and then I remembered - it was that all too familiar look of wheels turning in a dim head that I had seen guys from Beijing get. Memory lane! "...It's a magazine for doctors!" he finished looking at us obviously hoping that we wouldn't question him further.

Much to his relief, Y and I decided to let it drop. We paid for our books and headed on our way. As I carried that armful of books down the road I thought how funny it was that I had already been treated to a story that night without having to read a thing.

fixed routes and baby steps

There are many things in life that I'm pretty good at. There are some things that I dare say I'm pretty excellent at. Directional sense however is definitely not one of them. In fact, it's so far off the list that it's pretty much in the orbit of say... Pluto?

When I lived in Atlanta, I would frequent this Korean hair salon off of Delk Rd. Every, single time I went, I would get lost and end up driving around for an hour looking for Delk Road in spite of the fact me being there just a few months ago and Delk Road being a massive 5 laner right off the highway. Most embarrassingly was that despite Delk Road being completely straight, I'd always turn onto it and drive in the exact opposite direction of the hair salon. I'd continue driving, getting angrier by the minute, until I'd finally huffily admit my mistake half an hour later and turn my car around thinking, "I can't believe this has happened again!" Then I got a GPS system and it felt like what cavemen felt when they discovered fire. It was pretty magical.

My directional sense fails me not just in the real world but also in the virtual world. I can't even begin to numerate how many times I found myself shot dead playing Halo or some other video game that involved navigating a labyrinthine space because I ended up getting myself stuck in some corner...staring straight up at the ceiling/sky unable to get a sense of where I'm actually supposed to go. You would think that the joy that comes from shooting a player who is bumbling around in a corner would eventually decrease with time but not with my friends. Their happiness only ratcheted up with each subsequent virtual attack. I don't play Halo anymore.

When I first moved to Beijing I got lost so much that I bought a compass. A compass. To navigate a city. I'll let the ridiculousness of that marinate for awhile. Unfortunately for me, buying a compass does you no good when you can't figure out which direction your destination is in the first place. I spent a lot of time riding in cabs in Beijing. This was fine since Beijing is a notoriously pedestrian unfriendly city with their mile long street blocks, multi-lane roads and infamous pollution.

After I moved to Shanghai's French Concession area with its smaller, more walkable street blocks, I discovered that walking could actually be nice - Nay, dare I say it? enjoyable - and finally I was forced to deal with what can only be described as my acute directional deficiencies head on. I started to memorize specific routes to places that I frequent and I adhere to those routes with the commitment of an obsessive compulsive. As a result however, I have become pretty proficient in navigating my neighborhood.

After a lifetime of directional fails, I had my first directional success just the other day. I had taken a wrong turn (quite accidentally) and found myself off my regular route to somewhere. Rather than calling my cab (money > map) I decided to attempt to piece together my knowledge of the area and kept walking, my wild rolling eyes the only thing betraying my inner panic. Finally after about 5 minutes I recognized a familiar street name and then another and then I was back on track again. HOW SWEET SUCCESS TASTED! True, I had only wandered about a block away from my area of knowledge of course but still... Baby steps.

Just yesterday I went for dinner at what quite possibly was the best sushi restaurant in Shanghai. After gorging ourselves on lush cuts of fish and fried meat lollipops, S and I found ourselves shivering on the chilly streets of Shanghai along with about 10 other groups of similarly miserable looking people unsuccessfully trying to hail a cab. After 20 minutes of cab hailing fails we started walking to our next destination. Still filled with the confidence of my recent direction finding success, I took the lead and charged down the street towards the intersection only to turn around and find S still rooted in the same spot looking at me quizzically.

I think I may scornfully turned around shoutning something like, "Let's Go! What are you doing?"

He looked at me confusedly, "Where are you going?"

Feeling highly superior I responded in a clipped tone, "Don't you know? Geez, good thing you've got me to guide you. Urumuqi is right over here." To really drive home the point, I then extended my arm fully and dramatically pointed down the road.

"Um...No. Urumuqi is back there." S retorted jerking his thumb behind him.

I blanched.

"... really?"

"Yeah."

"oh."

One baby step forward. Two baby steps back.

sad but true

After graduation my friend L worked in Philly for briefly for Teach for America, a job that was riddled with stress, strife and "You won't believe what happened at school today" horror stories. One particular story that still sticks out for me was when a student brought a jar of urine to school as a prank and spilled its contents in a high-traffic hallway. The entire episode caused a huge mess and smelled horrible. While she was telling this story, the first thought that came to my head was, "Urine? That's such a legal liability." The next thought that came to my head was, "Wow, I'm soooo old and boring."

