Kenn World

Serious Blockage

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 08:08:00 +0000

Not just Blogger's Block (over the last two years) but also China's recent decision to block access to blogger.com

Sigh. Why are they so afraid of retards with keyboards?

Obnoxiously Good Luck

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 11:58:00 +0000

I'm headed back Stateside very soon, and unfortunately, my residence permit expires while I'm gone. In order to get it extended, I needed to have my Foreign Expert's Certificate extended.

The extension of the foreign expert's certificate requires a week, the extension of the residence permit also requires a week. Each requires multiple trips to multiple offices, lots of paperwork, and a smattering of red rubber stampings.

I leave in a week.

I've managed, somehow, in the last few days, to meet the two friendliest, most helpful Chinese government workers ever. The first in the Office of Importing Foreign Intellectuals (see included photo) the second at the big Public Security Bureau building near the Lama Temple.

The first told me that, if I faxed him a letter explaining my situation and included my flight itinerary, he'd see what he could do. What he did was get my certificate back to me in less than twenty-four hours. He even called me this morning (!!!) to tell me that my certificate would be ready by 3pm. Holy crap.

Oh, and big ups to Melissa and her intern for helping me write the letter.

Today, I tried to get my visa extended. I was told that it would take a week, and a bunch of paperwork (which I didn't have) to get it done.

I explained my situation. She told me that, if I could get the paperwork and red rubber stamps back to her by tomorrow, she'd make sure I had my passport back before I leave. She told me to come straight to her and avoid the other workers.

I'm crossing my fingers... as I need to visit a police station tomorrow for some other paperwork. I hope it goes as smoothly. I also hope I find the incredibly nice lady at the PSB.

I know my friends who helped me get the Foreign Expert's certificate won't ever read this (as it's written poorly in a foreign language... but thanks to them endlessly anyhow.

** Update **
This morning I went to the police station to get my temporary residence whatever thingy we laowai all need but frequently are late in getting...

I ran into someone I casually know, he lived in the same complex and was in need of the same card. He was first in line, and for some reason, they gave him a lot of shit... "You've lived here for this long and still haven't had this done... that's illegal, you know. You should be fined."

For some reason, the same police woman gave me absolutely no trouble and just signed the papers and printed my form.

I headed straight to the PSB, and filled out some forms, talked to the right people, and I'll have my passport back on the morning that I leave. Eek.

My Scooter is Basically Free, Yeah?

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Sat, 13 Oct 2007 15:07:00 +0000

So, as if you weren't already convinced that I'm a complete geek, here's some more evidence:

I've been keeping a 'journal' of the cost-effectiveness of my new scooter via an excel spreadsheet. This week, my scooter has finally paid for itself and started actually saving me money.

I put in a few factors here (all figures in RMB):

Cost of the bike : 2500
Cost of the fake plate : 310
Cost of gas : To date: 238+
Cost of maintenance : To date: 500+
Cab fare saved : To date: 3780+

I have not included trips to the mechanic or gas station under the "cab fare saved" column, and the maintenance includes preventative measures, repairs, and additions (like the lovely new horn or the 'performance' shocks I put on to lift my giant laowai ass off the ground).

Anyhow, I'm happy to report that it's all savings from here on out. And yes, I am crazy enough to continue driving it throughout winter.

Letting off some steam...

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Fri, 05 Oct 2007 12:25:00 +0000

After being a dick a few too many times and getting myself punched by cab drivers, pimps, or whoever happened to annoy me, I decided to learn to control my temper. Over the last year or so, I've been doing a pretty good job of it.

But, for some reason, the last few days have really tried my patience, and I've blown up a few times.

Today, for example, some twenty-something asshole whose parents bought for him an awesome ricer sportscar that gets him all sorts of laid decided it would be a good idea to sideswipe me and knock me off my bike. He did this within my apartment complex (which is saturated with speedbumps) right before making a left turn at a blind T intersection. At the Bucknuts Freaking Moron School of Driving, he learned that all of those things- speedbumps, left turns, and not being able to see traffic around the corner are reasons to speed up. Unfortunately, I'm not an alumnus, and so I was going way too slow for him. Good enough reason for him to blare his horn and knock me off of his bike. That, and he has a small prick.

I got up, hunted his ass down, blaring my horn futilely at him, and as he was driving into his apartment's parking lot, stopped him and yelled at him (slightly less futilely). He struggled to think of something to say in response to questions like, "Why do you drive like that? Are you trying to kill people, or are you just an idiot?"

His inability to answer annoyed me more, so I punched his car. This is the kind of stupid shit I do when I'm pissed. The right idea would have been to punch him, considering that his car- although a pointlessly lame ricer- wasn't being an asshole, and more importantly can't feel pain.

His passenger, who spoke irritatingly good English, got out and apologized politely and shook my hand. I'm still pissed off about how quickly that calmed me down and made me go away.

* * * * * * * *

So, later, while getting my oil changed, I noticed this hanging on the wall of mechanic's shop:

I asked the mechanic if he could install this while fixing my turn signals. He laughed, and did it. When asked "how loud is it is?" He said, "Loud... heh. Once I install it, you'll see."

It was loud. It was loud enough to annoy people who repair motorcycles. It was so loud, it knocked a cat off of a nearby roof. It's loud enough that it kind of hurts my ears when I use it.

It was fun making cab drivers slam on their brakes by making them think that a giant, blue, poorly-made truck was about to T-bone them. However, I really got my chance to test it out later this evening...

