China is a country of smokers.
China is also a country of counterfeiters. So this amazing article from Slate should come as no surprise. The only thing wrong with it, from my perspective, is that I didn't write it.
Go to any bar or restaurant in Shanghai and outside you'll find vendors hawking cigarettes, inside they'll probably sell them to you from behind the bar, and it's pretty much legal to smoke said cigarettes anywhere you want.
In my office, for instance, there's a clique of about five or seven smokers who enjoy their cigarettes everywhere from the elevator bay to the bathroom.
There are, in fact, ash trays in the stalls.
Monday, June 29, 2009
In All Seriousness
This is no laughing matter.
Forced happiness must say something about a country, but I'm not sure what.
Forced happiness must say something about a country, but I'm not sure what.
Going Continental
Well, in the three months since the first post on this blog I've seen amazing things... settled into work... gone on a few benders - and recovered from them.
I've moved from the 17th floor of the corporate apartment to the second floor of a modest but very nice lane house on a beautiful tree lined street in what was once known as the French Concession.
The apartment is about the size of my old place in New York, except it has a fake fireplace, wood floors, better ceiling fans and is sort of a split level, in a strange way.
My co-workers all say that I live on a great block, and there are at least two cafes that are excellent for stopping in and reading a book, although I haven't done much of that yet.
But I promised the story of the flight... it was a doozy.
I arrived at the gate with my bags on my shoulder, weighed down with a dozen books that could have been two dozen. Anxious to just settle into a seat at the gate and take a nap before the flight, I looked for a few minutes to find a seat, but couldn't because the entire gate area had been turned into a set for a cheap knock-off version of Crouchng Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
There were plate-spinners, battling dancing dragons, drummers, and assorted performers of different stripes, representing ancient Chinese culture, and free champagne and fruit representing the best of modern American airport luxury.
The reason for all of this hoopla? It was the inaugural flight between Newark and Shanghai.
Truly a momentous occasion, when all this tired would-be traveller wanted was a seat to collapse into and some time to steady my nerves before leaving my adopted home for the past ten years.
But everyone loves a good party, and the champagne did help calm my jittery nerves. Pictures (poor pictures) will come at some point to illustrate the monumental kitsch of the occasion, but for now, I'm sorry but the text will have to suffice.
Speaking of airports... Evan Oznos has a great post in the New Yorker on the meeting of First and Third Worlds when the travelling class gets disgorged in different cities around the world.
I've moved from the 17th floor of the corporate apartment to the second floor of a modest but very nice lane house on a beautiful tree lined street in what was once known as the French Concession.
The apartment is about the size of my old place in New York, except it has a fake fireplace, wood floors, better ceiling fans and is sort of a split level, in a strange way.
My co-workers all say that I live on a great block, and there are at least two cafes that are excellent for stopping in and reading a book, although I haven't done much of that yet.
But I promised the story of the flight... it was a doozy.
I arrived at the gate with my bags on my shoulder, weighed down with a dozen books that could have been two dozen. Anxious to just settle into a seat at the gate and take a nap before the flight, I looked for a few minutes to find a seat, but couldn't because the entire gate area had been turned into a set for a cheap knock-off version of Crouchng Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
There were plate-spinners, battling dancing dragons, drummers, and assorted performers of different stripes, representing ancient Chinese culture, and free champagne and fruit representing the best of modern American airport luxury.
The reason for all of this hoopla? It was the inaugural flight between Newark and Shanghai.
Truly a momentous occasion, when all this tired would-be traveller wanted was a seat to collapse into and some time to steady my nerves before leaving my adopted home for the past ten years.
But everyone loves a good party, and the champagne did help calm my jittery nerves. Pictures (poor pictures) will come at some point to illustrate the monumental kitsch of the occasion, but for now, I'm sorry but the text will have to suffice.
Speaking of airports... Evan Oznos has a great post in the New Yorker on the meeting of First and Third Worlds when the travelling class gets disgorged in different cities around the world.
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