Brunch of Gluttony

When I lived in Dubai, going out to brunch was a blood-sport. People started early in the morning at a designated place of brunching. Five hours later they emerged filled to brim with delicious brunch goodies. Somehow, inexcusably, I never went out to brunch in Dubai. I’m not sure how it happened, but it’s one of my biggest regrets in life. Right up there with being too young and unaware to be at Red Rocks for U2’s concert there in 1983. Huge regret.

So, I’ve determined to make up for missing so many great brunch opportunities in Dubai by never passing up an opportunity for a quality brunch ever, ever again. I began my brunch quest last year by going out for a fabulous birthday brunch in at the Fairmont Hotel in Singapore (thanks again, Amy…it was remarkable). When I was invited out for brunch at the Ritz, my resolve kicked in and I was determined to go.

If you’ve never been to brunch at a 5 star hotel, it goes something like this: As I walked in, I passed the Oyster bar. I really wish I liked Oysters. I find them slimy and phlegm like. They go against one of my cardinal rules of eating which is to never eat something that has or looks like it has been previously digested. So, they oysters were out, but I assure you they were fresh and smelled of the sea. We were seated and for the next three hours, I enjoyed the following treats: crusty bread, tomato soup, French toast drizzled with chocolate sauce, Munster cheese (it had a picture of a cow on it, but it tasted a little goaty, which I did not enjoy, but I did avoid spitting it back onto my plate, a victory of sorts), roasted pork, chili sauce, dumplings (Chinese style, Grandma; yours are better!), fried rice noodles, tomatoes with fresh mozzarella cheese and some other good stuff. The highlight, of course, was dessert. What’s not to love about a chocolate fountain? And pineapple? Chocolate covered pineapple? Yes please! I limited myself to one trip to the chocolate fountain, as the chocolate was of such high quality, that I was afraid if I went back I would have stuck my face right into it, which is not Ritz appropriate behavior. I also had a tiny piece of chocolate mousse cake with passion fruit filling as one of the guests at brunch was celebrating a birthday. It was a brunch to remember. I love my dedication to the ideal of never saying no to brunch. Best resolution ever. I’m also really glad I bought an elliptical machine yesterday. It goes well with my resolution to never be removed from my house with the assistance of a forklift or a crane.

Middle School...Just Like You Remember It

Middle School…Just Like You Remember It

On Friday I attended our middle school social. If you were curious the following things have not changed since you were in middle school:

1. Sixth grade girls and boys would rather poke sharp sticks in their eyes than be forced to interact with each other. Mingling is almost always under duress and met with groans and looks of derision.

2. Middle school students will consume large amounts of food of any kind at any time. I watched students slurp dozens of packages of instant noodle soup being sold at the concession stand. If you sell it, they will buy it and eat it.

3. Middle school students have questionable taste in music. I’m sure I did when I was that age. My excuse is going to middle school in 1986, the heyday of Billy Ocean and Rick Astley. At least I have a good excuse

4. There will always be students playing an unsafe game of tag and adults trying to break it up before someone impales themself on a chair. I am usually that adult.

5. Middle school kids are fantastic. Sure, they are little bags of volatile hormones waiting to explode at any time, but they are fun to watch and even more fun to work with. There is never a dull moment in my day and I love seeing it all unfold. Best job ever.

It's a Long Long Way to the 29th Floor and Sidewalk Driving

My apartment, as mentioned, is on the 29th floor of my building. I love, love, love the view, however, if you have met me and spent any amount of time with me, you know that I need a potty break approximately every 34 seconds. It takes 55 seconds to ride from the ground floor to the 29th floor. I have timed it. The bus ride from school is approximately 35 minutes. I am now cutting off my liquid supply (and dangerously risking dehydration) about an hour before the bus is scheduled to leave. I also visit the loo immediately before departure. But, inevitably, the elevator ride is an excruciating test on the limits of my bladder. And the best part is that there are security cameras in the elevator. I am sure somewhere in my building someone is getting a real kick out of the daily pee-dance performed by yours truly. What can you do? Adult Diapers? Also probably inevitable.

