Because he was put into the oven as a baby. And because he will be the best governor ever. [The Globe, however, does need more editing. As does 02138. Sigh.]
In other news, I am pioneering a new style of biking called "drunken cycling." Its practitioners, of whom I seem to be chief, can be identified by their excessive swerving, weaving back and forth, running into trees and rocks, and barely missing guitarists, cars, and pedestrians.
I have not known how to bike for the first 22 years of my life; I've decided the best place in the world to remedy this fact is Beijing, where the traffic is tumultuous and the people reckless.
Other random skills I've decided [to attempt] to acquire: calligraphy, chinese painting, oatmeal-cooking.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
No more toast
Now, perhaps I should change the name of this to "unruly 馒头", or perhaps "unruly 烧饼", seeing as I'm in the land of steamed buns and such. A total translation would be something like: "无序馒头". I quite like this. It sounds as if it could be a martial arts movie. The protagonist would be a disorderly eater of steamed buns, which would transform into deadly weapons at will.
Peking University, too, is a masterpiece of unrulyness and disorder. Two different classes are scheduled for the same time in the same classroom. Neither professor shows up. Then next time, with the scheduling "car crash" resolved, still no professor shows up for the sole class in this room. The clear solution, then, would be to sign up for this class with no professor!
Have a question? You'll go to one office, which will send you to another office, which will send you to yet another office, which will send you back to the second office. At this point you will stand your ground and refuse to leave—4 flights of stairs is enough. Grudgingly, then, they dole out your precious answer—but you will be told to come back tomorrow for something minute and unresolved.
China's loving thickets of bureaucracy also means that all of us have given up our passports for twenty days. I am dying to go somewhere (specifically, here), but am unfortunately confined where they are undoubtedly keeping several eyes on us. Just as in America, I'm awash in wishful thinking of all the places I could go, and nowhere near going toward them.
More exciting stories to come, surely - tales of harrowing bike rides (I anticipate), endless quests for the perfect cup of coffee (as of yet unfulfilled), treks and great adventures (to a thousand and one places), and maybe even the odd class or two (we'll see).
Peking University, too, is a masterpiece of unrulyness and disorder. Two different classes are scheduled for the same time in the same classroom. Neither professor shows up. Then next time, with the scheduling "car crash" resolved, still no professor shows up for the sole class in this room. The clear solution, then, would be to sign up for this class with no professor!
Have a question? You'll go to one office, which will send you to another office, which will send you to yet another office, which will send you back to the second office. At this point you will stand your ground and refuse to leave—4 flights of stairs is enough. Grudgingly, then, they dole out your precious answer—but you will be told to come back tomorrow for something minute and unresolved.
China's loving thickets of bureaucracy also means that all of us have given up our passports for twenty days. I am dying to go somewhere (specifically, here), but am unfortunately confined where they are undoubtedly keeping several eyes on us. Just as in America, I'm awash in wishful thinking of all the places I could go, and nowhere near going toward them.
More exciting stories to come, surely - tales of harrowing bike rides (I anticipate), endless quests for the perfect cup of coffee (as of yet unfulfilled), treks and great adventures (to a thousand and one places), and maybe even the odd class or two (we'll see).
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