As I was entering an apartment complex gate, one of the guards in the guardhouse threw something at me. It was a banana peel. It landed between my feet on my scooter while I was moving. I heard the laughter of two halfwits coming from the guardhouse. I stopped, backed up, and looked inside. Immediately, two guards that could easily intimidate an 8 year old girl came out to apologize.

"Why did you throw that at me?" I asked.
"Um... I'm terribly sorry. It was an accident. I didn't see there was a person there."
"You don't have eyes? Or, was my headlight blinding and you are too stupid to logically reason that, if there's a moving vehicle there must be a person on it?"
"But, I said I'm sorry."
"So, why did you do that? Was it some kind of joke?"
"No no no... I didn't know..."
"Why did you laugh?"
"Um... I... uh..."
"I have something that's funny... come close."
"Huh?"
"Closer."

Nearly knocked him out of his standard issue tennis shoes.

Okay, So like, I'm a grown-up now, right?

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Fri, 28 Sep 2007 02:37:00 +0000

Now that I'm 30, there's few changes I have to make to my life, because that's what adults do.

Stop going to bed at 4am: It's unprofessional. People will think I'm much more professional if I wake up at 6 or 7am and sit in rush hour traffic until 10. This way, when I finally start working at 11 after downing a double tall latte or two, they won't look at me and say, "Just got out of bed?" They'll see an obvious unrested, wired, wage slave and think "Now there's a guy who's got his shit together.
Think about buying a house: Living with a roommate is something college kids do. What I really need to do if I want people to respect me is tie myself down financially. Having the ability to just go where one pleases is a sign of immaturity, and it's time I move beyond that.
Get a car: Not in the mid-life crisis way. I'm talking about something practical, dependable and family friendly. Like a Cadillac Escalade.
Get a haircut and a real job: I'm going bald anyhow, and keeping a 9 to 5 really shows how mature one is. Only a true adult is ready to give up looking for the life he or she wants and accept a life that pays the bills even if it means 8 hours a day with people he or she secretly wants to murder.
Hang up the chick habit: A girl's not a tonic nor a pill. I need to switch to alcohol: the drug of choice for grown men who otherwise despise their 9-5s, their houses, and their jobs.

Quick note before bed...

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Tue, 29 May 2007 20:14:00 +0000

Nick has made the comment that my life is incestuous in that my clients are often my friends and the places I hang out are businesses that I have contracts with.

Further proving his point, we're also doing the POS for Rickshaw (one of my new favorite spots in Beijing). I've mentioned COX before - Rickshaw is owned and operated by the same people.

So, they specialize in very authentic Buffalo wings, which makes the irony even deeper for me. I actually killed off some homesickness today with some of their wings with celery and blue cheese. I did this while working on a POS for Q Bar (down the street) and while Trevor was talking POS business with the manager.

Somehow, life manages to stay fresh. I'm so much more comfortable with this than I would be with a desk job in which I'm doing the same thing every day. What?

Yeah. Nick has a point.

Whoa, this thing is dusty.

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Tue, 29 May 2007 19:27:00 +0000

So, yeah. It's been some obnoxious amount of time since I've posted anything. What happened to Kenn World? What happened to Beijing Adventures?

Well, the long-enough answer is ARD and Q Bar.

ARD is, if you're not familiar, a (or rather, THE) German broadcaster. We updated their bigger-than-I-realized office (read: laid a bunch of cables, designed some new port thingies and installed some hardware) in preparation for the 2008 Olympic coverage and all of the new employees it will bring.

Q Bar, if you're not familiar, is the bar that I've spent the most time at. Ironically, the project we did for them (a custom point-of-sale system), has kept me almost completely away from them (read: I've been there three times for relaxtion since starting the project, once on business).

The ARD project is mostly done, and so is the POS.

Hmm. It feels good to be blogging. This is the first time since February that I've not felt guilty for not working.

Maybe I can even get Jim Boyce to start reading again.

Still Funny, Still Painful, Still Relevant

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Tue, 13 Feb 2007 16:07:00 +0000

Thanks to Trevor on this one...

For Posterity's Sake

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 18:03:00 +0000

link back to month 2
link back to month 1

Two months have passed since I officially began. I've lost about 10 kilograms and dropped almost two waist sizes, and as far as anyone can tell I look exactly the same:

I got compared to Santa Claus today. Jesus, people.

Beijing Adventures: Scooter Repair and Chocolate Decadence

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Sat, 10 Feb 2007 12:06:00 +0000

I frequently feel in Beijing that I’m living in two very disparate places. Admittedly, I foster that feeling, but the city itself is mostly responsible for this. Interspersed within the high-rises and multi-million dollar office towers are pockets of old Beijing. Decaying, single-floored brick buildings that may be twenty, fifty, or a hundred years old huddle in the shadows of these young giants. Age and continued use frequently give them more character than the buildings that surround and dwarf them.

Somewhat out of necessity, but also out of curiosity, I find myself drawn to both the old and the new Beijing, the daily life in the hutongs and the swank events around the city. Most often, it’s obvious I don’t fit in. In the back alleys, not only am I a foreigner, but relatively filthy rich. At high-class events around the city, my middle-class background shows through. I don’t like champagne. I hold my wine glass incorrectly. I’m oblivious to the fact that I just casually chatted with some celebrity. I don’t truly fit in anywhere because I’m a middle-class outsider, and there’s no true middle class here.

