Blissfully ignorant...

I forgot all of the crap elements of US pop culture. When you say "TomKat" to me, I think of a stray feline that prowls the farm yard and my life is not adversely affected. Will I have to be reprogrammed for pop culture? I hope not.

She's cookin' with gas now...

(pictures from left to right: (right)my cooking unit which consists of two gas burners, one is confirmed functional. (left) The prep area and no there is no other place for that plant, even though I'm pretty sure that it's dead)

Greetings from my little kitchen in the ghetto. I make fun of my apartment; great location, acceptable accommodations. And the kitchen is a little less user friendly than I would like. But it falls under the heading of "you get what you pay for" and I don't pay all that much for the place, so I eat out all the time. Then it hits me, I haven't really cooked for myself in ages (not including when I was visiting home). So now that the gas leak has been fixed in the kitchen, it's safe (relatively) to try my hand at cooking again.

Now, it's been a while and I don't have amazing facilities to work with, so what are my options for some hot chow? If you've been with me in China, you don't even need to rack your brain: Dumplings! Boil some water and in less than 10 minutes you all set. So Sunday, I went out and bought myself a pan and some dumplings. I love shopping by pantomime and pictures. It made me think about why we need language at all, just numbers. People understand what I'm saying through my broken Chinese/pantomime, I got my stuff and the store got it's money. A job well done.

In my day, I have been to some pretty grungy places, this includes houses that my friends live in. No big deal, everyone can do different things. But here's how my stove unit looks (see above picture). Please be sure to notice the plastic wrap that covers the back and right sides of the walls. What you can't fully see is said plastic wrap flapping in the breeze that the gas creates. It's a little disconcerting as I've never lived in a place that has a gas stove, and I've never really used one until February. Couple that with the fact that gas explosions are noticeably high, because of bad equipment. Great. Also note that there is newspaper stuffed into the right had side too. Ask my grandma how good of an idea that is. You are lucky you can't see the rust on the pans to the left, it would explain why I forked out the kuai to have my own.

But I love my dumplings, so I trudge on. Pretty much ignoring the "watched pot never boils" theory, I watch that baby like a hawk. After my minor ordeal with the police, I have no desire to deal with whatever the fire department holds. The whole thing turned out fine and I can add my Chinese culinary skills to my list o' accomplishments. Mmmmm, I'm a great cook.

Annie are you OK?

There's nothing like sitting down with a ridiculously big Japanese beer and writing. Here we go!

So I did not end up going to Tokyo on Friday night. It rained and I didn't have an umbrella or my Wellingtons. Not fun.

Here are two of my new favorite stories and reasons why I love California. I'm not the greatest story teller and I'm not going into great explanations of why these are so funny, so if you miss it let me know.

#1) This lady I had lunch with fist starts talking about how she used to be the dental hygienist for the Jackson family. Yes THE Jackson family, most of whom were head cases from an early age is what I gathered. Then she goes on to talk about how she happened to be in the same CPR class as Michael Jackson. Did I mention that I love California ;)? The dummy that people use for practice in CPR classes is called Resusci-Annie. As part of the CPR routine, you must speak to the victim to check their consciousness and make sure they are in need of help. So picture a young Michael Jackson asking, “Annie are you ok? Annie are you OK?”

Seriously I don’t make this up. I could have snorted a shrimp at one of the fanciest restaurants in Shanghai.

#2) Same fascinating lady. She is part of a winery (who has an amazing Chardonnay by the way) and happened to be out with her boss at a restaurant and they saw former President Gerald Ford and his wife Betty. Her boss instantly comes up with a brilliant idea, “Let's send a bottle of our wine to Gerald and Betty Ford." Now, think of things that are wrong with that statement. My lunch friend did and advised her boss, “No. We can’t send them a bottle of wine,” and added to us, her audience, that sometimes her boss may be a bit more determined to follow through with ideas. She calmly explained to him the reasons they could not send Gerald and Betty Ford a bottle of wine. He eventually relented, but it took much explaining.

That was the highlight of my day. I was actually speechless for a few minutes because I needed to recover from laughing.

Storytelling was the theme of the day. But before I get into the next one, let me digress for a minute. I truly understand the concept of being alone in a city of 20 million people. Don't feel bad for me; I'm not as homesick as I have been in the past. I just have more time to myself and focus on what I need to do for my own mental health. For someone who has been surrounded by family and friends for as long as I can remember, this is a pretty big change. I still keep up on what goes on at home (p.s. don't you dare tell me that nothing happens at home) but I do feel disconnected from my network. Segments of my life are not so closely integrated as in the States. Work is separate from spending time with my friends on the weekends which is separate from my week activities. Disconnected; but not terrible. Though if you still feel sorry for me, you can send a care package or a letter. Soot me an email and I'll give you my address.

Whew, done with that. I got in a cab on Friday night going from the restaurant to a live music bar (Turned out to be a pretty place cool except for the guy who tried to pick my nose. Um, who does that?). As I got in the cab and gave the driver my destination, he quickly turned the trip into an English lesson. But he was more interested in expressing his opinion than hearing me talk. He asked me if I worked in Shanghai to which I replied yes, then his next question was "Do you like Japan?" Before I could answer he said "Japan is sh*t." This took me a little aback, but I was ready to roll with it. He continued to state that President Hu Jintao was in the U.S., how the Japanese destroyed Nanjing and how he thought it was hilarious that the U.S. dropped nuclear bombs on Japan. This made me sad that I was by myself because everyone I've told this story to in Shanghai wishes they would have been in that cab. He repeated his points a few times, peppered the conversation with the F word, and narrated the route ie “turn right on Hengshan Lu” and found my destination with no problems. As I am paying my fare and waiting for the receipt to print he asks me if I am familiar with Tongren Lu. When I said yes, he asked me if I knew a certain Russian lady, but he didn’t say lady. I said no but I did like Russia as a country. He gave me a few more choice pieces of advice about this Russian lady, Japan, and I was on my way. For comedic value, that ride was a bargain.