Trip 2 to Beijing: Part two

Getting a train in China is a strain to all the senses.

The visual: people playing musical chairs, hoping to get a better seat than the Seat Lottery had bestowed upon them.

The auditory: a woman somewhere in front of me was playing music that sounded like a woman having a molar removed, over and over again. A woman behind me was furiously cracking open an endless supply of seeds.

The tactile: if you sit in an aisle seat, which I was lucky enough to do on my journey there and back, you get hit my passing trolleys, people's arms and babies' heads. Once my sleeping head ricocheted off the head so violently I thought someone was using my head as a punch bag. The seats don't have arms rests, which really are ways of sectioning of 'your seat' from 'my seat'. Instead, you often end up getting too close for comfort to your neighbours, or they end up taking some of your seat and push your aisle-seated butt into the already impossible narrow aisle.

The olefactory: Despite the no-smoking signs, people smoke plenty. Imagine being trapped in a box for 9 hours, with increasing amounts of cigarette smoke being pumped into the air. By the end of the journey I smelt like a long-term nicotine addict. Oh and there's also the garlic fire-breathers. Again, I was fortunate enough to be sat next to one. Every time he breathed in my direction, or just wafted himself in my general position, an overbearing stench of garlic overcame me. Finally, there's the squat toilets, but I think I have truly overcome my aversion to those.

9 hours sitting on a seat was a good test in sleep deprivation. I slept a little, but not enough. When we got to Beijing it was horrendously cold. It was 5.30am and still dark. I made my way to a McDonalds close by, found a seat and tried to sleep. I made a little small talk with the girl next to me (elegantly dressed in a warm purple coat, perfectly straightened hair) in between slamming my head onto the sleeping bag I had put onto the table in front of me. I really needed sleep and warmth and considering giving into the comfort of food by ordering what everyone else seemed to be ordering, but I kept strong.

8am, the sun was up and I made my way to the subway and to the embassy. I got my passport pretty speedily but didn't know what to do with the rest of my day. I had communicated with a girl that wanted to stay with me in Jinan, about getting a place in Beijing. Kindly, she found me a host and I was to meet up with her at 6pm. I stayed in the embassy until I had motivation to go elsewhere. To be frankly honest i thought about just going striaght home, but I decided not to because I would be going to Shanghai the day after.

Finally inspiration hit me in the form of a smell-memory. Blueberry muffins. I would go to Starbucks. I asked the woman who had given me my passport where the nearest Starbucks was, she told me and I went.

Oh my God, how good that warm, soft blueberry muffin was. Mmmm. I charged my Ipod and proceeded to read some magazines I found at the embassy, waiting for my next wave of inspiration i always figured I'd end up inside the Forbidden City, but I didn't really want to do that. I didn't want to pay a lot of money for the ticket, and even if I had I would need a guide if my visit would be in anyway meaningful. In one magazine I found that every Monday from 1-3pm they taught Mahjung, an old Asian board game. Sorted, that's what I'll do.

I scanned my Couchsurfing messages on my Ipod and found one girl I had wanted to surf with said she could meet up with me, because she was free that day. Plans change, I'll meet up with this girl.

I met her at the National Library and she showed me round. It was so beautiful. The inner part is a large square lined with books on all sides.

She then took me to a restaurant where we had a selection of local Beijing foods (I'm pretty sure this is where I got food poisoning because just recalling it makes me want to gag) and then to an old city street lined with kitschy shops.

The food we ate

She went with me to the subway station where I was to meet this host that I had not a clue about. All I knew was that this girl who I didn't know anything about had organised that I could stay with him. We found a nearby mall and watched a competition that involved hammering open some golden eggs, said hi to an old, white santa who had a very attractive Chinese girl standing behind him, then watched the beginning of a Sesame Street show.

My couchsurfing buddy and I at the mall

The couchsurfing host turned up, I said bye to my friend then followed him as he looked for wrapping paper for his son. I felt a little sick, but dismissed it as fatigue, and continued on my way. My host moved very frantically, and it made me very nervous to follow him as he moved so fast.

He lived five minutes from the mall. At his home, I met his partner, their 2-year old kid and 3-month old baby. Something about how tired and sick I was, combined with the franticness of it all, gave me the impression of how difficult it must be raise kids. I seriously doubted ever wanting kids as for the first time I contemplated how difficult it all is. The 2-year old was screaming, the baby was crying, then they grow up and they give you even more trouble. Was it really worth it?

The couple were french, although the host was part American, and it was nice to refresh my French. Since they were mainly speaking french to their 2-year old, they were using non-abstract language, which made it much easier for me to follow. They had lived in Malaysia, the Phillipines and now China.

We went out to a Japanese restaurant in the mall. I would have never dreamt of eating somewhere like that, I prefer the cheap and cheerful option. I wasn't hungry anyway, so I ordered something simple, which turned out to be the cheapest thing - rice, miso soup and pickles. The waiter was smug and conceited and I wanted to bang his head on the table, but instead I replied with a smug and conceited manner.

I ended up trying to feed the 2-year old, who was running round and round. At one point the mother thought she'd lost him, and panic as I'd not seen in a long time consumed her face. 'How many times a day does panic like that fill her?' I wondered, once more considering whether children really are the way to go.

We go home, I made the couch up and tried to sleep as fast as possible, thinking I'd feel better with a little shut-eye. But as soon as I'd got into my sleeping bag a fever coursed through my entire body and I knew I was in trouble. I spent the entire night running to the toilet, vomiting and the other liquidy accompaniment, hoping no one else would wake up. It was a rough night to say the least.

I woke up with a decision to make. Should I brave it and keep going to Shanghai, or go home? Shanghai, home, Shanghai, home? In the end, it was home.

I managed to take my weak self onto the subway, the to the train ticket office, onto the train, sit on the seat without vomiting for 6 hours, drag myself onto the bus (which had conveniently waited until I got onto it) then pull myself onto the second bus, (which also strangely was already at the bus stop that I was walking towards and didn't leave without me), walk a little bit and finally let myself into my house. This time I did take medicine, unlike last time I got ill when I was determined to battle through the pain.

The good news was that I figured out what kind of farm I want to stay at when I get to America, and that was the biggest questions I had. I have just emailed them my resume, so we'll see what happens.

Trip 2 to Beijing: Part One

This was supposed to be a bumper trip, Beijing and Shanghai all in one. It ended up being just one day in Beijing. I got a fever/food poisoning and decided to call it a day and drag my sorry self back home to Jinan. That meant I couldn't visit my Chinese friend from Uni, and I missed out on Couchsurfing with a really cool girl in Shanghai. Strangely though, the school schedule had changed so that instead of just missing 2 hours of teaching, I would have missed an entire weekend of teaching, if I had done the entire trip. On top of that my school couldn't find a replacement anyway, so my sickness was a blessing in disguise.

Allow me to dissect for you my short trip anyway.

I had finished my long work day on Sunday and was ready to head for the train station. I was planning on taking the night train and getting a seat chair to save money. At the last minute my school principal talked me into getting the fast train the following morning. After a bit of deliberatio I decided she was right. Then., at the crucial posint when I would either turn left and go home or turn right and go to the train station, I turned right. I already had everything with me - sleeping bag, clothes etc. that if I went home I would have lost the momentum I had been generating in my mind all day.