Old Beijing

Yesterday, I took my scooter for repairs at a garage sandwiched between a widening street and train tracks in the fast-growing Bai zi wan area. Its continued existence in that neighborhood is probably a side-effect of the fact that the narrow strip of land it’s on isn’t developable.

As I entered, hesitantly, I saw a taxi cab having its tires replaced, or maybe rotated, on the left. On the right, motorcycles, scooters, and motorized bicycles haphazardly queued up for repairs. People meandered about or welded something to something else, or looked on as someone else made repairs. Many of them wore grease-stained clothes and had fresh grease on their hands. I had no idea who to talk to. Everyone I saw was potentially a customer or a mechanic.

The ground was uneven, sloping at strange angles to itself, and covered in a few layers of grime. The rear wall of the garage was a squat, brick building that housed a tiny convenience store and what appeared to be the storehouse for the repair shop; shelves full of spare parts, possibly second hand, mostly covered in dust. The garage itself was an awning held aloft by a line of trees and steel tubes welded together in a skeleton. The steel tube is in the very center was too short, and so was propped up by two bricks. A scooter, much smaller than mine, sat in a corner and appeared to have been sitting there for an eternity. The front half of it was held to the back half with a misshapen board with a nut/bolt set through each corner.

The boss stepped out of the store room and greeted me. He was not at all grease-covered, and looked incredibly like an aged Zhou Enlai (on the left in the photo). He had his posture, his eyebrows, and smile. He had his hat, and a matching coat. His mannerisms were as I’ve always imagined Zhou’s mannerisms to have been. I don't think that the original Zhou Enlai had gold teeth, but this one did. As far as I can tell, besides the grill, he had no other bling.

Zhou Enlai asked me to show him what was wrong with my bike. I did. He got a fifteen year old boy to start working on it.

A drunken man pulled up on his motor-trike. He had a big furry hat that stereotypes of Russians wear in Siberia. A cloud of alcohol scent surrounded him. He asked where I was from, then insisted on speaking Russian to me. I, and the others, repeatedly told him that I couldn’t understand Russian, let alone his drunken Mandarin. He wanted his biked fixed before they fixed mine. I don’t know if it was out of politeness to me, or in the interested of keeping this wildly drunk guy off of the road for a while, but they refused and continued working on mine.

The drunk starting making me uncomfortable when he mimed rubbing his oily hands on my coat. Fortunately, a young Deng Xiaoping came to my rescue. He was, I figured out after a while, a customer, and didn’t work with Zhou Enlai at all. Deng talked to me at great length, and made me feel as though my Mandarin ability was novice at best. I’m not even clear exactly what the subject was. He enjoyed the conversation, though.

After two hours of watching the15-year-old try to repair my bike, it was clear that the repairs would be done any time soon. I asked if I could come back tomorrow. The boy said “Sure,” with what was obviously a sigh of relief. I think I was getting special treatment as the foreign guest, and the boy thought he had to rush to get the work done.

“We’ll be open at 8am tomorrow,” he said.

“I have something to do in the morning,” I lied, “I’ll be by in the afternoon. Maybe about this time.”

New Beijing

An hour later, I was on my way to the Chocojing party. I didn't know what they were, but the invite intrigued me, so I went. The event was held at a place called Luna, or Luce. It's hard to tell. I found the address in That's Beijing under the name Luna, but the sign on the door said "Luce." I have my suspicions that Luce is the restaurant part, and Luna is the lounge part.

Anyhow, it was everything that these swank, in-a-traditional-house-in-a-hutong- but-redecorated-with-a-lot-of-funiture-that-might-be-european places are supposed to be. Subdued lighting, mostly white patrons, and music that is supposed to be cool partially because no one can name the artists. Having said, that, it was quite enjoyable and some of the chocolate fabulous. The entrance fee was a fair 50 kuai, which included the chocolate and chocolate martinis. Well worth the cost.

There was an AmCham dinner going on at the same time, and many of the AmCham people overflowed into the Chocojing thing. Some of the AmCham people were wearing shoes that cost much much more than my scooter, and I can't help but wonder if they'd ever set foot in a place like the repair shop I was in just hours ago.

I mingled, met some interesting people, had a great time. I met people, both foreign and Chinese, who have spent more money on airfare than some of the people I met at the repair shop will make in their entire lifetime. I made the mistake of notice only the chocolate part of the chocolate martinis, and missed the martini part until it was too late.

The host of Chocojing, a few of the guests, and I continued on to two other parties. We left the first rather quickly. It was held at Bed, and the atmosphere was, well... incongruous with our mood. One of our friends remarked that it 'felt like we're supposed to sprawl out on the couch and smoke weed.' The party immediately after that was a beach party held in someone's apartment. There were quite a few guests, including a smidgen of guys in shorts and Hawaiian shirts and a girl in a bikini. Most of the guests seemed unwilling to wear less than their Beijing winter attire. I'm still not certain who the host of that party was, but thank you for (and sorry about) the half-bottle of gin.

We moved on to a bar or two after the parties. Eventually, I ended up at The Saddle, where I ran into someone from the Chocojing party. Though the details never entered my long term memory, thank you for the conversation.

Real Beijing

This afternoon, hangover in retreat, I returned to the repair shop. It was as if the whole place was on pause while I was gone. The 15-year-old still had my bike in various pieces scattered about. He was frantically unscrewing bolts and stripping wires, and insisting that the turn signals never worked in the first place. It was another hour and a half before my bike was ready to go.

