No Place Like 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.