Feb 2.

Feb. 2

(The view from my bedroom window.)

I discovered yesterday that the district I live in is called ChaoYang, or the CDB, central business district in local slang. Closing down produce at the Viroqua Food Co-op, I once heard an "On Point" program about China. The guest, whose name I've forgotten, was very enthusiastic about the country's development and compared moving to Beijing or Shanghai right now as equivalent to moving to New York in the early 1920s. ChaoYang would be Manhatten, if not wallstreet in such a comparison. The rent on this apartment is 17,000 RMB per month. At the conversion rate of 7.187 RMB per US dollar, that's $2,365 US per month. The whole place is furnished and has appliances: dishwasher, oven, refrigerator, water cooler, washing machine, T.V. Electricity is bought separately at the front desk.

(I realized this only after a very confusing conversation with the clerk who was trying to explain that she had a receipt for me. I think they are very annoyed with me, since I can't seem to figure out anything that has to do with this apartment such as the phone or intercom system and I seem to loose all my Chinese as soon as I walk in the front doors. I think it's because I don't really feel like I belong in this place; it is too high class for me to feel comfortable. I'm much more at home, (and my language skills are better) talking to vendors on the street or people spitting on the sidewalk. Not in ChaoYang.)

(Beijing, in a photo.)



Yesterday evening I met up with a friend from Madison who's been in Beijing for almost two years now. Working as a tutor and a proctor, she struggles to get by. It's not a cheap place to live and finding jobs in Beijing can be very difficult. Even though my friend has spent years studying Mandarin and is very proficient, most things in this city revolve around guanxi (关系), connections, which are not always easy to navigate.

After taking a taxi to my friend's friend's place, I hung out for a couple hours with the people who lived there. Three 20 somethings all born and raised in Beijing, their apartment was in a hutong district, but once inside looked just like any American city dwellers': very messy with lots of take out containers and cat hair. We chatted in English and Chinese and everyone got ready to go clubbing. MAC cosmetics were applied, CK black shirts found. Wearing a Marmot jacket and running shoes, I felt a bit out of place when we arrived at club MIX, but our passes were waiting for us and a table was reserved in the upstairs with fresh fruit, cigarettes, and two bottles of Johnny Walker Black. The place was bumping; I've hardly ever seen so many beautiful people wearing such interesting clothing. Kicking back on the sofa watching BET videos and being inundated with flashing lights and loud hip-pop, for a moment I really wanted to be home in Wisconsin playing in the snow. But soon enough the whiskey got to me and before the night was out I'd met foreigners from Dubai, Sweden, and Libya and was best friends with a gay personal assistant who looked like a Chinese David Bowie with scarlet hair.

(MIX dance floor.)





If anyone's ever told you not to go shopping when you're hungry for fear of buying too much, I recommend going when you're hungover. NOTHING looks appetizing. But I'd been subsisting on Russell's stupendous granola and instant noodles for the past few days and it was time for a change. I'd tried to find a grocery store the last two times I went out and this morning broke down and went to Wal-Mart. Yeah, I know. I know.

Wal-mart in China is a bit different than in the states. For one thing, the superstore next to my apartment in in the basement of a highrise. No windows at all. And while they do sell almost everything there, about 3/5ths of the space is taken up by food- fruits, veggies, deli, bakery, meat, and packaged foods. Milk and eggs are not refrigerated, but the abundant and pourable yogurt is. And of course, what Chinese food market would be complete without the live fish, crustaceans, and turtles that one purchases still moving to take home and prepare fresh? I wonder a lot about these animal's lives before they come to the store, and about all the other meat that seems to be prolifically unavoidable in this country. I realize I was rather spoiled working at the co-op, surrounded by local and fresh organic produce. And I knew I was opulently pampered at my parent's home, where every dinner seemed to include food from our garden and meat harvested with respect in the wild or raised with care by someone I knew. Watching two Chinese customers sort through a pile of skinned cow's legs, I had that thought, the thought: "What the hell am I doing here?"



(鸡)




（看乌龟 (turtle) 让我有很哀伤的感觉)

But, as Ben Afleck says in Chasing Amy, perhaps you can't appreciate the sweet without the sour. Or, maybe you can, but, "The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain," Kahlil Gibran, The Profit.

Miss y'all.