Tuesday 25th Jan, 7.20pm, Beijing

I have found some LAN internet access where we are now staying – in the centre of Beijing, in an apartment, kindly and quickly sorted out by Keer’s father. I am zipping Keer in and out of various dresses as she potters about getting ready for our night “on the town”.

Spot the Westerner

Yesterday we queued for train tickets to Zibo...for four hours. Four hours! Upon reaching the ticket office and requesting a train for the 31^st, we were told we’d have to come back on the morning of the 27^th as they can only book as far as five days in advance. Given the already fragile mental state we’d put ourselves in as a result of this first set of queuing, we decided to purchase tickets for an 11pm train on Friday 28^th – on a 6-hour train journey with no seats. I’m suddenly very glad I bought three fat books “just in case”.

Another day, another wander through Silk Street Market. This time I had a list of items to purchase – adapter plug, watch, shoes, gloves. Sorted all out for less than £20! It quickly became apparent in our 4-hour wait yesterday that my boots are just not thick enough for this shattering cold. (It also became apparent that next time Keer says somewhere is not colder than London, I should probably still double-check with the world’s met office.)

Here’s some maths for you - a single journey on the Beijing subway costs 2RMB – the equivalent of 20p. For the cost of a 1-day Travelcard (for zones 1-6) on the London Underground you could make 75 journeys here! Mental! But not as mental as the motorised rickshaw Keer and I got in today – the driver was a proper loon, going against the traffic, in between the lanes, on and off the pavement – and then hurriedly ushering us off so the police wouldn’t see! Well, if nothing else, the rickshaw certainly pumps up the adrenaline.

We got some Chinese medicine yesterday to sort me out – the pharmacists said I was stressed and his remedy would get rid of the “too much fire in my head”, apparently.

I had my first experience of potential scamming today – we took a trip to Tianenman Square and were strolling along, as you do, taking photos and the like, whilst random people were coming over and saying “Hello! Where are you from?” and, of course, me being completely naive and unsuspecting, I struck up a conversation with two girls who were keen to “practice English” with us, were going for some “coffee and fun drinks”, and wondered if we “want to enjoy together?” I was all up for it – whilst in China, why not make friends with Chinese people? Anyway, in the end we didn’t go because Keer was convinced there was more to the scene than met the eye. Quite a few other “Westeners” were also being accosted by pairs of girls. It was all very odd once Keer put the shadow of doubt in my mind – and then my mind went running wild – “Well, they can’t have been trying to offer us sex because we’re not men...OH-MY-GOD they were trying to capture us and lure us into the sex trade!” But on a serious note, Keer said one of the latest scams has been the setting up of fake bus stops to sell advertising space. And later we found out that, yes, the two Buddhist girls (who refused to be in a picture with us for religious reasons [or because they didn’t want to be recognised in a line-up]) were indeed wanting to take us to some bar and get us to pay for overcharged drinks. And all this under the watchful eye of Chairman Mao’s portrait – tut tut!

Sunday 23rd January, 9:30pm, Beijing

It’s Sunday night in Beijing. I’m sat with Keer’s mum watching the Chinese equivalent of “Take Me Out”. (...“watching” is a strong word in this case...) The Party have obviously decided to opt for a host far less irritating than Paddy McGuiness – but perhaps I only think that because I can’t understand him. First impression of Beijing – rather impersonal. Crossing the roads is absolute madness. Being well-versed in the London approach of stepping in front of cars regardless of the traffic lights is definitely an advantage, but it only gets you so far – motorists do not seem to share my view of “if they run me down, it’s them who’ll face the manslaughter charge”...perhaps it’s more the case of “if I run her down, it’s her own stupid fault.”

Wandered round Silk Street Market today with Keer while she tried to locate a nail parlour – when we finally stumbled upon it, it was closed for (Chinese) New Year (3^rd Feb). Eventually we found an alternative, and indulged in one of the more pointless leisure activities in life – manicures. Keer also got a full set of acrylic nails moulded on. I, on the other hand, have enough trouble with my chopsticks as it is, and opted out of the fake claws. The market vendors were quite literally yelling at and following me – “Hey girl, want to buy some jeans/bags/Louis Vutton/shoes for you/your boyfriend/your husband?” At first I tried politely declining, but then quickly realised it was best to catch no one’s eye and play deaf/dumb/mute, because the list of potential items and relatives could go on indefinitely.

