Write-On

My sister Toby rekindled my love for fountain pens, a few years back, when she bought me a black beauty for my birthday. When we lived in Switzerland, as kids, fountain pens were all we used in school. Oh what fun we kids had, flicking them at each other, when the teacher left the room! 

I failed to pack that gem of a pen so I don't have it with my here in Beijing; that really bummed me out. I love to write handwritten notes and using a fountain pen to do so just ups my writing game. I honestly think I write better content when using that pen.

I've always been a bit of a pen snob though. Maybe it's because I did use fountain pens in my youth! You'll never see me chuck anything faster than a bad pen. Hell I'd hang on to a bad boyfriend longer than I'd hang on to a crappy pen! 

Our junk drawer at home is filled with pens. I will grab one to scribble down a phone number or an appointment but the second that tip hits the paper and it doesn't feel right... it is g-o-n-e... GONE!

But today I'm back in fountain pen bliss!  We went to the Tianyi Market in the Xicheng District; it's an almost indescribable place. Seriously... I don't even know that I can put into words what this place is like. When you pull up... and we were fortunate enough to have a driver again today... you don't know whether you're going to a circus or an amusement park! But I think that might be a blog post for another day.

The great thing about these various markets is you have no idea what you're going to find there. Today, at Tianyi, I found fountain pens and bottles of ink! The pen Toby bought me uses ink cartridges. I think that's the type we used all those years ago in school but I could be mistaken.  In any case, the ones I saw... and OK lets get this elephant out of the room... bought... OK, two... get off my ass... use vacuum filler technology. I've only filled one so far and I can already tell it's going to take some practice, and finesse, to get a 100% fill. 

I bought a royal blue Hero, which is an, almost 100 year old, Chinese manufacturer and gets pretty good reviews. The other one, which I have not yet filled, is a pearl white M&G which I know nothing about.

The nib on the Hero is a little fine for my taste. But it's been my experience these tend to loosen up a bit; sort of like a fine pair of leather shoes. I hope that's the case with this one.

Paper matters greatly, as well, with fountain pens. If you want to know what writing-perfection feels like then try scribing on linen paper with a smooth-flowing fountain pen... Oh. Yeah. Baby.

So if you're into writing handwritten notes and letters, or if you think you want to but just never get around to it... get yourself a fountain pen. 

And write something nice. To me!

Yi Jia

That's what the Chinese call IKEA.

I'd never been to an IKEA before.  I tried once when we lived in Houston. 

Mike would rather have had his balls waxed than go,  but I hounded and hounded him because it was, after all, the Grand Opening weekend! We drove around for what seemed like an hour but, in reality, was probably only fifteen minutes looking for a parking spot. Frustrated... Mike started to drive away, which as you can imagine put me in a mood, a huge fight ensued, we drove home in silence, and pretty much stayed that way for the rest of the weekend.

When the news came, a few years back, that they were building the first IKEA in Kansas City... everyone in town seemed to be in a flutter over it. Not me and Mikey. Nope... not a word was spoken.

I thought I knew what an IKEA represents. Furniture for young people who don't know any better than to buy small boxes filled with heavy boards and not enough screws in the box to put the crap together properly. I know there's a market for that stuff but I ain't it. I have a "no putting it together" rule... it's probably, at least partly, responsible for Mikey and I turning the bend on 25 years of wedded bliss.

But here in China, the very things IKEA sells... household goods... are very expensive. And not always easy to find. So I gave in and hit the Subway, this morning, for the 50 minute journey. Sans Mikey.

Shelby came with me instead and as soon as we stepped into the monstrosity of a store we realized we'd both not eaten anything yet today. Having heard horror stories on getting stuck in the "IKEA Que", we both thought we'd better grab a bite before one of us got cranky.

This was the line for the cafe; they were an orderly bunch.

And yes... I know it's cliche... but I got the Swedish meatballs! I hope they don't taste this way everywhere because I was highly disappointed. They weren't inedible... but I wouldn't be hanging my brand on these puppies. Pun intended.

But they did serve French wine... which I indulged in. And the total for both Shelby's and my meal was 72 RMB, which is under 11 bucks. So there's that.

But then shit got weird. Real weird.

At first we were annoyed because Shelby really wanted to see that chair he was snoozing in. But he had his earbuds in and we could not raise the dead.

I wanted a better look at this couch but there was an entire family lounging on it.

Was something in the fucking meatballs? Get UP people... you don't live here!!!

And this gal on the left... she WORKS there!!!

And then there was this. A rumpled mess of a showroom in the bedding department.  Or was it?  I needed to go around to the other side for a closer look.

Holy shitballs... are you KIDDING me?!?  This chick is fast asleep IN an IKEA showroom bed! At least she had the common decency to take her friggin slippers off!!!

I. Was. Done.

I wouldn't sit on anything, I didn't want anything... I. Was. Done.

Ironically, there was a young woman beggar on our subway ride home. She went from person to person to person... no one gave her a Chinese cent.

She didn't actually make it as far as Shelby and me. I probably would have given her a few RMB but  someone had chased her off at the next stop.

Too bad. If she'd been at the IKEA subway stop she could have at least gotten a good day's rest!

I have some solid advice for the rest of us too. Never, ever, ever... buy the floor model of anything at an IKEA. 

