4 kilos of candy

The kindergarten celebrated Halloween on Friday.

Which means that I walked the 30 minutes to school with a large sunflower on my head that morning.

And fake ivy draped around my person.

Only the passing children seemed to realize that it was possibly for Halloween. Everyone else just stared.

The English teachers were tasked (with a single day's notice) with putting together two choreographed dances for the kids to do. You know, that old Halloween tradition of... dancing?
We chose Gangnam Style, because it can be danced by everyone who has ever seen it.
Which is a significant population of the world.
If you haven't seen it, look it up on Youtube. It's worth it, whether you fall in love, or die laughing.
Sadly, there is no video of our performance.
We were also going to do the "Cha Cha Slide", solely because the lyrics tell you what to do.
(The Time Warp was in the running, for the same reason, but you know, those pelvic thrusts, they really drive you insay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ane.)
Sadly, or fortuitously, we were not allotted the time for our second dance.
The administration failed to plan for an absolute mob of parents, siblings, grandparents, and prospective students. When one is trying to explain the intricacies of trick-or-treating to a mob, Cha Cha Slides fall by the wayside.
But, on the bright side, the candy I bought was greatly enjoyed by all.

Saturday rolled around, Sunny, and hazy. We awoke to a smog indication of over 300.
By 3pm it had significantly lessened, to 50. How? I haven't the slightest.
We took advantage of the weather, however, to meet up with some friends at their apartment for light refreshments and games, before heading to San Li Tun for the Going Away celebration for Joe, the teacher I replaced here.
Replaced in job only, because I'll never be a 6'5", red-bearded, man from Manchester.
I could try, but I don't think it'd work.

As it was Super Husband's and my first time in San Li Tun, Joe was eager to show us the most important venues.
First was The Stumble Inn, which hosted not one, but four (or maybe even six) televisions
broadcasting Footie.
Not to be confused with footsie.
From Stumble Inn we walked to a very busy street corner that is home to
none other than "Mostreeto Man".
Mostreetos are Mojitos, served on the street, with some sort of alien alcohol that is stronger, and more foul, than anything akin to the rum I've tried before.
They also serve Cube Libres, with the same moonshine-esque liquor.
After standing around, some of us shivering, for a time, having lovely conversation, and occasionally commenting on the costumes people were wearing (there was a Chewbacca, a Mario, a Luigi, and a Princess Peach, among others) we deemed it time to get something to eat.
I should mention that at this point it was 1:30am.
We headed for a crowded chuan'r stall, that also sold a delicious spice covered naan.
Mmmm. Spicy naan.
It was after the chuan'r that China reared it's head.
There was a fight.
Or what passes for a fight here, and is really just a lot of missed punches, shouting, and then kicking a man's head once he's finally on the ground.
It was very strange, but also edifying.
I daresay that I could win a fight here, though.
I can, at the very least, land a punch.
But that fight has been pronounced "Best Chinese Fight" by Scott.
Apparently it had a trace of masculinity, as opposed to the girly, limp, wrist flapping that often goes on.

After watching some other people break up the fight we went to yet another place, and then a fourth, or is it fifth?
At any rate, the last place we went was a sort of Metal bar, which was hosting a rather lot of very, very drunk people.
To be fair, it was already 4am.
One of these drunk people proceeded to break the glass out of a picture frame with her bum.
And then continued to hit the whole thing with her bum, almost as if she really wanted lots of glass to be imbedded into her back.
Ah, drunk people.
And that, was our night in San Li Tun.
I will add, though, that we were told to go to yet another place, which apparently has a lot of beer, but when we walked over to it, it had already closed.

We got back to our apartment, after sharing a cab with Joe, at 5:30am.

We roused ourselves around noon the next day and made our way to lunch with Scott and Joe.
Chau Bing was enjoyed.
Baozi, as well.
And free coffee.
Lovely, lovely free coffee.

And now it's Monday.
With all that Monday entails.

