My wounds are healing.  I did pull some stitches (I do acrobatics in my sleep) so it’s going slower than I would like, but it’s getting there.  My breast has a two inch scar horizontally on the underside.  Only visible to me and him, so it’s no big deal.  He knew I had the inital biopsy done and both procedures, so it’s no big deal.    I’m absolutely craving dick, so it’s been hard at times.   My clit still works just fine though. 

I have a profound appreciation for male gymnasts. I feel like a lot of people who in the past have asked me about men’s gymnastics have had some sort of pre-conceived notion that they’re all a bit queer. Well, in the sense of the word meaning “strange”, I have to say that aren’t all gymnasts a little bit weird? Hey, look at that 4-inch wide beam. Let me see if I can flip backwards and land with my feet on the beam. Let’s see what happens when I let go of this bar. Let me try launching my body over this three foot long surface. Yea, gymnastics!

Okay, Blaine. I see you.

But I kid. I love the sport for many reasons, one of them being the unmistakeable rush I get from perfection, from sticking a routine or a new skill. Getting a new skill is like Christmas, it’s the best feeling in the world. However, I must admit that male gymnasts are the ones whom I’ve always envied. Their arm strength is nonpareil, and the difficulty of the skills that they perform is inconceivable. I don’t think that people realize how hard male gymnasts work, or how great their strength is.

I’ve actually met my fair share of male gymnasts in my lifetime. Blaine Wilson is always at my meets, doing sit ups and practicing his autograph (I kid you not), and I’ve grown bored of him.

OMG I KID WHO COULD EVER GET TIRED OF THAT !??!!?

And I had grown bored of almost all American gymnasts-Jonathan Horton wasn’t winning anything, the Hamm brothers were M.I.A. and Blaine…he was just being Blaine. Then I picked up an old issue of Inside Gymastics, my favorite of all gymnastics periodicals, and opened to a page featuring up-and-comers. One boy’s story caught my eye-Maximilian Mayr.

Max is a 14-year-old from Florida who managed to snag a spot on the National Team as a junior, and got to compete at Nationals this year, and scored 3rd on the still rings, which he claims are his favorite event. After doing a bit of research on him, I learned that he started gymnastics at age 6, and that is work ethic in the gym is the one that I’ve strived for my entire life, and have never managed to get control of. He is known as the “Training Machine” and what I got from the articles and interviews is that he’s obedient, a key ingredient for becoming a successful competitive gymnast.

I can see some Worlds and maybe an Olympic Games in his future (London 2012 anyone?), but you never know. However, I was right about Nastia five years before 2008-maybe I’ll be right about this one. Also, the length of time that a competitive male gymnast stays in the game is significantly longer than that of females; Blaine Wilson didn’t retire till age 34, but many female gymnasts, i.e. Mohini Bhardwaj, retire around age 25, if not sooner. Mo was pretty old for a gymnast actually. So I think that with proper training and time, Max has a chance. I’ll be keeping an eye on him-ever since Blaine lost his luster, I’ve been searching for a new gymnastics crush. I may have finally found mine!

Where the hell have I been lately? No blogging, no tweeting, my best friends are hunting me down while I pretend to be invisible on g-chat. No, no, I haven’t developed social anxiety, I’m don’t have a drug problem, and I didn’t start watching Lost. I was stage managing!

Now, those of you that know me may very well be surprised at this. At least one of you has adamantly expressed his disbelief of my ability to do this task. But I have to say, I am damn good at it. If you don’t believe me, come over and look at my binder. Even you (hypothetical reader) could take over the show with that monstrosity of organization.

But we’re not talking about me. We are talking about Quiet Come Dawn, an aerial choreopoem. It ran from Thur. Nov. 12 through Sun the 15th, so sorry if you missed it. Sadly we only had 43 seats to sell, counting the cushions on the floor. But that didn’t stop us from selling out and above every night, cramming peeps in the tech booth, peeping out of the bathroom, and teetering on top of the bar. It was like a rock concert!

The buzz and the praise were, in my very discerning opinion, well earned. Kiebpoli Calnek and Yalini Dream created an incredibly moving piece about enviromental negligence and it’s consequences, war and destruction, fear, hate, violence, pollution, power abuse, death, and ultimately love and beauty and hope. Obviously, it was pretty uplifting. Figuratively for the audience but literally for the cast, who were flying around on ropes and silks doing aerial acrobatics in sexy sexy costumes.