If I'm honest I wasn't in the mood to travel/sightsee. All I want is to get to living my life doing something I am truly passionate about. I don't want to fill my time doing other things, even if it is travelling. But my Beijing leg was really to get my passport from the embassy (if travelling was what excited me I woldn't have had the feeling when I got to Beijing of 'What the hell am I doing here?', now I understand what my brother was getting at when he and I travelled to petra in Jordan. He was like 'Amira, what the hell are we doing here?).

I missed the first bus stop for the bus that would take me to the train station (BRT 5 if any of you care) and unbeknownst to me, I had to walk for half an hour before the next bus stop came along. Walking in Jinan is like playing Russian Roulette, in every breath of air you may or may not be breathing deadly particles. Most likely situation is that you are.

When I got to the train station I bought the first, cheapest ticket to Beijing. When I read the time of the ticket and my seat and carriage number I was very happy. I felt like it was a lucky sign - 23.07 was the time of the train (my birthday and month), I was in seat 91 (my birth year) and carriage 7 (my birth month). The train was later delayed to 23.32 (another play on my favourite number, 23). I almost skipped away from the ticket office, I was that happy, surely something interesting will happen on this trip, I thought. (Just to save you from the disappointment of an anti-climax, nothing earth-shattering emerged from this trip, except perhaps my discovery that when I cover my ears I am infinitely happy in stressful, people-filled situations. This combined with my obsession of twirling my hair led me to self-diagnose as autistic for a few hours after I returned from my trip.)

Next I needed to find a chair to place my weary self onto. I chose a chair that was directly under a powerful light, so that I could read my Kindle if the need arose. The waiting room was heaving with people. It turns out that I sat next to one of the most delightful women I've met in China to date. She was exactly like my Egyptian auntie, Safaa. So full of happiness, optimism and energy, but in the innocent child-like way. She kept nudging me playfully.

In the 90 minutes I sat next to her, I learnt more Chinese than in the 3 months I've been here. Immersion is definitely the way to go, and if my life takes me to a non-English speaking country in the future, I will definitely stay in a homestay.

There were 2 awkward moments though. The first was when she kept repeating one question that I just couldn't make sense of. 'You homo? You homo'. Hmm... me homo? What does she mean? She had asked me if I was alone in Jinan, I said yes. Could she really be asking me about my sexual orientation? I continued to play dumb but then things got icy. She stopped smiling, as did her friend/acquaintance behind her. Think Amira think! Surely, she couldn't be asking me that.

Finally I found out that what she meant was 'Do you miss your family?', I can't remember exactly how I found out that she meant this, but it helped us get through that difficult part in our blossoming relationship.

The second awkward moment was when she typed in the word 'xiang' into her phone, as if I knew all the Chinese words and all I needed from her was to type in a word and I'd automatically understand the meaning. Anyway, I thought I'd make a joke that would blow her socks off. I remember how xiang was the first part of the word for banana (xiang jiao) and so I proceeded to hunt for the blackening bananas in my bag. She thought I was hunting for my Ipod with its dictionary app. When I triumphantly pulled out a banana I was not met with the rip-roaring laughter I had imagined, but with a blank, confused expression. Obviously not everyone thinks it's funny how often Chinese syllables are repeated.

At one point a teenage girl sat between me and this woman that was filling me with so much postive energy, to translate for us. I was distraught. I don't want anyone translating, I just want this woman and her energy. I think the girl could tell I didn't want her there (I think I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep), she was made to feel suitable awkward and voila, I open my eyes and she's gone, Happy Woman is sat in her place. Phew, order has been restored.

Happy Woman is on the left

The time had come for us to part ways. She gave me her number and told me to call her when I returned to Jinan. We said to each 'It was nice to meet you' and we left. A man sitting opposite us called out 'Thank you' to me as I left, this made me smile all the way to the train. I'm glad I made a few of his waiting hours more enjoyable, even if I did ignore him, as I have a habit of doing with all strange men.

I'm back!

I have crawled out of my blogless-cave once again. Often when I'm feeling down I tend not to blog. Also there are times in my life when I don't have anything I think is that interesting to share. Or I may be in a transition phase, where I'm working something out with myself and don't know really know what it is, so I can't yet write about it.

I have been going through a transition phase that was generated by my feeling down. Here in China I don't have enough to do. I work all weekend but then only one hour on Tuesday and two hours on Friday. I live on my own and so I don't have a constant supply of emotional support to live on.

I could fill my time with all sorts of things though, right? I could learn Chinese, I could take up a new sport, I could travel (but not really because of my fragmented, slightly frustrating teaching schedule, but actually that's where my list ends. The thing is, all my life that's exactly what I have been doing; blindly filling my time with various activities. But actually, right now I am getting close to what I feel is my purpose in life.

I want to be a gardener. I want to set-up an intentional community where we are pretty sustainable and grow organic food. We would be a family or tribe and we would actually have to rely on each other. One of the feelings that gave birth to this idea was the great sense of detachment from other people I feel in China. I go to work, to teach kids that often don't want to be there, then buy things from people I don't know, who often don't want to be there, and go home. I have no real relationships with anyone that provides my services or anyone that I provide services for. There was once a time when small communities cared for and needed each other but with the growing detachment of people from what they consume, due to 'efficiency', we have become less human.

So back to the intentional community and gardening. I want to be a gardener of the land and mind. When you work with the land you become connected to nature. When you care for the land, you care for yourself. Just as in gardening when you pull out weeds and plant seeds, so in the mind we can pull out our negative, destructive thoughts that stop us from being who we truly are, and plant positive thoughts.

So that's the main concept of the community. Gardening of the land and mind. I find the word gardening has more beauty and love than the word farming. To me, the connotations of farming are slightly destructive, quite intense and mechanical.

That's why I have reduced my contract here in China to 6 months, instead of 12. I want to get on with my purpose in life, because teaching English is not it. I have already spent many years fulfilling what was expected of me - in particular the last year of studying at the University which I has withdrawn from - I'm not prepared to waste anymore time. Also the heavy pollution here was another 'push factor'. Although I would love to be busy outside the house, to fill these long hours I've got, I am also worried for my health. Some days you can't see a few metres in front of you.

But I couldn't have asked for a better school or nicer staff members. I couldn't have asked for nicer people than those that live in Jinan. These people have made me feel safe, happy and have taught me greater generosity.

Chinese koshari

I was walking down the street and caught a whiff of something amazing. I definitely detected notes of garlic and tomato, but I decided to investigate further. A small shop had a queue of people in front of it and I headed towards it. I watched as the man furiously made bowl after bowl of vegetable (pak choi, lettuce and seaweed), noodle (rice flour udon noodles or thin wheat noodles or thick wheat noodles) and his wife ladled them out into very large bowls. That's something I've noticed here, people don't skimp on portion sizes, they really ladle the stuff in Egyptian-style. I met a girl in Beijing who said to me it is commonly believed that Northern Chinese people are taller than Southern Chinese people because noodles are their staple food, not the rice of the South. Maybe they also have larger portions in the North.

I tracked the source of the tantalising smell to a red sauce that they put in the noodle soups. They also added a large tablespoon of salt and MSG, a quail egg and a small wheat dumpling. (I know all this because I stood and watched for 30 minutes, not because I have a super sense of awareness that means I take in the entire situation in front of me as fast as a Sherlock Homes-wannabe).

