Two months later....

Well, you see, it's like this. China has this thing with the internet, see. They have all this control and they like to block information. From time to time they go a little nuts. Back around March, they blocked YouTube. I didn't realize this would affect me until I found out how much stuff is on YouTube. So it was frustrating, but what are you gonna do? Just go with the flow.

Until....

They blocked Blogger!

Yep, the host of my blog. Could not open my blog or any other blog hosted on Blogger.

Curse you, Communism!!!!

So, if you were wondering if I gave up on this blog thing, the answer is, no. I just couldn't do anything while I was in China. But right now, I am in America! I came home for a visit, so now I can update the blog and figure out how to proceed from here. I have no clue whether they will lift the block on Blogger, so I'm just going to assume they won't. I haven't decided whether to set up email posting or to move the blog to another site or get a proxy server or what. But I'll let you know asap. I go back to China after the 4th of July, so I need to figure it out before then.

Which brings me to the other chunk of news I haven't been able to share until now. David and I have moved to Jining. It's a small city of 3 million in the province of Shandong about halfway between Shanghai and Beijing. David's work wanted him closer. Despite a long, drawn out process of trying to work out a compromise that would allow us to continue living in Shanghai, moving there was our only real option in the end. We're trying to be open and positive about it, but we both know it's going to be a bit tough. At the very least, an adjustment.

I'm thankful we had a year in Shanghai to get acclimated to China a little bit before being thrown into a much more "Chinese" city. There is less English there and people are much more surprised to see foreigners. So that should be interesting. People seem very friendly, a bit like the comparison between Southerners and New Yorkers: city people are just a bit too cool, too "been there, done that, who are you?" and "small town" people are much more open and actually smile when you speak to them. Of course, they also know EVERYTHING about you and your life, but oh well.

I have not blogged about this until now because, well, the situation has been tough, on both of us. It's frustrating to feel like you don't understand what's going on or why certain things seem so much more important to other people. David will now be working most Saturdays, but he'll be coming home earlier on weeknights, so the notion that they are going to be getting more work out of him now is simply poor mathematics on their part. But it seems to be all about face time. When he's there in the office, he's working, but if they can't see him, he must be on vacation. (They refered to his weekends as vacation, crazy workaholics.) Of course, there are few people I know who work harder than David, so it's all just silly. But there you go. Culture clash, to be sure.

So, we moved. I have not seen the new place yet though. We packed up the moving van on a Sunday night and the next morning I boarded the plane for the States. So, watch for a post on my first impressions. Like I said, this will all be very interesting at least.

I had a hard time with this move because my life in China was established in Shanghai. My new friends are there, my writing groups are there, my tutor kids are there. And let's not forget, I can actually get real cheese there. I was also sad to leave our apartment there. It was lovely, with good neighbors and a nice garden. It was my refuge, my oasis in the huge, noisy, dirty city. So, I was sad to leave, but it's okay. It's not the first time I've left an apartment I loved, and I always turn out okay in the end.

In moving to Jining, I have had to think hard about what I will do with my time there. I plan to study Chinese again. I will be needing it much more now. I'm anxious about this, as I am just really bad about learning languages, but it should be a little easier now that I won't be hearing Shanghainese in the mix. I am also planning on working seriously on my novel. I already have a head start and my writing group members are on board to help me with revsions and drafts. No, it's not my memoirs about China. ;) That will have to come later, once I've had time to reflect. So anyway, if anyone asks, I'm a writer. That will now be my job title, because I said so.

I could also get a job teaching English, but I'm not sure about that yet. I would rather teach little kids, just because I think it would be more fun teaching colors and animals than to feel intimidated at the huge portions of the English dictionary that the adults have committed to memory. You wouldn't believe how many English words I have learned in China. Seriously.

So, long story short, my China story is about to shift. Hopefully it will bring a new light on the whole experience. Who knows, maybe I will like it better. All I can do is try it out. But I assure you, I will be looking forward to our monthly trips to the big city to visit friends and speak regular English. Oh, and also to stock up on cheese.