In addtion to a powerful story, there was beautiful poetry and oringinal music. YaliniDream, Ganessa James, and Shenelle Eaton-Foster created a song called Teach Me Your Body that made me want to cry, laugh, dance, and fuck all at the same time. And it’s been the soundtrack of my life and the featured song in the shower for the last week, lucky me!

Of course, there were parts that could be improved. There always are. If all of the creative team had time and resources to equal the heart they put into this project, choreography could have been sharper and cleaner, lighting effects could have been more intricate and dramatic, we could have had a set. (I don’t think the costumes could have gotten better. They were perfect! Don’t touch them. grrrr) But for love and life and raw energy, there was no beating this show. Now that I’ve raved and raved, you’re probably sad I didn’t write this before it closed. There will be more iterations, more evolutions. Just put this name into your mental radar and be on the lookout for it to take the world by storm: Quiet Come Dawn. And buy your tickets in advance next time.

And a little self plug: I’m a rockin’ stage manager. Hire me! Or tell someone you know to hire me! Before I too, like QCD, am sold out and unavailable.

quietcomedawn.com

Video posted on YouTube by Narodnaia.

Dance is the hidden language of the soul of the body.” Martha Graham.

The way the Chinese have combined classical ballet with acrobatics and gymnastics is utterly amazing to me. The discipline involved in this seems over-and-above the usual – and impressive – discipline and commitment required for the mastery of classical ballet. It takes my breath away. If I were in the audience when the ballerina goes en pointe on the ballet dancer’s shoulders and then his head, I would be unable to clap or cheer for fear of breaking their concentration. This performance is just stunning. Understandably it has had well over two million views on YouTube. If you haven’t seen it, take the time to watch it here. If you have seen it, watch it again. It will serve your spirit well . . .

Although I am freshly squeezed from my yoga weekender in Bath and en route to Germany, thanks to the wonders of technology I’ve just redirected my web site and experimenting with the joys of WordPress. And 10 November 2009 heralds the start of this trial and a blog. In this new beta site over the forthcoming months I’ll be revisiting and recounting the summer’s adventures: stories of Acrobatics, Italian getaways and thrilling European workshops. Plus, I’ll be consolidating all my online media so it is accessible all in one place. To get you started, please enjoy this courtesy of the legend in the making Vaclav Elias (and if you like where all this is going, please make use of the RSS feed.)

Also, it just would not be right kicking this off without giving thanks to all the people: friends, family, students, teachers and colleagues that have made 2009 memorable for all the right reasons. Thank you!

By Jaqui Wan

I found Levi through Sports Unlimited while I was down in Southern California in October. He is a freerunner who has been seen on the Japanese game show Ninja Warrior, in which he was the last man standing out of 100 contestants. You can check out his reel at Freerunning Show reel. Freerunning/Parkour involves running, jumping, vaulting, climbing, acrobatics, etc. You can find more information about it at American Parkour.

Added 11/7/09: If you are a freerunner located in Oregon and are interested in a free photo shoot get in touch with me.

Just recently came back from the ‘interview’ for the documentary/short film for the medical institute

It went very well, I briefly told about being ‘an ill child with cancer, how hard it can be but how I persevered and became the strong person I am today‘, though it was somewhat difficult being natural and relaxed, at times it became very hollywood, haha
Tomorrow we are filming at Cirkus, showing off my talents ^^

Today was a tiresome day, in the morning my friend and colleague in my TV group went out to town to interview random people about themselves, about complexes and stuff related.
Haha, the footage was sooo funny when he asked people who couldnt speak swedish and such, what funky people there are out there!
Makes me wanna grab a camera and just go out there, there is so much you can do!

I fell asleep at the last religion class in the afternoon, I was THAT tired…prob cuz the day had been so boring…just done nothing in the Studio, listened to my boring mentor at filmknowledge class for 2 hours, and then again listened to a teacher talk for 2 hours at religion…

Im glad school is over soon…

Just found out a girl I like in school is an airhead, haha!
-Thats too bad, she is so hot…oh well, i should have known because BLONDES usually are!
That crosses yet another girl off my list… My friend Inzy just reminded me that I am dissing one already, yes I had almost forgotten
Whats the point anyways? Plus getting funky with a girl at school is just one big mistake…urgh, too bad though I dont have any close girl-friends outside of school, infact I dont have any in school either so it makes no difference.

