No Place Like Home

Bad Hair, Good Friends

Face it; we've all had them, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. Bad hair days just happen. Only a few weeks ago during a visit to the 798 Art District in Beijing, I was sitting down for a brief rest on a pink plastic chair when my good friend "Daney" snapped this photo of me. Any other day, my Simpson-esque mane would have been perfectly coiffed, but, well ... I didn't have the right conditioner. But to show I'm a good sport, I'm posting this photo as a testament to the fact that even the bold and beautiful have off days.

For most of Daney's visit, there was another woman who hung around us quite a bit. We called her "The Lor". She's very organized, tends to read aloud and write meticulous notes in travel journals. Rumor has it that my driver (see my last entry) was very impressed with her Mandarin. Personally, I've always thought she was a bit of a show off, but...that's just me. (Bitter...party of one? Bitter?)

Seriously, I had a wonderful time visiting with my friends Lori and Dana last month. Not only was it great to see and spend time with them, I also got to explore new areas of Beijing, including:

• The Lama temple, where there was some major incense burning going on. I haven't been that high since I hung out in my teenage sisters bedroom in the late 60s.
• Longqingxia Gorge -- think mini Grand Canyon with bungee jumpers and high wire act entertainers, the longest dragon shaped escalator in the world (I'm not making this up, folks), a very relaxing boat ride and assorted Buddhist temples dotting the landscape.
• The Hutongs -- a pedal-cart ride through the old stone homes and alleyways of Beijing which leaves you with the feeling that there really is such a thing as time travel.
• The Green Team Room -- a hip, trendy eatery that is described as "something out of Alice in Wonderland". No photos were allowed, but it didn't disappoint.

They were also here for the 24th anniversary of my 21st birthday, a very special occasion celebrated at Peter's Tex Mex with some of my closest friends in Beijing. In a scene right out of Ripley's Believe It or Not, the folks at the table on our right were from Columbus, Georgia; and one of the young ladies at the table on our left was an Auburn grad (and it was her birthday, too!). What are the odds? Only in China!

This is me in my winter that that my friend Donna bought me for my birthday. Frankly, the Communists aren't known for fashion, but they do make rather hip hats. I look rather dashing, no?

We also enjoyed a fun night at Hard Rock Cafe-Beijing -- no drugs or nuclear weapons allowed (the sign says so) -- where a band from the Philippines played some fairly danceable pop tunes.

Anyway, I posted yet ANOTHER photo album you can check out on the left column with some pictures taken by Daney during the Daney/Lor Birthday Visit. (Are you sick of seeing my photos? Please say "yes"; I hate resizing them for viewing on the Web.)

By the way, for anyone who wants to know, and the rest of you who have nothing better to do than read my blog, I will be "home" for Christmas, which, currently means "Illinois, Tennessee and Alabama". For Turkey Day, however, I'll be flying South to Hong Kong. Jackie Chan beware!

Should be another adventure. Stay tuned.

Did I Mention I Have a Driver?

There are several great things about living in China. Food poisoning sure to jump start any diet plan. Lethal pet food and toothpaste. Smog and pollution to die for. What's not to love, right?

OK, I'm exaggerating. Despite a couple of bad food bouts, I'm certainly not shedding any pounds here. My teeth are about as clean as ever and, as far as I know, I haven't killed any four-legged creatures. And, call me Pollyanna, but I prefer to think of the smog as a sour old friend that kindly hides those annoying sunbeams when all I really want to do is lie on the couch, watch Law & Order reruns, and eat slurpy spoonfuls of Haagen Dazs Macadamia Nut Brittle ice cream.

There is one difficulty, however, that I simply couldn't manage on my own -- traffic.  How to describe rush hour in Beijing? Hmmm. Think of all the cars in Chicago, New York and L.A. combined without a fussy need for separate lanes for traveling in opposite directions. Mix in about a million bicycles, motorbikes, buses, pedal carts and pedestrains. Throw in a policeman with a red flag nonchalantly waving at rule breakers, not so much to slow them down or, God forbid, give them a ticket, as to encourage them with a, "Hey, good job putting the pedal to the metal 30 seconds after the traffic light turned red." Or, "Awesome! I've never seen a hit and run like that. Double flag wave to you, girlfriend!"