Candy, Costumes, Quizes

Today I bought 2.5 kilos of candy in preparation for the school's Halloween celebration. 
The big splurge was for the gold coins. I might be forced to change my costume, last minute, to a pirate just so that I can carry around tons of gold coins. 

As it is, I believe I'll be going as Gaea. Or a wood nymph. Baaasically the same thing, right? Either way, I bought a green, sparkly half-mask, and will be buying fake flowers to weave into my hair/around my person. I just need to find an appropriately green, and or springy dress to complete the look. Wish me luck.

I have also seen an interesting morning ritual. Tai chi with props. I say props because I have no better word. I assume they're meant to focus the energies, or some other chi related business. Nevertheless, swords are being brandished, and balls are being balanced on swaying racquets. I am very much intrigued by this practice. I would love to become a daily practitioner of tai chi, but alas and alack, learning the art is either prohibitively expensive, or does not fit in to my schedule. There are no evening tai chi classes, apparently. 
I could attempt to befriend the grandparents of one of my students, with the hope that they would teach me, but I'm pretty sure that my contract explicitly states that I am not to attempt to contact the families of students for any reason. I thought that strange at first, but maybe if they were always being plagued for cultural lessons, well, that explains it. 


In other news, yesterday I bought a Panda usb speaker. It's the cutest little thing that you ever did see, I tell you what. (Please, excuse my lapse into colloquialisms) 
That reminds me, though: I need to brush up on my childhood songs. BINGO is getting a bit tired, Do Your Ears Hang Low is only going to be hilarious for another week, and while the allure of Bringing Home A Baby Bumblebee is sure to last long after I'm gone, a fresh song is required. 
So many of my childhood favorites are illusive whisps of memory. I can hear parts of the music in my head, and maybe a line or two, but the whole song slips away before I can grasp even enough to do a google search. 

In further separate news, it is Wednesday as I type this into my iPhone. Which means it is Quiz Night. Last week's dive into our cultural subconscious, the flexing of our political muscles, and the general amiability of a large group if westerners at a western bar answering western questions was forgone due to Super Husband's un-enviable talent for catching the flu. A mild case, it would seem, but chills and body aches are nothing to sneeze at - pun very much intended. So, I wrapped him up snug in blankets, forced ginger tea down his throat, and promised that I wouldn't catch whatever he had. He was feeling much better by Saturday, and Perfectly Fine by Monday morning, so it was off to school for the Chinese scholar. 

And I kept my word: not a single symptom has manifested in me. 

But now I must away, to assist the smallest here at Meg in coloring ghosts, pumpkins, and witches.

**As I actually post this it is Thursday Morning.**

We didn't do very well at quiz night. There was a round on Mythology that was designed for the Greeks themselves, and a round on science that, while not that hard, was made impossible by the fact that you couldn't hear any of the questions and the asker of said questions went really, very, too fast.

But we really did very well in the music round, no thanks to me.

80s music (and honestly, music in general) is something I can sing along to, but tell you no pertinent information about. 

Like, oh, who sings it. 

Or what it's called.

But, I am now aware that Tony Basil sung Mickey. 

And that is information I shall cherish.

Until I forget it... probably today.

Happy Thursday.

A Year Without Feta

Saturday was a hazy, unhealthy day in Beijing.

But if anyone thinks that that would stop these Beijingers from walking to Ito Yokado, well you'd be sorely mistaken.

Ito Yokado had everything we needed, including chocolate swirl peanut butter.

Okay, to be honest, one doesn't NEED chocolate swirl peanut butter.

But the one thing, the only thing on our list, that Ito Yokado couldn't provide was feta cheese.

No Feta Cheese.

I am heartbroken. 

They have "herby Dutch", cheddar in both yellow and white, cream cheese of various brands and flavorings, blue cheese, Laughing Cow rounds in the little red wax shells, but no feta cheese. 

I am now on a hunt. 

In other news:

It rained all day Sunday.

