Welcome Back, Mr. Jeffrey

The map on the video screen says there is 15 minutes till arrival at JFK.
I look out the window to see the familiar sights of the Atlantic, then the skyscraper skyline appears.
There's the Chrysler, the Empire State, and Wall Street.
A sight for the travel weary.
Surrounded by white folks and brown folks and black folks is startling as I retreat into my ipod.
I call the car service and receive no answer, fuckers. This is how my trip started.
My suit bag comes off quickly and I wait to see everyone else's bag come and go as I wait.
The paranoia begins to set in. But this has happened so many times it's only a dull thud as opposed to the heart shocking feeling it used to be.
I search around for the odd sized baggage claim, but realize there is none so I wait.
Finally, the last bag is taken off of the baggage claim and it is my golf bag.
I vow this is the last time I travel with oversized bags.
Yet I am on the cell with the boys planning the next golf trip and am thinking of ways to get my snowboard from Cali.

I wait for a taxi, to 80th and Amsterdam, please!
I'm going home!
Kicking it in the cab, I change currency from RMB to USD from my travel wallet.
Tired.
The city grows into view. Eerily calm. Where's the commotion?
Do I have my keys? Do they still work? I hope my roommate isn't home.
I don't want to talk to him. The explanation of where I've been and why and wow! and all that. Ugh. Please don't be home.
The keys work, no one is home. The place is mine.

Damn, I'm hungry. Delivery! Yes!
I want some chicken! There's no bird flu here! Yet I order pork.

WTF?!? My room is a mess?!!? Oh yeah, I left in a hurry with half wet clothes straight out of the dryer.
So that's what a pair of pants look like after drying out for a month in a crumpled ball looks like. Ugh, I don't want to iron that.

Ring ring...Yo dude, what's up? What do you mean the Pats are in first place? Wait what day is it? It's Saturday isn't it? Oh yeah, college football over, NFL takes over. Dinner? yeah man sounds good. King Kong? no man, I'm the only 800 LB gorrila I want to see.

Must...not...sleep...fight the jet lag!
I know! I can go to work!
I miss the walk.
I miss the subway.
I miss the anonymity of the masses.
I don't miss the dog shit on the street.
I don't miss the dogs.
What do you mean there is a transit strike?!? WTF!!!
Where the F are the taxis?
Why did I leave my laptop at work?

Welcome back, Mr. Jeffrey.

F this, I'm going to Jersey. I'm going home to Cali.
I should have stayed in China.

Welcome back, Mr. Jeffrey.

Have stories, will pay

The Chinese may be the greatest storytellers on earth.
Communist China may also be one of the greatest examples of free market economics and competitive pricing in the world.

I went to the silk market this weekend to buy some less than legitimate goods.
These places are amazing.
Four stories of goods, some junk, some faux precious, some imposters, some just flat out pirated.
Four stories of guys and girls trying to get you to buy your heart's desire from them as opposed to the other 50 shops selling the same thing.
Four stories of people from all over the world satisfying their basest of needs, to find a good deal.

Within these four stories, the Chinese are capable of just about anything to ensure your dollars are spent with them.
Linguists have nothing on these young girls.
Profilers also need not apply.
With one look, they assess where you're from, what language you speak, and whether you are ripe for the taking.
Russian, English, Japanese, Korean...if you speak it, so do they.
The hard sell, the soft sell, the tear jerker, the logician...they've sen it before and they do it better.
Economists, psychologists, game theorists, and more, could all spend years of research and write their thesis on behavior in this four story building.

I've never left any of these places feeling good about myself.
The self doubt on whether I got not a good deal, but the best deal.
Whether I was the taker or the takee.
Whether my principles and ethics and morals are compromised by such a place and the tactics used by them on me and me on them.

This last trip was a revelation.
As important as getting a good deal is, it may be even more important to me that my money go to those deserving.
Give me a good story, a little honesty, a little humility and my money is yours.
This weekend was a trip down the line of honesty.
If I don't like the wares they push, I tell them and move on. This isn't a game of getting the lowest price.
If the product is faulty in some way, I tell them and move on. This isn't a game of getting the best price.