Stay tuned...

A Little Less Conversation

"Good morning."

I thought for a second, confirmed in my mind that it was definitely 2pm and then returned the greeting to the young guy who had appeared from behind me in the train car.

"I am from Hangzhou," he declared. Pause. "Where are you from?"

"America," I said, not really wanting to get into too much detail with this stranger on the Metro. No one ever talks to me on the subway.

"What stop are you going to?" He seemed to be fumbling for things to talk about in English, so I took it as a harmless question.

"People's Square." It wasn't my final destination anyhow, just a line change. "Where are you going?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't say People's Square.

"I'm going to see my sister," he said. "Nice to meet you," he added, somewhat abruptly and stuck out his hand. I shook it briefly. He stepped back and I assumed the conversation was over. I stared at my reflection in the glass of the doors.

"You have very white skin."

I turned and glanced at him and then looked down at my arm. This was one of the first in a handful of days that had been warm enough to wear short sleeves. Excited about the warm weather, I was on my way to a large park in the northwest part of town to eat a sandwich on a blanket on some actual grass.

"Yeah, I haven't had much sun lately." I'm not quite sure if I am the envy of the Chinese folks here, as they are definitely all about remaining white as opposed to working on a tan, or if they think I look unhealthy, so unlike my tanned fellow countrymen. I prefer to think that pale is beautiful here, even for Westerners, because if it isn't fashionable here, I'm plumb outta luck.

"I have a girlfriend from Mexico," he said. I had no real idea what to say to this. "She's white."

"Oh, she's a white Mexican. Okay." Like I said, I had no real idea what to say to these things, but he kept leaving such long gaps in between sentences it made me more uncomfortable to listen to the silence. He then said something I couldn't quite hear over the noise of the train.

"What?"

"I wash her feet every morning."

Uh...

The pauses got much more awkward at this point.

"Your skin is white like snow."

Okay. Creep-o-meter just went off. I looked at my reflection again as we pulled away from the next stop. Only one more stop to go...

"Your eyes are like my mother's," he said.

"Oh? Does she have light eyes?" He nodded in a way that made me think he hadn't understood what I really said.

"Her eyes are very big."

"Where is she from?" I asked, glad to be off the skin topic.

"She's from Hangzhou, too." Pause. "But her father was Korean."

"Oh," I said, not really sure if that explained the big eyes.

"Your eyes are very pretty." Aw jeez. I looked away again. "Have a good day," he said and held out his hand again. The disturbance in the Force made me reluctant to shake his hand again, but I did anyway, out of habit from those darn societal expectations. I made a note not to touch my face though.

He apparently thought we were at the stop. I wished we were at the stop, but we were only slowing down. On a normal day, the train doesn't seem to slow down until we are upon the terminal. Figures I would get the one cautious subway driver in all of Shanghai today. He realized we weren't there yet, too. I could have sworn he took a step closer.

"Your hair is also very pretty."

"Thanks." Come on baby, get to the damn station!

"Do you have any brothers?"

"No."

"Your skin is very pretty." Yikes, buddy! Cool it, will ya? He mumbled something again, but I didn't ask him to repeat this time, just hoping he hadn't said "I have a collection". I only caught the last bit.

"She is the queen." I assumed he was referring to the girlfriend again, if she even existed. "Okay, nice to meet you." His hand reached forward again. My insides curled.

What I wanted to say at this point: "Dude, stop. Really. You said goodbye twice already. I don't want to shake your hand again. I don't want you in my air space. You lost me at the feet thing and the way you keep glancing at my arm is giving me a serious case of the heebie jeebies."

What I actually said, "Uh huh."

The train slowed and I could finally see the station. I said a firm good bye and he moved back to the opposite wall as I bolted. I counted to 5 before I wiped my hand off on my jeans. I involuntarily shuddered. I looked back once to make sure he wasn't behind me. It felt like a bad thriller.