Which leads me to this cartoon, aptly titled "Old people's dreams":


Cartoon provided by the genius archives of Quantz.

lost and found

" SUBJECT: FOUND: slightly used mug and plate with original food remnants still intact

I think someone may have misplaced the following on my desk:

- 1 W+K green kit mug, slightly used. 1/4 full with tea (umber brown color) and accented by Lipton’s brand tea bag (tag, sunshine yellow color; tea bag, chocolate brown color). Note: Tea is cold.

- 1 white, ceramic plate with neo-dada like arrangement of bread crumbs and ambiguous butter smears.

I know that these possessions are probably really important to you so please stop by my desk on 4th to retrieve them. In case you left these as a surprise present for me, next time, I prefer my tea to have milk (and for the mug to be unused and for the tea to be filled to the top and hot).

xo

=d="

you can donk anything!

Awhile ago I posted about a new musical genre called Donk. I'm sure many of you had readily assumed that this particular song fad would fade out as quickly as skorts and crocs; however in the weeks that ensued from that original post, mentions of donk continue to surface. Sure the mentions mainly originate from one, rather enthusiastic donk supporter but still...

The latest and greatest in the donk world is this, a website where you can take donk into your own hands and put a donk on any song within your music library. Best part is, when you're done you can share it with friends (but probably more likely enemies and/or frenemies) via facebook/twitter. Technology is ingenious!

Sticks and Stones

A family friend of my parents was in town for 48 hours. She called me today and wanted to meet prior to her leaving town to give me a "present." Upon seeing me, her eyes widened and she immediately announced "You've gotten fatter."

Awkward pause.

"...a lot fatter. hahaha!"

And then she gave me this:


Talk about adding insult to injury.

Five Famous Chinese Food Believe it or Nots

5. Cardboard Pork Buns

What's really in these?

Technically "proven" a hoax and the offending journalist sentenced to jail for a year, the cardboard bun scandal of 2007 is an oldie but still a goodie. Just to give a bit of context for those who are not aware, in the summer of 2007, an investigative reporter went around Beijing and discovered that certain street vendors were stuffing their buns not with low grade pork (too expensive!) but cardboard that they softened with chemicals and pork flavors (cost effective!).

This created a massive outcry and panic through the city since buying pork buns from a street vendor in China is as routine and ubiquitous as picking up a morning coffee at Starbucks in the States. Luckily for everyone the Beijing authorities were on the case and hey! No need to panic citizens, the whole story was made up by a meanie head writer out to do a smear campaign on China. All the pork buns in the city are safe! Go Beijing Olympics!!

So was it a cover up or was the journalist really just out to get China? The thing is either is entirely possible. That's the thing with China. You just never really know what to believe. After an initial paranoia, the public soon returned to its old routine and street vendors selling piping hot steamers of pork buns relined Beijing streets. So far the media hasn't reported any deaths by pork bun so I guess everything's fine?

4. Fake Eggs

Um...is it supposed to do that?

DVDs, CDs, clothes, bags, furniture, cigarettes, money, computer programs, electronics, water. If there's a real thing, China's got its fake, less expensive doppelganger. Counterfeiting has become such a part of popular culture that a special Chinese slang word has been created just for it - "shanzhai" which translates to "mountain village edition." So ingrained is piracy that last month when authorities tried to raid popular Beijing fake market, Silk Street, the vendors actually fought back and protested (NOTE: for China users, you'll have to use a proxy to open this site. Thanks net nanny!).

"Oh, you're mad at us? We'll we're now mad at you. How are them apples?"

With a flotilla of Shanzhai goods on the market in every shape and size, you may think that there was couldn't possibly be anything else to add to China's fake product portfolio but then you'd be forgetting that in life, our capacity for innovation is infinite. As far back as 2006, intrepid inventors in Hebei have taken nature into their own hands perfecting the art of making shanzhai'ed eggs. After all, chickens are dirty and noisy and take up space and sometimes die. Nature is so fallible!

Using a mix of gelatin, alum and other mystery chemicals, these forward thinking capitalists create and sell their fake eggs at a fraction of the cost of the real thing without ever having to deal with a real animal (remember SARS? Who want's to deal with that again?). However, another thing we should remember is that usually man-made substitutes compared with the natural thing is like comparing a Hollywood movie to the actual book it was based on - it's just never as good. Cotton is better than polyester, Godiva is better than Hersheys, All the Pretty Horses via Cormac McCarthy is better than All the Pretty Horses via Ted Tally and so, unsurprisingly, real eggs are better than the manufactured ones. Not only do real eggs taste better, it's rumored that the excessive ingestion of alum (a key ingredient in the fake ones) can lead to dementia. I guess you get what you pay for. Or maybe not.