So after 30 minutes I heard my tummy rumbling and asked for thick rice noodles without spice, salt or MSG. The man looked at me as if I was wearing my head backwards. It seemed that he was right. Without the MSG and rice, my Chinese koshari was very bland. But at least it was healthier!

Chinese koshari - you can see a bit of brown tofu, a quail egg, a wheat dumpling ball and to the left is a bowl of pickled cabbage. I have a fork just in case I get infuriated with the chopsticks. Incidentally I shouldn't be placing the chopsticks vertically because it's considered bad luck. It is reminiscent of vertical incense sticks at a funeral.

But my heart still belongs to my Egyptian koshari. During my last year at university I wrote an 'Ode to koshari' in my University newspaper which pretty much sums it all up:

Koshari – the national dish of Egypt
By Amira Mullaney

In my humble opinion, this is Egypt’s greatest national dish, and equally, it is the most delicious concoction of flavours to have ever graced my taste buds.

As you go through life, you may meet Egyptians that’ll tell you I’m over-exaggerating, but pay them no heed. Although this carbohydrate-loaded meal may not look like anything special, when you take a nice big spoonful of rice, pasta, lentils, chickpeas, tomato salsa and fried onions, what I can only describe as magic, begins to happen.

It’s not just the satisfying taste, but also the smell of the fried onions and the multiple layers of texture, that make every bite memorable. You’ll find yourself reminiscing with a close friend, ‘Remember bite 23? Ah, bite 23...’. But the soft rice and pasta, the slightly harder chickpeas and lentils and then the outrageously crunchy fried onions, really do leave you gasping for more.

If you happen to find yourself walking down any street in Cairo – as you do – and your stomach starts screaming for your attention, stick your nose into the air and locate that beautiful smell of fried onions. Next thing you know, you’ve hit Koshari Paradise!

Almost every Koshari shop in Egypt is identical to the next, and as one of the cheapest foods you’ll find in the country, eating in a Koshari shop will give you the perfect opportunity to spy on the natives.

The most famous Koshari shop in Cairo is called Abu Tarek, situated quite close to the heart of the city: Tahrir Square. Inside, it’s perpetually heaving with hungry Egyptians, and quite a healthy helping of tourists who are in search of a more memorable meal than their usual Big Mac.

Once you’ve seated yourself on the tin tables, a waiter will come quickly to take your order. Here in Koshari Paradise there is no need to furrow your brow over choosing what to eat – every dish is the same! - all you need to worry about is choosing small, medium or large. You can also order extra fried onions (recommended), lentils, salsa or anything else you fancy.

You’ll notice on the table two long wine-bottle-type bottles. In one of these you’ll find a red liquid and in another you’ll find a yellow liquid. Please, please don’t make the mistake of absent-mindedly pouring the red liquid into your bowl (as I have done before), as this is very, very spicy chilli sauce. The yellow liquid is something called Dakka, and it’s a mixture of vinegar, garlic and cumin.
In no time at all, the waiter will plonk onto the table your bowls of Koshari. If you wish to sample the red and/or yellow liquids, the way to do it is to stopper the top of the bottle with your (probably very grubby) thumb so as to leave a small gap (not the most hygienic invention in the World but at least it’ll boost your immune system). Gently lift the bottle, and pour the liquids in sparingly, via said hole, onto your food.

Next it’s time to mix the bad boy up. Take the plastic/metal spoon that you’ve been allocated and carefully mix together all of the Koshari layers. Be careful because there’s usually not enough room in the bowl to mix it, so if you can do this without spilling half of the dish down your front, then please contact me as I’d like to learn from your superior wisdom.

It usually takes Egyptians on average 5.3 seconds to drain a bowl of Koshari, but I’d recommend that you take your time to savour the delicate nuances of the dish.
When you’ve crammed the last mouthful into your mouth, no matter how full you feel, you must try the traditional pudding served at all Koshari Houses – rice pudding! Then you can truly say that you’ve had a happy carbohydrate-filled Koshari day!

A tribute to my father

The photo my father laminated (from right: my brother, mother, me, my father, a cousin)

This is the most personal post I have ever written. Some may think it is inappropriate to be written a a blog post, it should be in a personal journal instead, but I feel this is right.

My father died 2 months before by thirteenth birthday. It was the most painful thing I ever experienced, but I don't believe I was allowed to mourn it properly. My mother took the 'tough love' approach, I think that's what she had been taught before, but unlike me she had never experienced a parent's death when she was so young, her father died in 2001. My father died on Sunday and she made me go to school on the Monday. I think she felt it was better not to brood over what happened, but that's exactly what I needed.

My gran saw me crying in the garden in front of the small pile of my father's possessions, that had been transferred from the Bungalow he lived alone in, in a nearby village. There was his red 'Le Coq Sportif' bag which he brought with him every Sunday to our home where we would spend hours around the living room table. He would teach me endless amounts of French and throw in an anecdote of his time working on his family farm in Ireland (the time he was locked in the pen of an angry bull which came charging at him and gave him a head injury, was the most memorable story).

Towards the later years of his illness, he began using a cane. I didn't think much of it, more did I know what hospice was. A few weeks after he died, I watched a programme on television which talked about  terminally ill person who was in a hospice. Then things began to click. I wondered if I knew what a hospice was, which I knew my father went to, would I have tried to spend more time with him, to discover more about this wonderful man. This was one of the biggest regrets I had. We had so much in common but I had not made enough effort to know more about him. I thought we would have forever together.

It was not until I was seventeen that I first told someone about what happened to my father. It was an English teacher at my school and we were walking on a South African beach, on the last leg of our 5-day camping trip in the St. Lucia Wetlands park. I couldn't believe that I had not told anyone in four years. All that time I had bottled up all of my grief. My friends at school came to see me on that Monday. I was sat in a spare math room during lunch, during lesson times I sat in the library. My friends shuffled in awkwardly and didn't know what to do or say.

What happened as a result of not fully expressing my grief was that my heart locked tightly shut. How do I know this? My evidence is the fact that I don't know what it means to 'miss' someone. When people like my mum, sister or friends tell me they 'miss me', I don't understand what that feeling is like. I don't miss people, not my mum, not my sister or brother, no one.

When my gran died in February I was not sad, I didn't miss her. I think I managed to force one tear out, but that was after a lot of work. My brother on the other hand, was crazy with grief, and jumped on the next plane to Cairo to attend her funeral. My gran was in my life a lot. She lived with us every year, in England, for 6 months.

What I want to do is 'heal' me heart. I want to let the pain that has been locked inside, out. In some respects its quite convenient not to miss people, I have no yearning to go back to see my family or friends, so some may say that I am really 'independent'. But on the other hand, this means that I am not able to experience the complete, glorious spectrum of human emotion.

It's been nine years since my father died of the brain tumour. My conscious mind may have lost some of our memories, but I know that my subconscious has a perfect record of everything I have ever seen or done in my life. That's why, before I sleep I will start to ask my subconscious to show me all of these memories. I want to re-live my time with my father. I want to fully experience the pain of loss and then hopefully I will heal my heart.

