Sweet Beatz, Sweat Finish, Part III

(This post is a continuation of Part I and Part II)

I woke up nervous, and had fidgeted with the placement of my race number for 25 straight minutes in the mirror:

Take off the shirt, pin it on, put on the shirt Does that look crooked? Perhaps… Take off the shirt again, re-pin the number, put on the shirt again… wash, rinse, repeat.

It wasn’t too eventful, getting to the race. It wasn’t until I lined up for it when I realized Wow. I’m doing this. I hope I make it… It was the feeling you get in anticipation of going over the crest of the biggest hill on a rollercoaster.

I might throw up. I might throw up. Am I going to throw up?

I didn’t. After the gun went off, I didn’t think twice about throwing up. It was because of the music…

My nervousness slipped away while getting into my running groove. I listened to the sweet beatz of the Beatles and Jay-Z, DJ Danger Mouse and Lil Wayne, Rockapella and

Edward Sharpe…

“Oh, Lord. I’m coming home…”

I was pumped up by Shakira and her theme song for the World Cup 2010:

“The pressure’s on; you feel it
But you got it all; believe it
When you fall get up oh oh
And if you fall get up eh eh..”

Then “Wavin’ Flag” came on, by K’naan, and I thought of my students who I tell to never give up when things get tough:

“When I get older, I will be stronger.

They’ll call me freedom, just like a wavin’ flag…”

Then my body fell into gear as I heard Jackson Browne:

“Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive,

Trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive…”

In fact, I found myself unconcerned with the miles I had ahead of me. I saw the each marker pass me: mile 2… mile 4…mile 6.55, halfway point…

“…Everyone I know, everywhere I go.

People need some reason to believe…”

You could say it was the opposite of nervous anxiety: peace. I can’t fail at this. I committed to it. My family is proud of me even if I don’t finish. I’m proud of me, even if I walk. More markers went past me…mile 8… mile 9…

“…I don’t know about anyone but me.

If it takes all night. That’ll be all right...”

I passed the marker for mile 10 and knew that, at this point, this was the furthest I’d run by myself in a single race… everything I was frightened about for so many months and this was it. Right here, right now. From now on, it was just me. I was getting tired. Dig deep, Natty, it’s all heart from here on out…

 “…Running on – Running on empty

Running on – Running blind

Running on – Running into the sun…”

I saw the finish line. I saw it and wished it to be nearer. I kept running. No stopping. I raised my finger in the air as my friend, waiting at the finish, took a photo of me at mile 13.02. We’re number one. I said to my brother and sister who had run that first full marathon race with me six years ago. Always.

I crossed the finish line in 2 hours, 21 minutes, 54 seconds.

After all of this:

I had climbed mountains, suffering fatigue. I had near heat exhaustion in New Orleans. I had coughed up pollution from China’s worst furnaces.

But, at the top of those mountains, I saw the breathtaking view. I had the joy of cool water on my face after running in NOLA heat. I proved courage to keep going through grit and grime.

I fell and bloodied my knees on the first day in my brand new home, but I got up to run a couple more miles.

When you’ve been through all of that, what’s the worst one 13.1 mile run can hand you on a beautifully sunny Sunday morning? The only card 13.1 miles has left to play on is the runner’s own fear of not knowing how he/she will get to the finish line.

On that morning, I handed that fear and anxiety right back to the half marathon, told it to keep it. I wouldn’t need it any longer. I finished the race.

I pushed away the fear,

I earned my finisher’s medal,

I kept on running…on…for me.

Enjoy some pictures:

Before the race!

Mile 13.02 - number one

Crossing the finish line!

Stay hydrated! The Champion Picture!

I fell on my face, and I'm 24 years old, Part II

(This is the second post in a 3 part series. Click Part I or Part III to read more...)

I started my training in China.

Yes, that’s right, China. If you didn’t already know, or are having trouble visualizing conditions in China in the summertime, here is a quick reminder.

Sometimes visibility was 400 feet.

Much to my chagrin, the first week I tried to run 30 minutes a time, the minimal number of minutes I had to run on my training schedule… I made it 10 minutes and started walking (something I never do—just a personal thing, I guess).