That's why I'm thankful to have a driver. Yes, a driver. Someone who picks me up in the morning and takes me home at night. Someone who opens doors for me, puts my overstuffed briefcase in the trunk, and struggles to ensure the appropriate CD is ready to play my favorite tunes. Never mind that it's the soundtrack to "Hairspray" with lyrics that make him squint oddly as he glances at me in the rearview mirror. "It's art!," I tell him. "Turn it up."

Mr. Cui (pronounced "SWEE") is a God-send. He manuevers through traffic like a ballet dancer on speed, all the while oozing with the calm indifference of an English aristocrat. Recently, a bicyclist rammed into us head on only 50 yards from my home. I freaked. In contrast, Mr. Cui calmly got out of the car, ensured our treasured black Volkswagen Passat wasn't noticeably scratched, looked over the dazed but healthy cyclist, and sent him away with a dismissive wave of the hand.

Mr. Cui is more than just a driver. He's also my translator, bargainer, cultural advisor, and occasional lunch partner. Hell, he even pushes my cart at the grocery store, no matter how much I protest.  At first I felt a bit embarrassed about having a chauffeur. Let's face it, I've always been much closer to trailer trash than Park Avenue. But after a few guilt-ridden weeks, I decided to embrace my good fortune. Inevitably, I "slip" and bring him into conversation with family and friends.

• "I don't know, let me see if my DRIVER knows where that restaurant is located."
• "Oh, appreciate the offer to share a taxi, but my DRIVER is on the way."
• "Why don't I have my DRIVER stop by the store and pick that up for you?"
• "Hold on, let me ask my DRIVER to turn down the radio."

This, of course, is simply to show my appreciation for Mr. Cui. I wouldn't dream of gloating.

We're a team, Mr. Cui and me. I used to close my eyes from the time I left my home until he safely dropped me at my destination. No longer. I wouldn't miss a moment of our obstacle course jaunts through the streets of the Chinese capital. Hell, if I had a red flag, I'd double wave him.

Seoul, a Summer Palace, Sweltering Bangkok & Sailing in Koh Samet

Hello all. More than two months have passed since my last entry. And while I could fill an entire novel with the day-to-day events of my life on Planet Asia during that timeframe, in the interest of time and server space, I’ll spare you the pain and hit the highlights.

In early May, I went to Seoul, South Korea to visit a friend of mine and my sister-in-law’s nephew. (Hey, when you are on the other side of the world, nephews-in-law count!) My friend, Alex, is from Latvia, one of the former Soviet republics. That concludes my knowledge of Latvia, however, I can tell you a little more about Alex. He speaks Russian, lives in Korea, and makes his living as a professional accordion player and part-time actor on Korean television. (No, I’m not making this up.) I met him when he was in Beijing a few months ago, and, due to my intense love of accordion music, we became thick as thieves.

I had the good fortune of visiting Korea during HiSeoulFest 2007, a festival designed to unite traditional Korean music and art with the future. Hey, that’s what the brochure said. The city was alive with parades, concerts, dance recitals and art exhibitions. Everyone seemed to be in Hi spirits.

Never one to say no to a music festival, my friend Alex played at a couple venues on Piano Street, a cool avenue in the heart of the city. Filled with pubs, restaurants and shops, the street actually has an outline of a keyboard in the center of the lane. Pretty cool, huh? Alex also played a very enjoyable set at Salon de Callas, a wine bar named after the late Greek opera star Maria Callas. Picture a Russian-speaking Latvian playing “Lara’s Theme” from Dr. Zhivago in a wine bar named after a Greek opera star. Throw in an audience that includes an English-speaking California native who grew up in Alabama and now lives in China applauding wildly at a corner table while being fêted with some unknown, yet edible cheese, and very tasty glasses of Pinot Grigio poured by a spiky-haired Korean waiter named “Leo”. Yep, this is my life.

I also enjoyed visiting Jay, my nephew-in-law. His real name is Jeongpil, but he went to college at UCLA and adopted the shorter American name to make it easier on his friends, and, most likely, himself. A great guy, Jay is in his early 30s, and works as a risk advisory consultant for Ernst and Young in Seoul. I have no idea what that is, but his business card looked impressive. Jay showed me around downtown and we enjoyed a coffee at Starbucks. (They are everywhere, even INSIDE the Forbidden City in China. I swear!) Later, he took me to lunch at a cool Korean restaurant where we had some type of impossible to pronounce spicy chicken and noodle dish. Very tasty! After lunch it was off to N Seoul Tower, which stands at the top of Mt. Namsan and provides the highest viewpoint of the city. Built in 1969, it served as Korea’s first integrated communication tower, transmitting TV and FM radio signals for the Seoul metropolitan area. In 1980, it was refashioned as a recreational and cultural complex and is now the city’s most recognizable landmark and tourist attraction.