The food so far has been AMAZING - nothing like Chinese take-away in England, which I am really not a fan of. We’ve had lamb kebabs (not quite the Turkish Wood Green way), liver kebabs, some sort of bean curd soup with fried dough for breakfast (weird texture!), and various dishes at the Peking Duck restaurant – apparently the best duck place in town – the duck pancakes were indeed incredible. Keer’s mum cooked dinner tonight and made us eat all the green vegetables otherwise they’d have been thrown away. There was a dish of what I thought were fine beans – apparently not, it was the green stalk bits on a clove of garlic! Garlic is good for the heart – it can “heal” a broken one, apparently. (Broken in the very literal sense of a “hole in the middle”.) I wish it could heal my sickness, my eyes/nose have been oozing since before we even got here. I think I drugged myself up on about twice the recommended dose of ibuprofen/paracetamol on Friday. A lot of people wear face masks while walking around; perhaps they can hear me sneezing my way over.

Keer’s little sisters are absolutely adorable. They’ve been picking up our (post-ironic) use of the word “blud” – it’s hilarious to hear a 7-year-old Chinese girl saying “Come on blud, let’s play hide and seek!” in a semi-Mancunian accent.

Tomorrow we are going to go and queue for train tickets and hunt down an open mic night for later on in the week. I’ve also been contemplating buying an acoustic guitar over here, if they’re considerably cheaper...

Cookin'n'China

I'm typing furiously on a tiny, tiny Netbook at Heathrow Terminal 4, with blocked sinuses and ear drums fit to burst at any given moment.

HOWEVER, I am less than 24 hours away from a 4-week spell in China!

So, a brief update on last week's abstention:

Cooking. Perhaps not traditionally something that one would think would be difficult to abstain from. But I love cooking! And although I don't cook every day, I do try to make an effort to hunt down different recipes. When my sister was staying with me, we used to have "Breakfast Saturdays" (or, depending on any lingering hangovers from a Friday night, "Breakfast Sundays") and we covered a whole host of breakfast foods, including blueberry pancakes, savoury pancakes (just like the blueberries but with an assortment of cheese instead of berries) and, my proudest achievement, eggs benedict with hollandaise sauce. Poached eggs are actually quite tricky, but hollandaise sauce is just a load of butter and egg yolk and vinegar.

Anyway, what did I learn from my cooking-free week? That the mere definition of "cooking" can cause disagreements! My housemate and I spent a good 15 minutes debating whether the microwavable soup I was eating was a "cooked meal" - in my eyes, definitely not - putting a pot into a microwave for 4mins and stirring half-way through is the equivalent of shoving a pizza in the middle of the oven. But apparently my "no cooking week" was misleading, as my housemate assumed I'd just have to live off takeaways! This would not have been financially viable. In fact, no cooking meant very little expenditure in Morrisons. Instead of wandering round the aisles looking for different ingredients and inevitably buying a cheese board, my purchases were limited to (the aforementioned) soup pots, fruit, and a load of bread. Definitely ate more apricots last week! No ready-meals made the list - maybe if I shopped in M&S I wouldn't be so put off by them... And I was not averse to accepting others' cooked foods, so I visited my parents for dinner too.

All in all, definitely decreased calorie intake - although that wasn't really the point. And found out that Sainsbury's have great reduced items if you go past 10pm.

I also inadvertently didn't drink alcohol for a week due to a course of antibiotics for an ear infection. This was slightly more difficult as last Friday was quite a draining day, both emotionally and physically, and I would have appreciated a drink to relax with - but life goes on, and I found solace in Mafia II on PS3...I had to play the first mission four times because I'm shockingly bad at video games.

Next few posts will be dedicated to my China trip - hurrah! I'm not sure whether or not blogger is a blocked site there - only on way to find out, I suppose..!

Hippocampi!

I have a new favourite word - "hippocampi"!