3. Mutant (but discounted) Fruit

More cushion for the pushin'

Speaking of getting what you paid for get a load of these discount pomelos recently purchased off the street. First reported in China Smack, these pomelos apparently are not the only fruit with thick skin.



Looks good doesn't it? Yum yum.

2. Lamb Flavored Cat Skewers

Smell's like lamb, looks like meat...

On any given night in China, you can find street vendors fastidiously fanning their charcoal grills sending billows of tasty smelling, meat laced smoke up into the sky. Next to them are coolers stockpiled with skewers of vegetables and meat. In the pageant of street snacks, lamb skewers or yang rou chrua'r are definitely the crowd favorite; however, even as you slide that hot, grilled piece of meat off the bamboo skewer and taste its juicy, gamey lamb goodness mixing with your saliva your brain can't help to think, "How can this possibly only cost RMB1?" But by that time you're in no mood for sensible thoughts and so the subsequent line of internal monologue ignores the possiblity that the meat is probably pretty poor quality or that the meat may be extremely old or that the meat may be discarded from dubious sources.

Instead, that voice inside your head yells, "You're hungry! There's delicious meat in front of you! EAT IT!!" And so, you chomp down on not one, not two a dozen or so meat skewers. After all, you're having a good time right now, carpe dieming the night and all that. Sure this skewer might be bad for you but how bad could it be?

Well, it could be cat.

Cheap and delicious!

While the consumption of cat is acknowledged to be acceptable in southern China (even local Chinese people sniff with an air of disgusted wonderment, "Those people will eat anything." whenever Guangdong is mentioned), it's become a widely rumored fact that cunning street vendors outside the designated we-actually-like-and-want-to-eat-felines areas are selling cat dressed as lamb. It's street molecular gastronomy- the cat meat is cured in a lamb's stomach to infuse in the flavors.

While some might cry foul, this whole bait 'em and switch 'em scheme seems perfectly in line with China's unique and enthusiastic capitalist-with-a-communist-slant spirit. Just think - in order to herd livestock you've got to have land, grain, farmers. It's an activity that can only be done by the elitist few.


Lambs are for elitist whores

To herd cats, you just need to run around at night with a net, an activity that could be done by the people. Ideologically sound AND efficient. Now that is impressive.

1. Baby Mice

2 cute 2 B Not eaten. LOLZ!

It's a good rule of thumb in cuisine that any dish called a delicacy is probably going to be gross. The grossest delicacies in China mostly hail from the Guangdong province. Remember the saying Chinese have for the people there? However, given this particular delicacy, you can see how most snide sayings are grounded in truth. Called Three Squeaks, this particular dish involves eating baby mice... raw.

The first squeak comes when you grab the mouse with your chopstick, the second when you dip it in sauce and the third when you bite off it's head. I would have thought it was just an urban legend except for the fact I once saw an article in a Chinese magazine about it. My written Chinese is pretty poor but the illustrations told a million words.

tall buildings shake, voices escape.

Click here for original picture

After a week of sunshine, we had heard dark rumors of rain this weekend; however after a short lived, rainy stint this morning, it seemed like clear weather was here to stay. At precisely a quarter past 11, it has started raining again in Shanghai and oh how it's started! All day today the air was warm and humid but nothing could have even started to hint at the ferocity in which this sudden lightening storm has struck.

It's as if Shanghai suffers from weather bulimia, binged itself on too many a blue sky during the week and is now spewing its guts out. One minute you're getting ready to go out on a Saturday night, next minute you're nervously watching flashes of white light explode across the sky followed by bangs and cracks so loud and sharp that your entire apartment shakes. The clouds above are like massive water balloons that are now being popped all over the city. It's literally raining buckets.

In the face of this sudden downpour my evening plans have been thrown a big, wet curveball. Rather than meeting J and A at Logo, I have instead switched on my Light playlist in iTunes (Belle and Sebastian, Sade, Air, Wilco, Death Cab and a dash of Elliot Smith), shoved a load of laundry in the machine, started on a book I've been meaning to read and, just in the last two minutes, become a human sofa for my cat Simon. All in all, it feels like it's a pretty good start for a now washed out Saturday night. Happy rainy season everyone! xo.

hold it in, let it out

The air is humid with a new warm dewiness. Could it be Spring? I hope so...


Juliane Eirich, Balloons


Found on my new favorite image site.