I also went on an enjoyable boat ride down some river I forget the name of, bought some cool mother of pearl jewelry boxes for family and friends while shopping on Insa-Dong Street, and was offered a “happy ending” while getting a massage at my hotel spa. I declined, preferring to keep the end of my relaxation story to myself. All in all, I had a very good time in Seoul and highly recommend it as a travel destination. There's a photo album of my trip on the left hand menu. Check it out.

Upon returning to Beijing, I threw myself into a fast and furious few weeks of preparations for a communications conference I hosted the first week of June. I had 20 folks here from five countries – the U.S., China, Australia, India and Singapore. It went very well; we learned a lot and had a great time together. A group of us visited the Great Wall, the Summer Palace, and the Forbidden City in Beijing. I’ve talked about the Great Wall in previous entries, but here’s my take on the other two historical sites:

Summer Palace: Big, beautiful, amazing, lots of steps, great views of a nearby lake. Here are the basics from TourGuideChina.com: The Summer Palace (Yiheyuan in Chinese) is the largest imperial garden in the world. Initial construction began in 1750, commissioned by Emperor Qinglong as a gift for his mother's birthday. It took 15 years to complete. The plundering of foreign troops in 1860 destroyed most of the buildings, but they were renovated in 1888 by Empress Dowager Cixi. (She, by the way, was quite a piece of work. She diverted 30 million taels of silver originally designated for the Chinese navy into the reconstruction and enlargement of the palatial grounds. (Hey, give peace a chance!)

Forbidden City: Big, beautiful, amazing, lots of steps. No view of a nearby lake, but very interesting stories of concubines and eunuchs kept the ball rolling. The Forbidden City was the Chinese Imperial palace from the mid-Ming Dynasty to the end of the Qing Dynasty. (I forget the dates. But, trust me, it’s OLD. Look it up!) It was named the Forbidden City because no one could enter or leave the walled complex without the emperor’s permission. What a control freak! The “city” consists of 800 buildings with 8,886 rooms and covers 720,000 square meters. It was hot as Hades the day we visited, but we still managed to cover quite a bit of ground. I want to go back in the fall when it is cooler. There are a couple of eunuch stories I want to follow up on. They really left me hanging.

Just yesterday, I got back from a six-day vacation in Thailand with my friend, Alex. (I know it sounds like I vacation a lot, but it is really very stressful here. Honest!) Anyway…we spent three days in Bangkok and three days in Koh Samet, an island about three hours away from the capital. How to describe Bangkok? Hmm. Think Buddhist temples mixed with seedy bars, skyscrapers next to slums, sweltering heat and humidity, nice people and great food.

The Grand Palace was amazing! The official residence of the king of Thailand from the 18th century to the mid-20th century, the palace complex sits on the east bank of the Chao Phraya River and comprises an area of 218,400 square meters. Very impressive architecture like nothing I’ve ever seen! I also enjoyed a boat ride through canals filled with vendors trying to sell you everything from food for jumping fish to local brands of beer.

Koh Samet was a gem of an island. We stayed in a beachfront cottage only 10 steps from the water…literally! Thank God tsunami season is over! While we spent a lot of time laying by the ocean and pool, I also went parasailing…you know, you get hooked to a parachute and then a speed boat pulls you 150 feet into the air. I was FLYING! That's me in the photo at the top of this entry. I also went four-wheeling through the island’s jungle roads on a motorbike. Very fun, though my back is still reeling from the adventure! Check out my photo albums from Bangkok and Koh Samet on the left hand menu.

Well, I’m back in Beijing and it’s time to get back to reality. You’ve heard from me; let me hear from you!

Terracotta Warriors, a Wine Garage and The Largest Plaza in the World!

It’s been more than a month since I blogged. You might say I haven’t had the stomach for it. For about three and a half weeks, some type of bug or virus or parasite or “something” left me with a constant queasy feeling. I lost several pounds and even avoided (gulp) chocolate. Two rounds of antibiotics and two other prescriptions didn’t help, but it eventually went away on its own. I think I’m all better now. How do I know? I just finished eating my fourth chocolate chip cookie, and I want another one.

