New year. New blog.

THIS YEAR MARKED my very first Chinese New Year in Shanghai and it was surprisingly quiet. I'm used to Beijing CNY's where the city is blanketed in a thick fog of smoke and red firecracker paper and your eardrums throb (and maybe bleed a bit if you're lucky). Good fun.

After this last week of controlled fireworking in Shanghai, I have to say that Beijing takes top place in my little pyromaniac heart for holding the best, the biggest and the most exciting CNY's - my definition of those three being of course a week's worth of deadly explosives being set off 24-7 culminating in grand finale that involves the accidental torching of a Beijing landmark.



The boyfriend came down to join in the yawn worthy Shanghai festivities and we rang in the new year eating curry and watching CCTV's Chinese New Year Performance - technically a 3 hour stage show featuring the best dance and stage performances in the country but, in reality is more like a 3 hour tack-fest where performers try to outdo one another with the amount of sequins they have stuck to their already way-too-shiny costumes.



Taking a break from our daily regimen of eating food and watching back to back episodes of the West Wing, we took a trip to Wuzhen, a small town built on canals on the south side of the Yangzte. I could go on and on about the quaint architecture and how I floated along the narrow canals in thatched boats but instead, I will save those for a later entry and tell you about my shower at the hotel. (!!!!!) You see, in my Shanghai apartment, the water pressure of my shower is so low, I feel more like my shower is drooling on me rather than covering my body with cleansing, watery goodness. Even more annoyingly, throughout the course of this winter (NOTE: Shanghai does not have central heating), I have discovered that my shower likes to fuck with me. Halfway through my shampoo, with fresh suds in my hair, it will decide to fluctuate the temperature wildly either blasting me with ice-cube like droplets of water or skin meltingly hot dribbles.

The shower in Wuzhen was like a gift sent to me by heaven spread evenly on a piece of perfectly toasted brioche and covered with nutella. I have a terrible memory but I clearly recall standing in a haze-like bliss reveling in the joys of consistent water temperature and good water pressure thinking to myself that if my shower at home got into a brawl with the shower in Wuzhen, well, let's just say it would be like a crippled kitten trying to take on Chuck Norris.