As in, the plural of "hippocampus" - "a complex neural structure (shaped like a sea horse) consisting of grey matter and located on the floor of each lateral ventricle; intimately involved in motivation and emotion as part of the limbic system; has a central role in the formation of memories." [Definition courtesy of Princeton people]

And I would direct everyone to read this article, wth its very many interesting points. Namely, we all have the potential to be geniuses/genei (both words are acceptable, apparently). And that the Nature v Nurture debate has no clear winner.

1 Week Without...

Firstly, HAPPY NEW YEAR! We have officially completed 1 full week, so only 51 left to go!

So, this year I am doing something a little different for my new year's resolutions.

As ever, I have one main thing to do battle with - the same thing I did battle with 2 years ago, which defeated me three-and-a-half months in. You might have guessed it, you might have not, but point is I have again become a non-smoker! No more "quick-cig-with-a-drink", on a Friday/Saturday(/Anyday) night, which inevitably leads to social smoking downfall. The trouble for me isn't the physical addiction to nicotine, it is the addiction to the habit that helps break up monotony, the habit of standing in the garden with a coffee and a fag, the habit of drunken conversations outside any alcohol-serving establishment, no matter the weather.

In light of this abstinence of mine, I had a brainwave to make the quitting more interesting. If I gave up cigarettes for a week (with the intention of giving up indefinitely), what else could I give up for a week? Or what could I take on for a week that perhaps I hadn't done before? So, my idea for 2011, to make the year more interesting, is to take out or add in little bits of "stuff" in life and see how I go!

As mentioned, first week has been cigarette-free (...with one slip-up last Sunday night, wholly uncalled for - and actually later that evening I also got out my shisha pipe for about 10mins, but no other indiscretions, honest!). It' been quite a drag (ha!), but I know it's worth it and it's been quite pleasant to feel my lungs clearing up, and to not be spewing crap up all the time.

Other ideas of potential cutbacks, as follows:

1 week without...

- sugar

- caffeine

- mobile phone

- social networking

- THE INTERNET IN GENERAL

- cooking

- public transport

- meat

...and so on. I thought it might be interesting to note how it goes. It also means practising a hell of a lot of self-restraint and -discipline, something I often think I lack. A few of the ideas I have in mind might have to be taken on for a number of weeks in order to actually feel like a challenge - alcohol, for example, I don't necessarily drink every week, but within the space of a month there should be enough social gatherings and/or birthday parties for me to really practice alcoholic self-restraint.

So, any other ideas anyone has for things I could live with (or without) for a week (or more), comment below!

E-Mail D-Day?

Apparently, Facebook aim to kill off email as we know it in the very near future - see here.

Just a short post tonight, purely for me to remind myself what constructing proper sentences feels like, and partly because I had a funny conversation about this with someone the other day; here are some reasons why this doesn't appear like a great idea to me:

- Employment. I don't see a future where a potential employer will take you on if you give your contact details as "MrJones@facebook.com"

- Business. Your work email address is free advertising for whoever you work for, and no one in their right minds will give that up.

- Documents. I bet I'm one of many people who regularly email themselves (and other people) various documents - "CV to print", "CV to check", "Plz proofread essay", etc etc. Given how much personal data Facebook stores about its members, and how readily it may potentially make that data available to third parties, will there really come a day when we'd be happy uploading such info to the Facebook servers?

And, following on from that last point, the article suggests that the new Facebook email will integrate all aspects of messaging in one convenient place. Again, do I really want Facebook to have access to my texts? And other such data?

[I'm starting to sound like I have a lot to hide..!]

So, to summarise -

Pro: limited spam

Con: loss of privacy

Tough choice, that.

HomeGroup and such

Today I set up a "HomeGroup" to share files and folders with other computers in my household. I have since realised that "HomeGroup" sharing is only available on Windows 7 systems - which automatically excludes at least one of my housemate's machines. The difference between "HomeGroup" and just the normal "network sharing" is that with HG one can actually copy over files from one user to another, whilst network sharing seems only to allow streaming from one user's media library to another.

(Well, that is my interpretation of it all anyway.)

