Monday, May 29, 2006

Her Name is Whore

I just returned from dinner at El Chollo (try the green corn tamales, in season from May to October and really one of the best things on the menu), with my friend Sonny and a bunch of her friends. I have a case write up to do and I also have a bunch of reading, but right now, I am more compelled to write this entry about what a small little world this is.

We arrive, and Sonny introduces me to her friends, including this guy Daniel who is graduating from Sloan this year, she had told me about him. So of course I had to ask if he knew my ex. What’s his name he asks? Brett …. In case his mom decides to Google her son I’ll leave his name out so she doesn’t read my blog, but I’m digressing. Anyway. He looks blank for a second and then he’s like, oh wait, is he dating someone??? Yes, unfortunately, he is dating some girl.

He asks what her name is, I tell him that I don’t know, but I prefer to call her Whore. Look! I even capitalized Whore. That is generous. He asks if she’s Asian, which she is, and which I hate, b/c he always had this weird Asian fetish. She’s actually Philippino, but whatever. He says he knows 10 first years at Sloan but happens to know Brett though this chick.

I shouldn’t, but I have to ask what she’s like. I think my tone of voice indicates the response I’m looking for (that she totally sucks) but he doesn’t pick up. I guess she’s actually “super cool” and “really fun” and on top of it, she’s apparently pretty, which is supposed to make me feel better b/c I wouldn’t want him to be dating some sucky ugly chick b/t that might imply that I’m one or the other or both (which of course I’m not). He even attached a name to this girl, which I’ve already forgotten – but the point is that she actually exists and is a real legit person now who has a name and a personality. Yuck.

It is ok, b/c naturally she has to be a real person and whatnot, but here is my final conclusion from this conversation: if you meet an ex girlfriend of a guy you know that is now dating someone new, and she asks about the new girl, just humor her, and tell her that new girl is nowhere near the fantastic creature that is the ex-girlfriend. This will score big points. Now, to close, and to use the phrase of a friend of mine, “The End.”

Don't Disturb My Peace

I moved to CA right? And I think nothing is more CA than giving Yoga a try. Plus the place I was intro’ed to is “donations-based” which means you don’t technically even have to pay. Don’t worry, I donate. I use the student-rate.

Anyway. I have gone a bunch of times and I am starting to like it. It’s v. relaxing. Plus I do this power yoga thing so I sweat my rear off for two hours. The only downfall there is that you start sliding around your mat. So watch out for that, and bring a towel.

That is not the only suggestion I have. Last time I went, I had the pleasure of being next to (and you are in a room w/ literally like 70 people so you are VERY close next to your little neighbors) this particular guy which made me think of a few suggestions for those new to yoga:

1) Pay attention to your bodily functions: yoga teaches you awareness – of you movements, breathing, self-perception, etc. So I think you should be particularly aware of your bodily functions, and control them too. Like burping. If you continuously burp super loud in a v. quiet environment, you will gross others out. so don’t.

2) Wear deodorant: again – yoga might fool you. You may think you won’t sweat a lot. But I bet you will. And if you do, there’s a good chance you will smell, too – which is unpleasant for those around you.

3) Remember that you are doing YOGA. And even if it’s power yoga, the key is still to create a sense of peace and calm within yourself, and this extends to preserving the peace and calm that those with you are trying to achieve. Challenging yourself is good – but doing one-armed push-ups and stuff that makes you grunt and groan I think is a bit much, mostly b/c it’s really really super annoying to those that have to listen to your groans and grunts. Plus there is enough weird orgasmic breathing going on, so just leave it at that.

If you know me you know that I’m not the most discrete person and my facial expressions can be kind of blunt. So I bet that my facial expressions during this class probably gave away my annoyance. Which I was ok with…until then end of class when I discovered that this sweaty, burpy, groany/grunter next to me was actually the instructor’s brother. It’s probably a good thing that I have taken a bit of a hiatus from the instructor’s class since this incident. Anyway, doesn’t stop me from writing about this guy…

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Can I Get a Swig?