The way I see it, there are these type of girls:
- The hot but stupid
-The ugly but smart
-The hot but bitch
-The hot, smart, bitch
-The ugly bitch
-The irritating ugly bitch
-The irritating hot yet kind
-The sweet kind yet stupid
-The neutral
-The hot, kind but stupid
and lastly
-The hot, kind and smart yet taken…fuck.

Girls, what category do you fit into, or did I miss one?
If so, fill it into the commentary ^^

I wanna give a great tip on a hairproduct!
Fructis Bamboo Flexihold, it is really super good, super strong, easy to mold with and smells very nice^^
I got a free sample can when I bought my Got2Be Glued, combining the two is very neat too !

Makes me feel like a real asian using a BAMBOO product lol, well it certainly helps me make my new hairstyle, which I am very happy with!
My Xin Sarith Wanna Be, with a touch of my own spiky Fringe

We are finally finalizing our plans in the Tv studio ^^
Our teacher Dennis the Menace also agreed for an interview during the sho, which is awesome!
-He is strikingly similar to my all favorite James Rolfe, better known as Angry Video Game Nerd.
I originally wanted my teacher to appear performing as James Rolfe, but since he is pretty unknown at school, let alone Sweden at all…we scrapped that idea…Instead he is gonna talk about basketball, and spin a ball on his finger!

I wore my supercool Japanese Schooluniform today, it was very comfortable actually, I wouldnt mind wearing it everyday.
Although I wore a pretty thin layer of clothing under, it still got pretty warm, so I better not or it’s gonna start smellin… PUN!
Unfortunetly because it is pretty old, two buttons fell off, which was a pickle but luckily I managed to collect them so I can reattach ‘em ^^
- Here is my sexy friendess and I posing of infront of the cam, we look like models dont we?

Tomorrow I am going for a Tv Interview for the documentary/film for the medical instution thingy I mentioned before, so i am looking forward to that, it is going to be fun^^
-Thursday we are filming at Cirkus and Saturday at Kung Fu, so busy , busy week…Just gotta get started with my project quicker than quick or I´ll never get done…This has got to be good or else… Gotta get focused!

Got the schoolphoto catalogue today too!
I really like looking thru the catalogue, it is fun to check out people that look weird, have funny names or people that you like…girls that is
I have some I’ve got my eyes on

Just wanted to post this little video too, featuring two of my favorite dancers from So You Think You Can Dance, they are Hokuto Konishi and Lacey Schwimmer back when they were a couple during Season 3, both are extremely talented and Lacey..well she is a one of a kind girl..so pretty!
-The video is very cute and it also kinda is an image of a dream of mine, finding a girl who has the same skills and main interest like me; namely Martial Arts and possibly Acrobatics/Gymnastics…But where is my dreamgirl?
-I doubt she exists…

Another day well spent…stress, stress, stress.
Gotta fix new passport, ID-card, write week-reports, write skecthes, plan, execute, …I’m up to my neck in stress.
-Tomorrow I gotta call the Tax-office, Go return overdue books, buy some OXOs and write…write, write…Too bad only I cant RIGHT my WRONGS….

But some things lighten up the darkness, like the hillarious martial arts/ acrobatics videos from Expertvillage on youtube!
Is it just me , or doesnt EVERYBODY who is a guru at Expertvillage seem like some sort of retard, reject, outcast or socially abnormality?
Or maybe they are just regular people like you and I…

I would also like to present the video ‘Half Birthday Sex‘ by Collegehumour, a most hillarious and sexy parody of the song ‘Birthday sex’ by Jeremih.

Oli Lemieux from Cirque de Soleil dazzles with his interstellar trampoline skills.

[via]

I loath one man shows, with a passion. It’s like seeing someone you do not wish to see walking along the street and you quickly duck across to the other side of the road just to avoid them. I go to great lengths to avoid having much contact with a show or performance that lacks two people. The reason behind this is that a single person, a ‘one-man show’ just has the huge ability to fall onto its head. There is a defined make or break moment in each one man performance I’ve ever seen. That moment of, “Can this person actually keep me entertained for the whole running time… yes? No.”

With this in mind, I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by Raul at the Barbican Centre by the notorious James Thiérrée. For those that don’t know who this man is, (and don’t worry, I equally did not know until recently), he happens to be grandson of Charlie Chaplin, and the son of Jean-Baptiste Thiérrée. If anything, there was a lot to live up to in this performance, and I have to say, it was certainly one to catch my imagination.