I haven’t spent all my time guzzling Pepto Bismo; I’ve actually done a little traveling. Weekend before last I went to see the Terracotta Army near Xi’an, China, which is located southwest of Beijing in central China. Described as one of the most significant archaeological finds of the 20th Century, the collection of 8,099 life-size Chinese terracotta figures of warriors and horses is located near the mausoleum of the First Emperor of China – Qin Shi Huangdi. They were buried with the emperor in 209 B.C. so he could rule over another empire in the afterlife, and remained undiscovered until 1974 when they were unearthed by local farmers digging a well during a severe drought. Historians estimate construction of the figures and mausoleum took 700,000 workers and craftsmen 38 years to complete. One of the most impressive things about the warriors is they each have distinctive facial features. Apparently, they were modeled after real people -- most likely the very slaves who helped build them. (You can see a few photos of them in my blog’s photo album, but you really have to see them in person to get the full effect. Trust me!)

The following week I traveled to Singapore to work on a communications project. The weather was warm and sunny, but not as humid as usual in this tropical island city-state. In addition to getting a lot of work done, I had a great time! One of the highlights of the trip was a long, enjoyable dinner with friends at The Wine Garage, a pleasant little café overlooking the Singapore River on Clark Quay (pronounced “Key”).

A former British colony, Singapore gained independence in 1965. While it’s the smallest country in
Southeast Asia at only 269 square miles, it has the highest quality of living and ranks as the 22nd wealthiest nation on earth. Not bad for a country with only 4.5 million people!

Last weekend, I made my first trip to Tiananmen Square, the large plaza near the center of Beijing, China, named after the Tiananmen (literally, Gate of Heavenly Peace) which sits to its north, separating it from the Forbidden City. I didn’t take a tour or anything, I just wanted to get the “lay of the land”, so to speak. And there was plenty of land to cover. According to Wikipedia (again, my favorite online encyclopedia), the square is 880 metres south to north and 500 metres east to west, a total area of 440,000 square meters, which makes it the largest open-urban square in the world. There are photos on my blog photo album.  Check them out! (By the way, the soldiers picture at the beginning of this post were guarding the gate to the Forbidden City. I didn't steal anything. Promise!)

Tiananmen Square has great cultural significance as a symbol because it was the site of several key events in Chinese history, but, like me, you probably know it for the Tiananmen Square student protests of 1989. Not surprisingly, you won't find any mention of that event.

I have two trips scheduled next month – one to Chicago for a work-related conference and one to Seoul, South Korea just for fun. (Can you say “frequent flyer miles”?)

I’ll to be more faithful to my blog.  Let me hear from you!!!

Malaysian Melancholy

I left Beijing last week for a six-day vacation in Malaysia. My mission, and I chose to accept it, was twofold:

1. escape the war zone also known as "Chinese New Year"
2. maintain an intense focus on the three "Rs" -- reading, rest and relaxation

Mission accomplished. Though I must admit, the heat and humidity in my holiday destination did produce enough perspiration to make me fully embrace the Year of the Pig.

Located on the north-west coast of the island of Borneo, Kota Kinabalu is the capital of the Malaysian state of Sabah. A tourist haven with a small-town feel, KK is home to half a million people, making it Malaysia's sixth largest city. It faces the South China Sea with Mount Kinabalu in the background, rising 13,435 feet above sea level.

My hotel was a nice beach resort run by the Shangri-La chain. I became well acquainted with the pool and spa, did a little shopping at the local market, and also took a ferry to a nearby island for an enjoyable afternoon on a crystal clear beach. I also took nap after nap after nap. The lazy, laid back atmosphere was just what I needed, but I soon morphed into a melancholy state that stayed with me throughout the trip. Maybe it was the lonely sunsets. Maybe it was the sound of the water lapping against the pier. Maybe it was the three margaritas I had before lunch. Whose to say?