One of our class’s smaller, leaner specimens recently tried out the Stanly Burrough’s Master Cleanse Diet, which for those of you that don’t know, entails a ten-day fast, during which you imbibe nothing save for three Nalgene bottles worth of water with lemon juice, cayenne pepper, and a bit of maple syrup. Oh, you can drink water and mint tea as well. As school is making me fat, I opted to give it a shot. I was initially game for 10 days, then decided 8 (so I could ease myself back into food and drink in time for a May 12 wedding), then figured 5 and two days of soup was good enough for me.

The diet is kicked off every morning with a big glass of salt water (you are supposed to drink 4 C, I went for 2) – this is to keep you…regular. You would be amazed that after 5 days of eating no solid food, this salt water still manages to keep you…regular. Weird. It’s not the hunger pangs that bother you on this thing, it’s the mental factor – it’s sitting around studying and dreaming about food, it’s waking up in the morning wanting more than anything, food. And it’s dreading yet another day of drinking shady tasting lemonade. But, once you publicly tell you friends that you are going to do it, you are bound, through escalation of commitment (thank you, HR). PS: don’t expect your friends to react favorably. They will think you’re an idiot. And now, in retrospect, I rather think you are, too.

Anyway, I made it through my five days. I even attribute a recent moment of clarity (I realized that it was time for me to make a decision re: a six year relationship that has been dragging lately) to the fasting and a evening yoga session. So that is that. but now let’s talk about how good food tastes. Ok – yes – I cheated a bit on day 5. I had a cup of soup in lieu of one of my lemon juicers. It was the same caloric content anyway. Do you know how good that soup tasted? Sooooooooooooooooo good. Even better was the grilled fish and mashed potatoes I enjoyed on Saturday night. I swore it was the best fish I’d ever eaten. When my friends tasted I don’t think they agreed, but that is beside the point.

The last issue to discuss here is the purpose of the cleanse. It is meant to cleanse your colon. Was I concerned with “cleansing” my colon? Would you be? Do you really care how sparkling clean your GI tract walls are? I could care less. I wanted to lose weight. So the thing is, I don’t own a scale, nor do I really believe in scales, be it that I’m a fairly small person and I sure do weigh a lot. I rely on specific pieces of clothing – such as this one Kenneth Cole silk skirt that is forever my nemesis – to tell me how I’m doing. So I weighed myself on Saturday at my friend Melissa’s. I think I actually gained weight. But, I feel better anyway. There is something about telling yourself you didn’t eat food for five days that makes you feel like you had to have done something. And at any rate, it will def make you re-appreciate the goodness of food.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Fortunate Fools



Weddings: an excuse to get all your college friends together in one place to pretend like they’re at a college formal and act like idiots for an entire weekend. Also, to celebrate the beautiful love of the couple getting married…yes, that too. My last college wedding was two falls ago, so it’s been a year and a half since I’d seen most of the guys, and it’d been months since I’d seen some of the girls too. So despite the fact that Minneapolis was like 40 degrees and rainy and less than conducive than running around in small dresses and open toes, it was pretty much my favorite place on earth from Friday to Sunday morning. Bless the Mall of America, bless indoor roller coaster, bless pretzel dogs, bless the Holiday Inn.

But seriously, bless my friends. I love seeing how we’ve all fanned out to so many different places in this country (and outside it, Freds), and turned into bright, capable adults. Who, luckily, are also still capable of completely un-adult behavior:

Drinking in excess:

§ Phone rings on Saturday morning. It’s a breakfast call from ladies of 916. But more importantly, it’s a message to inform us that Wil peed all over Frou’s luggage around 4am. But don’t worry, Wil, “she likes golden showers.”

§ It was good to see that Freds maintains rare-form. Ian was forced to remove her mumbling self from the premises by around 10pm. I don’t really know what she did when got back to the hotel, but I bet it involved peanut butter or screaming to the bitches that she was back.

Eating in excess:

§ The hors d’oevres guys weren’t giving us the service we needed upon our arrival at the reception. I finally called one over and explained to him that 1) we were seriously hungry, and 2) we plan to drink seriously and need stomach padding. He was our devoted servant for the remainder of cocktail hour, he even left his last plate on our table.