Whoever told me that it wasn't going to rain anymore is a lying liar face.

I'm downloading songs for a Halloween Playlist.

It's time to sit in a classroom with the Bumblebees while someone else teaches them about reading sheet music, and then another person teaches them how to play GO. 

Gray gray rain

It's raining, and has been since about 4 this morning.
I don't own an umbrella yet.
But I get to wear my new boots.
And a scarf.
The scarf is more about keeping my hair dry than the temperature, but the school nurse told me to wear more clothes yesterday.
At least, I think that's what she said.
I was wearing tights,  a knee length skirt, a shirt, and a cardigan, so I can't imagine that she was criticizing my modesty.
It must be that she doesn't want me to catch cold.

I got a letter yesterday from my parents. It was very exciting.
Now I must go to work. Who knows how crazy people become here when it rains, but if it's anything like Houston everyone will be just a bit mad.

He Vomited, He Can Pay

Much has happened this week.

And nothing.

I walked behind a man with a sword on Thursday Morning. 

I was told that if you sit on the windowsill during Circle Time the children can only see your feet, and this is bad behavior. 

Super Husband and I played an integral part in coming in Fourth Place during Quiz Night at Lush in Wudaoko on Wednesday. 

Occidental was one of the answers, just in case you were wondering. 

We've found that La Bamba has passable Mexican food, having now sampled the Fajitas Mixtas, Enchiladas Mixtas, and a Burrito. Their refried beans are watery, and the rice is... crunchy... but they give you guacamole with the fajitas, so they're all right in my book. I must clarify here that while they say that they're a Mexican restaurant, I'd probably classify them a little closer to Tex-Mex. If only because they offer Nachos as part of the menu. 

And their tequila selection is abysmal. 

Not that we know anything about tequila.

Only that Jose Cuervo isn't All That.

On Friday night we met up with a rather international group (two Ecuadoreans, one Brazilian, an Ethiopian, one girl from Thailand, one from Botswana, and one guy from Eastern Europe, judging by his accent) at a place called Helen's, where you can get dinner, but after 9pm is mostly a drinks business. They have shisha, too, I believe. We were there to celebrate one of Super Husband's friends having just submitted her thesis. Don't ask me what on, because I don't know.

Tsingtao was had by almost all, and from Helen's we walked the block and a half to stand outside of La Bamba, where we, quite by coincidence, ran in to one of Super Husband's classmates from UofH. We'd been meaning to get in contact with her since we got to Beijing, but never quite had the chance. Rest assured, phone numbers have been exchanged.

From La Bamba we went into a club called Sensation, which was packed full of people. The two, or possibly three story building would have burst open and we all would have poured out onto the sidewalk had it been a cartoon. Due to the rather stifling atmosphere the group decided to relocate, and chose a club across the street called Global. 

Now, I am decidedly not a connoisseur of the club or bar scene, but Global seemed pretty nice. The music wasn't any good, at all, but sometimes that just can't be helped. And when most of the crowd is too drunk to care... well, who cares? But they have a number of couches in the ladies room, and anywhere that offers a place I can sit down when wearing three inch heels gets two thumbs up. 

I cut the night short, by party going standards, at 1:30 in the morning. 

My feet were still swollen on Saturday.

But I have to note that I learned some valuable information while parked on the comfy sofa in the ladies room: In Beijing, flip flops and chucks are acceptable clubbing footwear.

Now, this is a revelation. Not that I'd necessarily wear flip flops to a club, but it does rather mean that a pair of cute flats wouldn't be looked at askance, at all. Or wedges. 

I need to go shoe shopping.

On Saturday we met up with another of Super Husband's classmates, Tom from Ireland, and went to a pretty neat little place called The Culture Yard where we watched a film called Comrades, Almost A Love Story. It's a fairly long film, at just over two hours, but is worth it, I think. The Culture Yard screens movies on Saturday evenings, and offers language classes throughout the week. They have English, Mandarin, Spanish, and Portuguese. It's a bit costly, but if you take the language courses you get to see the movies for free.