After all that work, the repairs we 5 kuai less than the small burrito I ate at The Saddle. 30 kuai for both the parts and labor. I cannot imagine how they can run that shop when that much work amounts to 30 kuai.

They wished me a happy Spring Festival, and I drove away. I got as far as the street when the engine died. After another half hour of repairs, they'd asked if I had anything important to do and whether I was in a hurry. I told them I'd leave the bike with them another night, and come back tomorrow afternoon.

A lot of foreigners in Beijing can be overheard expressing their anger over how quickly the 'old' Beijing is being destroyed. Of course, most of these people live in the high-rises that they hate so much. Some of them live in modernized, converted siheyuan, but none of them live in the 'old' Beijing that is being unceremoniously replaced.

Don't get me wrong, I miss it, too. I remember when Beijing was a few skyscrapers surrounded by millions of small apartment complexes and traditional buildings. Now it's hundreds of skyscrapers, thousands of apartment complexes and pockets of traditional housing.

What I mean to question is this: has this ever happened in Beijing's past? Has the general feeling ever been "these newcomers are ruining our city with all this newfangled crap?" It's not as if Beijing has never seen upheaval and change before.

Black Cab

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Thu, 08 Feb 2007 08:57:00 +0000

After finishing up with a client at the Hilton (yeah, I know how that sounds), I waited for a cab in front of the lobby. It was rush hour, so I was mostly relieved when the girl dressed like a bellboy (bellgirl?) came running over saying "Taxi for you, sir."

She was running in that comical, lock-kneed way that some Asian girls seem to prefer. I always wonder if Asian people notice it, and associate that running style with femininity.

A large, black Volkswagen four-door followed her in. It looked like a cab, in that it had the little taxi lamp on the top of it, some faded Chinese characters on the front doors, and a Chinese-looking passenger getting change from the driver before heading into the hotel. I had little reason to question the cab's legitimacy, and anyhow it was rush hour. I was glad to have a ride home at all.

I told him where I was going. He disagreed with me about the route, suggested taking a route that would have been bad even if there were no traffic, and hellish with it. I told him, "I live at that complex. I know how to get there. Don't waste my time driving around in circles, okay?"

That's when I noticed there was no visible meter, or telltale red light on the center dashboard, facing out the windshield. He had no ID card, not even the mounting for it on the dash.

I started to get irritated. I used to avoid the giant, black cabs in the past... they were always the 2 kuai ones from the airport that were a giant rip-off in the first place. Furthermore, they were always assholes who did their best to screw you over. I was getting more irritated by the fact that he was gabbing on his cell and yelling at other drivers. Hang up and drive, idiot. I don't care if you crack your skull on the steering wheel when we get in an accident, but damnit, I want to get home.

I began listening to his conversation. He was talking freely- loudly even- about how he just cheated a guy he brought back from the airport. "No, he was Taiwanese. Only been in Beijing four days. Oh, 180. What do you mean? Of course I tried to get more. He was Taiwanese, not a laowai."

I was livid. I started counting out my change. There was no way this guy was going to overcharge me. I wasn't going to give him the chance. I'm not handing him a hundred then fighting him for the change. Even in traffic, this would only cost 28 kuai. "Well," I thought, "the traffic's bad, and, he is getting me home way faster than a real cab driver would." 30. My mind was made up. "He's not getting more than 30."

I was so ready for a fight. Full of piss and vinegar. I'd done this before, and this guy deserved it. He was still on the phone, still going on about how to cheat people. Some sick part of me was hoping he'd ask me for 180 kuai just so that I had the excuse to rail him in my best Beijing hua and pay him nothing at all.

I'd get him to go into the basement of my complex. There are security cameras down there. And people. If he tries something, he won't even be able to leave. There's only a single exit, and the guards have to lift the gate to let him out. I could even get on my scooter and follow him. No, that's psychotic.

He pulls up to the basement door of my building, audibly lifts the meter (under his seat?) and says, "28 kuai." Shocked, and a little let down, I hand him the 30 I'd already prepared. "Do you need a receipt?" he asked.

I'm still convinced, from his phone calls and his hidden meter that he was a cheat. He must have figured me out, somehow, but I can't tell what it was.

Sly little jerk. He even cheated me out of my opportunity to be angry with him.

Beijing Adventures: Spring Rolls In

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Sun, 04 Feb 2007 14:54:00 +0000

Today is the first day of spring, according to the traditional Chinese calendar. Lichun (立春) is the first of the 24 solar periods that the year is split into. What's a solar period? Shrug. Like most holidays, few know the significance yet most follow the traditions.

For Chinese holidays, 'tradition' most often refers to (possibly making and) eating some particular food with one's family. In the case of Lichun, the traditional food is the spring roll. My friend Karen hastily invited me to join her and her mother for the Lichun experience. Unsure of what her family's interpretation of spring rolls would look like, but harboring a general love of food, I jumped at the chance and we headed out to Changping, the Northern suburb of Beijing where her mother lives.

Hesitation

On the hour and a half subway-to-light rail journey I thought a lot about the correct way to act while at her mother's home and trying, to preemptively reconcile the vast differences between Chinese and American attitudes towards politeness. Is it better to eat too much, or should I not to eat too much because I'm an unexpected guest? Should I keep my elbows off the table? I've heard that I'm supposed to make slurping noises while eating soup in Asia. Is that true? How terrible is it that I've been in China for most of my adult life and still haven't learned proper table manners?

