Xi'an

Firstly, I'd like to thank you all for your kind support regarding my accelerated ageing process. It makes me feel so much better as I'm examining my face for traces of incipient crow's feet to know that I have such supportive friends and family. And yes mother, I know well that on the day that I actually do turn thirty you shall relish the opportunity to begin taking revenge for years of old crone jokes.

According to my manager, who conducted an autopsy on my beloved laptop, Tilly is showing signs of 'significant charring' on the inside, which I interpret to mean that she is really, most sincerely dead. Thank the lord my parents' home contents insurance provider for some reason sees fit to cover the possessions of a 24 year old (note emphasis) wastrel daughter gallivating around thousands of miles from the parental pile, which means that hopefully I can be supplied with Tilly 2 for free sometime in September. Anyway, because of computer self-immolation* I now have to write blogs in the internet cafe and that, sadly, means that I can't upload any pictures. This makes me very sad, not only because blogs without pictures are boring, but because I have so many good pictures from the last few weeks, including some wonderful manglage.

Last weekend we finally got some time off due to China's Labour Day (typically for China, this ostensible celebration of the communist worker is generally celebrated by going shopping), and so we took the sleeper train up to Xi'an for four days for a break. It was pretty ace, but so as not to bore in this pictureless void of a blog I shall keep descriptions brief. We of course went to see the famous Terracotta Warriors, which despite being encased in a huge concrete complex are actually quite amazing. Qin Shi-Huang, the first emperor to unify China and the guy who who commissioned the army of thousands (way back when in the 3rd century BC - mum, you might remember) had just a wee tendency towards being a power-crazed despot - apparently historians believe that he was so convinced that his rule would continue in heaven that he had the army made to give him the edge in cosmic battles. Unfortunately for him, the majority of them actually look quite smiley and friendly rather than fearsome, which might be why his earthly dynasty lasted a grand total of three years after his death.

Aside from bonding with terracotta dudes, we also hired some boneshaker bikes to do a tour of the ancient city walls, visited some Tang dynasty (7th century AD) pagodas, and went dining and bargaining in the brilliant (read: completely chaotic) Muslim Quarter, from where I bought my first presents for folks back home. Oh, and spent a lot of time chilling, chatting to folks, playing ping pong and drinking copious G and Ts in one of the nicest hostels I've ever stayed in. For 3 pounds a night. I love China.

Oh yes, I should note that Xi'an was actually sunny, and after even two days I finally have something resembling a tan (although thankfully not at Madame Tango levels quite yet). Despite everyone we meet in China telling us about this supposed brain-frying heat of Chongqing, so far it's appearing to be essentially the Manchester of the East in terms of its climate. I know I'm going to regret saying this, but, Chongqing, bring on the heat.

* BTW, what's that thing called where people set on fire for no apparent reason? Stories about it generally turn up in esteemed periodicals such as Love It! and Take a Break. It came into my mind when writing about Till and I can't for the life of me remember what it's called. Typing 'people on fire' into Google for some reason did not help.

Mangled English - The Album

Throughout this trip, I have been continuously amazed by the terrible yet wonderful things that English can do in the hands of non-native speakers. Excluding our friend in Prague who was responsible for joylessness way (which, I fear, may never be topped), the Chinese must have some claim to be the undisputed masters of mangled English. Examples of their exquisite crafting of English sentences abound in Chongqing, and they run the gauntlet from the incomprehensible to the unintentionally genius. The best will still be showcased here, but I am - alas - far too lazy to devote a blog post to every double entendre or pile of garble that I come across.

It is thus with great pleasure that I invite you to peruse Mangled English: the Album. Yes, there is an album. On Picasa. That you can look at. The album will grow in time and new photos will appear on the interweb, but here is a teaser of the delights that lie in store if you click here:



These were spotted in our hotel in Chengdu a few weeks ago, and left us wondering just what do they do that is so uncomplimentary? Grow little spines to leave you with hideous cuts? Shout at you and tell you you're doing it all wrong? Laugh at the poor guy who's using it and tell him he should have bought a smaller size? Suggestions as to behaviours of uncomplimentary condoms are of course welcome.