~ Girl rushes through subway station, searching the crowd behind her wildly as she runs like mad, pushing through turnstiles. ~

I didn't run. I walked briskly and with purpose. I got on Line 2 and I made my way to the park, enjoyed my sandwich and read a book for a while. People were lounging, flying kites, playing badminton, and encouraging small children to walk and chase bubbles. The sun was warm and I felt very relaxed.

A guy with a kite reel walked up next to me, one of several people entering my bubble that afternoon. It happens often here. I continued to read. I realized he had stopped walking.

"Good morning."

I almost choked. I looked up and saw this much older man with his kite reel looking down at me. I smiled.

"Good mor...Good afternoon."

Day Trip to Hangzhou

For the first time since we moved to China, we had a visitor! David's good friend Gil came to town, partly for business, partly to see us! It was great to see him and host and play tour guide. It's a strange experience sometimes when you realize what you have gotten used to and what others notice when they come here. Gil travels a lot and has been to Asia several times, so not much was too surprising to him. He's pretty chill. But I think I did surprise him when I aggressively stopped a man from ditching me in line. I didn’t really realize this until I saw the look on Gil’s face. He just started laughing. “Wow!” It’s good to realize how far you’ve come while impressing your guests at the same time.

We took it easy the first weekend and met some friends for brunch, followed by a leisurely tour of the riverfront and the famous skyline (through the haze, of course). For his second weekend, however, we decided it was time to make the trip to Hangzhou. This is a popular day or weekend trip for many people who live in Shanghai and is apparently THE biggest tourist attraction for Chinese people. I think it's just because there is a big lake and it's close to some of China's most populated cities. Despite its close proximity to Shanghai, David and I had yet to see it.

So I was charged with procuring our tickets from the train station the day before our trip. Train stations are notorious for being a cluster in China, with line butting and commotion being the rule, not the exception. Dubious as I was about my ability to communicate my ticket needs, I made my way to the station. I hopped off the subway and found my way to the train station. This was the south station, which is actually quite new, large and surprisingly slick and modern. It felt more like an airport.

I followed a great number of signs and found a large ticket counter. After gazing at a train schedule entirely in characters and feeling defeated at the 20 jam packed lines before me, I decided this was the wrong counter. I followed more signs. I went outside. Low and behold! I found another counter in a separate building. It was less hectic, too. I quickly scanned for an English ticket line, but coming up empty handed, I just picked a line with a ticket girl who looked calm and collected. Such an inexact science…

"Hangzhou. Mingtian. San. You mei you?" I said. I'll translate this literally for you. "Hangzhou. Tomorrow. Three. Have not have?" I am somewhat used to sounding like an idiot now. Sometimes I have to resist the urge to make caveman noises at the end of such a string of words. “Me want tickets. Ugh!” Anyhow, she got the gist, and typed away. "Morning?" she asked, the only English she used. I nodded. She showed me the screen with the schedule and the price for 3. Great, I'll take it! And it was much cheaper than I thought it would be. I felt like I had just kicked foreign mass transportation butt and it felt good.

So the next morning, the three of us get to the station and go down to the platform to board the train. "That ain't no bullet train," David said as we approached the car. Oh no, I thought. I forgot to ask for the bullet train! No wonder it was so cheap! To be fair, I had no idea how to say bullet train, so I probably would've had to resort to ridiculous sign language to indicate "fast!", but it might have worked. I was concentrating so hard on the vital info to convey, that I forgot to confirm which kind of train we were taking. The guys insisted it was okay, that it would only take a little longer. I just felt dumb. We settled in for a 2 and a half hour ride (instead of the speedy 1.25 hour trip on the bullet). It was just fine, but we made sure to get the fast train on our return trip, for the time factor and for the comfortable seats.

Plenty of attractions await visitors in Hangzhou, but we had no schedule or list of must sees, so we just took it easy. We had some lunch, wandered along the waterfront, and then took a boat across the lake. The forecast had predicted rain, but we lucked out. We apparently left the rain behind in Shanghai and enjoyed a warmish day with hazy sunshine. I was so happy. Trees were budding and flowers were peeking out all over the place. We even saw a real, live lawn of gorgeous green grass. I wanted to run through it barefoot so badly despite it being roped off. Well, I did until David mused at how many people must have spit in it. Way to kill the dream!