A one-man show in the Barbican Theatre, that great expanse of a stage, it seemed all too surreal, or quite possibly the start of something I might regret watching. However, upon taking my seat, it became clear that this wasn’t just your average show.

James Thierree in Roaul

Huge white sheets, suspended from the flies, hung, drapped over piping, an odd assortment of shapes and sizes poking out in all directions from the stage that dominated every inch of the immense stage that is the Barbican Theatre. James Thiérrée suddenly appears running through the audience, climbing across seats before making his way up to the expanse of white sheets before him. With momentous music, and a sweeping of his arms, the sheets suddenly retract in a beautiful manner revealing a lead pipe structure. It is at this moment that I let out my first of many “wow”’s.

Raoul is an odd performance piece, part comedy, part mime, a mixture of trickery of the eye and spectacular visual effects. Raoul is a symphony for the eyes. An oxymoron if you please. It is both spectacular in form as it is precise in concentrated details. Leading the eye to both be marveled in sheer size of visionary images and squint equally at small magical movements.

Admittedly the piece takes a while to get into, not because it is hard to watch, or tiresome. It is more understanding the way that Thiérrée moves around the space, the silent dialogue and clowning elements, it is essentially understanding the language he is using. With Raoul you have to drop all sense of intelligence, and allow yourself to be immersed inside a world of true imagination.

Thiérrée performs with strength and comic ability, but equally there is a thorough form of training and skill that he has with his body. Watching him send ripples around his body is quite fascinating, if a little odd to conceive.

Thiérrée creates a strange, mysterious world to which the spectator has to loose all senses and thought and enjoy a spectacle of epic proportions.

Breath taking stage design

There are moments within Raoul where I was left wondering “How are they doing that?”, especially with the stage design, which is at times breathtaking.

The house made from large piping during the course of the 75 minute performance slowly gets dismantled in explosive creative ways. Towards the start of the piece the front of this structure just falls apart, the large piping narrowly missing those seating in the front row (many a gasp of horror during this moment).

There is another breath taking moment where the back wall of piping seems to explode outwards as it magically gets lifted upwards away from the stage looking like a star that has descended to earth.

The music equally plays a huge part within this performance, it shapes emotions and atmospheres, it booms across the Barbican Theatre, and tinkles in all corners. It is clear that Thiérrée’s piece isn’t just about himself, it is a much larger version of a world he is creating. The sounds that echo through the theatre combined with the stage trickery and imagination makes your head pound with chaotic excitement.

The show even features a large elephant, a strange fish that swims across the stage and a large puppet bird. The various materials and devices used is endless, and brilliantly done.

James Thiérrée

A one-man show by James Thiérrée is not exactly what I expected, that is for sure. Thiérrée is talented, and rightly so, given his upbringing around circuses and learning the tricks of the trade from his family. He is a spectacle himself, who manages to so easily switch between the clowning elements to the sheer physical ability of his body. He appears to have no limits. Throwing himself across the stage, onto piping, and even at one point flies across the stage and out into the audience.

Whilst I thoroughly enjoyed myself in this performance, it did take me a while to get actively engaged in this. It’s bizarre. Certainly is not for everyone. Yet equally it is challenging and works wonders for the eyes. But Thiérrée still has a way to go before I will gladly give him a standing ovation such as the one that occurred on the night I saw Raoul, but that is a pet hate of mine.

Raoul is spectacular, but how far does it go to keep us engaged?

Raoul is on at the Barbican Centre until the 24th October. See their website for more details.

I want to make a highlight video of my time at work and get it all edited together with a bangin’ soundtrack. It would probably look a lot like this except instead of magically floating, and spinning, and flying through the air, I’d be making copies, getting coffee, and blowing people’s minds with my sick powerpoint skillz.

via Geekologie

It was a DREAM come true meeting Rick Thomas his show blew me away. He is an amazing Magician but there’s another side to him that I can relate to, he is also very compassionate towards animals, and I’m proud that I have that in common with him. He takes very good care of his Tigers and other Animals that he owns. If you ever get the chance go see his Show it’s worth it.

Paris Lo

A new twist on Vaudeville: Behind the scenes of the TV ad

Always check out for more content at www.cirquedusoleil.com/vaudeville-social.