If the product is just what I'm lookong for, I tell them its beautiful and intricate and just what I'm looking for and I let them know that this is not a game I want to play. I plead with them and look them straight and softly speak that this is not a game I wish to play. A fair price I'm willing to pay for goods that earn my attention.

Does it work? Well it does for me. The best price, I am confident is not what I pay. But a fair price it is and that's good enough for me.

The time I save and the principles I keep are good enough for me.
If you have a story, I'm willing to pay.

Then there is the artist in the corner.
His hands soiled with the ink of his trade.
He churns out painting after painting of mountains and trees and cats and panda bears.
An honest living deserves no bargaining.
That who crafts with one's hands deserves admiration and respect.
a story can be told through pictures painted with ink stained hands and a weathered face and eyes that gleam with life!
If you have a story, I'm willing to pay.
And I do.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless handheld.

Chinese food

Once upon a time there was only chinese food in the US.
Made from moo goo gai pan and mu shu pork;
egg rolls, and egg foo young.
Then came the big four;
Spicy Szechuan,
Hot Hunan,
Crustaceous Cantonese,
and the melting pot of Mandarin.

This was for the poor innocent.
Little did they know the big four had brothers and sisters galore.
There is shanghainese siou long bau, taiwanese tofu, and shan dong shui jiou.

Growing up with skin yellow amonst those with the paler shade, I was the king, the connesieur.
If there was something to be known about food,
You would go to no one else.

These last couple weeks I realize how little I knew.
Little, like an adolescent, who says he knows the world, which turns out to be the size of his backyard.

Shanghainese goes beyong bao zi and nian gao but includes hairy crab, tomatoes and sugar and kao fu.

Xinjiang is famous for their lamb and noodles.

Hot pot goes beyond satay sauce with a raw egg, and fen si to finish the meal is accentuated with mian tiao freshly made and stretched by hand. The handiwork is not lost on my palate as the chewy noodles soak up the flavor of the pot and all its goodness.

Then there is Hakka food. The people without a place. Their food is a mixture of the south of China.
Tofu and meat that I remember from dim sum,
Lotus wrapped beef and foil wrapped fish cooked on the teppan.
Egg dumplings and stewed eggs and bean curd served hot and oh so yummy.

Even in Beijing where the cuisine is not the star, the melting pot of tastes from around China is appreciated by at least one.

The kids growing up and he's hungry!
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless handheld.

Massage

Last night my colleagues and I went to a massage parlor. (Not that kind, and get your mind out of the gutter!)
I've had a tightness in my back now for weeks which must stem from all the flying I've been doing plus the cold weather.
I thought a massage might help.

Massages in Beijing (at least the legit places) serve you all the food and drink that you want and place you in a private room or one you can share with your friends.

It is pretty relaxing and pretty funny when you hear all the guys snoring halfway through.
Some of the techniques they use are quite painful and I don't know how much it helps as my back is still tight today.

Total cost for a 90 minute massage? About $15.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless handheld.

Snowing

I was here:
- For Beijing's first snow of the season.

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Chinese TV

I thought the US was shallow...
As I turn 30, I am sitting in my hotel room watching chinese TV. Seriously messed up show.
There is a talk show where a group of couples are on and the guys look alright but the girls are either fat or ugly or have a nasty haircut, etc.
The topic is why these guys would chose to go out with these girls.
And they have a couple celebrities commentating.
Or more appropriately just making fun of them.
So messed up, that I can't help but watch!
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Purity

There is a purity to the chase.
Of a boy who likes a girl,
And a girl who likes a boy.
It's a game played one on one.
The boy chases after,
As the girl leads the way.
In the end, where lust turns to desire,
And desire becomes longing
And maybe, when everything is just right...
There is a spark that grows and flames into love.

Here in China, the game is dead and money is king.
The boy pays the girl and in place of desires and flames,
There is an understanding and satisfaction.
The purity of it all is lost.
Turning the game where winning is seldom and often bittersweet,
Into that which everyone seems to win,
Until you realize the prize is cheap
And the cost too great.

The purity is lost.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless handheld.