After I meditated this morning (meditation helps clear the conscious mind away (like the froth on top of the sea surface) so that you can look down into the subconscious mind, and see the wonders that it has in store), I picked up a photo from the coffee table beside me. I was about 6, and my father, mother and brother were sitting on a brown, fluffy couch with me. I noticed something new on this photo. It was laminated. I know no one else in my family that would take the time to laminate a photo. Then, I started recalling other memories tht I had not thought about in years.

My father was avidly interested in current affairs. When he watched the 10 O'Clock news you could be sure that you wouldn't be able to ask him one thing. 'Dada, what's...'. 'Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh' would be the response. It annoyed me no end. He would furiously jot down notes on McDonalds napkins, and keep them for whatever future use he had in mind. 

I have not inherited this interest in current affairs, but I have inherited his interest in religion. I wish I had asked him why he had converted to Islam, and why he no longer wanted to be a Catholic priest. But, maybe its not too late. The subconscious mind has all the information that humanity has ever known. It has the answers to these questions as well. One day, I will find out.

Other things I remember, my father was an avid fan of 'Lyon's Victoria Sponge'. He would cut each of us slices of this cake and we would sit together and eat. As a family we very rarely ate together, instead we often ate on floor stools, in front of the television, so eating this with my father was special for me. Often we would also have ginger nut cookies, dipped in milk.

When he left at the end of a long Sunday of lessons, I would kiss his bristle bearded cheek, and he would kiss me cheek. I had the irresistible temptation to wipe off the moisture on my cheek, but I couldn't do it in front of him, because that would be rude. Then he'd put his brown cap on, and his brown coat on, and leave through the front door. 'Bye bye Dada, I love you, you're the best dad ever', I'd call after him.

What I have taken from this life experience in grief, is to let it out. If someone is crying from grief, don't try to stop them, don't make them feel little or don't shame them. Just show them love and kindness. My sister cried in Egypt this summer over my gran, 6 months after she passed away, and almost the entire family tried to shut her up any way they could.

How is it better, I ask you, that instead of crying on the outside, a person cries on the inside? So as not to inconvenience onlookers with the 'shocking' sight of someone crying, you would rather have that person cry inside and cause endless long-term damage to themselves, which is then manifested on people that some across that  person, because nothing can stay inside forever. But instead of coming out as harmless tears, the grief is likely to come out as destructive behavior. Fear, anger, hatred.

So again, when someone is hurting, let them hurt, let the cry, just show them love and understanding.

Here's to my father, Frank Mullaney. Born on the 2nd September 1946, died in May 2004. Raised on a farm in Rooskey, Roscommon, Ireland. Left school with Honours. Attended a school to become a catholic priest in Wexford. Left Ireland to head a parish in New Jersey, US. Earnt 3 masters degrees then did a PhD at Harvard in Sociology. Went to Egypt for his PhD studies and after meeting many Imams decided to convert to Islam. Married my mum. Moved back to America with my mum. Was hit by a car and doctors found he had a brain tumour. Had an operation which saved his life. Had two children. Moved to England to work at the Oxford Islamic Centre. Had my sister. Had a bicycle accident in London, the road was wet, there was a barbed-wire fence. The brain tumour returned. Moved to a nearby village to live on his own in a bungalow, marital problems and worsening of his illness were causes. Visited the family home once a week for lessons with the children. One beautifully sunny day, a family friend (who my mum thinks is an angel) called us to tell us my father was in hospital. How and why she knew, who knows. We were about to go to a Saturday Car Boot sale, one of our favourite activities. When we got to his hospital room, I rushed excitedly to wake him up, he seemed to be sleeping. The nurse told me he was in a coma. Later that day the doctor told me my father was going to die. I didn't believe it. We slept in the hospital. Sunday afternoon he died. A priest came in to say some prayers. 'You are very young' he said to me. 'And I'm the oldest child', I thought to myself. My Irish aunts came to the hospital, my mum and family friend had an argument with my aunts, something about next of kin. I didn't care. I just wanted my father.

Dada, you were the best dad anyone could ever have. Thank you for teaching me so much. I love you.

Beijing: The Great Wall- Part Two

The sky started to darken and it felt like a storm was about to bubble overhead. I ducked into a KFC to use their toilet. The line was long, I waited 15 minutes. A woman was staring at me. I stared back at her. I didn't like her stare. I looked away. She started staring again. I returned her ugly stare and started cussing her in Arabic. I wanted to make sure that she knew she would be dealing with a crazy. I was ready for a fight if that's what she wanted, hair pulling, eye gouging, he works. In the end I left without using the toilet. The line was long, the smell was unbearable.

I texted the couchsurfing host, telling him I'd be an hour early. I'd had enough of Beijing. I followed his instructions. I had to take line 5 to the end then get on a bus for 2 stops. The entire journey lasted 1 hour. I had to stand up the whole way. My feet were killing. Why didn't I just find a hostel, which would be just as cheap, near the centre (Lin Sie had suggested that. For me she has also tainted chou fan (fried rice) and those crisps I ate. Whenever I eat/see them, I think I will remember her).

I finally made it to the end of the journey and I found myself waiting for this man on the side of a busy motorway, in the dark. Is it possible for things to get any worse?

Location: motorway in the middle of nowhere

Location: motorway in the middle of nowhere

Location: motorway in the middle of nowhere

Location: motorway in the middle of nowhere

To be fair, I should have done more planning with where I would stay. I decided to go on this trip at the last minute, wanting to avoid the increasingly colder weather of the next few weeks.

There was a car beeping behind me. 'If that is the host then he can suck it', I thought. If I come all this way and he can't get out of his car, then I'll go back and stay in whichever hole I can find. Maybe I'll even take up the Tunisian's offer. But most likely not.

Finally, I saw him across the road. I crossed the road and shook hands with him. My instincts registered: trustworthy. Good, I thought, I couldn't handle taking the bus and subway all that way back.

He told me he was from Boston and that the next morning he would be joining other Beijing-Boston expats to watch some important Baseball game or another. Awkwardly he had stopped walking, and we were talking in the middle of the traffic island. 'Is this some sort of test?' I thought. Finally we started walking to his home.

There were no street lights in the apartment complex he lived in, but we had a nice chat about the Middle East. In the end I realised that his only interest in the Middle East came from his own self-interest. "I want to be able to go on holiday and not worry that I will be taken hostage'. Inconsiderate bastard, is all I thought, who gives a damn about other people when his holiday plans are thrown out the window.

'There's a Chinese girl staying as well. You'll be on the couch' he said as he opened the door. Although it is called 'couchsurfing', I have used beds quite a lot and for some reason I assume that's what I'll always get.

Inside we had a nice conversation about career plans, he showed me a presentation of what his charity work involves (an Egyptian guy was staying with him before, who was travelling round the World with a huge Egyptian flag, 'promoting' the country) and he told me about his music. My cough was getting pretty bad, and I had some water left. He was reluctant to give me any of this water however. Overall I got the impression that he didn't like giving anything out to Couchsurfers, even water, because of what it wold cost him. I'd never stayed at a Couchsurfers like that before.

Luckily, it was only one night on the couch, I slept in fits. For some reason my mind was working like a filing cabinet. It was flicking through many events and occurrences (I can't remember any of them now, I just remember the process it was going through), trying to glean from any of them other times when I my have been conned. It's bizarre thinking about it. People were noisily using the toilet throughout the night as well, which was a real treat.

