When John and I first arrived in Shanghai, I called up this guy whose client (an area school) was looking for English teachers. Based on my resume, he had decided I was worth an interview. When I called to schedule it, I asked for him in Chinese. Big mistake. He immediately asked if I was ethnically Chinese, because if yes, his client wasn’t interested. They wanted a “Caucasian face.” I argued that I was American-born, that my first time to China was September 2003. He asked if I was mixed. Almost instinctively, I seized that as my crowbar to pry open the door. I am “purebred” Chinese-American, but, I explained, people often ask if I’m mixed. In the past, people have asked if I was part-native American Indian or part-Latina even. The guy agreed to an interview. After I got off the phone, John shook his head and burst out in laughter, “Native-American Indian? Are you kidding?” What? It’s true, damnit. When I was younger, I’d get really dark being out in the sun. People said I looked N.A. Indian. I mean, of course now that I’m NOT tan, the comment sounds a bit ludicrous but whatever man, it’s not like I’m lying. Anyway, John’s never let me live that one down. And actually, when I met the guy for the interview, the first thing he said was, “Yeah, you look totally Chinese to me.” Well gee, sorry to disappoint. Whatever. It shouldn’t even be relevant, but you asked and I told the truth: that’s what other people have said. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job. And to make matters worse, he asked if John wanted to teach. Apparently his client’s only prerequisite is white skin. No teaching experience? No problem. Nice.

Of late, I’ve been getting these ethnicity questions again. Cabbies. Salon people. Classmates. Random people in the elevator. I just want to know what it is that throws them off? Is it the Chinese face and the native English. I mean, hello? Chinese are all over the damn world… it’s not that difficult to fathom overseas-born Chinese! Or maybe it’s the Chinese face coupled with the stilted Mandarin? Like the Mandarin isn’t exactly local but it’s also not completely foreign. I don’t know. Half the time, I don’t even speak. Beats the hell out of me. All I know is people give me very confused looks. What’s puzzling them? I’m not that difficult to figure out. Really. My blog is public after all.

I met up with my LifeLine crew this evening. Tegan, the former program manager (and a kickass one at that), is headed back to Australia. At the end of two and a half years, her partner’s construction management gig is done. They’re taking off 3-6 months (depending on who you ask) to travel the Outback. Got a tricked out SUV, complete with a refrigerator that runs off power from the engine. They’re rock climbers, so they plan to camp and climb all over. She said their suitcases for the flight out on Monday are packed to the brim with climbing equipment. So. Hard. Core. I mean, yeah I guess they’re putting a twist on the whole camping experience (with the refrigerator and all), but still. Six months in a tent? Even if they cheat a few nights and sleep in the SUV, that’s still NOT a bed!

So we had a very nice sushi/sashimi buffet at Hatsuhana in Gubei. Aaah, you can’t beat the smooth tingle of hot saki. I’m typically not a fan of alcohol and up until 2003, I almost never drank. Then, I discovered Bloody Marys. Man, how I craved that peppery tomato zing. Unfortunately, John’s friend made the mistake of telling us the sodium content, and just like that I was off the bandwagon. White wine is tasty too, but really, saki does the trick. It’s so deceptively dainty with the vase-like carafe and the tiny ceramic cups: you feel like you’re drinking tea.

ANYway, back to Tegan. It’s a shame to see her go but then again, you can’t feel too sad about it– she is going to be traveling around Australia with her lovey… so romantic. Sigh! June and July are busy months: three others will head out the next few weeks and then I’m out in mid July. Begin the farewell preparations, y’all!

1. Try to get into the cab through the rear left door.
2. Incorrectly assume cabbies are middle class: ask details about Shanghai real estate (for example, apartment sizes, unit prices, average rent, interest rates, etc.)
2. Say “yi” instead of “yao” when reading the numeral 1
3. Call air conditioning “leng qi” instead of “kong tiao”

This middle-aged Taiwanese guy (who lives in the Bay area) kept talking to me on the flight back to Shanghai. I didn’t really have anything in common with him; he kept saying that he viewed China as an investment opportunity and a chance to become “powerful.” Wtf? Like I give a shit. Anyway, we ended up sharing a cab into town, and man, he reeked foreigner.