Another observation...no one really seems to care if you drive on the sidewalk here in GZ. I needed to go to the store to buy some Clorox yesterday and took my normal on-the-sidewalk route. About half way there, I encountered a BMW that was driving, almost directly at me, over the curb and onto said sidewalk. I glared at the driver and kept walking. Slowly. I could hear the car behind me. Had I leaned back far enough I could have touched the hood. I found myself totally annoyed that the car was 1) On the sidewalk 2) About to mow me down and 3) The crowd of police officers I walked past didn't seem to notice or care. So I kept walking as slowly as possible hoping that the guy in the car was equally annoyed that the traffic on the sidewalk wasn't moving as quickly as he hoped. When I got to the hair salon with the disembodied hairstyle heads on sticks at the corner, the car aggressively whipped past me and kept going. The driver didn't seem to like me very much either.

Furniture Fun and a Very Bieber Birthday Bash

My apartment is still a little sparse in the furnishing arena. Imagine expansive white walls that make the living room furniture look smaller than it actually is. The space could house two bowling lanes; it’s expansive. So, a trip to the furniture market was in order.

I got on a bus with 17 of my co-workers and we sped off for a factory near Foshan. We met Mandy, the furniture lady and were given 15 minutes to use the bathroom (which involved squatting and a bucket and lots of hand sanitizer) and to look at the showroom. When the 15 minutes was up, we hopped back on the bus and headed for the factory that makes Mandy’s furniture. This was just as thrilling as the trip to the kitchen market. I wandered three floors of chairs, benches, bed frames, cabinets, curios, desks, dressers and chests. About $700 later, I settled on two Tibetan style reproduction antique pieces that have found a very good home with me. Much furniture love here in The Penthouse. I arranged with the factory to deliver the furniture and I think she will be calling Lin to get things moved in tomorrow. There will be pictures. This stuff could change my Mom’s mind about Asian furniture. I’m just saying.

After I dropped a wad of cash on cabinets and dressers, I then proceeded to spend a little more on some ceramics. I followed the trip organizer to a dusty antique store and dug through piles of dishes and other gems. As I climbed over old furniture and 19^th century knick-knacks, I spotted a vase in a case. It had the look of being expensive. It had two orange Foo Dogs (the dogs often seen guarding Buddhist temples) and as my eyes locked with theirs, I knew that I would be paying to take them home. The vase turned out to be an antique with an official looking seal on the bottom, which my shopping companions assured me was a good thing. It also had writing on it, and it turns out the vase was commissioned as a personal gift inscribed with a message for the recipient. Nice! Yes, I bought it. I am now a collector of antique Chinese Foo Dog Vases. Probably better than collecting stamps or cats.

As if shopping for home furnishings wasn’t enough to make my weekend a thrilling event, I was invited to a co-worker’s birthday party. He described the venue as “interesting.” Good word choice. It was held at a club called the 69 Bar (I am not making that up). I arrived with another co-worker and we were immediately ushered upstairs to the 2^nd floor party area. I could not have imagined this place. It was phenomenal. At the top of the stairs, there was a go-go dancing cage, complete with a see-through floor (Mom, Grandma, don’t worry, I stayed out of the cage.) There were several pleather couches and strings of sparkly crystals hung from the ceiling. The light fixtures were a highlight. In addition to traditional chandeliers, there were also feather boa chandeliers. What, you may ask, is a feather boa chandelier? I will tell you. It was a cube shaped plastic lampshade completely covered in dusty pink feathers. I was immediately seized with the urge to make one for myself. Why did I leave my glue-gun in the States? There was also a fog machine. Unfortunately, it was not plugged in; a bitter disappointment to say the least.

I sat down on the couch and immediately gained an Italian boyfriend. He was even more persistent than last weekend’s Welshman. Within five minutes he declared “you are not married, that is a problem. I will help you solve it.” (I have a witness to that statement; I’m not making that up either) Too bad he already has a wife and seven kids.