Anyway, after more rest than anyone really deserves, I caught a flight to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia's capital and the largest city (pop. approx. 2 million). My tour of the city included a stop at Independence Square, where the Federation of Malaya gained its independence from British rule in 1957. I soon learned the colorful banners around town were not erected as my welcome greetings, but were instead marking the celebration of the nation's Golden Anniversary. I also visited a leather factory (avoid sharkskin wallets), a chocolate factory (eat samples of everything, including the chocolate covered chilis) and a pewter factory (opt for a medium-sized vase after successfully talking the sales lady into reducing the price by 50 percent). There was also a brief stop at the King's Palace. His majesty wasn't accepting visitors, so I only got a photo of the front gate with a very bored guard in front.  He didn't look very menacing, but he was very well dressed. Great for photo ops. We also went by the Petronas Twin Towers, once the world's tallest buildings and still hyped as the largest "twin buildings". The 88-floor towers are constructed largely of reinforced concrete, with a steel and glass facade designed to resemble motifs found in Islamic art, a reflection of Malaysia's Muslim religion. Speaking of religion, about 60 percent of the population are Muslims, 30 percent Chinese (atheist or Buddhist), 9 percent Hindu (mostly Indians) and 1 percent other, including a sprinkling of Christians. (No disrespect to my Methodist friends.) In its short 50-year history, the different groups have gotten along fairly well, and you're just as likely to find women wearing Birkenstocks as Burkas. The final tour stop was a Hindu temple at a place called Batuk Caves. The mountain top cave literally used to be filled with bats, so I'm not sure whey the Hindus decided it would make a great place for worship, but,who am I to judge? With all the tourists milling about, though, the bats left town, leaving the cave to some very colorful Hindu sculptures and a group of very well-fed monkeys.

All in all, it was an OK trip. Good, but not great. Fun, but not fantastic. Melancholy but not morose. You can take a cyber-holiday of your own by checking out my photo album on the left hand menu.

After that, get back to work.  It's time.

Dumplings and Firecrackers Ring in the Year of the Pig

Sitting in my condo this morning, I'm listening to what sounds like the beginning of Armageddon. Actually, it's merely hundreds of thousands of firecrackers going off in celebration of Chinese New Year. Last night, the explosions were literally non-stop for about five hours. It's supposed to be exciting and invigorating, but all I really wanted to do is hide under my bed.

From my living room window, I did enjoy watching the less frequent (and less noisy) fireworks that explode colorfully in the air, but the Chinese seem to prefer setting off very large packs of red-encased firecrackers. After doing a little research on Wikipedia (my favorite online encyclopedia), I discovered why.

According to Chinese legend, the nián, a man-eating beast from the mountains, could silently infiltrate houses to prey on humans. The people later learned that the nian was sensitive to loud noises and the color red, so they scared it away with explosions, fireworks and the liberal use anything red. These customs led to the first New Year celebrations. Guò nián, which means to celebrate the new year, literally translates as "the passing of the nian beast". With that frightening story in mind, I'm a little more forgiving of the war-zone soundtrack of the last two days. And if extremely high decibels really do ward off evil spirits, I'm thinking we're good at least through the next millenium.

For inquring minds who want to know (and anyone else with nothing better to do than read my blog), Chinese New Year follows the lunar calendar and usually occurs sometime in February. Better known as Spring Festival, it's the most important of the traditional Chinese holidays, second only to the Moon Festival, which is held in mid-to-late September when the moon is at its fullest and brightest. TIed to astrology, the lunar calendar passes months and years through a cycle of 12 animals that imply certain fortunes or misfortunes based on related signs of the Zodiac. As luck would have it, 2007 is the Year of the Pig. Everywhere you go, there are pig posters and billboards, pig stuffed animals, pig key chains, pig t-shirts, and, of course, pig undergarments. Ironically, many holiday dishes will be made of the animal since pork is a mainstay of Asian cuisine. (Phat!)

According to legend, years assigned to the pig are usually a time of ease, family prosperity, wealth and good fortune. Supposedly, it's a year of fertility, too. So, if anyone out there wants to add to your family, there may be no better time to visit me. I do have an extra bedroom suitable for creating fireworks of your own.

Like Christmas and New Year's holidays in the West, the Spring Festival in China is a time for getting together with friends and family. On New Year's Eve, family members from near and far gather at the home of the senior family member for a reunion dinner. In northern China, where Beijing is located, meat- and vegetable-filled dumplings are served as the main holiday dish. According to tradition, dumplings resemble ancient Chinese gold ingots, and eating them is supposed to bring good luck and prosperity.

To share this holiday tradition, my Chinese co-workers recently invited me and several other Americans to a local restaurant to teach us how to make dumplings. We divided into groups and had a contest to see who could make the most in 10 minutes. My group came in last, but I was awarded the prize for originality. (Wouldn't you agree that the quality of the dumpling design is much more important than the mere quantity of food one is able to prepare?) After the contest, we enjoyed a great meal together, shared stories, and sang popular songs from our respective countries. Yours truly actually led the Americans in singing our national anthem. You can see a few photos in the Chinese New Year photo album which is accessible on my blog's left hand menu.