I don’t watch CSI. I don’t watch any cop/investigative shows for that matter. You see, I don’t need to because I have my very own cop drama going down. Well, I guess not me exactly, but my friend. I’m involved for translation services…

Poor SZ. She had a stash of cash put away in the bedroom. Went away for May holiday. Came back three weeks later, and all the cash was gone. Oddly, nothing was disheveled, and nothing else was taken. Watches, a couple US dollars, an old cell phone, some jewelry– all still there. So the big mystery… what the hell happened?

First clue: SZ asked the ayi to do major spring cleaning during the break. I’m often the translator for her ayi; I’ve met her and I like her. She’s been working there since November. Money lying around the apartment; never had a problem. Still, you can’t help but consider her a possible culprit. Outside of SZ and hubby, the landlord, and property manager, the ayi’s the only other person with the key. I know, I say only other person but clearly there are already five people involved given the five sets of keys. When SZ first told me the news, my immediate response was to call the ayi and demand an explanation. Yes, I was totally in accusation mode. (I’m a hothead!) Fortunately, SZ didn’t want to falsely accuse, plus she wanted to ask the ayi in person so… that was what I was called to do today.

Well, this ended up being a six-hour affair. My god. Ayi came for her normal shift. I tried to be as tactful as possible… I asked if anyone had come in with her when she cleaned the last three weeks. No one. Are you sure? Yes, why? So I said things were missing. And I saw immediately, this heart-sinking expression on her face. What to do? What was taken? Was it a lot? Then she said there was one day when she noticed the curtains weren’t pulled fully tight like she always leaves them. When she re-checked the 4-panel sliding glass doors, the far right one was unlocked. At first, she thought maybe SZ was back (we didn’t tell her the exact travel dates), but nothing inside had changed. Maybe SZ had left the door unlocked? She locked it and thought nothing more. Meanwhile, she cleaned as she was instructed: specifically, she wiped down the windows, mopped the floors, wiped down all the furniture…

What to do, what to do. I told ayi I had to report it to the complex… maybe they had outdoor cameras installed. Ayi agreed… anything to clear her. The community agent came. They relocked the doors… whaddya know, a couple hard jiggles and the right-panel lock popped right open. And SZ never used the alarm system (management never gave her the instructions). So very quickly, these little details culminated into a bad situation.

So many lingering questions. If it were indeed an ordinary thief, why didn’t he/she clear everything out? Why take just the cash? And why worry about keeping everything in the original state? We called the cops. Two uniformed dudes arrived. Ayi was freaking out… clearly worried about keeping her job. A PI-looking guy also came, as well as a fingerprinting guy. I must have explained the scenario a million times. So many questions. What does the hubby do? What does his company do? What does SZ do? How much is rent? What’s his salary? Really invasive questions. And frankly, I didn’t see the relevance. But they’re cops… all you can do is tell them or say you don’t know. The whole thing was very uncomfortable. They took notes, jotted down records… the fingerprinting guy tried dusting a few places, but he said any oils/evidence would have been removed by the ayi’s cleaning or would have degraded by now considering this happened three weeks ago.

I have no idea why, but we had to go to the police station to file yet another report. The fingerprinting guy gave us a ride in the back of his cop car. That’s right, we were in the backseat of a copster. And let me tell you, that car was a piece of shit. Super junky. Worse than a cab. Dunno how they’re supposed to catch people with a jalopy like that. I mean, what about high-speed chases and shoot-downs and shit? Oh well, at least we got to bust through red lights and stuff. Yeah, we badasses man. Should have gotten some pictures for you, but well, pulling out the camera didn’t exactly seem appropriate given the circumstance.