That’s it! This is ridiculous. I’ll never be able to do this by myself. I thought, very angry about my physical failure and inability to be mentally positive.

I suffered the first week, but the second week seemed better. I had moved out to the countryside to be a camp counselor for some American teenagers who were studying for a couple weeks in the summer. This is how much my scenery had changed.

I felt better, but it seemed I traded in the pollution for running up MOUNTAINS. I’m going to use all capital letters there… M.O.U.N.T.A.I.N.S. Running up a 1.5 miles of mountain-grade steepness? (by the way, that's 20 straight minutes of running uphill for me, fyi) Not the most encouraging thing I've ever done.

Woof. That was a hard two weeks, too.

After a debacle where I missed an international flight, had traveled 15,500miles in 10 days, I made it back to the US and went out for a run in New Orleans…in July. (Heat index 115 degrees F)

That…wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had, either.

What is the deal ?! I thought that if I kept running, things would be easier ?! I was not amused by this situation of training for a month and still feeling awful after a 3 mile run.

Then… it only got worse: I drove to Connecticut, where new job was, and on the first day there… the first morning, at 7am, I decided to go for a run to get to know my neighborhood. What better way to see the town, right? WRONG.

It was 7am, I was trucking along the side of a road. I was confused about which way to turn and through a glitch in the Matrix… I BIT IT.

Fell down. Stopped outright. Kaput, onto my knees. Ouch.

There was blood.

There was pain.

There was ONE, SOLE CAR at the stop sign that watched this whole occurrence…

Well, embarrassment is a sobering experience. Oh yeah, what is this car doing up at 7am on a Sunday morning? Why couldn’t you have been asleep? Go back to bed!

I didn’t even look at this car, the driver, or anything. I got back up, wincing a bit, didn’t even take a good look at the wounds, and kept right on running…

That was like the touché - icing on the cake of terrible runs. It took me 40 minutes to run 3 miles on the hilly country roads and I got back completely a wreck. I laughed. I was that delirious. I laughed, but found what I’d been looking for in all of my terrible runs, all by my lonesome:

That…was a bad run. Flat out, BAD. Yet, I still got out there. I finished it. I didn’t quit; I didn’t let it stop me. I didn’t cry. I still racked up 3 measly (but powerful) miles.

I shook off my disappointment that I ran with a bad time and started giving myself credit for continuing to run after I fell down. I felt much better. I gained the confidence to continue on.

So, the new job started, I got stressed and started working more and more. I hardly noticed weeks going by until one week before the official race when I got food poisoning (oh, lentil soup). With my insides turned to liquid and my energy seeping out of my fingertips… (dramatic, I know), I had my doubts, after I had gained all that confidence.

To make a long story short, I was determined to start this half marathon; unsure of whether or not I could physically handle it. I had been dehydrated for the better part of a week; I couldn’t eat well or at all.

Then, race day came…

(Proceed to Part III)

The Fairy Tale, Part I

(This is the first installment in a 3 part post, click Part II or Part III to read on..) 


Fairy Tale Story Time:

Once upon a time, there was a young soccer player. She was dedicated to sports an team effort, but despite her drive, she was not one of the better players on the team. At this point, her older brother saw an opportunity. He, a strapping man about to have his first child with his new wife,  said, “Young sister, would you perhaps like to run a race with me?”

“What is a race? Running?” she replied.

“Yes, a running race. We can get our other sister to do it with us! It shall be fun.”

“What joy! Ok, I’m in,” the young soccer player said, unknowing of what she had just signed up to do.

“Promise to do it with me?”

“Promise.”

“Final answer?” he asked again, tentatively.

“Yes,” she said. “How long is the race?”

“26.2 miles.”

----

The rest is history.

Yes, I ran my first marathon just a few months after I turned 18. It was rough, fatiguing, made me sore, and was the most incredible experience of my life. I ran it with my brother and sister.

Since then, my running habits come in waves: Sometimes I’ll train for a bit and do a 10K on Thanksgiving, sometimes do the random 5K, I trained for a couple half marathons with my sister. “It’s what we do,” I figured, “bonding.”