The sign no doubt says "Keep Off the Grass!"

During the entire trip, Gil had fun pointing out how many people were looking at us. I have developed what I like to call "oblivion mode" which helps me deny the fact that people are noticing, indeed staring at us, and go about my business. Gil kept pointing it out though as it was very new to him, so I was suddenly aware of the stir we were causing everywhere we went and it felt like being fresh off the boat again. "Hey that guy just took a picture of you!" he laughed, pointing at someone looking down at their digital camera screen. I chuckled. "He took one of you too, you know! You're a foreigner!" But he did have a point. His dark hair did make it a little easier for him to blend in, which is pretty much impossible for David and I. Oh well. At least it's mostly well-meaning, honest curiosity and nothing hostile. It doesn't bother me too much. You get used to becoming part of the attraction at tourist spots, like being one of the costumed characters at Disney.

My version of cheesy Chinese-style photo ops. I'll keep working on my technique.

A little less cheesy ;)

David and Gil

It came time to leave and we suddenly realized it would be nearly impossible to catch a cab back to the train station. So many people were clogging the street and the traffic was not moving through very quickly. With our departure time getting near, it was a mild panic, as it wouldn't have been a total tragedy if we missed the train. We could just go back later or the next day. Still, it was frustrating to not know what to do. We're used to just hailing a cab wherever we are with no problem. After some time, a dilapidated van pulled up and David asked the driver if he could take us to the train station. He already had two other passengers, and they were Chinese, so I figured this venture to be relatively safe. They negotiated a price and we were off.

As we drove back through the main streets, it became obvious that Hangzhou is quite an affluent town. Modern buildings lined the streets filled with cafes and little shops. We passed a Maserati, Ferrari and several other high end car dealerships. I had fleeting moments when I felt like I was in some swanky American city with all the luxuries you could ever want at your fingertips to go nicely in your getaway lake house, complete with that tourist town vibe. Of course, the occasional rusty bike wagons filled with cardboard passing by provided a shot of reality. I’m still in China.

I think if we had gone to Hangzhou earlier in my stay, I wouldn't have appreciated it as much as I did on this trip. I really enjoyed the scenery, the surprisingly clear water of the lake and the hint of fresh air. It is so good to get out of the city once in a while. I'd trade concrete for grass any day.

Flora Fotos

Well, Spring is on its way. Things are blossoming and making the world feel like new again. I've been out and about with the camera and thought I would share some of the little things that bring me joy.

And just because I like the picture, some men playing cards in the park.

And another non-flower park picture. I call this one, Escape. The "bird" is actually a kite.

To see larger, just click on the photos.

The Name Game

First of all, I would like to say that I will never write about being lucky again. A few days after my last post I was struck down. Yup. Ladutza. Fever, stomach cramps, the works. Lost a kilo. To top it off, David got sick too, so we were pretty much worthless this past weekend. I did a lot of reading and tea sipping though.

Second order of business, to all my faithful readers, are you having technical difficulties with my blog? Do the videos work? I have been told that sometimes the video doesn't have sound, or the commenting feature is on the fritz. Everything on my end seems to work okay, but if it is something I can fix, I would like to try. Any feedback you can give would be appreciated.

And just for random kicks, I'll share one of David's funny little stories. (Hey, until he starts his own blog, his stories are fodder for the taking! And I say that only with great love.)

"I named Mr. Pan this week." I looked at over at David, eyebrows raised.
"What?" I asked.
"Mr. Pan," he said. "I gave him an English name." David has given several of his coworkers English names, a common practice among many Chinese people. Some of them are kinda funny, like Joe Zhou.
"So, what did you name him?"
"Peter."
....
It took me a few seconds. "You named him Peter Pan?!"
"Of course." He grinned. I gave him a gentle thwap on the arm, chuckling despite myself.
"You're horrible! Does he even know who that is?" I asked. He nodded.
"Another coworker told him, 'Oh, that's a very famous story in America!'" David grinned again.
"Yeah, it's a famous story alright," I said, "about a guy in green tights!"