Now time for more Cirque du Soleil merchandise! (Just in time for the holidays.)

Organic Cotton Woman’s Shadow Tee, $59.00

CDS Red Women’s White Clown T Shirt, $39.00

OVO Key Chain, $12.99

OVO Black Cap, $19.00

Green Men “Acrobat” T Shirt, $15,00

Find even more great gifts and clothing at http://eboutique.cirquedusoleil.com.

20^th of October 2009 – Peacock Theatre near Holborn tube station.

Cirkus Cirkör is one of the best circuses I’ve ever seen. I can’t state it any other than that. Of course Cirque De Solei is fantastic, but for me this was a tad more special.

Cirkus Cirkör is not only a circus, it’s a real theatre show.

It’s performed in the Peacock Theatre in a normal theatre setting (meaning a stage and seats in front of it), but that doesn’t take any of the magic away.

There is fantastic juggling, acrobatics and acting. And all with great style, humour and even sadness. The story is about a guy and a girl who get very confused when getting in touch with this magic circus. The show is full of great characters such as a woman who is easily mistaken for a man, super strong beautiful women, an acrobat who can spin forever, a sexy clown who is completely dressed in white (including his face) and a juggler who must be in the top 10 in the world (that is how good he is).

The whole show is accompanied by the Swedish band Irya’s Playground. They do a great job in translating the emotions on stage into music and enhance them. The singer wears beautiful dresses and fantastic feathers in her hair which make me very jealous.

Cirkus Cirkör is at the Peacock theatre until the 31^st of October and try to go if you have the chance, it’s worth every penny.

N

These women I must say are true athletes. Maximum respect!

U.S. Pole Dance Championships

U.S. Pole Dance works for the DAAYYYUUUMMMM procrastinator for:

x Passing time while talking on the phone

x Watching trash tv

x On the train, bus, car… public transport

x Good detox … after work, while writing a paper…

x Good to lull to bed

x Stop and Restart

The Nodaji  stars learn the basics of acrobatics. The Nodaji episode aired last October 4 is up. Enjoy! Credit mochisj

Part 1

Part 2- Shindong’s pole dance

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

So basically, the general consensus around PHS is that being sick blows. Yes, I am going to post about this. A good chunk of the population of our school has been absent for the past two or three days. Apparently six people were absent from my 7th period class on Tuesday. Even though we are overpopulated this year, that’s still a lot of people…

Now imagine this in a high school hallway.

Being sick is such a waste of time. I don’t think that I can remember a single time that being sick was actually convenient. Missing days of high school means missing so much, and I’m already missing tons of days because of Teen Pep and if I decide to go to the city for art. And the CSPA in March! I can spare no extra days for being sick this year! So far, I have succeeded in keeping up with all of my classes and I would like to keep it that way. In the past two days that Maria has missed school because she was practically dead she had missed an in-class assignment worth 140 points in AP World and a section in pre-calc that is crucial to a quiz we will be given tomorrow. Just sayin’.

I write this because my brother, the anarchist, wishes every day to have a sick day, much like the “typical” teenage boy. I often come home to find him lounging on the couch, explaining that he hadn’t felt well and the nurse had sent him home. Why? Because of a tummy ache. Buck up, Edward. This is why I keep a bottle of Tums in my room. I don’t have time to deal with pain, it’s very unnecessary.

All the times that I’ve missed school because of health-related complications have not been beneficial at all. Last year, I was lucky enough to get sick the day after midterms were over, which was also a snow day. You may be thinking, “Well that’s a waste of a snow day!” Wrong. It was the least stressful sick day I’ve ever had. I was then sick yet again in February when my parents were gone for two & 1/2 weeks because my dad had

also good

heart surgery. That sucked because my mother wasn’t there and I also missed school. I blame my crappy grade in chem for the 3rd marking period on this. My uncle forced me to take Robitussin  but also made me the most delicious chicken noodle soup with spinach that I have ever had. And he made it all for me! (meaning not Eddie. Or Ryan.)

But the worst, by far, was when I got the flu in 6th grade. It was two weeks before my first state competition for gymnastics and I was out of school for a good week. I didn’t feel like doing anything except lying down and eating cucumbers. I lost 10 pounds and by the time I got back to practice, my butt was concave. This was a detail that my coach just had to point out to everyone. At least I got 4th on beam.

This would be me. In my dreams.