This past year, with so much stress in moving to China, from China, into a new area, into a new job, and trying to stay sane through all of it, I needed something to keep me focused and give me some stability. Running would do it.

I signed up for the Westchester half marathon with a couple things plaguing me:

1)   Would I be able to train, all by myself? Without the support of others?

2)   Would I be too stressed to train at all?

3)   What happens on the days that I’m tired, where’s the motivation to run 6 miles when you’ve had 5 hours of sleep the night before?

4)   Would I be able to do it?

Some would think of me as a masochist (signing up and paying 50 bucks registration to put myself through the hell of running 13.1 miles). Personally, I like to refute the fact that I could be a masochist, and reply that I like challenges.

I didn’t know I could run 26.2 miles.

I didn’t know whether or not I could learn Chinese.

I didn’t know I would cry during Harry Potter VI ?!

                        Sometimes, though, one just needs to leap with neither regard nor consideration for how long the fall will be or how deep the water is at the bottom…

(Proceed to Part II)

Wow. Vacation = over.

Hey there, Kiddos!

I am back in action after being out of commission for the past couple months. I have gone up, down, sideways, left, right -- not to mention North South East and West -- for about 10 weeks. I am tired. I am hungry (but that's no one's fault but my own, I need to go to Whole Foods..), and I am fully moved into my new Connecticut apartment.

That's right. I live in Connecticut. I am nearly 30 miles from NYC and am very psyched to be here. I must say, though, it is relatively different from my home in Nanjing. For one: my current town is ~60,000 people. My town of Nanjing, in The China? ~8,000,000 people. The other difference is that I've not developed a hacking cough just yet from living in Connecticut (but I don't think I will)... I miss The China very much, yes, but one thing I will not miss is "The China Cough", which every foreigner cultivates (with a sense of pride, yup) after living in The China for any significant amount of time.

In essence, moving to CT was a very long and arduous process. I have endured many a long night. This is just a quick rundown of what I've been subjected to in the past few months (some of them were my own fault, though... I'm not perfect):

1) missing my train from Nanjing to Shanghai (where I was to depart from The China)
2) missing my flight home to the US (oops, Mom did not enjoy that phone call.. "Oh, MY LANTA~")
3) dealing with a snooty, entitled Chinese driver of a Toyota who drove the wrong way down a one way street, backing up 5 cars coming the other direction -- SEE: red-headed fury, friends.
4) UMMM --- MEETING MC HAMMER ON A PLANE TO THE WEST COAST -- this was incredible -- he's so old now, I had to ask which one he was -- nevertheless, I got to tell him my grandma made me purple parachute pants when I was...oh wait, that's right... EIGHT YEARS OLD, because (oh yes...I'd forgotten..) THAT'S WHEN YOU WERE POPULAR, MR. HAMMAH-TIME. (and some say I'm subtle).
5) traveling 15,548miles within 10 days (and that was only 1 flight across seas... the others were all mini flights/drives)
6) having to pack up my entire life by myself, put it in boxes, then realize I've forgotten the laundry that I did the day before in the washing machine
7) 36 hours of road tripping
8) broke the tip of my toe (I got through 13 months of living in The China without getting injured and my 2nd day back in the States I stub my toe and voila-- broken .. what luck.)

and the final travesty I've been subjected to since arriving in the US :

9) the unfortunate circumstance that people in the US can understand what I say on most days ... which leaves me at a loss for when I want to say exactly what comes to my head when I stub my toe and break it...

and for now... enjoy this montage of pictures :

"Firmly push forward the construction of the New Communist Countryside" (to urge local population to want a newer, more modern, but communist, era for rural Chinese)

"Chinese Communist Party"

Makeshift 4th of July Cookout -- celebrate any way you can, folks.

Connor and I roasting our own tea leaves at the teahouse

Our group of boys on the Rustic Pathways trip -- after drying our hand-picked tea leaves

Anniversary and Living Easy

So I wake up in the morning and I feel like a rock star or, as they say in translated Chinese, Super Cute-girl !! ^^ But you must be asking why…. Well, I shall tell you.

Today is my first anniversary of living in China. You…might not be excited. Me? I’m glad I’m still alive. 