Outside of my internal misgivings, the light rail ride was uneventful. I watched as the scenery passed, the dense residential neighborhoods gave way to large swaths of unused land, dry and brown. The squat, dark gray brick buildings here and there are a sparse version of what Beijing looked like to me when I first got here. It's comforting, that is until I imagine Changping as Beijing's forehead and the sparse buildings a receding hairline.

Gossip

Beijing's above-ground light rail system looks nearly finished. It's clean, many of the stations have bathrooms, and the air conditioning is actually comfortable. This completeness makes the exit of the Lishuiqiao station even more jarring. As we exit the predominantly white, open-air station, we are greeted by a bustling corridor of passengers, motorcycle taxis, and snack food stands. Nothing here is permanent. Blue corrugated steel serves as the corridor walls, most of the snack food stands are on the backs of three-wheeled bicycles. The ground is dust, waiting for the sidewalk and landscaping in preparation for the 2008 Olympics. The pleasant smell of roasted chestnuts and the voices of the hawkers fills the air.

We walk until we come to an even longer corridor of quasi-legal cabs packed in impossible numbers below a bridge. The drivers stand outside their cars casually chatting with one another until they see us, then start competing for our business. Without hesitation, Karen chooses one she knows.

His car is a tiny, red four-door that the three of us could probably lift over our heads if the gas tank was empty. To my surprise, he is entirely non-plussed about having a foreign passenger.

I ask a little about him. He says he doesn't actually need to take passengers, he owns a business that sells and delivers the giant watter bottles for water coolers ubiquitous not only in offices but also in homes in China. He drives mostly out of habit, he's been doing it for so long and so many people know him. I imagine he does it because he enjoys socializing and his minor fame within the local underground taxi world.

He tells us a little about local news. A woman was pushed from a 6th floor window in late January. I expected it would make people in the neighborhood uneasy, but it apparently hadn't. It seemed more of a sensationalized piece of gossip in this otherwise life-as-usual suburb, and I am drawn in. Do they know who pushed her? Did she live? Was it a domestic thing, or a burglary gone wrong? Was it-gasp-murder?

His answers are disappointing. The perpetrator turned himself in, he wasn't a family member or friend, but no motive was given. The woman lived, for a short while, then died. We each mused that it was a horrible way to die, but were unashamed of our morbid interest.

He drops us off at a housing development named Tian Tong Yuan (天通园). Outside the massive complex, the world is made of dust, wind, and fast moving trucks delivering goods to and from Beijing. Inside, it's new apartment buildings and green foliage. The complex is by far the largest I've ever seen.

Mom

As we walk towards Karen's mother's home, I ask what all of the phone numbers hastily spray-painted on the walls were for. She doesn't tell me, but instead says that her mother cannot understand why the police do not catch the vandals and cut off their fingers. I recall spray-painting the wall of a bridge as a teenager, and imagine her mother as a strict high school teacher who I'll have to be on my best behavior for.

Mom is tiny, elderly, and extremely kind in a very genuine way. She's busy cooking, and the house is filled with the aromas of the spring roll fillings. She's from the Northeast, which means that two of the fillings and the accompanying soup are made from pickled vegetables vaguely like sauerkraut and generous amounts of pork. These are not spring rolls in the sense of the deep-fried kind served at Chinese restaurants in the west. These are Chun Bing (春饼), which the diner wraps him or herself in a shell that is like a thick flour tortilla.

Karen pushes me to compliment her mother. Tell her you really like her kitchen. It will really make her happy. I find it ridiculously difficult to say. Most of my hesitation stems from nervousness. Part of it stems from the fact that her kitchen, while nice, doesn't look spectacular. I don't want to seem fake with my compliments. My nervousness building, I say what I think I'm supposed to. You've been so busy all day. You must be tired. Can I help? You should take a rest.

I wander around the house in order to calm my nerves. The modest house has an inordinate amount of paintings, most of which are not mounted, their frames propped up on the wall behind them. I think I've found my in here.

Wow, mom, you're quite a good painter. I say it and I mean it. Her face lights up, she stops cooking, and takes a break to show me her paintings. Mostly landscapes. Some of them are originals, a few of them are copies of Monet. Karen eggs me on, but my limited vocabulary begins to show the fifth time I say, "that one is extremely pretty."

I try to say something new, so I tell her that all of them are quite nice, but I really like the earth-toned paintings the best. I'm not certain if I said it clearly, but it seemed to satisfy her somehow, and she chose a painting to give me. I refuse it at first, but Karen assures me that it would make Mom very happy if I accept, so I do. Mom starts putting the painting in a frame. I instinctively say, "I can't accept that frame, I'm sure it's very expensive."

What? I was just showing you that it looks better in a frame. You'll need to buy your own.

As she finishes cooking dinner and talks with her daughter, I sit on the couch (which I feel oversized for) and wait. The Japanese Ultraman plays on the television, dubbed in Chinese. I'm nearly surrounded by Karen's stuffed animal toys from her childhood. The effect is surreal.

Genuine China Experience

Dinner is served. I watch attentively as they place some of each of the four fillings in the center of the flour shell, wrap them masterfully with chopsticks and bite into them. I choose what I imagine is a similar amount of fillings, then clumsily wrap them with chopsticks and my free hand. I begin to feel like the cliche foreigner on CCTV9 having a 'genuine' scripted China experience.

The food is really good. Am I eating too much? Mom goes to the kitchen and returns with more of the chun bing shells. Should I be eating more?