Tom's girlfriend and her mother also joined us for the film, and dinner afterwards.

Dinner is where the real story begins.

After strolling for a while down a street lined with vendors, restaurants, and lanterns, we chose a restaurant that boasted a decent menu, complete with chuan'r and a nice selection of vegetables.

Little did we know they were also catering to a rather drunk young man, and two of his less young and only slightly less drunk friends. Our shredded potatoes and peanuts were presented to us amid his drunken, guttural moans. His friends tried to ply him with water, and this, it seems, was everyone's downfall.

I'm not sure if this is true for everyone, but in my experience tending to the drunk is a bit of an art form. You must know exactly how much water they can drink, and how quickly you can make them drink it before their system begins to reject everything.

What I'm implying here is that he vomited. All over the table. 

It was foul.

The drunkenness was bad enough, but there was absolutely no way that we were going to eat in a restaurant with a soused and vomiting patron. 

So we got up and left, carrying our various bottles of drink with us.

The waitress, however, had the nerve to demand that we pay for the entirety of the meal we had ordered, not just that which had been served to us previous to the second arrival of the other guy's meal.

Of course this could not stand, as the Native Beijinger, and mother of Tom's girlfriend quickly explained to the waitress. 

If I spoke fluent Mandarin I would have told them to make him pay for our meal, it's his fault we weren't going to be eating it, anyway. 

I probably would have worked out how to explain it myself, if she hadn't been there.

In the end we payed for the three beers and two waters that we left with, and the shredded potatoes. 

It was a lesson in what flies, though.

Even without the liquor laws in the U.S. I can't imagine that kind of thing being acceptable.

Sunday was more relaxed.

I sat with olive oil and honey in my hair under a plastic bag, for an hour. 

We had chuan'r and watched Grimm, New Girl, and The Colbert Report.

Hopefully I get paid tomorrow. 

Super Husband just leaned over and said "In Chinese, you don't have a dream, you make one."

And on that note:

Good Night

After a Holiday

Why is it that going back to work, getting back into the routine, is harder after a holiday than it was to start in the first place?
Maybe now that you know the ups and downs, you feel like going back isn't worth it.
Or is that just Monday talking?
I was awoken this morning, WELL BEFORE my alarm went off, by a rhythmic banging against some wall. At 5:35am it sounding like they were banging against my brain. But whether my neighbors are attempting to conceive, or doing some ill-conceived DIY, if it happens again I'm going to be irate. I do not appreciate being woken up, even by the alarms I've set for myself, much less by... well, anything else. I'll have to ask Super Husband to draft some note in Mandarin to be posted throughout the stairwell, and in plain view, politely requesting them to cut it the heck out.

I'm contemplating painting my fingernails in rainbow hues, one color per nail, and using it as a teaching tool. But I don't have any yellow nail polish.
My nails are purple today, and the Bumblebees delighted in shouting "Purple" and pointing at my fingers. They've got their colors down... although my dark wash jeans provided fodder for a small argument. Are they blue, or black? I say they're blue, but many of the kids were adamant that I was wearing black pants.

I finally bought some groceries today. Milk, for my coffee. Frozen veggie dumplings, for when I don't feel like being stared at while eating dumplings alone in a restaurant. Edamame, because it was super cheap, and who doesn't love edamame? Seriously, 7rmb for a big ole bag o' the stuff. I did splurge a little for olive oil, but honestly, a good olive oil is worth the splurge. I had a hard time deciding between the different vegetable oils, though. I ultimately decided on peanut oil, but got one of the smaller containers. Half because I'm not sure if I'll enjoy it in everything, and half because I didn't want to walk the 30 minutes home lugging a giant bottle of oil.
I'm debating about buying Italian style noodles, like farfalle. They're pretty pricey here, and for even an eighth of what it would cost in Texas I can buy all the stuff to make fresh egg noodles. I'm pretty sure that's what I'll do. That way buying bottled pesto at 40rmb per 1/2 cup won't hurt quite as badly.