Between open manholes and unclean street food (both of which I’ve encountered), I’ve stayed well and relatively healthy while living in China…still !!

I wake up and proceed to wake the boys up for school. --- Oh yeah, did I tell you I’m living as house mom for five 16 year old boys while they discover a truly Chinese experience in rural Yunnan Province?? In any case, I am.

So I wake the boys up. I take one with me to go buy breakfast and I take them to school in the small van we conveniently call “the short bus” (mainly because the driver’s name is Mr. Short). We are headed up to Dali University for class.

What’s so special about Dali University? Besides the fact that it is fengshui’d in the shape of a butterfly, it is also on the side of this mountain overlooking Lake Erhai. I don’t think the weather could have welcomed my 1^st anniversary in a better way. I’ll just let pictures tell the story. But, keep in mind when you look at these photos that a strong wind blows in your face as you squint into the sun.

The dirty streets of Shanghai drift away; violence and corruption take a seat; taxes and bills are a faint thought; homework and exams hardly make their way onto the horizon.

This is a paradise, un-claimable by Wal-Mart, untouched by Meijer, and un-impressionable by any man who walks around in a fancy suit pretending to be important.

Life exists on a different plane here. Life is suddenly clear and uncomplicated. Life is simple; and simply put, life is easy. Enjoy these photos I took this morning:

I've Moved!!

Instead of living in my quaint little Chinese town of 8 million (that’s Nanjing, baby), I now live in a real town of Dali, located in southwestern China.

The final days of my program were so exciting and busy. I wrote about 10,000 characters in essays and did some presentations (all of which were conducted in Mandarin). Some of you may think this isn’t a big deal, BUT I’ll tell you, this is a big deal for me. I graduated from a graduate program conducted completely in Mandarin Chinese! Take that all you teachers who said I could never learn this language!

I graduated, the ceremony was beautiful, yadda yadda but the best part, by far, was that my diploma is bright pink! Who would have thought Johns Hopkins could be so fashionable (and Asian) at the same time?!

Nevertheless, I packed up (which always takes me 50billion hours) and headed out to a small town of Dali, in Yunnan Province, to act as a manager for a study abroad program for high school students who come over to China to learn about China and Mandarin! It’s through a company called Rustic Pathways (had to give a little shout out…Woot!)

I arrived in Dali on June 20 and it was raining cats and dogs. This was so harsh. After 13 hours of traveling, (taxi, plane, taxi, bus, taxi…), rain wasn’t the way I was looking to be welcomed into my new home.

Either way, Dali is awesome. There are so many more minority groups in this province! For those of you who don’t know, let me give you a bit of history on minorities in China for those who DO know about minorities in China, please skip down to O~(o.O)~o:

China has 56 ethnic groups. Most of China’s population, about 96%, is Han Chinese. The other 55 ethnic groups are minorities and all have their own language, attire, education, culture, and customs. These minorities range in populations numbering just under 3,000, to over 1 million (and yes, a group of people number over 1 million is STILL a minority in China, there are a lot of people over here, by the way). Yunnan province boasts a whopping 25 ethnic minorities, most of which are the Bai, Dai, Yi, Hani, Naxi, etc.

O~(o.O)~o

Ok—So I’ve been busy getting ready for the kiddos to arrive but had a few hours to take some photos. I thought I’d share. This is a woman is of the Bai minority:

Another photo I took my first day in Dali:

It’s quiet, it’s beautiful, it’s laid back. I don’t want to leave!!

Visibility in today's weather forecast: 400 meters

I don’t want to beat a dead dog with this, but China is polluted.

I’m told the pollution is because China is a developing country and with so much ‘stuff’ to do (to develop, I guess) there is no time to stop throwing wrappers on the ground or exhausting all up in the air.

Either way, I accept it as fact that China won’t stop polluting because I decide to, one day, beat a drum. The foreigners in China take pollution as a given. Eventually, if you’ve been here long enough, the snot you blow into your tissues will be a little tinted to the color of, say, dirt, or you will wake up feeling like you smoked a pack of cigs the night before. The only reason I’m actually a little concerned today is because I’m sick (flu), it’s exam week (nothing to do with pollution, really), and I’m going on my 9^th straight month of having a rather admirable hacking cough (which I’m rather proud of) … I’ve never cultivated one this bad in America. Living in crystal clean, sustainable Vermont has actually had the opposite effect upon me i.e. making me more healthy (drat).