Mom starts some small talk. Your Chinese is really good. How long have you been here? Do you think that China is 'good?'

I answer what I think I'm suppose to answer. Karen chimes in, "You look like one of those cliche foreigners on CCTV9 having a 'genuine' China experience." Oh? "No no," she assures me, "It's good, it's exactly what she expects."

Generosity vs. Pride

After dinner, Karen and I talk for a while while Mom takes a nap. I start to fall asleep on the couch while Howl's Floating Castle plays on TV in a long string of 5 minute clips, also dubbed in Chinese. We say our goodbyes, and Karen helps me to find another underground cab to take me back to the light rail station.

This driver turns out to be rather glad to be driving around with a foreign guest. Again, I feel like the cliche foreigner, but, to a degree it's fun. Do you think America is good? Is it better than China? In America, is everything expensive? What about food? I heard that poor people in America can eat and go to school. Is that true? Does the government pay for everything? How about medical care? Do poor people get adequate health care?

I ashamedly admit that the USA lacks universal health coverage. Just to get my dig in, I start to mention that Canada does. I don't get to finish. He interrupts me with a comment I wasn't expecting at all.

Really? But, but... what about things like blood cancer? My son has blood cancer, and that's why I drive passengers around out here. I have another job, but I need to do this because so much of my money goes to his hospital bills. I was thinking Americans don't have to worry about things like blood cancer because the government paid for treatment.

I'm jaded enough at this point in my life to know that I cannot trust the sad stories of strangers who aren't ashamed to say that they need money. Still, I consider paying more than the requisite 10 kuai for the ride.

You know what I pay the hospital each year? 20,000 RMB.

For me, that's a lot of money. Money that I used to buy a fancy notebook. Money he used to keep his son alive. When we get to the light rail station, I reconsider giving him more money, especially because he only asks for 10 kuai. My generosity fails me, I hand him the cash and alight, then make my way towards another uneventful light rail ride.

Somehow, though I've set out to have a totally new experience, I end up at my favorite cocktail bar by 10pm, ignoring the friendly distractions as I type out this post. I glance over at my friends, who have been patiently allow me to work.

"We're waiting for you. Come have a drink."

I think I shall.

Beijing Adventures: Prelude

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Sun, 04 Feb 2007 14:23:00 +0000

It occurred to me, too late, that logistically, I'll need to run the random place generator a week early, to give myself time to prepare. In the spirit of truly keeping it random, I want to actually go to the place that the KML generator chooses, even if it looks unpromising.

What this means is that sometimes, it may choose something so out of the way (and so out of my knowledge of Beijing) that I'll need plenty of time to figure out how to get there, and when I'll need to set out. This week, it chose a place about 20km (as the crow flies) from my apartment. I had every intention of winging it and going, but another opportunity presented itself, and I took it.

The reason I'm doing this is partially to learn more about the "real" Beijing. The opportunity I was handed today gave me a chance to do so. I hope you enjoy my first attempt... the experiences I have here are frequently interesting. I hope that my writing can capture that.

Beijing Adventures: Introduction

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Thu, 01 Feb 2007 13:12:00 +0000

I've been living in this town for seven years, and I don't know nearly enough about it.

Yeah, I know my way around (particularly in the North and East, like every foreigner worth his/her salt does). Sure, I know the bar scene (like every foreigner who has lost the ability to stay away from alcohol more than 4 days a week does). I know a bit about the Universities (like every foreigner that got their start here as some combination of language student/teacher does).

But, what about normal, daily life? I learned a little bit about it, on a tiny scale, back when I was studying at the former Beijing Polytechnic University. Back then, I didn't have enough cash to go out much, so I mostly entertained myself nearby the dorm. I got to meet local Beijingers, eat wonderful (and cheap!) food, and managed to get a few good photos here and there.

So, I want to know more about this city that I love so much. More than office buildings and my friend's apartments. More than the-admittedly wonderful-bars and restaurants I frequent.

My solution: Once a week, I use Google Earth and a script I wrote to choose a random spot in Beijing. I then find my way there, find something interesting about the place, take pictures, talk to someone I meet there, and eat at a nearby restaurant.

I'll be going on my first adventure this Sunday, presumably. I can't wait to see what kind of trouble I get myself into with this....

COX

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Mon, 29 Jan 2007 17:41:00 +0000

I am both grateful and disappointed to admit that someone has finally made authentic Buffalo wings commercially available in Beijing.

Grateful, because it's nice to have something to snack on late at night (though not terribly good for my diet. I just had five wings on my way home tonight). Disappointed because I wasn't the first to get to it.

It never bothered me that some places offered "spicy chicken wings." Nobody has ever gotten it right. When you make good, authentic Buffalo wings, people like them. Now, if it were my bar, I'd include the celery and carrot sticks for free (especially in China, where vegetables cost less than water), but, we can't be perfect.

So, for those of you who don't know, COX is the name of the place that serves the wings. They're connected (not physically, but ownershipwise) to The Saddle. COX is a hellishly goofy name, but their wings get my approval. They need to work on the Qingdao. It's so bad that I wouldn't finish a nice cold bottle of it despite my burning mouth.

As an aside, I just did a Google search for "Cox Beijing," and got Jim Boyce's site as the first result. I love the internet.

Clarity

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Sat, 20 Jan 2007 19:32:00 +0000

When I've had this much to drink, I have a bizarre clarity and blurriness at the same time.

I see street lights that I've passed hundreds of times yet never knew existed. I hear every note that the cab driver sings to himself.