As the night progressed, the Birthday Boy announced that he would be singing in five minutes, as he used to be a regular act at the 69 club. I have not been so entertained in a very long while. He took the stage and the crowd went crazy. The set included some C-Lo Green, a song in Cantonese and commenced with the classic “Baby” by a certain formerly floppy-haired Canadian teen music sensation. Chinese girls love the Bieber just as much as American Girls, to this I can attest. And, it was good singing. Given a different set of circumstances in the universe, Birthday Boy could have been Marky-Mark with his very own Funky Bunch. The evening ended with some dancing as my new Italian boyfriend admired me from afar. A good time was had by all.

A Justin Bieber side note: At Christmas time my Dad and I went to see the film True Grit. As we munched on popcorn waiting for the main attraction, a preview for the now classic Justin Bieber Never Say Never flickered onto the screen. I leaned over to my Dad and said “Guess what you’re getting for Father’s Day?” He laughed. 6 months later a package arrived for my Dad containing the just released movie. I gleefully anticipated this moment for months, as practical jokes often make the best presents. Unfortunately, Dad had forgotten our conversation and couldn’t understand why I thought he had Bieber Fever. I reminded him of our exchange and he got a good chuckle, but I’m pretty sure he now doubts my gift-giving abilities.

My Culturally Insensitive Lunch

Today I had to test some of the new students during lunch time. One of them is Muslim and, due to Ramadan, is fasting. I also had to give this student a test earlier in the week and felt bad that the other kids were eating, but they assured me that it was OK. Today I had to test them again and I remembered as I sat down with my lunch that it is still Ramadan. They chose a seat at the table right next to where I was sitting. I also realized that for lunch my aiyi (bless her) had prepared a delicious pork chop with potatoes and carrots. And then I felt a little awkward as 1) It is Ramadan 2) I was chowing down next to a person that was fasting 3) I was chowing down on Islam's most offensive meat; so offensive that stores in Dubai that sold pork had a special for non-Muslims only section where they cordoned off said meat so that the Muslim shoppers didn't have to be defiled by its presence. Fortunately, the student didn't seem to notice. And, if they had asked, I would have told them it was beef.

Hello, Dumpling

So, I have learned my third Chinese word...dumpling. I'd give you the character for it, but I wouldn't want to embarrass anyone with my great skill in the Mandarin tongue. It is a very useful word to know, especially when you are hungry. And, let's face it, dumplings are delicious. These little beauties cost me 5 rmb, which works out to about 87 cents. For a DOZEN dumplings!! And do you see that brown sauce the dumplings are swimming in? Soy, you say to yourself. No way! It's peanut sauce!!! I cannot possibly communicate the beauty of the humble dumpling with peanut sauce, but now that I know how to place an order, they will probably become a go-to staple of my diet. Plus the shop is a five minute walk from my apartment. Plus they are delicious. Do you think the dumpling store people would notice if I were there three days in a row? They might, but I'm not sure I care.

A few pics from a night out

Just a few pics from my night out. Gentlemen, in case you forget how to take care of you personal business, this sign is very helpful. It is also good to know the rules of the park. I had planned to dredge for shrimps in the pool and to earn a living by singing in the park. Thankfully this informative sign spared me some serious rule-breaking behavior.

School, running with The Killers, a taxi adventure, the kitchen market and a trip to Shamian Island