§ Our friend told us that we could eat the orchids that decorated the plate. We didn’t, but someone told the men of table 4 that the orchids were edible. Not only did they sample the orchids, but they continued on to sample petals from all the flowers on the table. That’s pretty much like regressing to when you’re like 3 and you try dog food.

Hooking up shameless sly, and frequently incestuously:

§ I think I was supposed to hook up with Tarr. We declared ourselves married on Saturday night and exchanged some serious text messages during dinner. I was all set to have a bunch of Jewish babies for him. Moe also highjacked my phone for a period – those texts involved exposed nipples and lack of panties, and that is all I have to say about that.

§ At the same time, Veeve is Tarr’s white whale. I am fairly certain a threesome would be his ideal. But, forgetting that, Veeve did not sleep in our room on Saturday night. Hmm.

§ Hupp and Frou hooked up on the dance floor at the wedding. I think no more is needed here.

§ Quote, from Yedi to Ads: “Look, I can’t put any more bar time in with you. But can I book you for later? Room 213. I’ll leave the door open.”

Being obnoxious assholes (if you’re Reed):

§ From Reed to Jami, in discussion of boobs: “…Has great tits. Linderman doesn’t have great tits.” (thank you)

§ From Reed to me: “So you live with Veeve. That’s awesome. Do you get to see her tits a lot? She has great tits.”

§ Seen at bar on Saturday night: Reed, licking (literally) Ads’ boobs.

§ And…Moe is not Reed, but she did steal Bart’s camera and take one million cleavage pics. Weird.

Acting like retards on the dance floor:

Every sentimental college song was on the play list for the evening.

§ I have seen a bride do such a great Jane Fonda to Footloose (everybody go Pi Phi…) or the running man to Ice Ice Baby.

§ A group of grown women swaying and crying to Tiny Dancer: Is this sexy?

§ Will we be on our (literally) on our knees as we clasp our hands during Like a Prayer when we’re like 80 years old?

§ Will Tarr still be sequestered to the center of the dance floor to dance his (apparently classic?) moves for Billy Jean and Thriller?

Inappropriately removing clothing:

§ Last but not least, someone had to actually pull Tarr’s boxer shorts down during the boxer shot. I don’t think by any means this is appropriate wedding behavior. But it does keep it real…

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

The May Gray


For the past several weeks the weather has been dreadful and, in my opinion, incredibly un-LA. There is a perpetual “marine layer” (I would say it’s cloudy out but here it’s the Marine Layer, just like when it gets warm it’s not just warm, it’s the “Santa Annas” blowing in, but this is beside the point) clouding my sunny life. It’s May damn it, it’s supposed to be 80. I’m supposed to be wearing a skirt and tank top (I’m wearing jeans and long sleeves). I don’t get it, I moved here for one key reason: to maintain a year round tan. It’s been doing pretty well, but it’s starting to fade, and it’s disconcerting.

So I did some research. When I moved here my roommate warned me of this sad phenomenon called June Gloom. This means that in June, it is gloomy… But see, what she didn’t warn me about was what my research helped me discover – it’s currently the May Gray. And it sucks.

Fortunately, spray tan exists, and I think that I’ll survive. But I do wish that I’d been warned. So, here’s what I’m thinking – I used to live in Indianapolis, right? I’ve decided to put together some weather warnings for anyone that may be facing a future in this lovely city.

Alright, in September and October the weather is tolerable. It’s sunny, not too humid, temps in the 60s-70s. You may enjoy this! We’ll call this, Fall Ball – take advantage!

Beginning in November and stretching through to March, it is perpetually overcast and freezing cold, with precipitation in the form of sleet or snow not infrequent. It sucks. please be advised to wear a lot of layers and play boardgames and stuff. I am warning you about the Winter Splinter.

From March to May it will warn up (gradually). But the precipitation remains not infrequent, although the snow turns to rain. Also the humidity really starts to kick in. It’s nice. We’ll call this the Spring Cling, and again, you’ve been warned.

Then we have June through August, summer! You think swimming pools and sunshine. Here’s what to expect: 100% humidity and 100 degree heat. I suggest sticking to air conditioned locations when you’re not in a body of water. Warning: Summer Bummer.