Yet the scenery flies by too quickly and too slowly at the same time. I feel the speed bumps long after we've passed over them. I perceive cars long after they pass in front of the car I'm in. I really shouldn't be driving.

Many people around me know I become very open when I drink, that I say everything I think, regardless of appropriateness, etc. What I also do is open up to myself, and I see exactly what it is I'm feeling. It's as if my inhibitions stop me from feeling.

One of Those Portable Laptops...

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Mon, 15 Jan 2007 07:40:00 +0000

My notebook computer has a 17" screen, weighs as much as a healthy toddler, and I like it that way.

What I mean to say is that my idea of what a laptop is does not congrue with the general public's idea. I do not own a desktop computer, but I need the power of one. I need to be able to do the graphics and design work and I need to be able to do it wherever and whenever I want/need to. Have you ever lugged a desktop computer with you? Now those things are heavy. And they don't even run on battery power.

I consider my computer an ultralight desktop. Sure, the accesories make my bag a bit heavier still, but I only carry the ones I need. Okay, so I don't need the USB headphones...

Anyhow, some time ago I was out with a friend and neglected to bring Lucille (my laptop) along. I neglected to bring her because, well, my shoulder needed some rest. I needed to check my email quickly and find an address in an online directory, but was stymied by the fact that I didn't have a computer. I looked around at the others in the cafe and thought, "I'd really like one of those portable laptops, you know, the ones you can just get some quick work done on and send a few pieces of email."

It honestly took a few moments befored it occured to me that that is precisely what other people use their laptops for.

I'd actually like to know what percentage of graphic designers use laptops and not desktops for their work. It's really become a viable option, and I'm guessing it's not terribly odd now. However, it's hard for me to gauge, because in my paradigm, laptops are vastly superior to desktops. It just seems natural that everyone would prefer one.

Nothing... continued

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Sat, 13 Jan 2007 08:25:00 +0000

link back to month 1

In Beijing it is very difficult to maintain a diet and lose weight, even with a hefty amount of exercise. Especially while freelancing.

It's not just that there's a wealth of great and easily accessible food in Beijing, but also that there are a lot of generous, friendly people in my life.

I have a strict diet, which I am very good at keeping. My friends, business associates and clients are terrible at keeping my diet. I don't mean to complain about generosity and friendliness, all I mean to say is that I'm not refusing your fifth round of beer out of politeness.

Then there's the business dinners, which, are truly more about dinner than about business. Which is nice, enjoyable, and terrible for my health. Not to mention the fact that every week, some friend or friend of a friend is leaving Beijing forever or visiting Beijing for the first time or celebrating a birthday or whatever the hell else so we have to take them to the best freaking restaurant in town and follow up the huge feast with a big party or loads of cocktails.

Like I said, it's an enjoyable life which, for whatever reason doesn't make other people fat.

Another problem is the complete lack of encouragement. I have quite a few Chinese friends (I say this because a lot of expats in Beijing don't) and most of them engage in the national pasttime of telling me I'm fat.

One month on and, though I realize that others cannot see the fact I've lost weight, pants that once fit snugly now fall down as I walk. Running into a Chinese friend today while working she said, "你又胖了！(you're even fatter!)" It's really hard to keep a positive attitude about it.

In any case, I've been fairly successful in changing my habits, and expect eventual change. I'm still convinced others will see a difference by the end of March, and after another three months I'll be very healthy.

Then again, tonight I am getting together with some friends to go to Din Tai Fung (the one that is always hyped up as 'one of the top ten restaurants in the world' according to the New York Times) and there's not even a special event.

New Year's Resolution

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 14:54:00 +0000

I resolve only to make promises that I cannot keep.

Bah Humbug

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 14:08:00 +0000

When it comes to the Christmas and New Year's holiday, I'm solidly 'bah humbug' about the whole thing. I genereally can't wait for them to be over.

I like Christmas less than I like New Years. When I lived with my parents, this wasn't the case, but now Christmas equals boredom and loneliness. Nearly everyone I know is out of town, or busy with some family obligations. Work slows down or stops altogether. The rest of the year, I'm too busy to spend a lot of time with my friends.

It's too cold outside- and more importantly too dry- to enjoy going for a walk, taking pictures of the city. Even though I've been taking it easy, resting, exercising, and geting a lot of vitamin C, I've still managed to get myself a nasty cold.

At least in Beijing I don't have to deal with the fact that everything is closed for the holiday. Or the fact that when I want to go to the store to buy something simple I have to deal with throngs of holiday shoppers.

Fortunately, it's all going to fade away for another year. I'll still have vague reminders of the season continuing through August in the form of Santa Claus decorations or those frosted spray snowflakes that just refuse to leave the window they've been stuck upon.

Well, till next year, at least.

Only the Beverages Have Changed

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Sat, 30 Dec 2006 09:03:00 +0000

It snowed in Beijing today. Snow itself is a rare enough occurrence here, but the fact that the snow has blanketed the sidewalks, the foliage, the parked cars, and the dust underneath is ultra-rare and quite welcome in my book.

Sure, it's welcome because I prefer moisture in the air. Sure, it's welcome because it's pretty. But the real reason is that the first snow of the season to stick to the ground always reminds me of my childhood. Snow always meant fun. You could build stuff out of it. Huge things. Snowmen taller than yourself. It was like having way more playdough than you needed, save for the fact that it was really cold.

