Backpacks and Mopeds

Once in a while (which is probably a little too often from my boss's view), the only respectable thing a girl can do is to hand in a leave application, grab a backpack, and go on an adventure.

Yang Shuo, nestled in its mountainous layers and idyllic streams, was the place.

We first inserted ourselves as a surprise foreigners' musical tribute in a very traditional wedding.

Met friendly Miao tribesmen who were out for a casual stroll in all their splendor.

Explored the rocky slopes and the lush countrysides with steamed pork buns and busting plantains squirreled away in the hiding spaces of our rented mopeds.

Wandered into the occasional farmer's home as he husked outside, wiping his sweaty brow in the midday sun.

Jumped off bridges to splash the passengers on the bamboo rafts.

Fished with Cormorants, webbed-feet birds that torpedoed into the dark waters and brought back fish because they couldn't swallow them with the strings tied around their necks.

Held back the giggles as a hundred "kissing fish" ate at the dead skin on our feet.

Squeezed in work in between everything, till 2 am or electricity shortages.

And rode a 22 hour train, hard seat, back home, with little old ladies leaning in for pillow comfort.

On Fire

The man clicked to the nth powerpoint slide. "They were trapped on their floor because the fire escape door was jammed. 23 casualties." We scribbled furiously, jotting down reminders to our management to check stairwells. 

Next slide. "Fire in the middle of the night. Young woman ran back for her valuable documents. Disfigured face. Ayah. Who would want to marry her now?"

Next. "Third degree burn on a child. He would be wearing long sleeves for the rest of his life. Such a shame he wasn't a girl - at least girls had excuses to wear sleeves to stay white, but him?" He shook his head in disapproving pity.

My colleagues and I sat, eyes transfixed to the clicker in his hand, watching his thumb press down with ruthless efficiency to summon yet another set of horrific photos of fire victims. He was part of our office building management and he was in our conference room, gesticulating smoke, fire, heat! wildly in the air, as part of our free Avoiding Fire Hazards workshop. After an hour of cautionary tales and dramatic disfiguration photos, we were glued, traumatized, and desperate to receive the balm of instructions to be {beautiful} survivors.

"You, being on the 9th floor of our office building, are special. You have good odds of surviving any fire that will engulf this building if you do what I say."

He described how most of the time, fire fighters could not get to all the floors to rescue trapped people. So the solution? Save yourself by climbing out of the window.

He bent over and struggled to pull out something heavy underneath the table. He heaved and threw it onto the table. "Do yourself a favor and buy this 40 feet rope. Today, I will give you the good friend price. 500 RMB (~80 USD) only. Better yet, the first two people to buy one will get a discount. Isn't your life worth at least that much?"

When we all looked at him, shocked into silence at his sudden sales pitch, he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "The 10th floor people will never hear this workshop. They are just a little too high for the rope to reach the ground. So will you take full advantage of your geographical location?"

A sudden whimper. Shuffling in purses. Our marketing lady pulled out her wallet. She looked around sheepishly, "I have a son to think of."

Our office did not have a lot of heavy furniture. I wonder what she would actually tie her rope to when/ if the time came.

Making Do for July Fourth

While J was back in the States hugging the red white and blue flag to replenish his American juices, a history major, a halfie, and an Asian American girl with a Communist family legacy got together to create our own July Fourth.


We didn't have a picnic because our fridges were empty, a parade because we couldn't book all the Primary kids from Church to march for us, or fireworks because the Chinese invented it. But we made a program that celebrated America from the patriotic to the obscure.




Here was our program:

Native American beginnings: Interpretive dancing to Colors of the Wind in Pocahontas. I was flinging my arms wildly to do Grandmother Willow justice.

Independence War:

Civil War: Ben recited the Gettysburg Address

{Super Fast Forward}

Isolationist Period: America Uun-Gah-Ha!

Depression: Everybody sucking on ice cubes (because we couldn't afford ice-cream in Hoovervilles)

WWII: Epic war scenes from Wolverine


JFK: Marilyn Monroe's Happy Birthday (I do a pretty good imitation . . . all except the sexy part)

Civil Rights: MLK's I Have a Dream


Pop: Thriller


21st Century polarized politics: West Wing clip

Sept. 11th: Share our memories of that fateful day and what it means to us to be Americans

Oddly enough, I felt more patriotic after our silly historical reenactment than after gnawing on corn on the corn at a July Fourth barbecue. Must have been all the Un-gah-has.