I'm going to rename David "Mischief"!

The Writing Is On The Pill

Since it took me a month to get that last post up, I figured two in one day would be a good way to redeem myself. Essentially, I was working on the post, trying to craft some nice words for you folks, when my computer did that stupid hibernate thing. I lost half my post and frankly, it royally ticked me off. Before I could brush myself off and make my way back to recreating what I lost, I got sick. This brings me to my topic for today.

If you tell someone you have gotten ill in China, they immediately think food poisoning. It's not an unreasonable guess really. If you come here, you will eventually eat something funky and then you're body will be forced to take action. That's right. That action. Well, there's two really. Not really sure which is worse, except getting both at the same time, which is pretty much just like dying I think. I have been fortunate in this respect so far. I have gotten sick two times, but I don't think it was food poisoning and it was over quickly. Friends of mine, however, have not been as lucky, and usually there is a loss in the downward direction, if you get me. In Chinese, the word is ladutza, which my friend swears is an onomatopoeia, just like "Zap!" "Sizzle" and "Guffaw!" LaDUTza! LaDUUUTza! Shout that in a deep voice in a subway in China. Trust me. Good way to make friends.

Anyway, it wasn't ladutza, but I didn't know what was going on. I felt like I had heartburn, but only in my stomach. It didn't hurt all that much, but it was nothing I had ever felt before. Guess what happens when you feel that way in a foreign country? You freak out.

What if I pass out? What the hey is the number for an ambulance? Wait, didn't people say you'll die in an ambulance, take a cab instead?! Wait, what's the word for hospital?! What's the word for help for that matter??!

It's times like these that I regrettably don't have a proper brown paper lunch sack to hyperventilate into. Luckily, I had a rockin' headache that first day, so instead of totally panicking, I collapsed into a desperate nap. I woke up later with the headache and stomach thing still going strong. Twas a bad day, indeed. Same story the next day too.

Two days later, the headache was finally gone, but the burning, weird feeling in my gut was not. I ate bread and it burned. Cola and fruit were out of the question. Even water was dicey. Very depressing. Well, depressing except for the green light to eat ice cream all the time, since it seemed to settle a bit better than most food and drinks. Sweet!

Even doctor's orders to eat ice cream didn't make me feel that much better once I was going on 4 or 5 days with no improvement. It was about this time that I started feeling hungry all the time, but eating didn't seem to be doing any good, for the pain or the hunger. I had a breakdown at day 6 when things seemed to be getting worse. David called right as I was panicking.

"I don't know how to take care of myself here!" Being alone in a foreign country when you do not feel so hot is just scary, plain and simple. He talked me through how to go to the hospital if I had too, told me I was going to be okay and I felt a little better.

So, after 9 days of this silliness, David took me to see a doc. She was really nice and she spoke English. The place was nice too. Even though I live here, I still get this image of foreign countries being way behind in modern technology and medicine, so I pretty much picture a cholera ward from the turn of the 19th century with people moaning on cots. But it was very modern of course. It was actually a foreigner clinic, so it was even better than most and quite nice. That helped. I wasn't really eager to experience roughing it in a Chinese hospital.

She asked me a bunch of questions and said she would give me meds to reduce stoamch acid and see if that helped. She also gave me meds she said were for protecting the mucus lining in my stomach. Hrm. Great. The lady at the medicine desk (which was in the same place! How convenient!) told me to take the granules, or as I like to call them, mucus granules, three times a day without water. Gagola! Are you serious lady?

"You can take a little sip if you can't get them down, but not much."

Oh how generous. Sounds like a party. Sounds like I will feel sicker after taking them than before. Good plan.