I've spent most of the evening catching up on Bones. Don't judge me.

And now, at 11pm, I'm going to attempt to fall asleep, despite the bawdy shouts (Okay, so I only assume that they're bawdy) of the construction workers that have been tasked, as far as I can tell, with keeping the early risers from wanting to rise early.

Stinky, Crowded, Over-Priced, yet... Marvelous

The Forbidden City warrants a second look. Golden week might not be the right time to check out Beijing’s historical monuments. The rest of China keeps getting there first. Making everything crowded, loud, and occasionally full of spit.

But we can, at the very least, check that off of our list of things to see here.

Not that we have the, been there, done that attitude. Quite the opposite, in fact.

It’s an amazing complex. The intricacies, details, bridges, shingles, and cobblestones come together to paint a picture of what life in the Ming Dynasty must have been like for those privileged few.  You can almost hear the shushing of silk robes, the dainty footsteps of courtesans giggling behind painted fans. Almost. Those wisps of fantasy are drowned out by the hocking of loogies and the shouts of tour guides.

Still, I marvel at the grandeur that the entire palace once obviously held, stood for.

From left to right:

Wonder Wife, Super Husband, Sun Wook, Karl, Jung Hyuk, 

Hento, Etsuko, Ellie

              We spent the afternoon traversing the complex, taking a slight detour to check out the small museum rooms, holding pottery from the Ming and Qing dynasties. We were told that most things of obvious value were looted before someone could step in and preserve the space.  Apparently the guards also live there, which is a pretty enviable position, if you ask me. “So, where do you live?” “Oh, you know, just the Forbidden City.” Although, who knows how comfortable that actually is.

            After leaving the Forbidden City, proper, we went under the street and paid the 2rmb entrance fee to a park ground that boasts the best look out for the Forbidden City. They also have, for the small fee of 25rmb, costumes. One can rent these costumes and take any number of pictures. We declined, but only because the group of friends we were with were markedly less interested in that experience than we were. There will be other opportunities, I am sure.

After making our way down from the top of the hill we walked to Wangfujing. Now, I posted that link about Wangfujing in the previous post, and most of what was said there holds true. Stinky, crowded, over-priced, and yet, marvelous.

Wangfujing is everyone’s picture of China. The bustling people. The trashcans in the middle of a walkway being totally ignored in favor of throwing trash directly on the ground. Scorpions on a stick. Stinky Tofu.

We’ll be going back, for sure.

**Now, future travelers be warned.**

The first stall that offers these… ahem… delicacies, is the most expensive. Prices for the food is generally posted, so it might be best to take a look at a number of the stalls before choosing which best suits your needs.

Everything else can be bargained down. Case in point: Super Husband and I are in the market for name stamps (these things have a name, I just can’t remember what it is… ). The original asking price was quoted as 180rmb for a smallish stamp, just by walking away we got the vendor down to 30rmb. That’s without any haggling, at all. We didn’t buy them, yet again because our group was more interested in other things. Sugar coated cherry tomatoes were among the things that caught their collective eye.

There are a number of photos posted on the page marked “Tian’anmen, Forbidden City, Wangfujing”. I’m working on making the whole blog a little more user friendly, but my decided lack of tech-savvy makes that undertaking pretty difficult. Unless someone has a better idea (and if you do, please, let me know) I’m going to be adding pages with photos, and possibly pages with tips for travelers and those moving to Beijing, as we progress through our year here.

As for the once mentioned vlog (Yes, Boris, this is note is just for you)—We’re having so much difficulty uploading simple photos at the moment that perhaps a vlog is out of our league. Or our bandwidth capabilities. That said, I’m working on it.

We’ve spent much of the rest of the break holed up in my apartment, battling cold induced lethargy. What started out as a subtle tickling of the throat on Saturday turned into a full-fledged cold by Tuesday. Expertly applied ginger tea, and vitamin C have been working their way through our systems to eradicate whatever foreign germs had threatened our immune systems, and now, Saturday again, we are much relieved.