So we show up at the station. Go through the whole story AGAIN. I really don’t understand what’s up with all the repetition but like I say, these are cops. I don’t question them; I just cooperate. Really sucks, but in the end, I don’t want any trouble, you know what I mean? I’m definitely not about to piss one off and get thrown in the Chinese slammer.

So I’m back home now. Exhausted. You know, with calling the cops, we had hoped they could collect some kind of evidence… even if it were just another set of fingerprints to clear the ayi. We also thought, why not gain some insight into crime investigations… hey this could be interesting? And for me, this was another opportunity to test my Mandarin chops. Yeah, yeah all those were good reasons for about ten minutes. Then lunch quickly came and went. I found myself reciting details like a robot. By hour five, we just wanted out. End the process. Right. Now. Please. The money is gone forever. Game over, you know? The cops say they’ll pursue the 5 sets of keys lead… We won’t be holding our breaths.

On my way home, I thought more on all of this. I suspect someone saw them placing the money into their drawers, and someone saw them leaving with their suitcases. I came home and locked all my windows even though I live on the 17th floor. The material stuff and money is of lesser concern, but how freaky to have someone in your home while you’re there? Yikes, gives me chills.

So about a week into my Stateside vacay, I finally figured out what was keeping me down. At first I thought it was just general laziness or jetlag or moodiness issues. All of those certainly could have contributed to my overall discomfort, but the main problem was allergies. Turns out, I had picked the perfect time of year for the Bay area. Trees, flowers, grasses– they were simultanously pumping out the pollen, and according to the Chinese radio station, this year was especially bad due to the unseasonably wet period last month. No wonder my eyes were constantly irritated, and I was having sneezing attacks (like ten sneezes at a time). I know, I really should have put two and two together sooner…

I decided to head back to the acupuncturist. Usually, results take a few sessions; this gave my dad (the western med advocate) and John more reasons to call acupuncture a scam. Maybe, but I did acupuncture for allergies last year and thought the treatment was really effective. Before that, I had tried the pills, but they only worked to a point. The ENT doctor said Nasonex was the only thing for me, but being someone already prone to nose bleeds, I wanted other options.

I’ll admit relief from allergies seemed a little harder won this year than last. The other day, I was in the middle of a full-on attack when I entered Dr. Lin’s office for session 4. My eyes were red and watery, the eyelids swollen (Think Benicio del Toro, aka Mr. Bee-stung Eyes), the nose enlarged… I was a damn mess, and a total zombie. I suppose Dr. Lin realized I was really desperate, because she jabbed me with many more needles than usual, like five on my nose alone plus a ton around my sinus pressure points and on my hand and legs. Despite being very fine gage, those needle can really pack a punch when piercing through. But it worked! I felt ten times better the next day. Dr. Lin also gave me herbal tablets… I think the conclusion is clear: acupuncture works for allergies.

I used to consider myself a dog person. It was a label I liked, welcomed even. After meeting the founder of an online social networking/dating service (he contacted me through StarPups*Shanghai) a year ago, I realized dogs could be my filter for meeting cool people. Well, I take that back now. Why? Because there are dog people who are insane. They don’t understand that dogs are still just dogs. They pamper and baby and basically anthropomorphize their dogs to death. In other words, they fuck up their animals. And it happens a lot. Just watch Dog Whisperer, and you’ll see what I mean. It’s not the dogs. It’s their owners. Like Caesar says, “I rehabilitate dogs. I train people.” His clients are very obviously messed up, and lucky for me, many of them congregate at the dog park.