Another tradition Chinese New Year's tradition is the giving and receiving of red packets or envelopes to friends and family. They usually contain money in numbers that reflect good luck and honorability. The cash amount contained within is not important but is required to be of an even number as odd numbers are related to cash given during funerals. I gave red envelopes to my driver and the staff at my condo. Without their help, I'd literally be Lost in Translation!

Well, I could yammer on and on about Chinese traditions, but, truth is, I need to shower and finish packing. I'm heading to Malaysia for three days at a beach resort in Kota Kinabalu and three days in the capital city of Kuala Lumpur. Hey, I love China, but a few more days of these firecrackers and my hearing would be toast!

This little piggie is outta here!

Like Clockwork

I can sum up my two-day visit to Tokyo in two words -- like clockwork. Seems everything in Japan's largest city runs on time -- the buses, the airlines, even hotel room service. (Call for an extra towel at 4:47 p.m. and the front desk operator says one will be delivered to my room in five minutes. At 4:52 on the dot, there is a knock on the door.)

At first, it's reassuring -- service you can actually count on. Soon, though, it gets a little uncomfortable. For instance, the following day a business colleague and I were supposed to leave the Tokyo office at 3:30 p.m. in order to catch a return flight home to China. At 3:15, our Japanese host was asking if our briefcases were packed and ready to go. At 3:20, she offered to escort us to the front door. At 3:23, she nervously mentioned the driver was waiting. At 3:27, after I mentioned that I needed to visit the restroom before departing, she actually broke into a cold sweat.

I realize we can learn a lot from the Japanese. Their production systems, e.g. "The Toyota Way", are world-class. But do we really want to be THAT punctual? Are we ready to give up the option of sleeping in without putting it on our calendars?

Perhaps I'm being unfair. After all, I was there less than 48 hours. (47 hours, 13  minutes, and 9 seconds, to be exact.)

Besides business meetings, I did have a couple hours to walk around, snap a few photos (see album on the left menu), and have the most expensive dinner of my life. (Note to self: If a concierge at a five-star hotel your company is paying for recommends an authentic Japanese restaurant, think "second mortgage".) How was I to know a little raw fish, semi-cooked beef, assorted grilled veggies and a bowl of an oddly favored (yet yummy) potato soup would leave my co-worker and me $500 poorer. OK, we did split a bottle of French wine, too. But come on...$500? In the words of Ricky Ricardo, we had some "splaining" to do with our bosses.

I'm back in Beijing now and no longer burdened with order and timeliness. As all my American friends here are fond of saying: "Anything is possible in China, but nothing is easy."

It's good to be home.

Walnuts and Korean Noodles Before a Trip to Japan

My life has been a little bit nuts lately ... more like black walnuts than honey-roasted pecans ... more bitter than sweet. Of course, I'm totally thankful to have this opportunity to work in an international city, learn about another culture, travel around Asia...blah, blah, blah. But I never knew I'd be working 12 to 14 hours a day Monday-Friday and four to six hours a day on the weekends. I'm middle-aged for God's sake. Isn't this my time to be more "strategic" and tell others what to do?  How am I supposed to plan employee meetings, consult on two mergers and acquisitions, write meaningful communications for my VP, put together a global newsletter, and see that a Safety Expectation Guide is translated into four languages all in the same week? I'm 44. My idea of multi-tasking is eating chips AND dip.

After struggling out the office door tonight a little after 7, I collapsed into the back seat of my company car and let out a long, wistful sigh. My driver took one look at me and said: "Mr. Chip, you very busy. Too much you work. You cough lot. Not good. Sick. Family you have no here. I take you tonight eat ... OK?"

Knowing I had a 9 p.m. work-related teleconference and not feeling very chatty, I really just wanted to go home, eat a PB&J and veg on the couch for a bit. But, his concern was so genuine, I couldn't say no. I'm glad I didn't. He took me to a Korean restaurant where I had an incredible beef, vegetable and noodle dish, some type of seaweed salad that was actually very tasty, and a really good Chinese beer. To top it off the waitress brought me a cup of Cafe Americano courtesy of the house. And even though he probably makes 10 percent of my salary, my driver insisted on paying. Despite my vehement protests, he simply wouldn't take no for an answer. "It's nothing," he said. "I am your driver. We like family." I almost cried.

