The morning commute is one rough adventure. Just like the saying goes, we are packed together like sardines. My fellow sardines and I are rubbed up against one another, non-erotically, of course. And when it’s time to exit, it’s literally like–I hate to say–pushing your way out of the womb. You would miss your stop if you didn’t shove your way through the crowd.
Even if you’re the last person to squeeze onto the train right before the door chops off the tip of your nose, another round of people is guaranteed to shove their way in at the next station.
Everyone, including myself, is already cranky in the morning. The early morning hustle doesn’t help. And the worst is when somebody cuts the cheese…oh, it’s happened (it wasn’t me).
I wonder if that comes in living room size…
In more exciting recent news, I had friends visit last week! My new friend Zach, to whom I was introduced in Brooklyn by the lovely Kelly, and his girlfriend Anastasia took a week-long trip to Beijing. This is us with Dingding at the DJ Shadow show:
I hope they don’t mind I posted this picture…. eeks! Dingding will never know.
A few days later Zach and I went to see Carsick Cars, a Beijing-based rock/pop band at The Old What? Bar located at the west gate of The Forbidden City. The bar was cozy with a nice balance of foreigners and local youth, with regular New York prices. Below are some blurry photos of that sweaty experience.
An usual location for a bar, especially when the policemen at the end of the long street told me there were no bars here. That must explain why when the show ended, a ferocious employee shooed us all outta there and insisted that we knew nothing (nothing about what?!). Maybe I wasn’t supposed to write that, or post the pictures of what I saw. Oops!
I didn’t capture any foreigners in this photo because they were all standing in the back or on the sides. Carsick Cars were obviously a local favorite. Must say though, it felt like home being around so many foreigners. It also felt good to be able to converse in English, however, I think after a month of purely speaking Chinese, my English is already dwindling. What kind of English teacher am I?! I should teach Chinglish instead. I’m an expert.
The best part of the night was while Zach and I were getting fresh air and noting how life-threateningly fast the accordion buses were whizzing down the narrow road, we saw this fella across the street practicing martial arts Mr. Miyagi style.
Just like Karate Kid.
On my way home, oh wait. None of the cabs would drive me home because I live so far from the center of the city. I had to hop in Zach’s cab and drop him off first before the cabbie would drive me. And during that ride, burning my heart and soul, he had the nerve to make fun of my Chinese! Gosh, my English is dwindling and my Chinese is barely improving. I guess I should start writing a Chinglish dictionary.