So there’s this huge 3-acre fenced-in dog park in San Mateo. The park is relatively new and was built on an old landfill (hurray for land reuse!). Last week, I took the pups there. Remy’s always been a bit uneasy initially at dogparks. Nothing really worrisome, but her hackles go up and sometimes, she flashes some teeth towards other dogs. The dogs establish their placement in the hierarchy and everything is fine in a matter of seconds. So the other day, a lady is there with her just-groomed (read: prissy) Bouvier. Remy does her thing, but he continues to show interest and prance around her. Obviously, he doesn’t feel threatened if he’s still wagging his tail, bopping around. Remy flashes some teeth then barks twice. I say “No” firmly, because I realize this isn’t optimal behavior. Of course, zippo aggression is ideal. Well, the owner throws her hands up and is like “What’s the problem?” Seconds later, Remy turns towards the Bouvier and gets down on her front paws, in play position. The lady, worried already, calls Bo to come. He ignores her and continues bouncing around Remy. I tell her they’re just playing. Do you know how she responds? “Well, I don’t want them playing if they’re not going to play properly.” What the fuck? Play properly? Are you serious? They’re goddamn dogs. What do you want them to do, shake hands first? Ask permission beforehand? And who the hell are you, the dog playground police? I mean, if you really have issue with who your dog interacts with, get control of your animal. Teach him to actually respond to his moronic, lame-o name! Fucking bitch. I was so angered by her snotty, log-up-the-ass reply. And yet, in true passive aggressive fashion, I said nothing. I just held Remy until Bo ran off. Later, Martin started playing in a group that included Bo. Remy joined in and started nipping Martin on his back. She harasses him like this all the time. This is normal behavior between the two. I don’t think freaky lady knew R&M were together, and she had his horrified look on her face like Remy was brutalizing Martin. Jesus Christ. Then, she tried to get Bo away from the group again, because attack dog Remy was involved. I mean, fine. You don’t have to like my Remy. But then don’t be an asshole either. Stop putzing around the exit gate: clear out so people can go to the damn water fountain area. She took her damn time exiting, and then she started chit chatting with some dude, who had just arrived with his dog. Then, get this: she covered her mouth and whispered to him as they both looked at Remy. Gee, I wonder what she told him. Yes, you’re right. Remy is a bloody fighting dog. She’s gonna kill your poofy, sheltered dog (who also happens to be double Remy’s size). You’d better warn the other park goers. Their dogs are in danger too.

This is exactly what I’m talking about: overprotective, psycho dog people. They’re like the people who refuse to clip the nails because the dog yelps and cries. Or they won’t spay/neuter, because the animal endures some post-op discomfort and pain. I mean, what about human pain? I cut my finger on cardboard, so should I never open a package again? These are not my kind of dog people. But they are fucking everywhere. And they only feed my misanthropic tendencies.

John’s been itching for a convertible. Before our move to China, he drove a sports coupe. Personally, I find sports cars a bit too flashy, not to mention impractical, but hey, that was his car and he was “only going to be 25 once.” Whatever, I hear that excuse no matter how old he is. So, fast forward five years and the car once again tops of our list of necessitites (actually, it ranked second to his big-screen tv). Thankfully, John showed a little self-control this time. Coming from a family of Toyota loyalists, I was very pleased when he called to report that he had purchased a used Camry. Yes, I know the choice is boring as hell, but hey, I’m almost a thirty-something; it’s all downhill from here, baby. I should mention that John prefaced his news with this: I WILL have a convertible at some point while we are in California. To that, I replied, “We’ll talk about it later.” Haha, tricksies.

So the Camry has about 90k miles on it. Last week I took it into the shop for the usual 90k-mile service: timing belt, water pump, new brakes, etc. Yeah, wasn’t cheap, but I got to testdrive a Prius, the electric hybrid. Oh yeah, I’m in Leo’s club now. Do you even have to ask? Duh! Leo DiCaprio, of course. The biggest tree-huggin’ A-list celeb out there (out of like, five). Leo and I, man: we tight. Ok, enough with the bs. I should be ashamed: clearly, my addiction to Hollywood gossip is stronger than ever, despite my living in China.

And truth be told, the Prius was a disappointment. At first I felt all cutting edge, starting the car with an on/off button (no ignition key) and shit, but that novelty wore off quickly. Toyota tweaked the dashboard, and the digital spedometer feels like it’s 100 meters away. Then at red lights, the car engine just shuts off. I don’t know, operating the car is just weird, unnatural, and counterintuitive. On top of that, its mpg isn’t all that impressive: 50 mpg or something for a car whose body reminds me of a Geo. Remember those? They were like cars the size of golf carts– no wonder they had high gas mileage; they were practically soapbox derby cars! It’s kinda cheating when you scrimp on size and materials, you know?