Good luck. I hope this leads to a better sense of expectations. And PS: picture is how it shoudl be in LA and never is in Indy - warm, sunny, and perfect.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

It Started in China

I recently visited China, and a friend suggested posting to a travel blog. I didn't really consider that. But then a couple weeks later I was thinking that sometimes things are funny and I want to write them down, and I considered starting to blog. A cynical and "un-agreeable" East Coast friend of mine noted that no one would really want to read my ramblings...and this may be very true. But I don't care. Because there are times - like when I'm sitting in the way back of my absolutely useless Global Marketing Management Class, where I really have nothing better to do than create blog postings. So there you go, my impetus to blog. I figured my best first entry would be the stuff I wrote that got me thinking about blogging: My China trip notes. Here it is. With love and milipedes, my first blog entry.


Neehow, peejow, shey-shey. This is the extent of my Chinese vocabulary – hello, beer, thank you. I had this extensive vocab prior to my trip, and now 8 days later, it's not any bigger. But I did add: about 200 photos to my camera's memory chip, four new handbags (2 Chloe, a Fendi, and a Tod's – all 100% authentic) to my collection, and a case of SARS (or so it feels) and about 10 pounds of Chinese-food-built weight to my body. It was absolutely amazing, so I'm willing to deal with the SARS and the weight. If you wanna take a look at the pics (I captioned them so they make some sense) check them out on the Snapfish link below, and if you want to hear the detes of my trip (my voice has vanished so I though email would be a better medium) here's a recount for you. Disclaimer: this is virtually a novel. It is ridiculously long, and best reserved for reading if you have absolutely nothing to do at work or are procrastinating from studying. Also good for hearing about all the ins and outs of traveling in China. Here we go…


Saturday: Meet the Rainbow Room
We leave LA at 10:45 (delayed flight) and arrive in San Fran just before our 2pm flight to Beijing.
They kindly hold the plane for the SIXTY missing passengers – and when we get there we sprint through to the plane. I watch Walk the Line, take an ambien, and I'm out for the remaining 10 hours. We get into Beijing at 6pm, and a group of us heads out to find some food. We end up at the Rainbow Café (actually we have no idea what it's called, but it has this giant neon rainbow thing w/ small animals eating rice on the sign, hence our name) and split our three Chinese-speaking friends evenly between our three tables. My first taste of China includes some little tofu blob things (good!), bamboo shoots, scallion pockets, and other various meat and fish things. It's actually quite delish. (We will quickly learn that meals on our own are vastly better than meals with the tour group). Afterward, we hit up a KTV (karaoke) and get a private room where we sing the 10 or so English songs they have (all 80s hits), some more than once, and drinks some peejos, before turning in for the night.


Sunday: That's quite a large Mao you have
At 7:30 we get our wakeup call. This is 16 hours ahead of LA, so we're a bit groggy.
Is it that I'm groggy and imagining that breakfast is pork buns and fried rice? No! breakfast really IS pork buns and fried rice! Yes! So we head out into the city. Beijing: what does it look like? We determined its closest cousin is an amalgamation of Midwestern cities. There's a little Indy, a little Dayton, a little Detroit. There are streets of skyscrapers, and then streets of tiny little baby buildings that look incredibly non-Western. It's an old city trying to become new, but it's a very slow shift and I doubt it will catch up w/ Shanghai anytime soon, although it's building like crazy in prep for the 2008 Olympics. Only 1 in 4 Beijing dwellers owns a car, so there are bikes everywhere. They weave in and out of traffic or occasionally are confined to bike lanes. Either way, it's nuts to see so many bikes. The city feels deserted in some areas, bustling in others.