On Monday I set out relatively early, as I wanted to get a jump start on tackling this amazing city.  My first stop was the Shanghai Museum, which is hailed as one of the best museums in the country.  The structure itself is very nice looking (as most museums are), and even though I’ve always considered myself more a fan of Western art than Eastern art, I thoroughly enjoyed the different paintings and calligraphy on scrolls.  So very delicate and intricate and meticulously done.  Really beautiful pieces.  Other exhibits included sculptures made from bronze or wood or stone, hand-painted porcelain, a variety of combs and jewelry and assorted adornments made of jade, and a whole manner of coins and money than spanned centuries.  And, even though it goes without saying, China being both massive and old as hell, pretty much everything in this museum was mind-boggling and cool.  An impressive collection, to say the least.

As I was leaving the museum a group of locals approached me and asked if I would take their picture.  So then we’re talking and the “Where are you from?… Oooooh, AMERICA!” comes out.  It never ceases to amaze me just how delighted the Japanese, Koreans, and Chinese have all been to discover a real, live American in the flesh, like they can’t believe their luck.  I used to think this was the standard response for all foreigners, be it French or German or what have you, but whenever I’m with a Brit or whoever, the question comes out, they answer first, the response is “ooh, England” then my answer comes out and is greeted with fireworks and shrieks of joy and “AMERICA!!”  It really is quite hilarious.  Particularly how much it pisses off said Brit who has pretty much the exact OPPOSITE view of us Americans.

Anyway.  So these three delighted Chinese, who are so visibly excited they’re practically hopping and twittering with glee, invited me to come along with them to a traditional tea ceremony.  Don’t need to ask me twice.  So off we went, peppering me with questions along the way.  They asked how old I was, and were completely taken aback: “but you look so young!”  And it’s like hey easy there, I AM young.  They were 22 (and still students), and immediately started deferring to me like I was an elder.  They were all ma’am this and ma’am that.  And I was all whoa cowboys, a couple years does NOT merit this elder treatment, and nobody’s going to be calling me ma’am anything.  (For the record, the elder treatment persisted throughout.  It’s deeply ingrained in the Chinese culture and etiquette.)  They also wanted to know how many brothers and sisters I have and what their assorted occupations are.  Enter the perfect time to ask how many brothers and sisters they have, but of course as soon as I answered I was asked another question and the topic was completely changed.  Seeing as I’ve been warned the whole politics thing is a sensitive subject best left alone, especially when talking to the well educated, I figured it was best not to delve into the one child policy (to the supreme disappointment of other travelers when relaying the whole story later that night — apparently there are a whole mess of foreigners just itching to talk politics with the locals).

We walked through some abandoned shopping arcade, fairly similar to all the ones I came across in Japan.  The tea room was tucked in a nondescript storefront, and we sat down in a tiny small box of a room (the walls papered with beautiful red and gold silk), with a table and four chairs and not much room for anything else.  The traditional tea ceremony was AMAZING, one of my favorite experiences of my trip so far.  It was very complex and detailed and involved, and really fascinating that this is how wealthy Chinese have been communing over tea for centuries.  I imagine we got the sweetened condensed chop shop version, and it was still that good.  The big bummer is they wouldn’t let me take a single photo, not of the room, not of the tea, not of different brewing methods, definitely not of the actual ceremony itself — nada.  BIG bummer.

The “ceremony” involved just us four plus the girl who worked there.  It started by her plopping a menu in front of us to be sure we were ok with the fee.  I did a double-take — you want how much for tea?? — but of course consented immediately.  It wasn’t expensive by other standards, but it was LOADS of money as far as pricing in China goes.  So she starts by explaining that this was the traditional tea ceremony used by emperors and lords and the wealthy upper-class for centuries and centuries.  (I should say here that she didn’t speak a word of English, everything was translated for me bit by bit as we went along.)  Each tea had its own specific brewing vehicle (only one being a teapot as you and I would recognize) and specific brewing temperature and duration, all very precisely calibrated.  For each tea the jar of leaves was held to each of our faces in turn, so we could inhale their bouquet.  Then the tea was measured out and put into its particular contraption, the water boiled and added to steep, the tea strained, and our little thimbles filled.  I say thimbles because in essence, that’s what they were.  Very small delicate china, shaped like a perfectly round bowl and hand-painted with a predominantly yellow pattern, and about a quarter of the size of your average tea cup.  And we’re not talking American or English tea cup, we’re talking Asian tea cup.  The ones that are already small and hold no more than four or five ounces.  The delicate little tea cups we used were about half the size of a shot glass, so what’s that, half an ounce?  TINY.  We then drank each tea piping hot and in three sips.  Yes, three sips.  Only three sips, always three sips.  And you hold the cup with your thumb and forefinger around the brim, your middle finger supporting it beneath, females with their last two fingers open and flayed outward, with the pinkie furthest, males with both fingers curled under.  We cheersed our tea nearly every time, and the elder treatment came into play here too, as I met their cups halfway, they’d correct me and immediately lower their tea cups, so mine was always the highest, not to be touched midpoint or higher by their (young? inferior?) cups.