The CS host's apartment complex at sunrise

I left at around 6am, just wanted to get out, start the day then get back to my wonderfully friendly Jinan. It was very cold and the sun was just beginning to rise. At the train station I ordered one of my favourite things that I get in Jinan - a thin egg-crepe sandwich with salad and sauce. But in Beijing they do it horribly! I thought at first that it was because everything here is under stricter time-limits but at the Great Wall I saw that that's how they make the sandwich everywhere. Instead of light and crispy, its thick and soggy, I felt like I was eating raw flour. Uggh!

Threw that away and caught the subway. Never have I witnessed such a stampede of people, who would kill their own grandmothers to get a seat. It was vicious, no courteous, no after you, no after you.... no none of that in good old Beijing.

There was a couple in front of me (almost pressed up to me) and the boy would kiss his girlfriend every few minutes. I think he was getting something off her face, or he was deeply insecure about his relationship to her, or they just felt like making me puke in my mouth at 7am in the morning. Eventually they left (thank the lord) and so did I. (How deep.)

I was making my way to JiShuiTan station where I would hopefully get the 877 bus to take me to the Great Wall of China. I was disappointed to read the day before, that the wall can not actually be seen from the moon! All my life I had thought that was true.

The pagoda-type thing near the 877 bus stop

I am not a happy bunny

Hahaha - big forehead

I found the bus quite easily, got on, paid 12RMB and was on my way. There was a Chinese tour guide on the bus, who obviously said something worth commendation because a man in front of me made a feeble attempt at applause.

And to your left is kjndfiushtfuoher

It took just over an hour to get there, a little boy puked into the trash can right next to me, and the man to my left kept elbowing me in an attempt to fish something out of his leather pocket. As soon as the bus parked, I jumped out.

It was freezing and I didn't know where to go. I bought corn on the cob (but the proper way to make it, not steamed but grilled on a barbecue), and made my way to the ticket office. I passed a gateway and to the left was a black bear enclosure! Six bears were trapped there, as visitors threw bits of apple at them. The bears were so close to the people that I am sure either they have done in the past, or one day soon, they will jump at a particularly annoying tourist and maul his face off.

Bears

So many bears

Up hill I walked, hands in my pocket trying to get cold. The sellers and hawkers were not as annoying as in other tourist places, but today no one could annoy me, I was not going to take no crap from nowhere. I munched my apple all the way to the top, oblivious of what anyone wanted from me.

At the ticket office were two prices. 45RMB fr an adult, 25RMB for a student. I took out my Egyptian ID, threw it across the barrier with my money and said xue sheng (student). Within a few seconds I had my discounted ticket. My gran would be proud. Do I feel any guilt? Not at all. That's how the world is I have learnt. Ruthless. You do what you can.

Up, up I walked onto the Great Wall. What a view. I walked the opposite direction to the hoards of orange-capped tourists and found myself all lone with thousands of years of history and culture. After a few seconds of contemplation I decided which side was China and which side was not, then pretended to be a look-out, looking for the incoming army of Mongols or Huns. After that I promptly burst into song of all the Mulan songs I could remember.Walking the wall is very steep, you could be mistaken into thinking that it is vertical at points. At one point I was ready to apply for the Great Wall marathon $200 it would have cost me. I'll have to think about that now, especially since my fitness routine has taken a nose-dive lately.

The air was fresh and crisp, the trees dotted around were turning various shades of red and yellow. The wall snaked and turned magnificently across the tall, unforgiving mountains. I sat there, one leg in China, one leg outside (although nowadays its all China) and felt the breeze on my cheek. All of my problems disappeared and I'd made my peace with Beijing once again.

Beautiful

Ta da!

Majestic

Sikes!

Nature and man come together

This is it

On the way down I bought some squidy dessert thing that I saw being made on my way up to the wall. I didn't like the watery taste, but I ate a second one to be sure. 'Ni xihuan zhege?' I said to a couple of lovebirds sitting beside me. They didn't understand what I wanted but when they did, they smiled, thanked me, and relieved me of my burden. I've wasted alot of money here by ordering strange foods, (like the butterfly larvae) and not eating them, but that's the only way to find out about these new foods.

A woman making squishy dough things

I found the 877 bus and on I got. I slept nicely on the journey back and felt refreshed and re-invigorated. The Great Wall had turned my frown upside down. Next stop: Tiananmen Square.

Why was I going back? For a number of reasons. #1: The first time I didn't actually step foot onto the square. The guidebook at my CS host's house said that standing in Tiananmen Square was like standing in the middle of the Chinese universe. I wanted to stand in the middle of the Chinese universe. #2: I wanted someone to try to con me again. I wanted to study their techniques, play along with them and then con their asses off at the last minute. Of course my second fantasy never materialised. For some reason when you are looking to be conned, you don't get conned. I think I should have looked more lost and vulnerable then happily smiling passive-aggressively.

But I did get to stand in the middle of the Chinese Universe. I tried to find the exact middle, then just stood there. I was picking up some sort of strong energy. Building regulations have meant that buildings around the square must be below a certain height. This gives the square a sense of meeting with the heavens. I did draw the attention of a group of Chinese boys because I was standing in the middle, all on my own, but I left soon after.

So many cameras

Right in the middle of the Chinese Universe

I was really hungry again and tried to ask some police officers where I could eat Beijing duck. They didn't understand me so I walked on. I decided I'd just go to the train station, get my ticket and find some grub there. (P.S. I love food. It makes me so so happy. One day I might set up a restaurant/cafe).

At the station I got my ticket pretty quickly then hunted round for some food. Despite the negative connotations chou fan (fried rice) now had for me, I did want to eat it. After much searching I found a Japanese restaurant which was perfect for me. I ordered fried mushroom rice and it was divine. Not feeling my stomach bulging, I ordered some fried dumplings. They were not as good. I read a little more of 'Brave New World' on my kindle, then headed up to the train station to catch my train.

On the train I tried my Chinese with the nice girl that was eating chicken feet from a vacuum packed bag (the smell wasn't great I'll be honest with you), then thanked the heavens to be going back to Jinan.

The beautiful view outside Jinan West railway station

After two hours we arrived at Jinan West at 6pm. I'd never been to this station before, so I knew getting home would be a challenge. In the end I got on 4 buses. I got on the K58, then jumped off at a random point on my map. I then had a choice between the 13 and the 101. I took the 13. Bad mistake. The 13 turned left when I needed it to continue straight on. I had to walk a while then got on the 101 after all. This took me a considerable distance before I had to get off. Then I took the 123 to the UniMart next to my home where I bought lots of chocolate to stuff my face on. It had been one of those days.

Inside UniMart I met an English teacher I'd never met before, she was going to a Halloween party. A Halloween party would have been the last thing I would have wanted to do. I was planning on going home, curling up on my bed, eating chocolate and watching the Matrix. I did all of that except not in that order. I devoured the chocolate as soon as I'd left the shop and watched only the first art of the Matrix. I have started to notice that lately I am not as convinced to the veracity of Hollywood films as I used to be. I am beginning to see through all of the films, seeing the actors and not the characters. Have I outgrown them? It's a strange feeling.

Back in my bed, my Beijing trip was over. Although it was at times unpleasant, it was a great experience, and I'm looking forwards to my next travelling adventure.I have caught the travel bug once more.