All this aside, we learn that Beijing is a city with a rich ancient history. Our first stop is the Summer Palace, which was originally built in the Jin Dynasty (1115-1234!!!!). Throughout the succeeding dynasties, it just kept growing. Key themes of the Summer Palace: longevity! Everything is a symbol of longevity. Concubines! I've never heard the word concubine (from our tour guide) more times in a 24 hour period. Apparently the average emperor kept like 300 at one time – and would sleep with up to 7 or so a night (this was for protection – he'd jump from bed to bed so no one would know his whereabouts). The concubine deal was so nuts that on an emperor's marriage night (to the emperor) his mom would watch him consummate his marriage to make sure they actually slept together at some point. And the empresses were nuts too – they might start as a concubine and would kill anyone standing in their way if they were possibly eligible to be an empress. So anyway, after SP we take a boat over to lunch (freezing our rears off on the way) and are intro'ed at lunch to the food that we will eat as part of the tour group for the remainder of the trip. There is lots of celery and bok choy floating limply in grease, weird fish-based soups, and severely fried meats in sweet and sour sauces (apparently they Americanize it for us somewhat). I thank the very starchy sauces and general unhealthiness of the food for the major case of constipation (sorry I have to share this) that I acquired.

On to the Forbidden City! This place is massive. It's in the city's center and is a collection of palaces and squares where royalty has roamed for thousands of years. There are actually 9,999.5 rooms in the palace. Couldn't have 10,000 b/t the gods up in heaven have that many – and the emperors had to cut the number down to show that they weren't as rich and powerful as the gods (my, they were modest cutting off that .5 room). Follow through the end and you hit Tiananmen Square. It's GINORMOUS and there are commie guards everywhere – they most obvious sign of the square is the GINORMOUS portrait of Mao that presides over the square. A bit chilling. Later – post-dinner – we see the Beijing Opera. It sounds mostly like a small child banging pots and pans together – and people in really cool costumes dance around acting out stories about the God of the Monkeys pissing off the other Gods in Heaven. It's a bit hard to follow. I won't lie. The day was exhausting, and almost everyone fell asleep…

Monday: After your rubdown, try the delicious grease sandwich
We wake up, fuel up on buns, and head outside the city to hike up the Great Wall.
We hiked the Juyongguan Pass which is about 50km from Beijing. When we arrived, the wind was whipping around our faces and it was COLD. We wisely purchased (matching) hats, gloves, and scarves (all hideous gray and yellow stripes) for a grand total of around $5 for the set. And it was a damn smart idea. It took about 2.5 hours round trip and was exhausting – straight up hill! The scenery was absolutely breathtaking – rolling green hills for miles – would love to see it in summer. The wall felt as ancient as it is – the steps were massive and it's not surprising that deaths were frequent during the building (apparently casualties of building were just thrown right into the cement). The Great Wall is one of the coolest things I've seen in my life.

Following the Great Wall, we saw one of the un-coolest things. We were dropped unexpectedly at a Cloisonné factory (it's a Chinese art form – copper based pitchers/jewelry/etc. that is then enameled). We knew the goods were tremendously overpriced and no one was interested in shopping – we wanted to EAT as we were starving. We later found out that this is part of communism – the trip to this government store is actually mandated for any tour group that comes through Beijing (and they know you're there – they collect and hold your passports for scanning when you check into your hotel). Lunch was more of the same – except there were bottles of alcohol on the table that tasted pretty much like rubbing alcohol – I think my breath was flammable after the tiny sip I ingested.

The afternoon was spent getting massaged. A 90 minute massage was 110RB (equivalent to about $15!!!). We were served a "snack" which was dropped off about ½ way through the massage – it was a greasy pork sandwich thing – NOT spa food – but I think that is what they think Americans like to eat all the time. The one girl on the trip who ate the thing had a tummy ache the duration of the trip.

After returning to the hotel, we showered and got ready – my roommate and I ran late, and we discovered that us and a few others had been left behind the bus. Lucky twist of fate. We returned to the Rainbow Room where we feasted on another tasty (NOT being sarcastic) meal – we had two types of fish (you pick your fish out of tank and they bring the flopping little guy over to your table in a bucket for approval prior to kicking it up), this awesome spicy beef dish, Peking duck, and pigs feet (a mistake order) among other things. The pigs feet actually had this spice on them that is illegal for import to the US –it's so hot that it numbs your tongue, pretty cool actually. For a shit-ton of food, over 10 bottles of peejo – it was about $5 per person. We closed down the restaurant after engaging in a game of Chinese Checkers (the Chinese dude kicked our friend Hans' ass) and headed off to find this one bar, which after driving around the city for an hour, we never found, so bed it was. That was a weird thing – the cab drivers never really seemed to know where anything was…


Tuesday: Ha! I kill you!