I decided to start the meds the next day. Now, I am not normally very hung up on where things come from or whether they could have asbestos in them, but this is CHINA after all. So I consulted our friend Gregg, who just so happens to be Dr. Gregg. He had already given me advice earlier in the week, but I wanted to run the names of the drugs by him. He had no problem with the pills, but he seemed puzzled by the granules.

"Can you send me the name?"

I sent him the only English words I could find on the packaging. A few minutes later I got a return text message.

"I don't know what that is and it's not in my US drug reference. Maybe stick to the acid meds and tums."

Whoa. That freaked me out a little. Can't say I was disappointed not to have to take the mucus granules, but it was weird. I hadn't expected an unknown drug. Gregg is pretty even keel too, so I knew he was serious when he told me not to take them. Better safe than sorry. Best case, it was just cornstarch or something. Perfectly harmless, but ineffective. Worst case...well, I'd rather not get stomach cancer if I can help it, thank you.

So, I went ahead and popped a pill out of the bubble pack. A little picture was carved into the one side. I flipped it over and my eyes bugged out.

OMG

No, that's what was written on the pill. OMG. Oh my god! My pill says 'OMG'!

My thumb was actually covering the 2 that made it 20MG. The two and zero were the same size as the MG, so it definitely looked like OMG for a second. Ha ha....ha.....ha......It just says 20 mg! No problem! Haha. Right? Ha....gulp.

I threw caution to the wind. Down the hatch. I started to feel better a few days later. So, maybe the OMG sign was more like "Oh My God, a cure!" Well, I guess we'll see once the meds run out. Until then, I'm trying to find creative uses for 3 dozen packs of mucus granules...

Joyful Apocalypse

We've seen it all before. We stuff our faces all evening with freshly grilled hamburgers and potato salad and maybe some corn on the cob and if we're lucky, apple pie. Everyone gathers on the blankets with an ice cold coke and light sticks and then we wait, eyes to the darkening skies. Then a tell-tale silver streak makes its way from the horizon to above the tree tops and then explodes in a dazzle of strawberry twinkles. Everyone in the neighborhood cheers. We watch for half an hour, as the frequency increases with time, until the stream eventually tumbles into the mass of fire balls, whistles, flashes and bangs that no reputable fireworks show would ever end without. We clap, we smile, we find the cats hiding in the closets, we go to bed.

Ok, so take that, multiply it by 5000, stir in some element of surprise, raise it to the power of echos created by a skyscraper forest and add a healthy dose of crazy men with lighters. That, my friends, was Shanghai on Chinese New Year's Eve.

Year of the Ox!

Fireworks have been set off since the day I arrived in China. The folks in the neighborhood set them off for all sorts of reasons: weddings, festivals, boredom. It's mostly on the weekends and in the small alleys close to our apartment. They set off the loud strings of those suckers, which basically sounds like a pile of bombs lit in the street. But the Spring Festival, which starts with the New Year and goes for about 2 weeks, is the pull out all the stops, take leave of one's senses, fireworks hootenanny extravaganza! Seriously, businesses pay out big bucks for their displays, easily dropping half a million buckaroos in some cases. That's one business. Shanghai has over 16 million people, give or give a million or two. Individuals buy fireworks too. So if every single person bought just one firework or cracker...yeah, that's right folks. It's almost as good as the old question about whether the earth would move if everyone in China jumped at the exact same time. Crazy things happen when the most populated country acts in unison.

So we had heard tell of this fiery free for all. We figured it would be impressive, but we made no real plans for watching the show. We met our friend Daniel to go out for jiaozi, or dumplings, which is apparently very traditional for New Year's Eve. However, hardly any place was open. Most Chinese folks get a week off around the New Year, so the place is oddly like a ghost town with a majority of the shops and restaurants closed down. many people leave to visit family out of town and those who stay, stay inside.

After walking around for at least an hour with no luck, we were darn hungry. I was willing to get some McDonald's at this point. We finally found an open hot pot restaurant, and as luck would have it, they had the jiaozi too. Perfect. So we chowed down, sampled some Chinese alcohol that didn't taste like battery acid, and then moved on to the next order of business: bowling.