School is in session. This is a good thing, as schools without kids are only shells of what they should be when they are not around. Educators are a great bunch of people, but they are much better with students. I’m enjoying the fun of a new year and getting to know the kids. You never know what is going to happen on any given day in middle school. It’s always a surprise. That is an adventure.
In my non-working hours, I’m beginning to settle into a routine. Once I discovered that I could be outside at night, I developed an overwhelming desire to go running. So Friday night, I loaded myself down with a liter and a half of water, set my iPod to The Killers and hit the pavement. I’m not sure why, but nothing puts me in a running groove as much as the dulcet tones of Brandon Flowers crooning out Mr. Brightside. It just works. It was great. I should be trained up for my next race (hopefully the Macau half marathon in December ) in no time. Thank you, Killers.
As my apartment is still in need of basic supplies, I joined the school trip to the Kitchen Market. As I had to be to the bus by 9 a.m. and didn’t want to walk, I decided to take a taxi. As most taxi drivers in GZ don’t speak a lot of English (why should they really?) I have a stack of taxi cards designed to facilitate arriving at the appropriate destination with minimal trouble. As I got in the taxi, I handed the driver the card with the school address. He looked at it, nodded his head and we were off. In the wrong direction. I questioned him about it and he insisted that he was going the right way. I thought perhaps he knew a short cut I was unaware of. A few minutes later, I was still sure we were going the wrong way and asked him again. He once again insisted we were headed the right direction. Finally I pulled the card out and realized that the elementary campus and the secondary campus were on the same card and he was, in fact, taking me to the wrong place. Once we cleared things up, he headed in the right direction at break-neck speed, weaving in and out of traffic to deliver me to the correct destination. Fortunately taxi fare is cheap. And I made it to the bus with two minutes to spare.
Bus missing crisis averted, I headed to one of the most wonderful places on earth. The Kitchen Market. It is a warren of shops devoted to the cooking and serving arts. Everything and anything you may need for your kitchen can be found at the kitchen market at a fraction of prices in the US. Now, my mother and sister will tell you that the prospect of hitting the mall to shop for clothing and shoes is not an activity I meet with glee. Just not something I get hot and bothered about. However, shopping for kitchen supplies left me feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. I got muffin tins, a pastry cutter, cookie cutters, squeezy bottles, kitchen scissors, can openers, cooking chopsticks, bowls, and 18 plates of assorted shape and size. I also gave in to my ultimate kitchen desire. I bought the Chinese version of a Kitchen-Aid. I have wanted a Kitchen-Aid for at least the last 15 years. I have never gotten one as I keep moving to countries with assorted voltages and it just never seemed practical. But, as I walked into the East Kitchen Ware Supply store, I saw the mixer and it was like there was nothing else in the room. I was drawn to its siren call of cookie, cake, brownie, pancake batter and bread dough making pleasure. $250? A small price to pay for such baking bliss. That, and I am never moving again. I now have too many kitchen wares to make that a practical decision.
A morning of kitchen shopping was tiring, and I retired to my apartment for a little R&R. As I was lounging, I got a message from some colleagues stating that they would be spending the evening on Shamian Island. Shamian was the original home of Europeans living in GZ. They weren’t allowed to leave the island, as the locals wanted to keep an eye on them. Rightly so. Today the island is the home to several European style buildings, some funky sculpture, a wedding photo shop, hotels, restaurants and teenage girls with guitars singing Taylor Swift songs. Who knew Taylor Swift would be the one to break down all of the cultural walls? I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that teenagers in GZ also have Bieber fever. Ah, globalization. We finished up the night by heading to the Paddy Field. As I am in Southeast Asia, I thought this would be a Vietnamese establishment. No, not quite. Irish Bar. Everyone loves an Irish Bar. It was loud, crowded and there was nowhere to sit. As I’m not a drinker (unless you count diet soda) and it was way past my bedtime, I said hello to my co-workers and attempted to head out the door… until I was grabbed by Tony, the Welshman. He clasped my hand, insisted that I sit down and also insisted on buying me a drink (and couldn’t understand why I only wanted a club soda). It took me a few minutes to clue in to the fact that he was hitting on me. Maybe it was that he was quite intoxicated, 20 years older than me, or kept calling me old girl (which you should never say to a woman regardless of her age) but I felt obliged to turn down his multiple invitations for swimming and lunch. He does own a shoe factory. If only I were a shoe lover, things could have been different. I’m pretty sure I’m distant, fuzzy (stunningly gorgeous) memory to Tony today, and I’m OK with that.

Aerobics anyone?