On the way home, I began to feel guilty about being so frustrated about my workload. In so many ways, I have it soooooo good here. My mood began to lift. Back in my apartment, I even hummed a little as I packed for my two-day business trip to Japan. (I leave tomorrow.) Then I dialed into an hour-long teleconference with managers from India, China, the U.S. and Singapore debating some annoying issue I didn't really care about or understand. As I hung up the phone ... walnuts, all over again.

Starbucks, a Grand Piano and Back Raking at a Chinese Sauna

I've never been a huge coffee person, but I think I may be getting addicted. With a Starbucks right across the street from my office, part of my morning routine now involves a grande cup of cafe latte. If I'm feeling especially adventurous, I'll even ask the barrista to add a dash of vanilla syrup.

Occasionally, I'll get a very tasty toffee nut muffin or a slice of gingerbread cake to complete my breakfast meal. The cake has a really good frosting with some type of fruit in it.  At least I think it's fruit. Who really knows for sure?

After securing my coveted cup of java, I make the short trek across the street to my office building. As I enter the lobby, a rather dazed Chinese woman is usually playing a soothing, yet unfamiliar tune on a black grand piano. I can't help but think she might benefit from a little espresso. Maybe I'll bring her a cup one day. I'm not sharing my cake.

Speaking of being a little dazed, I've had a really bad cold and sinus infection which has left me a little out of it during the last two weeks. I've been to the doctor twice -- a Western clinic appropriately named "SOS" -- and I am getting better; but it's been an extremely slow recovery. I told a Chinese friend about my sniffles and he insisted that I accompany him to a Chinese sauna. Now, I'm always up for a new adventure, but my first unspoken reaction was, "Thanks, but no. I'd rather stock up on Kleenex and cold medicine that venture out to a den of dimly lit steam rooms, massage tables and jacuzzis filled with folks engaging in who knows what type of inappropriate behaviors." But, he insisted it was nothing like that. When Chinese people say "sauna", he assured, they really mean "spa", and it would truly help me get well faster. So, what can I say? I went for it.

When we pulled into the parking lot outside the sauna, I couldn't believe my eyes. It looked like a huge Greek or Roman temple, only with uniformed security guards and valet parking. Was this a ritzy spa or a well-protected sex club?  I was about to find out.

After entering, several very attractive, young Chinese women in floor-length fur-lined capes greeted my friend and I and began telling us about the spa's services. Of course, she was speaking in Chinese, so I had no idea what she was saying. I soon learned I would be treated to a salt-based body scrub, followed by a milk and honey massage, interspersed with visits to an extremely hot sauna and dips in a large wading pool and a jacuzzi filled with some type of green-colored Chinese herbs. I might not get better, but I would definitely leave the establishment very well seasoned.

All of the above were very relaxing and enjoyable and carried out without a hint of impropriety. Afterward, my friend and I changed into what looked like Oriental cotton pajamas (complete with paper underwear) and bedroom slippers and headed to a packed upstairs restaurant for a fairly tasty Chinese buffet. I was the lone Western diner.

After dinner, it was back to the massage area for a traditional "back raking". (I know, I know. Those are two words you really don't like to think of together, but, again, my friend, ASSURED me it was important to my health and well-being.) In China, raking one's back with the bone of an ox is apparently a fairly common way to rid the body of toxins, thereby improving your overall vitality. Makes sense, right? Basically, a masseur made long marks across my back for 20 minutes with what looked like a small, dark-colored ice scraper. It wasn't exactly painful, merely uncomfortable; although when completed, my red-streaked back looked as if it had been whipped. The marks would only be visible for two to three days, my friend assured me, as we headed for yet another visit to the sauna. I could feel the toxins leaving my body, along with the blood from my face.

When I got home, I went straight to bed and slept for 12 hours straight. And when I woke up this morning, I have to admit, I did feel better. To be honest though, I'm not sure if it was an ox bone miracle or simply the realization that sometimes the sniffles aren't nearly as uncomfortable as eating in your pajamas.

Christmas Sun, New Year's Snow

Before I even moved to China, I began getting e-mails from my American co-workers telling me I needed to plan my Christmas holiday. All of them were either returning to the U.S. or going to some exotic location like Vietnam, Hainan Island (China's Hawaii) or the Great Barrier Reef off Australia. Everyone told me I shouldn't spend Christmas alone in a cold and gray Beijing.