Ah well. I enjoyed testing out the Prius. I felt all green and tree-huggery for the day. So special… at least until I ran into about 50 of them driving around town. The onboard GPS system was cool too. Accurate directions, delivered in a calm, soothing voice with plenty of notice for upcoming turns and exits. What, us? Arguing about directions? No way. You’re reading too much into this.

John says it’s just another indication of how much I deprive my pups, but yes, Martin eats carrots– raw. He didn’t always eat veggies. In fact, it was only after I read a dog nutrition book advising that dogs get some fresh veggies that I started incorporating leafy greens, carrots, peas, and the like into their kibble. In the beginning, they never ate that stuff plain. It had to be coated with soup or gravy or oil. They spat out the uncovered bits. Then I started giving them pureed or chopped veggies, remnants from my juicing adventures. I was pleased to discover that once I mixed this slop into the kibble, both dogs were too damn lazy to pick it out. Haha, I’m tricksies. Either way, Martin still doesn’t crunch his food. I swear it’s a miracle the kibble doesn’t come out whole in his stool. I never hear him crunching; I just hear the soft Lab lips slopping around and within a few minutes, the bowl is empty again.

Now that we’re back in the States, there’s plenty of food selection for the dogs. Jesus Christ. How many different kinds of dog kibble can there possibly be? John’s work is right next door to a Pet Club, and yesterday I was in that store for about an hour looking at just dry dog food. We have them back on Wellness, except now they eat the senior formula (sniff, sniff). My friend recommended Nutro, but there’s Nutro Max and Nutro Natural Choice. What’s the difference between these two lines of the same brand? No frickin’ clue. I tried to research it on the Nutro website. One says for max performance. The other touts shiny coat and healthy skin. Must I pick one or the other? Why my dilemma? Well, you know me. I’m a cheapie, and well, Pet Club offers coupons for Nutro but not Wellness… and the price difference is significant. I know, I have too much damn time on my hands, debating dog food! I warned you that I have OCD! Anyway, in the end, I decided to stick with Wellness. The dogs seem to like it and well, brand loyalty can’t be a bad thing. (After all, Toyota has never failed me.) So for now, that’s what we’ll do… at least until Pet Club publishes their next coupon flyer.

In other news, I’ve been relaxing, chilling at home mostly. Our apartment complex has an outdoor heated pool PLUS a hot tub. Of course since I have self-image issues, I only go when absolutely no one is around. That translates to only three trips so far. I found myself a nice one-piece at Target and did my little aerobic exercises in the pool. I also tried the community gym. It’s certainly no Physical. I miss my elliptical at the gym in Shanghai. Here I have to lower my standards to StairMaster. Ugh. Aren’t I the fitness snob now?

Meanwhile, Mandarin studying is not happening. I aced my midterms, but shit, that was eons ago. Surely, my brain has reformatted and wiped everything by now. Yeah, old age really sucks. No retention I tell you. Ok well the pups are harassing me for their evening walk. Btw, take note: in Shanghai, it costs 2000 RMB (~240 USD) to license a dog. Here? $12. No wonder so many people in Shanghai don’t register… duh!

The price of gasoline sure ain’t getting any cheaper. Here in the Bay area, gas is over $3 per gallon. Crazy expensive. Thanks to the high fuels costs, all the airlines have now implemented new weight restrictions for economy class passengers. For United, Air China, and a host of others, international economy passengers are now limited to two 23-kg bags. Yeah, apparently weight limits don’t apply to first class, and those bastards get three bags per person.

For us po’ folk, 23 kg is down from 34 kg (~75 lbs) two years ago. I know, 34 kg is a lot of shit, and 23 kg still isn’t too skimpy. But come on, we’re US born and raised. No matter how we try to minimize, we’re still overconsuming asses, even if most of our weight goes to the books (well that and John’s clothes). Yeah, we’re nerds, especially John. We’ve been schlepping his computer books and Bukowski crap back and forth. Me? I OD’d on books a long time ago (this may explain my gradual intellectual decline post grad school…). At present, I just “read” picture books. That and dog care books.