I went out for Taiwanese food (yes, there is such a thing and, yes, it is delicious) and decided that I needed to walk off my dinner. It’s been a little warm and humid which is not surprising considering that I live below the Tropic of Cancer, so I have avoided being outside when air conditioning has been available. Not tonight. I live very near the Pearl River which has an excellent path beside it. I was a little leery about walking alone at night, as being from the USA we just learn to worry about such things. Unnecessary worry. In a city the size of Guangzhou, you are never alone.
I headed out from my apartment with my Camelback and passport as you need that at all times. It would be nice if I could just tattoo on the number and the residency visa. I passed my nail salon, the wet market, a few wine shops and a place that sells expensive bedding. As I approached the river, I noticed that I was hearing music. Loud music. And there were people out. Hundreds of them. Doing aerobics. In a public square. It was a little surreal. There was also some waltzing going on, biking, walking, skateboarding, rollerblading, picnicking and a guy doing some karaoke. I think he may have had some sort of agenda as he had a sign and just about the time I walked past 3 police officers on Vespas had pulled up to put an end to the singing (while it may have been bad, it was hardly a crime)...In addition to the people there were vast displays of neon and twinkly lights. It was a beautiful evening. I’ll be taking that walk again soon.

Finding Mr. Xu

Seven years ago when I moved to Venezuela, I had much more of a moral compass when it came to DVDs of questionable origin. It was at least a year before I purchased one, and I was sure it would just be one. One became many, many dozen and when I got to Dubai, the sellers of the DVDs of questionable origin went from door to door wearing backpacks. Peter was the guy that found my door more than once.
I’m sad to say my moral compass is still pointing in the wrong direction when it comes to the above mentioned wares. So much so that I sought out Mr. Xu, the man with the shop full of video items of questionable origin. There is a place here that sells computers. If you find the right stairwell and go to the second floor and mention that you might be looking for such products, Mr. Xu appears and guides you to his store that is really more like a closet. You sit down on a plastic stool and comb through everything on offer from the latest hits to really bad Korean porn (no mom, didn’t pick up any of that). As I haven’t yet gotten my cable installed, let’s just say I made good friends with Mr. Xu. He’ll be eager to see me again, and I am not likely to forget his secret stairwell of video wonder.

Stench

Oddly, my bathroom has an intermittent stench. It comes and goes, and it’s pretty foul. I have tried candles, opening the window and keeping the little exhaust fan going. Apparently the stench is a pretty common occurrence here, as I have noticed it in bathrooms in other places. I think it’s coming from the drain in the floor. Sometimes it’s pretty powerful, other times it’s not even there. It’s a plumbing mystery. It’s only in the master bathroom. I hope this doesn’t interfere with Jacuzzi bath time, as that would be unpleasant. Stench and bathing should not go together. Mostly I just keep the bathroom door closed and hope for the best.

In other apartment news, I recently acquired a lovely green plant. It came in a heavy clay pot and it must weigh 30 to 40 pounds. I carried it 3 or 4 blocks home and had to keep stopping on the way to rest it on posts and trash bins as I’m not in Olympic gold medal plant lugging shape at the moment. It’s nice to have something else alive in my apartment that doesn’t require a lot of care, leave hair or bodily fluid on my furniture, eat my cereal, get upset if I leave for a vacation for a few weeks or disrupt my nap schedule. All important factors in determining what I allow to live in my house. I hope it will have a long and happy life.

The Balcony

I'm pretty fond of the view from my apartment. Sometimes I just stand outside and watch the lights twinkle. Lucky me.