Yesterday we attempted to stream the presidential debate, but after it froze 11 times before they even changed topics, we decided to forgo the debate in its entirety. I am, however, still investigating the Absentee Ballot options. Hopefully I haven’t missed any critical deadlines, and will get my vote in under the wire.

It looks like Vote From Abroad has a simple, and what appears to be reliable way to do this. Yay.

I haven’t figured out how to send mail yet. I know where there’s a mailbox, but not how to deal with stamps...? Postage? Maybe we’ll venture to the bank tomorrow and see if that’s yet another thing that they oversee.

And perhaps we’ll top up the gas and electricity cards, as well.

In China (I’m told it’s the whole of China, but I’m finding out that when Beijingers say “In China” they really just mean here, in Beijing) you prepay pretty much everything. Your phone, your internet, your electricity, and your gas. The only thing  you will get billed for, post-usage, is water. So, everyone has these credit card lookin’ things, and these little meters in their apartments, and you go to whatever bank your card is affiliated with and you put money on your card, and then you go back to your apartment and you put your card into your meter, and it reads the balance on the card, I guess… We have yet to do this, as there was already money in all our necessary meters.

It’s 6pm now, and my wrist hurts a little from the awkward angle of the computer, so I’m going to wrap this up.

Don’t forget to check out the new photo pages.

Kicking Off Golden Week

After spending yesterday morning fighting with Facebook to upload my photos I took a cathartic look at Pinterest's Travel section. After pinning over 40 places I want to go I realized the apt-ness of the name we chose for this blog. We didn't choose Chinese or Beijing adventures because we're going to have so many, many more adventures than this.
Istanbul awaits.
As does Prague, Sicily, Rome, Shanghai, Bali (again), Cape Town, Bath, and so many more.
We want to see the world.
But for now, we'll settle for seeing Beijing.

Yesterday National Day, and although the main festivities were in Tiananmen Square, we watched from the comfort of our couch, the sounds of children enjoying their Monday off wafting up to our open windows. It looked pretty closed off, anyway. The majority of China watched the way we did. Maybe without the mug of Nescafe, but close enough.

We tried a new restaurant, and while we didn't originally intend to eat there twice in one day, we did.

                  

 

The fourth from the top, on the left, and the first one with five characters were lunch's fare. 

The fourth from the top on the right, and the third from the top on the left were dinner.

Super husband and I are both getting colds, so the soupy, spicy goodness was much needed.

This restaurant is definitely going on our list of favorites.

(So, the reason I'm not telling you what we were eating is because I don't know what it was. We play Chinese Roulette here, a lot. The fourth from the top on the right is ChauBing, or fried shredded pancake with vegetables. Other than that all I can tell you that it is noodle-y goodness. The last character on the majority of rows in the left column, the one that kinda looks like a house, that's the character for noodles. Other than that, I'm stymied.... Chinese Roulette is where you look at a menu, and just point, hoping that whatever you've just ordered will be appetizing. We've only failed once or twice, so far. At least unlike the Russian version we walked away with our lives, a bad taste in our mouths, but still breathing.) 

In China, a week off isn't really a week off because you have to work on Saturday. But because it's National Week, or Golden Week and National Day (no one has been particularly clear about this yet) the kids made Moon Cakes. Not one to let a cultural cooking experience pass me by, I joined right in. 

 My Moon Cake

Super Husband, happily consuming my Moon Cake.

So, to make moon cake, look up a recipe. 

I'm only half joking. 