We drank six kinds of tea, each tea being refilled three times.  Numbers are not random or inconsequential in China; EVERY number has a meaning and a purpose.  Six teas, three cups each, three sips each cup.  Apparently the dude who had the Forbidden City constructed was wild about the number nine (which is thought to bring a long life), so there are 999 rooms in the place.  He also had 3,000 concubine “wives.”  THREE THOUSAND.  I don’t care what kind of math you do, with three thousand wives you know those women had it good.  They were probably required to show up once every fourth year and wave the flag, maybe collect some jewels and treats to bring the parents back home, before retreating for another few years of vacation.  And you know he probably had a few dozen he saw once and then never again.  And let’s be serious — you know that number was dreamed up to show the powerful almighty man flexing his big burly muscles and “yeah I’m the emperor, check out those perks,” and never made it past the first hundred or so.  (Can you tell I’m exasperated with the strings and puppetry involved to create some bullshit facade which the ENTIRE POPULATION then gobbles up as the infallible truth?)  THREE THOUSAND.  Dude had a lot of wives!  Then of course the whole “he did it, so I can too” syndrome kicks in (what IS it with men??) and all the succeeding emperors felt it was their right to have three thousand too.  Don’t even get me started.

The tea ceremony was lovely.  Educational, entertaining, delicious — all the things required for a truly enjoyable time.  I got along quite well with my new friends, and the two hours flew by between history lessons and sips of tea and fits of giggles and me horrifying them by eating pumpkin seeds without peeling them first (which then prompted them to peel “the elder” something like five hundred pumpkin seeds between the three of them).  A really great time.

At the end of the ceremony we could buy one of the teas we sampled if we liked, and yes please, sign me up.  Have we met?  I’m all about throwing my money at people in the name of shopping, particularly when there are local gems in pretty packages to be had.  So then the bill comes out.  And I squint and rub my eyes and blink and yep, I read that correctly the first time.  That’s a lot of zeros.  Particularly for a country whose money starts with the number ONE, like mine does.  We’re not talking Yen in denominations of one hundred, or Won in denominations of one thousand, but Yuan, in denominations of ONE.  HOW many zeros??  Apparently that nifty little number that startled me when we first sat down was per tea.  It had been stressed to me that it was per person, not to be split by the group.  So I knew that and was expecting as much.  But apparently it was per person per tea.  We had six.  Times three.  And all those snacks you’ve been feasting on?  The assorted nuts and seeds?  Those were all per person per snack too.  (This irked me; no one asked us if we wanted snacks or told us we’d be charged for them — they just appeared mid tea for all to eat.)  Then there was the matter of the big beautiful box of tea sitting on my lap that I purchased as my “genuine souvenir.”  Let’s put it this way: my accommodation for the whole of China will just surpass what I paid for tea.  Five weeks’ accommodation vs. two hours’ tea.  A LOT of zeros.

From the highway robbery disguised as tea (that I’m STILL smarting over, two days later) we parted ways.  I walked along East Nanning Road, the biggest shopping street in all of China, and down to the Bund and back.  The Bund is a strip of buildings along the river that were constructed in the 1920s and 30s by Europeans (and was the center of commerce for Shanghai for decades, in fact many banks are still housed there), and as such they’re done in the grand Greco-Roman fashion, with impressive arches and pillars and all that good stuff.  I imagine it’s quite beautiful ordinarily, but seeing as the whole area is under construction (as is the ENTIRE CITY, more on that later), it’s really dirty and grimy and the river has an enormous blockade running the whole length of it and you can’t see squat.  Not very nice to walk around at all.  So I doubled back to the hostel, dumped my overpriced tea, and headed out with Stuart (a British traveler I met the night before) for dinner.  He was wildly jetlagged, having just arrived in Asia the day prior, and hadn’t yet seen any of the city.  So back to the Bund and Nanning Road we went, and finally settled on a little restaurant on a side street off Nanning Road.