Anyway, the good news is that I made it to California ok. United sucked: the flight was completely booked, and service was the usual bullshit. The ride was also unusually bumpy and turbulent. But hey, on the bright side, the flight was only 11 hours, and at least we weren’t flying to DC (that would require another 5-6 hours). Poor Remy and Martin though. I think Remy stayed pretty calm. Her bed was dry. Martin, I think, freaked a little, as he dribbled some in his bed.

Oddly enough, when we went in for landing, just as the wheels were about to hit pavement, the pilot cranked the gear up a notch and suddenly, we were angled upwards again. Within minutes, we were above the clouds. Wtf! I started getting a little nervous. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the co-pilot got on the mic and explained that another jet hadn’t cleared the runway. We needed to circle and re-attempt landing 15 minutes later. Whew!

We touched ground around 8:45 AM. Since I had checked in super early (3 hours ahead) with the dogs, my bags were among the last ones out. The dogs took forever to appear too. On two Smartcarts, I had two big-ass crates plus two maxed-out suitcases. It was a lot to handle, but I’m tough and those trips to the gym paid off. Arrrrr! (I’m doing my Hulk flex now). Yeah, surprise surprise: no one offered to help me (god forbid the TSA peeps break up their chit chat circle in baggage claim), so I had to leapfrog the carts every 50 meters. Took a damn eternity getting to the airport exit. And customs confiscated my large ziplock bag of dog food. Oh well, after surviving like 15 hours in a crate on a really rocky ride, I’m sure runny shits (when dogs switch diet too quickly) is the least of their worries. Anyway, my babies are living the good life now: not even two days in and they’ve visited the dog park and gotten plenty of Greenies.

I recently dug out my theater CDs, and goodness, I’m a mess now. Miss Saigon and Les Miserables. Ugh, I saw Miss Saigon probably a decade ago, and I can still remember the experience so vividly. My theater buff friend Nathalie invited me to the Kennedy Center; it was my first time seeing a professional production. At the start, I was totaly closed-minded about theater. What’s the big deal, a bunch of people singing and prancing around on stage. But two hours was all it took to reel me in. I was totally blown away, and I had the mascara stains to prove it. So yesterday, on a break from studying, I popped in CD one. Jesus, all over again, I got chills down my back. I ended up forcing myself to turn it off, because I was on the verge of a breakdown. Sigh. Blame my emotional instability on the ‘Tane.

Needless to say, one of the cool things about moving back to the States is the theater stuff– I really can’t wait. Supposedly, theater is pretty strong in San Francisco too, so I hope I catch some cool productions. Shanghai has events too, and I definitely want to check out one of the Mandarin dramas, but still, I can’t imagine really getting the full effect. My Mandarin simply isn’t good enough.

So I was checking out which cast I have for these CDs. For Miss Saigon, I have the London cast with Lea Salonga (geez, can someone be so hot?!) and Jonathan Pryce. I didn’t know, but according to Answers.com (which actually contains Wikipedia info, in case you’re in China where Wiki itself is blocked), Miss Saigon beat out My Fair Lady as the longest running musical. Interesting tidbit.

Anyway, I’ll be listening to musicals nonstop the next few weeks… just so you know, if you see me and my eyes are red or whatever.

Man, just went to the gym. The after work crowd is totally different from the after 9pm crowd. Hot, buff women, and geez, I felt like I was on speed during my workout. There was a dance/aerobics class going on, and they were listening to “Memory” in dance mode. How freaky is that? Clearly, I’m not a clubber, otherwise I wouldn’t be so weirded out by this uppity version. Either way, I suppose it was good for the gym– I really booked my ass. Still though, that’s the last time I go at that time of day. I’m all for this latest health kick, but working out high is way too much work.