[Disclaimer: You may be thinking this girl is in China right now, hence she is travelling, hence she has the travel bug, but you'd be mistaken. You see I was planning on staying in Jinan for the entire time, I didn't want to see anything else. This was how I felt in Thailand. But now, I see the error of my ways.]

Beijing: From 'This is awesome' to 'This place is mean' and back again. Part One

The fast train from Jinan to Beijing took less than 2 hours. I cam to Beijing to submit my application to renew my Irish passport and had been going back and forth in my mind about whether I should stay the night in the city or if I should pull a fast one and leave on the same day. Since I didn't have anywhere to stay I decided to leave on the same day.

My first taste of how busy Beijing would be - the train station

When I arrived in Beijing the first thing to shock me was how many more foreigners there were here than in Jinan. I was a little overwhelmed. When you're not used to seeing more than one other foreigner, at most, a day, seeing so many can make you reel a little.

After a little confusion, I finally found the embassy area. I took a wrong turn and ended up gracing the entrances of the Egyptian, Albanian, Romanian and many other embassies, before I finally found the Irish embassy. I went in, they took the application and it was all over in a matter of seconds. The best part was, they let me keep my passport, so I would not have to worry about getting into trouble with the police, since they could ask me to show them my passport at any time. It also means that I can continue to travel until my new passport arrives which is something I am definitely hoping of doing, since I caught the bitter sweet travel bug in Beijing.

The American embassy - looked a bit like a prison

Whilst in the embassy I got a message from someone I had contacted on couchsurfing, a potential host. I had received replies from 2 people on the couchsurfing website, so I was unsure who was replying to me. One was an older, retired American who did charity work in the some village schools, the other was a Tunisian man. The American man charged 38RMB for a night's stay. Couchsurfing is supposed to be strictly free. The Tunisian man sent me a strange email saying that he couldn't host me in his house because his room was too small, but he knew a nearby park where I could sleep and he could sleep there with me. What??? Ummm, no! But I was still intrigued by this park and if I had time I decided I would meet this man and let him show me which park he deemed appropriate to send couchsurfers to sleep.

I was pretty sure I was getting messages from the older American man as his grammar was perfect. I decided to accept, and stay in Beijing for one night after all. (To be honest when I got to the train station I knew that I couldn't leave on the same day. The big city had cast its net over me and I needed to stay there at least a night.)

But then, after he had sent me directions to his house he sent me a message that read 'Meishi'. 'Crap!' I thought, have I been talking to the Tunisian-park man? You see, meishi in Arabic means OK. I decided to send a message to check which one I was talking to. 'What's the name of the park again?' I sent.
'Which park are you referring to?' was the reply. Thank God, I thought. I wouldn't be sleeping in a park today.

OK, now imagine me, skipping (metaphorically) away from the Irish embassy, passport in hand, application in, sun is shining, the embassy area is wonderfully serene, tree leaves of every autumnal colour dancing in the air. Nice picture isn't it? Let's see what happened next.

I got on the subway and went to Tiananmen Square. Well actually, I never made it to the square.

Before the incident, when the world was still rosy in my eyes

The Forbidden City

There are two subway stations either side of the square - Tiananmen East and Tiananmen West. I got out on Tiananmen East. To get to the actual square you have to go through an underground tunnel and a security check. The square itself is littered with armed guards and millions of security cameras. But I was on a road opposite the square and opposite the Forbidden City (note to self next time I go to Beijing, probably when I pick up my passport, I need to go inside the City). I took a few pictures then made a phone call to my boss to ask her where I should go to eat. I was zigzagging through the trees that lined the boulevard when a friendly girl came up to me and said, 'hello'. My gut instinct told me, 'Don't talk to this girl'.

At the time I was trying out a 'say yes to all social interaction opportunities'. I had left the cautious isolationist period that I had been in for a number of years and was ready to try something new. The girl (she looked older than me, maybe in her early thirties. She had bags under her eyes) told me she was an English teacher. Her English was excellent. I asked her about where I could get something to eat, I was starving! She said she could show me some place we could get coffee. I hesitated at first. Again my instincts were telling me, no, but I pushed them aside remembering my 'yes' policy. Looking back on the things that took place I can't help thinking how perfect it was all for her.

Our conversation flowed so well, I was beginning to thank the heavens for sending me this friendly Chinese girl. We could be great friends and go out for meals together, and plait each other's hair.... The possibilities were endless, and all because I had said yes! I had come to the decision that I would say yes to everything (2 hours later when it finally dawned on me what happened, I would take back all that I had thought about saying 'yes' to everything).

On the way to the Coffee shop I stopped to get water. '3 kuai!' I exclaimed, 'That's expensive!'
'You can get it cheaper at the supermarket', she offered. Oh, I loved my new friend, so firendly and full of good advice. Yes, I thought, I had surely landed the jackpot. We saw a pig eating rubbish outside a restaurant - mmm so when people end up eating this pig they'll end up eating the rubbish he ate as well, tempting!

Munch, munch, munch

Mmm, how about some pork made from the finest Beijing trash around!

'Here it is', she said. We were directed into a room with green wall paper and pop songs coming out from the speaker. I didn't like the atmosphere if the room. I ordered fried rice (which incidentally was really good).

'I'll order tea instead of coffee so that you can try', she said helpfully. I had just told her that I don't drink alot of coffee because too much caffeine gives me a headache.

The 'great' tea

I can't believe I actually got a picture of her!

'This tea is really good she kept saying' (by the way re-living this is really painful. I can't believe how well she got me, how completely I trusted her, and how utterly she shattered my trust in most of humanity. I went from a 'everyone is probably trustworthy' attitude of life to a 'never trust anyone' attitude. I just couldn't believe it). She showed me how we can top up the green tea with hot water from a pot. The waitress brought in two bowls of crisps that could not have cost more than 5RMB all together. The tea could not have cost more than 20RMB at a stretch. My rice dish cost 26RMB.

We chatted and chatted about friendship, travels, she gave me a map of the Beijing subway system and pointed out things of interest. She told me about her travels around China and she recommended that I do to Qingdao for the beautiful beaches. We talked siblings, she had two older brothers, one used to study at Jinan University.

Something that bothered me however, was how whenever I spoke she kept looking over my shoulder, out of the window. I felt like saying, 'Hello! I respect you when you talk, could you at least do the same?' But that was a minor point in a beautiful friendship that I envisaged blossoming before my very eyes. 'Let's exchange numbers', I said. She hesitated. This was really my first feeling that something was quite odd. In the end she gave me her number and called her phone from my phone. Her phone rang, and then she wanted to save her name 'Lin Sie' into my phone but I beat her to it.

Her phone rang a couple of times, her friend wanted to meet her after she finished work. 'Shall we get the bill', she said.

Then the bill came. 340 RMB. What the FUCK? How the hell? I was stunned into silence. I had my purse out but I didn't know what to do. She got her purse out. 'Shall we split it?' she said quickly. 'Ummm OK', I said. Quick as a flash the 'waitress' split the bill to 163RMB. How did she split it so fast I thought? My head was racing with thoughts. I didn't want the fucking tea and crisps in the first place! Why did I take them? I should have just eaten my rice. The woman put 2x100RMB notes on the table, I put 163RMB out (to the penny). I caught a glimpse of the bill. 50RMB for each bowl of crisps, 40RMB for the tea... I felt something wasn't right but my brain didn't add it all u until much later.