Stuart had a giant bowl of beef soup, piled high with noodles and spicy dark broth and hunks of meat, and I had eggplant.  While yummy, it was heavy and oily and really horrifying to be served a bowl of something literally just sitting in a pool of grease.  We’re not talking grease at the bottom of the dish when you’re done, we’re talking maneuver your chopsticks through a vat of liquid grease and pull out each piece, letting it drip as much off as possible before eating.  (China is wreaking HAVOC on my eating habits.)  We also shared a plate of delicious fried rice (I haven’t had fried rice that good since Australia, whose Chinese population is massive) and potatoes and green peppers, that were sliced to resemble straws, and also dripping with grease and oil.  Greasy obese feeling aside, it was a pretty good meal.  We were there pretty early (just before 5pm), but by the time we left the place was packed with locals.  Kudos to us!

From dinner I pointed Stuart toward the hostel and jumped on the subway and headed across town to meet up with my Chinese pals from earlier.  They had asked if I wanted to join them to watch some acrobat show, and I hesitated, but they likened it to the Beijing opera “When you’re in Beijing, you see the opera; when you’re in Shanghai, you see acrobats. It’s very famous,” so I jumped on it.  It was only after I handed her the cash and she set off down the street (this was hours earlier, when we first stepped out of the tea house) to buy the tickets that my brain finally kicked in and said “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING??  Who wants to see acrobats?!  Save that money for the OPERA, you idiot!”  I really wish my brain had chimed in a bit sooner.  The show was boring.  Sooo boring.  And SO Chinese.  I don’t know how to better explain that.  It goes back to the strings and the puppet master.  It wasn’t anything spectacular; it was a bunch of limber teenagers running around doing somersaults or juggling straw hats or doing one-armed pushups on a pedestal that was raised ten feet in the air.  And the audience!  You would not BELIEVE the audience.  Ooohing and ahhhing and gasping (yes, literally gasping, dramatically, CONSTANTLY) and clapping after every little thing.  PEOPLE!  I can somersault too!  How ’bout you pay me back for that overpriced tea and this ridiculous show, I’ll do a few somersaults and throw in a cartwheel or two and we’ll call it even.  I mean, seriously.  GET AHOLD OF YOURSELVES.  Have you never seen Cirque du Soleil?  Clearly not.  It was a SNOOZEFEST.  And a poorly executed one at that.  Every tenth somersaulter would miss his mark and knock down a hoop, or a girl throwing her baton would drop it or someone peddling their bike with no hands would swerve and nearly crash.  And the Chinese were WILD for it.  (I should clarify and say they were wild for the properly executed stunts, not the hiccups.  The politely turned a blind eye to any botched acrobatics.)

More frustrating still was that I never found my friends.  The tickets we were issued didn’t have seat assignments; you then turned that one in at the door and were given a seat.  I pointed this out at the time, and they kept saying they’d find me.  And I was like yes but aren’t we going to an auditorium?  Don’t those things have levels?  And seat thousands of people?  How on earth are you going to find me??  (The assumption was that I’d be the only foreigner sticking out like a sore thumb.  They were mostly right — there was a French group and I spotted a few other stragglers like me, but probably fewer than two dozen of us in total.)  We agreed to meet out front, just inside the doors.  I didn’t want to be late and didn’t know where I was going so I was a full hour early.  Which means I saw literally every single person walk into that theatre.  I waited and waited and waited and waited.  The moon started setting I waited so long.  Finally I went inside when I realized the show had started and I could hear loud music and roars of applause.  So I exchanged my lone ticket for my seat assignment and sat all the way in the back, forcing myself not to leave early, swearing that if these people pay this much money to come see a bunch of teenagers doing somersaults, clearly there was some big surprise in store worth hanging around for.  No such luck.

The evening was frustrating and the day was crazy expensive thanks to the tea, but it was a good day overall.  I really enjoyed that tea ceremony, and am glad to have participated in it.  It was fun to meet some locals and make new friends and have a small piece of their culture translated and explained for me.  Ridiculous “acrobatics” and all, I enjoyed my first peek into China.