The next day is free and unscheduled. Some of us pile into cabs and venture about 60km outside the city to the Tanzhe Temple, a super old Buddhist temple. Apparently it's one of the most "effective" temples in the world (as far as making sure your prayers are answered) so we picked up some incense and left it for the gods. I guess that Buddha will apparently read your thoughts so you don't even need to think of a prayer – and he will answer you regardless of your religion. The area was temple after temple – beautiful gardens – forest of bamboo. Incredibly peaceful and quiet and so nice to be away from tons of tourists. A couple nutty things: one temple that depicted terrible scenes of torture (hell we guessed), and the giant swastika that was adorning some of the Buddhas (before Hitler adopted it, it was a sign of peace and benevolence) – ironic, no? BTW – the cabbies took us an hour outside the city, waited for us for 1.5 hours, and then drove us back – 300RB/cab - $15 per person…amazing how cheap China is.

Once we return to the city, our friend Cindy (one of our Chinese speakers) takes us to lunch at some random little place. A miscommunication yields our table of seven 6 heaping plates of fried rice along with our other dishes. But we know it's so damn cheap that we don't push when they won't take it back.

Here's a good time to discuss Chinese toilets. I used them at this restaurant. When I returned to the table, I got the obligatory, "so, how was it?" "Western style" toilets were sparse in Beijing. Instead you get a hole in the ground with ceramic foot grooves so you don't fall in, although I developed a fear of slipping and doing just that. The toilets in general smell like 18,000 dead fish are rotting inside. I would've loved to have one of the surgical masks that everyone wears around the streets on China at my disposal. Toilet paper? Not an option. Soap and paper towels? I think not.

Continuing on. Our next stop is the Pearl Market. It is four floors of shopping heaven, if you're up for fake Prada loafers, fake Northface, fake bags, fake watches, fake iPods, fake damn everything, in addition to fish (smell permeated the first floor), ceramic chopstick sets, cloisonné jewelry, jade, anything else Chinese, and of course, pearls. It's our intro to bargaining. So first off there are about 20 shop owners coming at you and grabbing your from every direction asking you to buy shit. They grab your arm. They drag you to their booth. They shove a trinket in your hand, get out their calculators, and type in their starting price. You then take 10-50% of that price and type it into the calculator. You there hear one of many gem phrases:

§ Not a phrase – but a sound – hysterical laughter

§ You joking! You joking! Now serious price!

§ You have fever?

§ Ha! I kill you! I kill you!

§ I make NO money I give you this price!!! I kill you! You joke me!!

You continue to bargain. They say "ok ok ok ok. This final price. What you final final price? What you final final final price?" You walk away. They come after you. Bargaining continues. The smart shopper (don't even ask if I'm one of them – that's an insult to my years of expert shopping experience) will not budge from the original price. And eventually, it's yours. Even though they may put a hex on your as you depart their booth. I walk out of the market with about 5 jade bracelets, a bag, two Northface jackets, some chopstick sets, a tea set, three pearl necklaces. I think it cost about $60 total.

Dinner was unremarkable. What WAS remarkable was the Beijing Night Market. It's a street lined with such delicious items for sale as roaches, snakes, frogs, scorpions, and starfish. They are all on sticks and the vendors will fry them up for your. It reeks. I had two friends eat snake (apparently so spiced that you couldn't' really taste the fish) and one eat scorpions (apparently tastes like…yes…chicken…with lots of crunchy legs). Vomiting yet?

BTW – I mentioned that the night market reeked. What I didn't mention is that China in general, and I mean no disrespect, reeks. Yes, it smells. Like sewage. And the people hawk big loogies everywhere. As an American, I realized that one thing I undervalue is hygiene. That smelly guy on the metro standing next to you in the summer ain't nothing my friend.