The process did take a good three quarters of an hour or so, mainly because the way it's been designed to set up just doesn't seem very intuitive. We (myself and a pseudo-housemate) spent so much time trying to work out why our libraries weren't visible to one another, and the troubleshooting didn't really help much. Eventually, it appeared the problem was with his firewall, so once that was all sorted out (involving a fair bit of geekery on his part) he made himself right at home by copying over all 31GB of my brilliant (if I do say so myself) music library. The sad thing is, most of this wasn't actually my collection to begin with - that appears still to be on my old PC - and instead came from a friend of mine who's files were backed up on my machine prior to a system re-install... ANYWAY. There was a point to this, and it is the following -

I rarely download films or TV shows from the internet because 9 times out of 10 you can find and stream exactly what you want to watch. I find this to be much more practical as I don't have to worry about filling up my hard drive and I much prefer watching films in a group, with my friends, as opposed to under my duvet cover, alone, sobbing inconsolably [this does not happen], and unable to vent my frustrations about annoying characters or poor acting [e.g. Andie McDowell in Four Weddings - what the hell was wrong with her?!] . Anyway, I copied over a couple of films from my friend's videos, just for the hell of it really. And here is where the bafflement kicks in.

When you put a file on a USB stick and take it somewhere, or even (but perhaps to a lesser extent) when you send an email, there is, in the back of my mind at least, the interpretation that "something" is moving from one place to another. And although it is not a tangible "thing", my mind conceptualizes it by thinking of a tiny, tiny, little document travelling through my laptop circuits, onto the USB stick, being carried around, and transferring itself elsewhere. And same with an email attachment - the tiny, tiny, little document piggybacks a ride through the internet on my flying email and reaches its destination. Now, I know I only create these visualisations to use as an analogy because I don't really understand the inner workings of a computer, but I suspect most people use similar analogies to gain a certain level of comfort with many things they deem unfamiliar or have a limited understanding of. In fact, when you think about it, analogous understanding is very much a part of the human experience - thousands of years ago, the ancient Greeks and Romans explained worldly phenomena through their religions, with stories of gods riding blazing chariots through the sky, etc etc etc, ... so it's nothing new.

Back to this filesharing business. So, I was copying over these films and I thought - how is this tiny, tiny, little document travelling to me?! Are the packets of data just travelling through the ether?! And I know it's something to do with our wireless router and it all goes through that, bla bla bla, but it's just baffling! My brain just can't compute! Then, to top it all off, my friend showed me this article and this video relating to Wireless Electricity - - my mind has just been blown to smithereens. I think I need to go lie down.

Cups and Milestones

So, old habits die hard, apparently. It's been like a gazillion years since I last wrote a blog entry; what better time to compile some nonsense than the night before I officially "fly the nest"? As of Saturday 4th September (technically, today), I will be living in a house-share with some friends from uni in (what I hope to be) a quiet little street in Wood Green. Another milestone to add to my life list; it ranks up there amongst such highlights as "The Day I Broke My Leg" (20th Jan 2000), "The Day I Nearly Got Mauled To Death By A Dog In A Playpark In The Middle Of The Night" (20th Apirl 2003) and "The Day I (Accidentally) Smoked Some Unknown Substance(/Crack) And Lost Two Hours Of My Life" (27th Jun 2010).

I have recently realised that I have a genuine fear of committing to anything for much longer than a few months. I am suddenly very nervous about being tied down into this contract for a full year. I can't bring myself to think about 'the future', even if it is only (" ") 12 months down the line. If there's anything that the last twelve months (or so, since graduation,) have taught me, is that nothing is certain and nothing is ever set in stone and you really never know what sort of curveball life is about to throw at you. When I try and imagine my life in August 2011, I am plagued by questions like, "Will I still be in the same job?" and, perhaps worse, "What if I lose the job I have?" as well as about another hundred or so completely pointless and useless worries - and the reason it is pointless and useless worrying about such things is because, ultimately, whatever happens, happens - "que serra, serra", to put it more poetically. I think what this goes to show is that I'm now having to compromise my "live for the day, from one day to the next" philosophy to allow for a broader time frame.