The Soundtrack of My Dinner

I’m finding that I don’t have much of a desire to cook for myself these days as there is much delicious food to try all around me. I discovered a great French Vietnamese place in my neighborhood (Basil) and I have been there so often in the last 11 days that they are now giving me a frequent customer discount. Go figure. I took a book with me, as dining alone can be a little awkward, especially when you are the only non-Chinese person in the restaurant and people find you a curious oddity. As I sat I noticed that the music selection was quite choice. It went like this:
Right Here Waiting – Richard Marx
Everything I Do, I Do it For You – Brian Adams
When a Man Loves a Woman – Michael Bolton (of course)
I Just Called to Say I Love You – Stevie Wonder
Careless Whisper – George Michael
Another Day in Paradise – Phil Collins
Hotel California – The Eagles
All Out of Love – Air Supply
The music then turned in to sappy French love songs, including one by Celine Dion. It was as if all of the bad love songs of my youth had come to Guangzhou to be played in a restaurant. So if you ever wonder where songs go to die when they are no longer getting airtime in the US, it’s here. And I must admit that I enjoyed the trip down memory lane.
I also decided to indulge in a little pedicure this evening. Pedicures are wonderfully inexpensive in GZ. I purchased my own girly-pink bag of foot tools as there are a lot of feet in this town and I don’t know how clean they are. My pedicure bag now lives on a shelf down the street just waiting for me to return. And I will. At least once a week. My feet need a lot of TLC after two years of extremely dry Denver weather. And what should everyone do after getting a pedicure? Why go shopping for fruit, of course! I am loving the fruit scene here. I got dragon fruit (I hope it’s the bright purple one!!) some bananas a tiny watermelon and some white nectarines. Most of that came from the fruit convenience store. It’s like a fruit stand, but permanent and inside. And I can see it from my balcony. Now if I can just figure out how to tell my aiyi Lin to cut it up…

A Trip to the Mall

Mall going seems to be a popular activity most places, and GZ is no exception. I was having a quiet evening, feeling somewhat settled, and not wanting to sit around my apartment, I decided to visit H&M. I had a couple of travel options. Option 1 – taxi. I decided I was feeling bold and went with option 2 - the metro, which conveniently has a stop directly under my apartment building. I descended into the labyrinth that is the GZ metro and headed off for my destination. It was crowded, but tolerable.
I headed into H&M and realized that even though it is a western chain (yea Swedish Fashion!) they stock the sizes pretty small. I found myself facing a sea of size 2 and 4 shirts, pants, skirts and dresses. I haven’t been a size 2 since 1986, so I had to dig through the racks and look for giant western people sizes. It was tough as H&M clothing sizes run small anyway. I found a stretchy shirt. Mission accomplished.
As I wasn’t quite through with my mall adventure and I was feeling hungry, I headed upstairs for some Japanese noodles. I was greeted warmly by the hostess Judy (Chinese people pick western names, this was hers) and we had a broken conversation in which she told me I have a beautiful name and that she was glad to be my friend. I was appreciative as I needed a new friend, especially one that speaks more English than I do Mandarin. This Chinese language thing is going to be a bit tricky. Traveling and living in other countries, signs were not written in incomprehensible characters. There are no cognates. You just have to hope for a menu or sign that has some English written on it. I need Mandarin lessons, and I need them fast, as communicating is a challenge. Judy brought my soup and I slurped it down and headed back to the Metro.
I found that in GZ, 7:00 is rush hour. I do not like rush hour so much. Imagine a city of 12-15 million people. Imagine all of them trying to cram into one subway car. Well, maybe not that many but at least 1 million. There was much pushing and shoving and standing really really close to people I don’t know, which is the most uncomfortable thing in my universe. I hope to overcome this while in China. I did not, however, overcome it during this metro ride. Next time during rush hour, I’m going to take a taxi.

A little tradition

As a part of my new staff orientation, we visited some of GZ's most historic sites. The five rams are a city symbol. According to legend they brought prosperity to this area when they visited and saw that the people were poor and without food. They gave them rice, and GZ has prospered ever sense. I wonder where they carried the rice? Do rams have purses? Food for thought...

Another visit was the Chen Family Temple. It is where members of the Chen clan traditionally went to pay homage to their ancestors. Today it is a cultural center that showcases the five traditional crafts of Guangzhou. Two of those are painting inside glass (Chinese snowglobes!!!) and silk embroidery. I didn't see the other three crafts as it was really hot and I sought refuge under a tree with my newly purchased Chinese fan. Best $3 I spent this week.