So I just got back from China and realized my last post was absolutely nonsensical. And yes, Dad [EDIT 2 Oct '05-- this time 'twas not Dad but Mom in the role of savvy linguistic detective. Sorry Mom. I'll never mistake you for Dad's Watson ever again . . . ], I am aware that the plural of Phoenix is definitely nothing near what I wrote. But to me, at the time, it seemed funny.

Anyway, China was amazing. Everyone should go. There are direct flights from Detroit, I'm sure you're all aware, which should be booked immediately. I recommend. The reverse version of these flights exist also, and I definitely tried to bribe the stewardesses into letting me stay on our Beijing -> Narita -> Detroit flight today to no avail. I miss you, America, you and your clean streets and citizens with monochromous fashion sense.

Jake (ex fellow NOVA teacher and travel companion) and I did some severe tourist watching in Shanghai and Beijing and concluded that a westerner's requisite touring uniform consists of monochrome apparrel to the tune of tank tops (black or white), sunglasses and capri pants for the women and polo shirts and khakis for the men. Both sexes are also allowed - nay, encouraged - to don nice smelling deodorants and perfumes. This observation may mean nothing to anybody, but just wait until you're crossing Tienenmen at 7 a.m., delirious with sleep deprivation. Then you'll understand just how interesting it is to go sightseeing for sightseers. Interesting and free!

Credit to Tokyo -- after leaving the lovable but nastily polluted streets of Beijing, Japan's cool breezes and blue skies made me feel like a resident of the land of milk and honey and nothing less. This was a suprising sentiment for me mostly because I really wasn't glad to be back. But apparently I was in more subtle ways, related to weather and sidewalk cleanliness and, of course, booze . . the latter exemplified in a small Tokyo homecoming adventure. Upon arrival downtown Jake and I decided to prolong our vacation at a favorite bar. While there we met the bar's owner who proceeded to pay for our tab, present us with free t-shirts, and take us to one of her other four restaurants for more free ipai drinks, cheezy live saxophone-and-piano entertainment and belly-stretching delicious food. The experience was fantastic but really taxing, actually, and contributed to my inevitable China v. Japan mental comparisons in strange ways . . . . it also made me thankful for my painfully slight but somewhat useful command of the Japanese language.

Credit also to John Irving -- for writing The World According To Garp and allowing me the opportunity to read it during the fifty-nine hours I spent on the many and varied trains of China's rail system. John Irving is brilliant, I've decided, as I've been consistently moved by his novels's seamless fluctuation betwixt the real and the superlative. If possible I recommend reading Garp and going to China at the same time. Afterward we can compare impressions.

The moral of this once-again-nonsensical post might be that I'm back but kind of missing the filth and forwardness and self-awareness of China and its 1.3billion peoples.

Happy 26th birthday to my brother!