I hardly ever bowl in the States, but hell, how many people can say they've been to a bowling alley in China? A bowling alley in China on Chinese New Year's Eve, no less. Plus, they were showing the celebration program from Beijing on the TVs. This was much like the celebration in Yanzhou, although I must say the acrobatics were far more impressive. I had never seen one person sitting on another person's shoulders, while the first person is balancing on a springy pole held between two groups of people, and then just to show off, the two people on top of each other do a back flip, together, and somehow manage to land on the beam again. Several times in a row, too. Wha??? I was completely dumbfounded and amazed. I made a note to see a live acrobatic show live in the future.

Our own physical displays were not so glorious. We bowled a couple games and David and I never broke 100. Daniel turned out to be pretty good though, utilizing skills from a former daily after work bowling habit with his coworkers. Show off. We switched to the pool tables later, but I stink at pool even more than at bowling. It didn't matter for long though, because that's when we realized there was a heckuva lot of commotion going on outside. It was close to midnight at this point.

The bowling alley didn't have glass windows, so we couldn't see anything, but we could certainly hear. We asked the staff to open the black shutters and revealed a world gone mad, the noise exponentially more deafening now. We were on the third floor and from there we could see a small piece of Shanghai, ablaze every 100 feet from the crackers on the street up to the huge fireworks littering the sky in every direction. We could have seen more if not for the smoke that had now joined forces with the smog. Directly below our window we saw at least 20 people setting things off on the sidewalk, running to and fro, switching between smoking their cigarettes and using them as lighters. It's the kind of thing you can never imagine and once you do see it, you can never quite capture in words to convey the way it makes you feel, the way it makes your heart flutter and your lungs forget to fill with air; a rare experience of utter wonder. It was like a joyful apocalypse, a disorienting assault on all senses.


And of course, this does not do it justice, but it's a sample!

We watched for a long time, but the show barely slowed down. It was almost 1 am now and David could no longer hold back the urge to get in on the action. If you don't know David, he loves setting off fireworks. Loves it. I have never seen him grin so much. He was like a 5 year old caught in a rainstorm of chocolate bars. So we hurried downstairs. The big glass doors at the entryway were the only thing standing between us and the madness outside. Before I knew it, David was out the door, armed with my camera. I stayed behind with Daniel, who was not as impressed since he grew up in China around this "very noisy" tradition. I stood at the door, covering my ears and tried not to picture a wayward firebomb crashing into David's face. (I'm really good at worse case scenarios, in case you don't know me.)

David disappeared from view for a while, but eventually returned, beckoning us outside. In a brief ceasefire, we scurried past the lines of red firecrackers and I found myself wishing I had brought my umbrella with me. Then I saw what David had been up to. It seems a few guys were setting off small crackers that you actually hold onto when they go off. The whole shell blasts out of your hands into the air and explodes. And you guessed it, David had made friends with them. I think he earned some serious Chinese cred with these guys that night. They could see he was really pumped about the festivities and they thought it was great. I half expected them to say, "You very Chinese. We are brothers now!" as they clasped their hands on his shoulders in a show of camaraderie. I was offered the chance to hold my very own cracker to fire off, but I declined. I have very bad luck and I figured I was pushing it enough just standing outside. The blasts were lessening now, but still going at a steady pace.





The thrill died down a bit after over an hour of explosions, so we decided to head home. Daniel caught a cab, but David and I walked for a bit, away from the major launch pads onto some semi-quiet streets. The sidewalks were a sea of red paper shreds and empty cardboard shells, but the skies were still filled with sprays of sparks. They remained that way long into the early morning hours. When next we ventured outside, the streets had already been cleared by the few street sweeping folks who had to work on New Year's Eve, but the smell of gunpowder was still in the air. And as we found out later, that was just the first of three major nights of fireworks during the festival, but the other two could never compare to our very first New Year's Eve in China, in the land where fireworks were invented so many centuries ago.

Shrapnel...