So, without much ado (and because I don’t think many people from the US get to see photos like this that are taking by an actual friend and not from a news wire trying to make some righteous point) –-- has anyone noticed how much I’m using parentheses in this post? –-- here are some photos that I took this morning when I woke up.

*inhale

*exhale

I must say, there is nothing quite like the taste of 9 million people’s grime in your mouth at 8am.

Chinese Mafia Wedding

There are few things you pass up in life. One of them is attending a Chinese wedding.

For background information, a Chinese wedding is a huge party. There isn’t really a religious aspect because religion is not a prominent aspect of Chinese society.

I got invited to a Chinese wedding. I was told it was a “mafia wedding”, which if you’re aware of the obvious in any way at all, means that those getting married would be mafia hands. Given this briefing on the party to which I was just invited, there was no reason I was not going to this shindig.

One hang up, though: it was that it wasn’t really a wedding.

It was actually a 1^st birthday party for the happy couple’s illegitimate child, only everyone knew that the party was also celebrating their recent and unceremonious marriage (FYI: having illegitimate children in China is about as socially cool as … well… having illegitimate children in the US, except you’re disowned by your family and friends, leaving your only option to move away from home).

So the party was 300 of your closest friends (including me? I didn’t really know the kid) to celebrate a birthday. The other odd part about the party is that it was 95% men, who looked like they could whoop your booty if you messed with them at all.

No joke, they all had one thing in common: scars on their faces or on their heads (you know how you can see scars when you’ve hit your head…even when the hair grows back).

I was slightly scared, but that was clouded over by the food I was trying to politely decline eating. It was filled with organs, fish, and weird colored chickens. I was lucky to be distracted by some karaoke performances by the ‘groom’, who was followed around by ‘assistants’ afterward refilling his cup of wine that he had to drink with every table.

So—the whole party lasted about 2 hours. I’m not going to lie. I hate to think of how many pigs were slaughtered for this 1 year old’s birthday. It seemed like a huge waste of food. Either way, we were shuffled out of the banquet hall early because we had to leave while it was still fashionable to do so. We walk out into the hallway to meet with the mafia boss’ entourage of 25 stern, unsmiling, and ominous looking ‘friends’.

From here, we left and just went to a club district in Nanjing. It was a great club and basically the concert club where all the bosses/owners of the other clubs in Nanjing come to hang out, so…I got to hang out in style with Nanjing’s high rollers. How do I get myself into this sort of thing?

All I know is that there was a lot of Remy Martin XO, and me looking at my watch realizing, finally, that this is exam week…

Yeah... I should get started on that...

Ludacris loses dignity while Justin Beiber rocks

Ludacris is officially the Samuel L. Jackson of the R&B world.

Just as Samuel L. Jackson will be contracted for almost any movie where he can wear a funny hat (case and point: see pic below); Ludacris will likewise do anything so long as his credibility is compromised.

Case and point: Justin Bieber

Now, I’ve recently become a great fan of this munchkin (Justin was born in 1994). I find his songs addicting and have them constantly running through my head, but not without reason:

Need to rock it at the gym? Listen to Justin Bieber, “Eeenie Meenie”.

Need to wallow in the goodness that is love? J-Beeb’s your man-boy with “Baby”.

Want to cry a little after breaking up? That’s right, Justin, assuage me with “That Should Be Me” (sometimes I feel like no one understands my emotions like a 15 year old bean sprout).

But – as I am prone to tangents – BACK TO LUDA:

The lyrics in ‘Baby’, on which Ludacris is featured, go as such,

“When I was 13, I had my first love… she’d wake me up every day,

don’t need no Starbucks (woo)”

Let’s get one thing straight: This is lyrical genius.

Now that we’ve gotten that outta the way, we can move on to the fact that Ludacris is using his skills to talk about being awakened by his 13 year old girlfriend …

(Justin Bieber, infant) 

WHAT?!