At it's most fun, snow caused school cancellations, and even when it didn't, I at least knew I'd have Christmas vacation. Back then vacation lasted forever. Now two weeks go by without warning. I'm still recovering from the previous weekend, and suddenly I notice that it's Saturday morning again.

So, I see the snow, I feel younger. I forget my concerns for a time, and just enjoy the fact that the world is doing something kind of strange. Tiny, unique crystals of water slowly fall out of the sky. Normally, I'd feel bad destroying a beautiful, unique thing like that, but they keep falling out of the sky endlessly, every winter. Why not make a ball out of it and throw it at your sister? There'll be millions more in the next few minutes.

When I was younger, I was frequently told some iteration of the phrase "you're wise beyond your years." It's a cliche and whatever, but I have to admit that I really enjoyed hearing it. Even as late as my early twenties a girl said to me, "You sound like you've had a lot of experience, like you're 30 or something."

Heh. I'd better start working on that having a lot of experience thing. I've less than a year left.

Somewhere along the lines... I don't know exactly when, I stopped hearing that "wise beyond my years" stuff. After a time, I started hearing something very different, about needing to grow up.

At almost 30, I have trouble getting myself to go to bed. It's not insomnia. I just don't like going to bed. Sleeping isn't any fun. I like drawing cartoons. I like playing networked games, board games and card games. I like hanging out with friends and meeting new people. I basically like all of the things I did when I was 15. Only the beverages have changed. I occasionally wonder if I'm going to regret the fact that I'm not a conventional grown-up.

Writing all this down has helped me clear my thoughts a bit, and I've decided that it would be a sad thing if the snow didn't make me feel as pointlessly happy as it does. Sure, I'm not a conventional grown-up, but who needs convention? I've found a way to support myself while living the life I want to live.

I don't believe many people can say that about themselves.

Completion

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Fri, 29 Dec 2006 12:22:00 +0000

This is a bit of a special occasion for me... no, not the new year, but the fact that for the first time in my life I've completed my own personal website.

Now, as Mark long ago (1996, maybe?) pointed out to me, websites are never in fact done. He absolutely hated those ubiquitous little gifs which overpopulated the early web. With good reason, of course. Due to the nature of the medium, web sites are fluid, free from the constraints of printed media. However, my website's layout is to the point that I am satisfied. I like the way it looks. Of course, I'd like to make little icons for each of my "enemies" sites, but they'll have to wait. I'm only inspired to make cartoons of certain people. Some of you just aren't easy to caricature.

Mark has long since moved on to far better things than web design, but I stil enjoy it quite a bit. I've finally completely converted to the CSS paradigm and no longer even touch tables. Us old-schoolers have a little bit of trouble with giving up our tables... something that newer web designers have trouble understanding. Between figuring out how to format without tables and the differences in how Firefox and IE interpret pages, it's a bit of an uphill battle.

Anyhow, i've decided to start posting about things I've learned, in hopes that I can help other web designers who made their way here through the awesome might of Google (who, by the way, report that over 45,400,000 indexed sites contain the phrase "under construction")

Well, back to work on client stuff, I guess.

Urban Kudzu

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Wed, 13 Dec 2006 21:29:00 +0000

When I came to Beijing back in Y2K, it was squat (in that the buildings were short and wide) and gray (in that the building, the pavement, the sky, and sometimes even the foliage, was gray).

Nearly seven years have passed, and it looks like an entirely different city. Well, an entirely different city with Gugong at the center and concentric ring roads. There are all of these 大厦 in various stages of completion standing where there were once 7 restaurants, a few houses, 3 stores that sell useless plastic crap and other sundries, a Kodak photo lab, and a .. ahem .. massage parlor.

I'm using the word 大厦 because most of them are not true skyscrapers are they certainly aren't mansions, no matter what your dictionary tells you.

Beijing's a lot prettier (newcomers scoff all you want- it's true) than before. There are a whole lot more trees and shrubs now. The cute, frighteningly orange bubble phone booths seem to be all but gone. Hell, we even get sunlight and blue skies on a hit-or-miss basis now.

So, what the hell was I paying attention to while the city was so quickly being rebuilt? Was I self-absorbed to the point of not seeing it happen? Or was it the fact that pre-SARS my world was too small, and I just didn't get out enough to see the city being built?

Lastly, and really more importantly: At the present time, what major events around me am I not seeing that will become glaringly obvious in the future? Furthermore, what has me so self-absorbed right now?

False Start

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Wed, 13 Dec 2006 20:58:00 +0000

The first mistake I made was deciding to run my errands before exercising.

Things went south when Karen decided on McDonald's for dinner.

Not having to pay for my own drinks at Centro set things spiralling downwards.

Pub grub at 3:30am sealed my fate.

...

Well. I wanted a final binge anyhow. Lao Beijing food Friday night and a probably work-free weekend means that I won't get my real start until Monday. Give me a six-day margin of error for the stoning, please.

Here goes nothing...

noreply@blogger.com (Beijing Kenn) — Tue, 12 Dec 2006 17:27:00 +0000

Well, after far too long a break, I'm going to begin exercising again. Give me three months, people. March 13th, 2007, if you don't see a significant increase in sexiness, please stone me to death.

So, here's a set of pictures I just took of my handsome mug. I took these with my computer's built-in webcam, partially because it refuses to take anything besides the least flattering shots of me, but mostly because I get some silly satisfaction out of telling my readers that my laptop has a built-in webcam.

Does yours? Didn't think so.*

*Does not apply to people whose laptops do.