I was confused why my friend Lin Sie didn't say anything about the outrageous price except that really good tea is expensive and we were in the centre of Beijing. She had to leave pretty soon but I said I would stay here to make the most of the money I'd spent and eat the remainder of the crisps. How the fuck could I have been so stupid?

After finishing as much of the poor quality chips as I could and drinking as much of the tea as I could take, I felt like I couldn't stay any longer in that room. I asked for the toilet and I was directed to an outdoor 'open-air' toilet where I could see a woman squatting down peeing. No thanks, I said to myself, I'm not that desperate.

At this point I still had not fit the puzzle together and was for the most part enjoying what Beijing had to offer. I turned left out of the street I was in to the 'Champs Elysees' or Beijing - Lin Sie's words.

I walked down this brightly coloured road, went into a narrow alleyway and saw insects on a stick and lots of mooncakes (it seems like the seasonal rule for mooncakes does not apply in the capital). I pulled my trusty rucksack round my front as I felt someone could try to help themselves to my wallet.

These insects were still alive

The rest of China stops making mooncakes in October but Beijing thinks its above all that

Walking, walking, walking. Stop. OH MY GOD. Everything finally made sense. The walk up to the coffee shop, I was groomed by LinSie. 'Do you speak Chinese?', 'No!' I laughed. Purpose: ascertain whether I would understand what she was saying to the waitress in the coffee shop about fixing the extortionate price on me. She didn't talk a lot about her English teaching job, I didn't get enough details to be completely convinced by it. When I said I would go to the Great Wall, instead of the usual place (BaDaLing) she said I should go to the less touristy, more expensive place.

But, it was the bill that was the obvious clue. How the fuck did I end up paying the full amount when she said we would split it? The full amount on the bill cam to 163RMB - the exact amount I paid! I couldn't believe it. The waitress had doubled the bill then halved it back down to what she had totalled the food to cost. Then how the hell did one bowl of sub-par crisps cost 50RMB?

I sat down on a bench and smacked my head. Oh the stupidity! But a part of me didn't want to believe that the friendliest girl I'd ever met could have broken my trust like that. The whole thing was so beautifully orchestrated. In fact, I felt like it had been me who had made the suggestions - I was the one who nudged her and asked if she knew someplace to eat (she had jumped back a little when I nudged her, which startled me). I was the one who said to her 'I always wanted to go to a tea house!'

Luckily she went a little light on me, as far as cons go. I read in the Lonely Planet that was at my couchsurfer's house, that some Tiananmen Square tea house cons (apparently they're World famous!) can get up to 2000RMB! I remembered the seemingly innocent question of 'You look young, so you have just graduated from University?', that was designed to gauge how much money she could realistically squeeze out of me. Also maybe she felt a little sorry for me, but then again, I don't think so, I just think that she knew that if she asked me for anymore I may not have been able to give it to her.

She also never gave out the feeling of being needy or pushy. She was always so relaxed and so natural. She'd obviously been in the business for a long time.

I sent a message to the number that was recorded in my phone for her about how she should find a way to earn a living that doesn't hurt other people and I thanked her for teaching me never to trust strangers again.

So this is my new philosophy - you can never trust anyone 100%. Even people you think you know quite well, it s better to reserve a certain percentage of trust. Life may throw up all kinds of things that mean people break your trust and if you have not given them 100% of your trust then you will not be as badly burnt by their betrayal. My 'say yes to all social interaction opportunities' philosophy has segued into a 'say yes to the social interaction opportunities that your instinct says yes to as well'. When she asked me to go for a coffee my instinct said no. I should have listened to that wise guy.

Pulling my hair out at the library

I find people so annoying sometimes!

A significant portion of my last year at University was devoted to meditating and reflecting on many of life's profound questions. I had turned to spiritual activities as a way to help me get through my horrible time at Uni. What it meant for my character was that I tried to change many things about myself I didn't like. Namely how quickly I lose my temper and get angry at people. My sister often said to me (when I was in a good mood), 'Amira, I just don't know when you're going to 'switch'. One second your laughing, the next your shouting'.

I tried to iron out this personality flaw by doing a lot of meditation and practising positive, calming self-talk, and it helped to a large extent. But it only lasted if I had been doing meditation. If I didn't meditate on a certain day I would find it difficult to control my anger.

Anyway, here in China I don't feel the urge to meditate - back in Birmingham meditation was more important to me than eating, and in fact I lost my appetite for most of the year, something very out of character for me. And what's more, I don't feel the urge to change my personality/character flaws either. These days I'm living by a new principle - be yourself, but what's more important, don't be ashamed of what you are.


Enough back story. The main crux of this post is how frustrated I got today at the library. I was doing my reading there when I heard a very annoying walk. That last sentence does not sound grammatically correct, but I don't know how to explain it. I am quite sensitive to things like how people walk and the sound their feet make. Just from hearing how people walk I will immediately categorize them into 'like' or 'dislike'. This man was most definitely a 'dislike'.

His walk was very self-righteous, as if he wanted people to stop what they were doing and look at him. I'd heard him pace up and down the hallway next to where I sat before, but I avoided making eye contact. This time I looked up.

I am also very good at 'feeling' is someone is looking at me. I can sense it without having to lift my head from the table. This annoying man, I sensed, was staring at me. Sure enough, when I looked up, he was. But it was one of the most annoying, smarmy stares I had ever been subjected to. I had half a mind to get up and punch the living daylights out of him. When he reached the end of the room he decided to walk back towards me to turn on a light. He walked through some shelves to get to the light switch and that son of a $%#^@ was scanning under the shelves and looking at me.

'What are you doing', I said, giving him the most disgusting look I could spread across my face. He answered with a playful smile. 'No, I do not want to be friendly with you, you smarmy son of a pig's butt', I thought. 'I don't need to speak Chinese to whip yo' ass either'.

When I get worked up like this, it takes me a while to calm down. Even five minutes after he sat back at his table on the opposite side of the room, I was visualising getting up and smacking him across the back of his head. I tried to concentrate on my reading, but feeling his presence in front of me, it was impossible for me to get the images of violence I wanted to inflict upon him. So, I took my things and moved to behind a pillar, so that I wouldn't have to see him.

I was just getting back into my book when I heard someone scratching something very vigorously. A few tables behind the smarmy man was a man who was scratching his head with a comb. The way he was digging at his head made it quite clear that he was probably flea or nit-ridden. I'd never in my life seen someone scratch so much. The comb was obviously not doing much for him, so he put his head onto the chair behind him, and started moving his head up and down, using the back of the chair as a scratching post. I stopped my reading and just stared at him for at least five minutes.

I tried to calm myself down again and finally, although another man started tapping his feet, I managed to get back to my reading.

Anyway, tomorrow I will try to be a little calmer, but if that smarmy starer stares at me again he'll have another thing coming...

In the library

Shandong museum

Today I walked to Shandong museum, which took about half an hour. The road there was heavily polluted today and my nose started itching like I used to feel in India, in the old markets of Delhi.

I imagined that the museum would be small and not very well-kept, with not much to see. I was so wrong.

I don't consider myself a museum-person. I don't like the leg pain you get from museums, and I find it difficult visualising what ancient peoples used their tools for. But the museum building itself was worth the entire trip.