I just don’t think this is something he should be spending his time on. I like him better when he talks about Escalades and the Georgia Dome in his song “What’s Your Fantasy”. Get real, this is the man who taught us to ‘shake our money makers like somebody’s gonna pay (us)”.

Subject matter aside, I think once you’ve become famous for ‘dirty rap’, you can’t go back, pretending to play a controlled, eloquent, and dreamy Edward Cullen.

It just doesn’t work that way, especially when the original beat for “Baby” is that of a 1950s bubble-gum pop song.

I’ve gone on enough with this. Yet, I just wanted to note that singing about tweenage love is low for Luda, almost as low as remixing various Christmas songs in the smash hit “Ludacrismas”. Yet, I must be kind. I am, in fact, jealous. Rock on Luda – make your money, fill cups like Double Ds, buy your bling. I wish my dignity was as disposable as yours is.

Oh that’s right, it is. 

Other moments where the audience’s immediate reaction should be, “Is this a joke?” and the answer from actor/performer is, “Why yes, yes it is. I got paid millions to do this…”:

Usher’s lyrics: “Peace up, A-town down!” (referring to good, ol’ HOT-lanta)

Samuel L. Jackson in Snakes On A Plane:  Noted Quote: “get these m-f’n snakes off this m-f’n plane!”

Jackson in The Spirit:

Christopher Walken, pretending to be Japanese, in Balls of Fury:

Moral of the story: if you can’t have fun with your career, why get in the business at all?

Amen.

ChinaHush

Hey all--

I have started to write for a new website called ChinaHush (www.chinahush.com). It is pretty awesome. It basically publishes stories of things going on in China that don't get much rotation or public circulation outside of China proper. It also publishes stories that the Chinese government might not want others to know (i.e. the selling of body parts for a mere $3500 US dollars).


In short, this site is awesome. My first article can be found here, or in the ChinaHush section tab on the main page of this blog.

Like I said, ChinaHush has great and interesting stories, and, given that the site is so awesome, the Chinese government has acted accordingly but blocking it --as can be expected.

So-- enjoy the stories, read, love laugh, and be excited for the new and crazy things that are happening in THE CHINA.

love,
the natalie

Describing ugly things in a nice way

How do you describe ugly things? It's not socially acceptable to say outright that someone is ugly, although this would save a lot of sweat, y'know, if we all just called things as we saw them.

At any rate, it's common knowledge that, in English, when a girl isn't pretty, we refer to her has having 'a great personality'. In Chinese, it's a little different but all in the same vein, really:

1) moderately beautiful women are said to be "cute"

2) plain looking women are said to be "very patriotic"

3) ugly women are said to "obey the rules" very well

4) extremely ugly women are said to have "beautiful handwriting"

Haha, is that clear enough? It seems so, but what do you do if you are describing other things?

I'm often asked if I like living in Nanjing. This city, although has some fun parts, would never be considered Party Time Fun Zone of China. So how do we get around saying things like: "This place stinks"?


I usually say that it has a LOT of history. (Nanjing was the capitol of China for a few dynasties there, and it has a city wall that is so old it needs to be restored...I guess I'm not exactly lying.)


Thus:

"Natalie, how do you like living in Nanjing?"
"Well, Nanjing...Nanjing has a long history, I mean....it has a lotta lotta, very long history..."


There, problem solved. Now-- anyone wanna come visit me?! I'm here for 6 more weeks!

Little slice of NYC in Shanghai

I went to two restaurants while in Shanghai this past weekend and I have to mention them. They reminded me of the US so much that it would be bad for me not to post a review.

New York Style Steak & Burger:

This little place is nestled, literally, in an alleyway that can only be accessed by small pedestrian sidewalks. It reminds me of old Shanghai, only this place has the best burger I've every tasted in a foreign country.

Adam Levin, a native Brooklyner, has managed/owned restaurants around the world and he knows exactly what his carnivore public wants.

The burgers range from a classic Big Boy (yum, I had this) to a Bacon Cheese love-dish, to a Bleu Cheese extravaganza. Simply put, this is no place for the faint of heart or the vegetarian (although some dishes available).

