La Bella Vita

City of dust

So I took a midnight flight out of my sunny little island to this dusty northern capital. God knows what possessed me to think it would be a great respite from my perpetual moping. My brittle bones further disintegrated and probably aged half a century from the stiff and exceedingly uncomfortable flight, and I was too glad to be on land once again. Upon checking out, I immediately beheld the American Capitalism in its full glory: Starbucks, and the Golden Arches! (My heart did a somersault) God forbid I had to eat Chinese rice and oily peking delight for the next two weeks! I dashed off in all 5 extra inches of my creaking bones.

A whole day later, whatever is left of the initial excitement has pretty much worn off, with discoveries as such: 

1. The Chinese seem to have a perennial deficit in civility, their ideal choice of communication being jabbering in a sharp piercing tones, concurrently crinkling up every line on their faces.

2. American Capitalism is a lie. I AM destined to eat peking delights for the remainder of my trip, as two same-same-but-different chicken rice have convinced me. 

3. … I would go on, but my eyelids are shutting. I only know that I am miles away from home, lying in the dark with sore aching feet, a craving for some Tsingdao beer (Hey I’m in China!), and a tingling sore that is the absence of my wonderful boyfriend. I am going to bed, and as always, today sucks, but tomorrow promises to be better! 

And I will finish this post on a better day.