Wednesday: Try the Thai place around the corner
I just love waking up at 4am, it's my super favorite hour.
So lucky for me that was our wakeup call for getting to the airport for our flight to Shang-HI!! Shanghai: NOTHING like Beijing. If Beijing is Indy/Detroit/Dayton, Shanghai is Manhattan/Chicago/Paris/London/any other awesome city in the world. It has some of the tallest skyscrapers in the world, it has a bullet train (the magnetic suspension train – still has wheels), it has the Huangpu (unfortunate name no?) River, it is beautiful. Our first stop was the Yu gardens – they are a place of peace and beauty right in the center of the city. We grabbed lunch before heading to Bund Street. This is where old meets new. The Bund itself – which is a large promenade on the West bank of the Huangpu – is a road lined with buildings that reflect the myriad nations that have inhabited the country at one time or another; it has gothic, Renaissance, Baroque architecture, etc. And also delicious snacks such as candied crab apples on a stick. You try, you like.

Look across at the East Bank and it's another world – totally modern skyscrapers of all sorts of crazy shapes. It was all farmland, then one day the gov't said, hey let's build this shit up. So they dumped $18.5B into fantastic structures and in only 13 years an urban mecca has developed – the coolest buildings include the Oriental Pearl TV Tower and the Jin Mao Tower.

So let us see. The day passes and we head back to our hotel, which kicks ass, with super cozy beds, cool views, and marbely-fancy pants bathrooms. We regroup to make dinner plans (we are not going tour group tonight), and decided that Indian food will be a pleasant change. So we get the name of the restaurant, and four of us head over to meet up with other friends. Now see, here is another thing about China. As a non-Mandarin speaker, you are pretty much screwed. I don't care how good you think your pronunciation of a given item/place is, it sucks, and the taxi drivers will never understand you. So what do you do? You have the concierge write down the name of the destination in Chinese for you. But even then you are frequently screwed. So our cab driver drops us at some place, and we scout out our restaurant, but we cannot find it. It's weird though – we're on this promenade that has an Italian restaurant, a French restaurant, etc. – and it's expat heaven. And what appears, but a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. They don't even have those in NY. But apparently, after LA, Shanghai is the next best-fit market… Also – a note – Paris Hilton and LA cover the walls in the shop – it's totally freaky. We think maybe they can help us find our place in there, but we are wrong. All we know is our restaurant is like a 15 cab ride from wherever the hell we are, and we are not feeling it. So we're standing outside deciding on a random restaurant when this Harvard B-School grad (he runs a textile factory, "like everyone else over here") tells us to hit up this Thai restaurant around the corner as it's totally good. It's not, actually it's quite bad Thai, but we sit outside beside heat lamps, drape ourselves in fleece blankets, and drink red wine, which, after days of lukewarm peejo, tastes like the nectar of the gods.

Afterward we head over to Face Bar (yes, totally expat) to meet up with friends. It's in an old mansion which apparently used to be an opium lounge. Personally, I swore to God that I was at the 18th Street Lounge (for the DC kids). It could've been a bar in any major city. So I ordered a dirty martini and savored the cosmopolitan-ness. We then hit up the opium bed (remnant of days past) which were super cozy and chilled for the remainder of the night.

Thursday: Would you like some escargot with that triple-meat-supreme?
Are you still reading this?
You crazy! Anyway, it's now Thursday, and the morning kicks off with some business stuff, b/c remember, I am an MBA student. We have a panel presentation featuring five American entrepreneurs and located at Café Fresh, the venture of one of these individuals. The speakers are working on a consulting company, a food delivery service, etc. It was cool to hear them speak of how speaking fluent Mandarin can be a disadvantage (you can get away with more if you play dumb), not speaking Mandarin but being a Chinese-born American is a disadvantage (they resent you), and how the communist government is still very much alive through corrupt taxation laws/business regulations even though they are allowed to run profitable companies. We work up an appetite…and it's time for lunch. What to eat. Chinese? We say now. At this point if I have to eat one more dish of fish vomit soup or see one more plate of sweet-and-sour anything dancing in grease, I will hurl. Others are with me.

We head to Pizza Hut (shut up). This ain't no PH you've ever seen. They seat you. They have cloth napkins and cloths and nice plates and silverware. There is pizza on the menu…along with fancy coffee drinks, shrimp appetizers, escargot, and French onion soup. While none of us could recall the last time we'd eaten PH pizza in the states, we orgasmed over the cheesy delight of our lunches. It totally hit the spot, and I'm proud to be an American.