Served with fries, the burgers are a decent size for the money (about $9/burger). The appetizers are more gourmet with selections like an Arugula Salad with freshly made vinaigrette and Mushroom Bisque. Everything was fantastic.

If you're in Shanghai and looking for a slice (or pattie) of home, you've come to the right place. Order a bottle of wine and you've got yourself a new favorite for date night, birthdays, and the causal classy meal.


New York City Deli:

Watch out, now! When you walk into this place you'll fall on the floor. This deli will smack you in the face with the smells of ham, salami, dressing, and good ol' coleslaw.

The sandwich menu is extensive and includes hot/cold sandwiches, combo meals, soups, real Lay's potato chips, and not-too-thick coleslaw (the way I like it). I had the Hot Italian Sammich, whereas my partner in crime, Chris, had a Philly Cheese Steak -- might I add that I had the Smoked Chicken Sammich a few days later. Impressive.

I hear this place imports ingredients from America, and it's truly apparent in the taste.

The combo meal includes about a ton of food. Choice of soup + sandwich + beverage + coleslaw + chips + pickle + cookie all for $9.50 USD = life changing.

The pickle was a wee bit disappointing because it does not taste like my usual Vlasic Kosher Dills that I'm addicted to (I'm a pickle fanatic), but it was tangy and only slightly sweet, which is more than what you can say for other pickles in China (all sweet and, thus, no fun -- I'm a tangy girl).

In a word, this place is great. We walked in and Jay Leno was playing on the TV (well, a DVD of his show, of course), which added to the ambiance. This deli is clean, the service is warm, and I got to see a rerun of Dr. Phil on The Tonight Show... what other parts of home could I be more happy to have back in my life?


Did I mention they import ingredients from the US?

Peaches Concert in Shanghai

Once upon a time there was a drama teacher. This teacher guided students in theater and independent music. At some point, the teacher got bored, ready for her higher calling. She decided to pursue electronic music. She questioned what it meant to be a girl—to be a boy. She produced a record. She produced another one.

She shaved half of her head to put on makeup.

She came to Shanghai.

She sang a song completely on the hands of her fans.

She told us to stay in school.

She is Peaches.

I went to the Peaches concert in Shanghai on April 23. There is little more to say about this than it was amazing. The music was hot, electronic, and beat into the chest of everyone present. The energy was accepting. It was live.

Strong drinks and low lights fed the crowd of the sold out Mao Live House (1,000 capacity), while Peaches, known for stretching the borders and questioning traditional gender roles, came out in a camouflage swamp suit that I’ve only seen in army movies. She looked like a camo- Cousin It.

Afterwards, it was clear to see where Lady Gaga gets her inspiration for fashion. Puffy sleeves, capes, and androgynous material were undeclared themes of the evening.

From the front few rows, we were able to shake hands, touch, and hoist Peaches into the air as she sang songs with the energy of a teenager. The singer, 41, is an example of a major artist who is truly accessible to her fans. Before singing a song, she said, “Some say Peaches walks on water. Tonight, Peaches walks on you.” She stepped out into our hands, never skipping a word of the song. Why is this special? Why is this different?

She trusted us; we would not drop her. In this, she gained our respect by putting her faith in us. Tell me, how many female artists trust her fans to avoid the infliction of physical harm by dropping her or being inappropriately touched? How many are even willing to take the risk?

The concert ended with Peaches’ most popular song, in which she took her own camcorder and recorded the audience, while saying “Look at Shanghai. We know how Shanghai parties. This. Is. Shanghai.”

If there was any doubt in your mind about the stereotypes given to gender roles, it easily could be said you were plunged into deeper indiscriminate darkness on the subject after this night.

If there was any doubt about the definition of ‘cool’ before you entered the doors of Mao Life House, they were banished by seeing this woman rock it.

If you didn’t believe that a celebrity could be so passionate about giving her fans their money’s worth during a concert, you’d be proven wrong.

It’s safe to say that, on this night, we found out what Peaches believes in. She believes in us and thrust us into facing a traditional world, which makes rules that almost no one dares to question. She made us want to be free, with her. She wanted to us believe with her. It’s safe to say, we were all converted in one way or another, her devoted believers.

The jury is still out on how China ever gave this woman a visa.