Having said goodbye to my American friends and family at Thanksgiving, and not wanting to get readjusted to a totally different time zone again, I decided against a return home and opted for an Asian Christmas. Friends recommended that I travel to Phuket, Thailand, a tropical island located 576 miles south of Bangkok on the Indian Ocean. Since the island caters to European and Australian tourists, almost everyone speaks at least a little English, so I figured it would be easy to get around.

It was definitely a good decision. On Dec. 20, I took the 6-hour flight from Beijing to Bangkok on the very friendly Thai Airlines, and then switched to a smaller plane for the 50-minute flight to Phuket. After retrieving my baggage, I made the surprisingly easy trek through customs and walked outside to find my hotel shuttle. A smiling young man with a hastily written "Welcome Mr. Alford" sign took my transfer ticket, introduced me to my almost toothless, but happy driver, and I was on my way. About five minutes into the journey, the driver stopped the van so he could pee on the side of the road. Phuketians, I would learn, have a very relaxed attitude about life. Ah, island living.

My hotel, the Patong Beach Merlin Resort, was very nice. The room was small, but clean and comfortable with a nice balcony overlooking one of the complex's three pools. A free breakfast buffet every morning with every kind of food you can imagine (avoid the buttered rice with squid) was included in my package, but there were also three full-service restaurants and four bars on the premises if I wanted a change of pace. Also on site was an excellent spa where I received a very relaxing hour-long massage the night of my arrival.

On my second day, I took a stroll along a beachside road where I noticed a somewhat disturbing sign: "Tsunami Evacuation Route Starts Here". My friends had warned me that Phuket was one of several Southeast Asian islands ravaged by the 2004 tsunami, but until that moment I had forgotten that thousands of locals and tourists were killed here and property damage soared into the hundreds of millions. Luckily, there wasn't even a big wave while I was in town. But the day after I left, a sizeable earthquake in Taiwan resulted in a tsunami warning across Southeast Asia. Thankfully, it turned out to be a false alarm.

While I planned on spending most of my time relaxing on the beach and by the pools, I did want to see some of the island. So, my travel agent had set me up with two excursions during my stay -- an hour and 15-minute speed boat trip to Phi Phi (pronounced pee pee; no relation to my shuttle driver) and Khai islands for swimming and snorkeling, and an elephant trek through a beautiful mountian forest with some great panoramic views of the island.

I boarded the speed boat at a very nice marina located about a 30-minute jeep ride on the other side of the island. The three-person crew were very friendly and eager that the international group of passengers on board have a great trip. The lone American (me); another single man from Tianjin, China; a young newlywed couple from Australia; a 30-something German couple; and two families from Iraq who now live in Sweden all got along great and had a blast.

The boat trip itself was quite an experience as the water was extremely choppy that day. (Imagine riding a bucking bronco for an hour and 15 minutes.) It was fun, though, and the views were breathtaking. Our first stop was Monkey Island, where some very cute monkeys roamed the beach and local forest. Some locals were selling watermelon slices and bananas which we fed to the obviously well-nourished monkeys. One of the older monkeys even took a Fanta orange drink and guzzled it happily. It's good to be a monkey in Thailand.

Next, we stopped at Maya Beach on Phi Phi Island, where they filmed the movie, "The Beach" with Leonardo di Caprio. I never saw the movie, but the beach was incredibly beautiful. We stopped at a couple of other spots for swimming and snorkeling. The colors of the fish, water and coral were amazing, and even though I swallowed about a gallon of ocean water, it was definitely worth it!

The elephant trek, courtesty of Siam Safari Nature Tours, was an educational and enjoyable experience. My transportation through the tropical forest was provided by Onnwann, a slow but amiable 39-year-old female elephant. While I sat on a somewhat awkward cushioned seat on top of her, my "mahout" (driver) straddled her neck, prodding her along as necessary during our upward journey. The higher we climbed, the more remarkable the view of the island and beach below.

Once we reached our destination -- an elephant camp -- there were shows to entertain us with dancing elephants and clever tree climbing, coconut splitting monkeys. There were also educational presentations on Thai cooking (boy, there are a lot of ingredients in curry), the many uses of a coconut (they provide both shelter and nutrition) and how to tap a rubber tree (never know when that might come in handy). We finished our day enjoying a spicy Thai buffet dinner in a pavilion overlooking the Andaman Sea.

The whole sun and sand holiday really worked for me, but if I had been disappointed about a white-free Christmas, Beijing provided two inches of snow on Dec. 27. Not a bad way to ring in the new year.