After lunch, we take in some culture at the Shanghai museum, which features among other exhibits, a jade room, a calligraphy room, a pottery room, and a room that displays costumers and masks (freaky!) from the various tribal people of China. The cultural reprise leads into an afternoon of shopping. Our destination: the Xiangyang Market, which seems to be acres and acres big and features counterfeit goods of all shapes and sizes. Little men run at you with catalogs in their hands offering "watchdvdbag" (all one word). I believe I was also offered "sex tapes," I turned that offer down. This is a notch up from Beijing shopping. Here, if you are willing, they will lead you through back alleys where people are splashing sewer water out their windows and up winding staircases to shady attic rooms where they keep the good shit – the super "highest collity" (you have to hear the pronunciation) goods. The bargaining is tougher. They may rip the bags from your hand and tell you to "leave and never come back." They may put a hex on you. They offer you not just the "more shee-per" price but the "very good best friend handsome man" price. (I never knew I had so many best friends in China). They seduce you through cries of "pretty lat-ee" (got me every time) and scream "lookah lookah!!!" several more purses and some HOT red Pumas (I will never wear these things in the rain) later, we peace out. We grab a snack, drop our stuff at the hotel, and head to the Shanghai Theater (the most modern theater in Asia) to see the Shanghai acrobats. This is Cirque de Soleil, with really terrible costumes. I am thinking of taking some design classes and lobbying for a job as the new costumer designer for them, b/c people that can do such wicked cool stunts deserve way better clothes. Check out the pics for their stunts.

Post show we grab dinner at the Japanese place in our hotel; it's traditional style where you get to take off your shoes and all that good stuff. We go crazy with the sake bombs which our waitresses find highly amusing. We are more amused when a hotel employee approaches one of our friends in the bathroom and asks if for 600RB he'd like to have what we assume to be sex (what else does a hand gesture where one inserts his index finger into his opposing fist). Speaking of sex, we discover that our hotel spa is open to 3am. This is weird right? Being such young ingénues, my friend Melissa and I are totally unsuspecting. So at 12:30am we, along with Mel's BF Jason, hit up the spa for pre-bedtime massages. My massage is mediocre, and Melissa's is apparently terrible. Only notable moves include a LOT of butt-massaging as well as liberal and highly uncomfortable massaging of the inner thigh… The next morning at breakfast, Jason describes the end of his massage, where his masseuse gently tapped her crotch area and exclaimed, "sex? Sex?" She also made a gesture that we think infers an erection….

Hey guys! If your hotel (even if f it is 4 stars) spa is open till 3am and features cute women running around in tight pink outfits, they aren't just open for massages!

Friday: We have about 24 hours of travel beginning at 7am, so how bout we stay out till 4:30?
For the first day of the trip, we sleep in.
I am of course well-rested following my lovely massage… Today is more shopping, but I venture out from the market to actual boutique shopping to purchase some wares. In the first store, I am accosted: I walk in. Two clerks grab a dress off the rack, pull me over, stick my arms out, and force the dress on me (it is super cute though). They button me up and tie the sash. They then gesture for me to take my jeans off. We exchange this gesture several times to confirm understanding. Then, they spin me around in front of the mirror and give me a repeated thumbs up sign. As a side note, over here, I'm a size four. I'm not so much used to purchasing clothing in size XL. It feels great, really does a lot for the ego. I also discover that in these shops, there is no bargaining, and they really don't give a shit if you want to buy anything or not.

The evening begins with cocktails atop the Jin Mao tower, at Cloud Nine lounge which resides on Floor 87. It's one of the sweetest views I've ever seen, and I would move into that hotel in a second. Drinks are followed by a final unremarkable tour group hotel to really seal the deal on giving my stomach a heart attack, but we end it right, out at some sweet club that plays great music including a live salsa band. It's an awesome time and we get to bed around 4:30am.

Saturday: 10 hour flight with a fat man
This concludes the trip folks.
If you read this far, you either REALY REALLY love me or are REALLY REALLY BORED. As far as the ending of the trip goes, the plane flight back sucked, as I was in and out of sleep and wedged against a fat man. But definitely worth it, China was pretty damn amazing.