Never have I seen such a large entrance hall, with marble stairs. It was absolutely breath-taking.

Inside I looked around the Confucius art section, pre-historic section and modern art section. I formulated a list of things that I should do on my next museum trip to ensure maximum enjoyability:

•  Walk slowly and don't stop moving your legs. Leg and foot pain come from constant walking and stopping, walking and stopping.
• Look only at objects that grab your attention (i.e. don't look at everything). Then try to imagine how these things were used and what it says about the people that used them. Remember these people led to your being on this Earth. They are your ancestors. (Make it personal)
• Learn only a few key facts (about five).

What key facts did I take away?

• According to the huge board at the entrance of the Confucius art section, 'Confucius' ethics and political theory forced the gentle and humane nature on the Chinese'.  

I find this interesting because I have always wanted to know why Chinese people are, in general, so much gentler and more peaceful than other peoples, like the Arabs today or the Mongols of yesteryear. I find it difficult to believe that Confucius' ethics are responsible, and anyway I don't like the use of the word 'force' in the explanation. How can you 'force' gentleness? Maybe it's just a translation error.

• In 221 BC Emperor Qin became the first person to unite China.
• Shandong was known as a land of immortals (possible some connection to Mount Tai), philosophical thinkers (Confucius was born in Shandong) and a vibrant economy (good natural resources).
• The design of the museum is based on traditional Chinese culture of having a 'round sky and square Earth'.
• In some dynasty or another they word lampshades on their heads!

On my way home I got on the bus and was perplexed to find yet again a woman standing besides an empty seat. My culturally-shaped brain could not come up with a logical reason why someone would leave a perfectly good seat and stand up. Here are the reasons I thought of:

• She likes exercise
• She's afraid someone gross was sitting on the chair before her and has therefore contaminated it (I did see someone blow into his fingers then wipe his discharge onto the chair next to him)

And that's it, I've come up with a poxy 2 possibilities. It baffles my mind but this is a perfect opportunity for me to see it as a difference in culture and that neither she nor I are right or wrong, we are just different. 

On this same eventful bus trip, I heard loud banging and exploding noises. Someone had set off five boxes of firecrackers. They are so loud that it sounds as if a neighbouring country is shelling our city. And yet again, I failed to understand why they would set off firecrackers in broad daylight, surely they would be more of a spectacle across the black night sky?

In other news, I am fasting today, drinking only hot water all day. Yesterday my Chinese language exchange partner and I ate a 'takeaway' rice, beef, mushroom and pak choi meal. The mushrooms were so salty that for the rest of the day I felt like my body was shutting down. I decided therefore that I need to cleanse my body of all of the rubbish that I have put inside it over the last few months, and give my digestive system a rest. Added to that this morning I tried to do some exercise and I got a nasty mouthful of acid-reflux, so my body obviously needs a little TLC.

Fasting is not new to me, I used to do it during Ramadan. Also when I was reading a lot of spiritual literature, especially Gandhi's autobiography, I was inspired to fast for spiritual reasons - going without food for one day is a good way to lessen your ego and release you a little more from worldy attachments. But my purposes today are purely health-based.

Also, I am officially addicted to The Office (US). It makes me so happy when I watch it, and I basically live my days just so that I can get to the end of them and join my friends in their office, before I go to sleep. I am often thinking about their lives and what they would do or say in certain situations (yes I am aware that they are fictious characters) and I feel like I have been allowed into a wonderful little community. You should check it out if you can!

Cultural difference revelation

Yesterday I had my first Chinese lesson/language exchange with the boy I met on Shandong University campus. It went really well and I took a lot from it, and he did as well because I helped him with an English speech he was to give the following week. But there was one thing that really annoyed me.

We were having the lesson in a public place, the area filled with tall green trees at the University. There were people around us so I attributed the boy's behaviour to shyness. He talked quietly and cautiously and I had to consistently ask him to read out the Chinese sentence out loud after I'd had a go at it. Why doesn't he want to help me? I thought. Why doesn't he want to correct my mistakes? I got quite frustrated but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

A day later things began making sense. I re-read an article on the Chinese cultural importance of 'keeping face', not saying anything that might humiliate or embarrass the person in front of you. 'That must be why the boy was so reluctant to correct me', I thought. Then I remembered another Chinese boy at Birmingham University who was giving me Chinese lessons, he too was reluctant to correct me. Then I started to think about how my principle at school talks to me. I have often wanted to congratulate her on her talents at speaking so diplomatically. She will never order me to do something and she always phrases her requests as suggestions. In fact, now I come to think of it, all of the Chinese teachers that work at my school have this ability and for one thing, it makes working at the school very pleasant.

So I think next time I have a lesson with the Chinese boy I'll let him know that I want to be corrected as much as possible. I think I have decided that there are two main reasons I may get frustrated with someone: intelligence and culture. If someone has a very different intelligence than me they will do things that I wouldn't usually, which could frustrate me. Similarly with culture. Culture includes education, values, beliefs, morals, world view among other things.

This idea that I have started to formulate will save me a lot of grief in the future. Why? If I get frustrated with people in the future I can attribute it to different intelligence or different culture. Both of these factors are not in the hands of the person in front of me. Intelligence, you're born with, culture you get from your society and family. You can and do alter your culture with the life decisions you make, but the primary culture is not up for modification.

I have battled with myself for a long time about why I am the way I am. I have tried to form theories and understand but they have not led me to happiness. Acceptance is the only way, I believe. I must accept that I am the way I am (intelligence and culture) and I do not need to try to understand why. It is enough to be at peace with the way that I am, so that I can become as productive as possible. This is also true for how I see other people. I don't need to understand why people are the way they are, I can put it down to intelligence and culture, and accept them the way they are. But of course the human need to understand will always be present, but it is not possible to understand everything. If I learn to accept everything though that will be a great achievement.

We all feel the pressure to conform to a 'societal ideal'. One element of the societal ideal as is part of my understanding is 'being sociable'. This is something I have wrestled with for a long time. Personally, I enjoy the company of certain people. People who are non-judgmental, positive, relaxed and who share a similar intelligence and culture to me. I have not met many people so far that fulfil these criteria.

As an introvert, I 'charge my batteries' when I am at home on my own. I need a lot of time on my own to read, write, exercise, and most importantly think. For me thinking is close to breathing in my list of priorities. I need to think about things like life, cultures etc. to help me feel whole.

I don't like how society labels people as 'sociable' or 'anti-sociable', what about people in between? For me, I need to send the vast majority of my time with my self and my thoughts. But this is not just in the house. I need some sort of social contact everyday, even if it is something as small as buying something from the local shop. The sociologist Charles Horton Cooley thought that our self is created by society. If that is true then perhaps my need to be in society at least once a day, may be a way of reaffirming my self.

So this part of me that does not live to the 'societal ideal' in my mind, has been a real challenge to accepting myself. But I have found that trying to explain my behavior does not lead me to happiness either. I have thus decided to accept the way I am and stop digging deeper to try to 'understand', instead putting it down to the vague categories of intelligence and culture and leaving it at that (not even trying to dissect these categories). As one who enjoys thinking and solving 'problems', it will be a challenge for me to just 'accept', but I'm ready for the challenge because I know for certain that the only place it will lead will be happiness.