Which brings me on to the following:

- the idea of "allowing for a broader time frame". How broad are we talking? Obviously I am in no fit position to get [or buy? Does one 'buy' a mortgage?!] a mortgage, or a car, or even to apply for some further academic qualification, due to my financial constraints. And I'm not here to complain about that, it's just a factual statement. But my point is that one day (with a bit of luck) I will be in that position, and when that day comes, I will be signing over 25-30 years of my life to pay off a mortgage on some or other property, or be indefinitely tied down with annual road tax and MOTs (or however often it is that they happen), or again be in the position where more student debt will get piled on my (currently tanned!) shoulders. It's not that there's anything wrong with that, I'm just trying to point out how easy it seems for one to fall into such a routine, where suddenly you work 9-5, 5 days a week, to make ends meet. And I know that that's the norm, that it is what most people do and it is how society is 'structured', but I've suddenly remembered that I used to think there must be another way, a better way, of spending one's time in this one life that we get to live. Where am I going with all this? I'm just trying to make the point that, in my opinion, "allowing for a broader time frame" (as opposed to living "from one day to the next") does not appear to be liberating. - - -

- - - I will always remember the day when I was penniless, back in August of last year, and going for a job interview at Brent Cross with nothing save £2.10 on my Oyster card - just enough to cover my journey there and back. I appreciated how, that day, I didn't have to worry what I would buy for lunch - I didn't have to stand there in the sandwich isle of Tesco's for a half hour [exaggeration] deciding what to eat - I just didn't have that choice. It was one less thing to worry about! And for someone who has on several occasions contemplated about why they chose the-pink-up-over-the-blue-cup-to-make-a-cup-of-tea-in-when-both-cups-are-relatively-the-same-size-and-shape-and-of-course-the-tea-would-taste-the-same-in-both, having less things to worry about is a godsend!

Note - I just want to point out that I'm not some loon who goes around worrying about cup-of-tea colours; the Cup-of-Tea Colour Dilemma was a way for me (as a philosophy student at the time) to think about the nature of choice, and why it is that one opts for a certain cup out of the cupboard as opposed to another cup - whether it is a choice at all - and if so, how the choice is made - or whether whatever cup it is that one takes out was always 'destined' to be the cup for that particular cup of tea. Make sense? Probably not.

In any case, I wouldn't suggest anyone reading this to take anything I say too seriously, I make the time now to be 02:39 (though the post timestamp is taken at whatever time I started writing this) - it has been a long day and I like to waffle. Mmmm... waffles...

(Image courtesy of these guys - thank you!)

On a side note, if anyone is actually reading this blog, it would be good to get some comments and start some dialogue. Just a suggestion, I don't really mind either way.

The whirlybird gets the perm

It's been over six months since my last hair cut. It's something that I'm neither proud nor ashamed of - but if I had to choose, I suppose I'd say I was sticking-it-to-the-man by refusing to conform to this idea that we need to get our hair trimmed and sorted and treated every six weeks. Or whatever it is.

The truth is, I don't see a trip to the hairdresser as exciting - in any way, shape or form. In fact, I fail to understand this idea of pruning one's hair for pleasure as a concept in itself - I mean, who invented hairdressing as a profession?! Who was the first Egyptian [for some reason, in my head it's the Ancient Egyptians who landed us with this fate...perhaps it's something to do with the classic image of Egyptians with straight black hair and head pieces] that demanded their hair be cut? At which point in the course of civilization did some dude decide hair was that important? I just don't get it..! [BUT I have a healthy respect for hairdresses and beauticians alike, let's not get into some crazy argument over their worth to society.]

I am only writing about this because it's getting to that stage where I'm getting split ends, and everyone tells me all the time that split ends are bad. So I have to go against all my principles and get rid of these sodding split ends.

[Obviously my life right now is so interesting, that I am broadcasting to the world such sincere trollop about absolutely nothing. My sincere apologies. But expect more to come.]

Mmmm...gimmie some of these dreadlocks any day...

A Very Glastonbury Experience

I have been reluctant to blog about my Glastonbury 2010 weekend because it was not at all the sort of experience that I expected to have and I'm sure whatever words I use to try and describe it now will not serve it justice.

I caught a couple of minutes of Michael Eavis' speech at the Acoustic Tent on the Saturday and he called Glastonbury Festival a "life-changing experience" for some. At the time it seemed rather poignant; I suppose it still does.