Because we were making these with 5-year-olds (I took pictures, but those aren't for a public blog, since they're kids, and not my kids) the dough and red bean paste came into the classroom pre-prepared. From what I could assertion, through a mixture of my own knowledge of baked goods, and some weird, weird Chinglish, the dough is basically like a good sugar cookie dough. I have no idea how to even describe the red bean paste. If you're not a traditionalist, I would suggest subbing some candied fruit, or chocolate type thing for the red beans. Otherwise, here's a recipe I found online: Red Bean Paste Recipe. I do not, in any way, vouch for this recipe. It has good reviews, that's all I know.

Anyway, you take your dough and roll it into a ball. The size of your ball depends on the size of your moon cake, obviously, but keep in mind that you'll be filling said ball with something. My ball was about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Once you have a nice sphere, pat an indentation into the middle. You can use your thumb, or a spoon. Pull the edges up, so that when you've added your paste you can easily close the dough around it. Add the paste, (I used about a teaspoon of paste, because honestly, I was afraid of it...) close the dough around it. The Chinese teachers seemed to labor a bit about making the seams from where you close the dough disappear, as much as possible. I don't know if this serves equally for aesthetics as for not letting the paste seep out, but either way... So, here's the fun part. 

Grab yo'self one of these bad boys, and get to molding... Oh, right. Maybe I should have mentioned that earlier? Okay, so I figure that these are really only necessary if you're going all out traditional. Especially since I saw a thing on tv yesterday (saw, not understood or even listened to. Saw.) where these army types were making moon cakes into dolphins, tigers, the whole bit. So, get a cookie cutter in a shape you like: a flower, ghost, a German Shepherd (that might be a little hard, what with the legs and tail...) whatever. Mould your little ball of dough and paste to fit the shape. If by some miracle there is a China Town close enough to warrant a drive, go pick one of these up. Because really, who doesn't want a traditional Chinese moon cake mould? Anywho, mould your moon cake into a shape that pleases you, and bake that sucker 'till golden brown. About 15 minutes on 350, if I'm to trust my understanding of the broken English I was communicating in. 

And voila! Moon cakes abound!

While in China Town picking up your mould you might also run across pre-packaged moon cakes. 

BUYER BEWARE!

I don't know if they sell them abroad, but here some moon cakes come filled with egg. And not the hard boiled kind, neither. I have yet to experience this, ahem, delicacy for myself, but I have been told that when you bite into a moon cake and yolk runs down your chin... Well, I won't repeat the expletives used. 

We were awoken this morning, Tuesday, by what we came to discover were firecrackers. But at 6:30am, well, I'm pretty sure I asked if they were cannons. I'm not sure why cannons came to mind. Ceremonial cannons, perhaps? 

They were being set off first behind a large apartment complex across the river, and then in the park that lines the river. Apparently at some point this week we will be treated to a large display of fireworks. My apartment should provide a decent vantage point. My porch looks directly south, almost in line with Tiananmen and the Forbidden City, but slightly east. We shouldn't even have to crane our necks to see the display. I hope. If it proves underwhelming from here we have a standing invitation to the apartment I used to occupy. The 27th story should have an almost unrivaled view of, well... everything. And there's always the roof access. 

When I asked Super Husband what he would like to talk about he said "Chopstick Cereal". This is not what you might think. It is the art of eating cereal with chopsticks. Which he has done at least twice now. I don't eat cereal, but if I did it would have to be with chopsticks because we don't have anything else. We bough one pack of 10 sets of bamboo chopsticks, and have no other utensils. Which has been just fine so far, except that it means that I stir my morning coffee with chopsticks, smash ginger for ginger tea with chopsticks, and, well, eat with chopsticks. 

Honestly, I don't know if I'll go back to the traditional fork and knife procedure. 

Chopsticks are awesome. 

Today we plan to go to Tiananmen, the Forbidden City, and Wangfujing. Of those three I believe wangfujing is the only one that needs an introduction. Here is what TripAdvisor has to say. As we have yet to go, I can't tell you much more than that, but I hope to be taking a ton of pictures. I've got my 8G memory card all ready, and the camera is charged.

So, look forward to some pictures, hopefully.

Unless the internet  continues to thwart my efforts to share China with the world.