In terms of performances, surprisingly (and disturbingly!?) one of the highlights of my weekend was Snoop Dogg. Though closely followed by Muse and Stevie Wonder, Snoop's performance was the only one during which I felt carefree and fully able to enjoy myself - most of the rest of the weekend, though pleasant, is a complete blur in my mind and it is difficult placing events in order of their occurrence. (With the exception of Ray Davies' set, who I absolutely adore anyway, and who blew me away as expected.) And that is perhaps another reason why it has taken me two weeks to form some sort of coherent rambling; I can't "critically evaluate or assess" any of the acts that I watched because, for the most part, time just elongated itself into one long, hot, messy day and I struggle to pick out the finer details.

Some of you (who haven't yet been bored enough to close this window) might well think my disjointed description of Glastonbury is due to some drug-fuelled binge on my part which has eradicated my memory and fried my brain - and though it is true to say I did indeed lose two hours of my life in circumstances not too dissimilar from that (more on that later) - I am sorry to disappoint, for that would've made for a much more light-hearted story.

In actual fact, on Friday evening one of the twelve volunteers that I had come with (courtesy of the musicians' charity I used to work for) passed away outside his tent. He was a remarkable man of 70-something, a first-time Glastonbury attendee, who was continually expressing his amazement at being in such an incredible environment with so much astounding "stuff" around, and may he rest in peace. Without wanting to dwell on it for too long, suffice it to say that I was genuinely moved by the team's support of one another...we did good. And so did he.

* * *

Moving on to the anecdote promised earlier - I may (or may not) have inadvertently smoked some crack at Glastonbury. (And if it wasn't crack, it was definitely something!)

On the Sunday afternoon I was so excited about seeing Ray Davies. I remember listening to him play last year in the Acoustic Tent and not being able to see a bloody thing 'cos it was so packed and I am not so tall at all! And so this year he came out onto the Pyramid Stage and sang his beautiful songs - Waterloo Sunset being my favourite - and I sipped away at my G&T. At one point, a Random Stranger wandered over and asked, "Could I please have some tobacco for my joint?", and I replied, "Yep, no worries!", and handed him a mess of 'baccy.

Ten minutes later, Ray was nearing the end of his set and I had reached the bottom of my bottle. And so I thought to myself, 'I'll go find Random Stranger and ask for a toke of his joint. One toke won't hurt, what's the worst that could happen?!' And so I did just that, found Random Stranger and asked, "Please could I have a toke of your joint?", and his very kind response was "Yeah of course, it's not got much weed in it though." And I thought, 'Great! Even better! I'll just get a slight woozy, cosy feeling to end my afternoon and Ray's set with!'

So, I took a long drag of his joint, walked back to Zoe, the girl I was stood with - and promptly lost two hours of my life! Ray played three more songs - 'Lola', to which I suitably changed the lyrics to 'Zoe' - and 'Waterloo Sunset' and Days' - during which I continuously kept falling into the people behind us, and apologising profusely and in what I imagine must have been a pretty incoherent manner.

I have no recollection of walking from one place to another, but after Ray's set we randomly bumped into one of the guys on our team - and I refused to talk to him unless he had his sunglasses off. I lolled back on forth on his England flag for a bit, before throwing up - rather conscientiously I thought, into the black 'general waste' bins - about four times, until a lady took pity on me and asked if I wanted a wet wipe. I lost my chain of blue flowers, as well as all memory of walking over to the Other Stage, where we found our Team Leader. At some point during the proceedings I'd left my bag God-knows-where-and-how - but it got returned to me so it can't have got too far...and then I remember being plonked on the floor next to our Team Leader, crying "I've no idea what the hell I'm on - literally! What is this?! I only took one toke...what the hell is this?!"

And then next thing I know it's 8pm and I'm back at the Pyramid Stage watching Faithless and everything's fine!

So, I have learnt the hard way not to take drugs from strangers.

I am hoping my video embedding has worked below. Ray's set, despite what I earlier said about Snoop Dogg, was actually the best hour and half I had that weekend. I hope you enjoy the taster.