I thought I knew what IKEA represented but I was mistaken. Here in Beijing, at least, it's a place for rest and relaxation. 

Damn squatters!

The Cat's Meow

I am not a cat person. Never have been, and never “thought” I would be. Now if you are a cat person please don’t get your fur all in a ball. I didn’t say I don’t like “some” cats… but rarely do I meet one that makes me think… “Man I’ve got to get me one of those!”

And maybe it’s just that my heart is being starved for puppy love right now that this is even a blog topic. But I’m obsessing about cats... in China!

It started with the crazy hybrid “cats in a box” Mikey told me about. There is a mall… yes another friggin mall… attached to our apartment building. It’s nice because it has some fairly good restaurants in it and when it’s -3 degrees celsius outside, like it is today, we don’t have to venture outside for dinner.

These “cats in a box” are in this mall; first floor… right next to the kiosk selling underwear. They are gorgeous… the cats, not the undies! They’re some kind of hybrid that strongly resembles a cheetah or a jaguar. I can’t stop looking at them; I must have 20 pics of them (so far)!

 Matt has seen them too. Now I know he’s not a cat guy; he’s even allergic. But he doesn’t shut me down near as quickly as Mikey does when I say “We’ve got to get us one of these cats!” In fact, I think he’s somewhere closer to my camp than Mikey’s… they’re that cool.

The obvious question is… “What are they doing in that box?” And the answer is… I have no friggin idea! But most days I have to wait patiently, to get up to the plexi-glass, to take the same damn picture I took the day before because that many people come by to see these damn cats in a box!

And they seem very happy in there; it’s filled with lots of cat toys and cat thingy-jigs.  But the whole set-up does lend itself to lots of questions. Namely… what are they doing in that fucking box? And do they go home at night? Is this home? So many questions!

Then today… more cats! Lots and lots and lots of cats.

I was wandering around that same mall… yes I snapped today’s obligatory cat pic… looking for the new laundry service I’m going to use… since I’m a total failure at Chinese laundry! One hallway led to another, and to another, and… Holy Cat-Piss… what the hell is that?!?

 There was a small, do I dare say, café? I saw a few people in there. And there were books on shelves but it seemed more library-like than bookstore-ish. But are those cats wondering around? What could this be? I had no choice… I entered!

Through two sets of glass doors, mind you… what is up with this place?  I bee-lined it right over to a snoozin cat who I became fast friends with; at first I startled him but then he rolled over insisting I rub his ample belly.

I wondered around a bit, I think my chin was on the floor and my mouth was gaped wide open. I took a seat at a table, because that’s what the two other people in there had done, and a little gal who thankfully spoke “some” english handed me a “rule card” and a menu. I ordered a latte and a piece of green tea cheesecake; my entry fee for this front row seat to crazy-cat town was paid!

The place is called “Meow Time”. I spent an hour there and came out no more informed regarding what the hell it is than when I went it. I stand by my first impression that it’s an internet café with (and for) cats. There were 9 cats that I counted while sitting there and that doesn’t count the few who wondered in and out the cat door to God knows where! (See cat door, in pic below, between sleeping kitty in hammock and lazy-ass cat sunning himself under a heat lamp.)

 These cats were in hammocks, on top of the book shelves, on cat perches, and just wondering around looking for an occasional scratch of the head. No one else there seemed too interested in these felines, they were there for the internet and snacks.

But after a while I came to my senses; I’d simply had enough cat time for one day. Maybe even a life time. And the good news is, I walked right past the “cats in a box” on my way home and as the real looker and I made eye contact… I gave nary a nod.

Although for a short while today I could have been confused with one of those crazy cat ladies… I think it’s clear now. I’m missing my pups.

 Whoof.

And so it begins...

We’re four hours into our Detroit-Beijing leg and I think my mind is finally starting to slow down and sort all it’s thoughts. I’ve known, since August, about our impending move to China; it seems that would be more than enough time for me to get my shit together. But instead… the last two days were a complete frenzy trying to get really important things, that I had of course procrastinated on, done.

For instance: I went to our Safe Deposit box three times in two days… (and I still ended up with a pile of crap I’m relying on Jordie to get in there for me!) I only put a change-of-address request in on Monday of this week. My new drivers license? I cut that so close that as of Friday… it was still not in my mailbox!

None of this actually surprises me… or anyone in my family for that matter. When Mikey asked me, last night, “What all did you put in our carry-on?”, I replied... “Our life.” And that’s not too far from the truth. I’ve had an ever-growing pile of papers on my desk at home with a tiny little hot-pink sticky on the top of it. The sticky reads… “Deal with this shit.”  Guess where that pile is right now? Yep… in the overhead bin above me. That and all our meds… including a six-month supply of both Ambien and Xanax for me. I’ll either sleep through the occasional difficult moments, (we’re sure to face a few), or maybe not even be aware of them at all!

But this time tomorrow starts my new life. And that life includes, for now at least, very little structure or responsibility. So I’ll chip away at that pile, and anything else that I either blew off or it flat out didn’t occur to me to deal with, via the oft-spotty Chinese internet. What’s done is done and what is not will surely find it’s way to me even though I moved half-way around the world to escape it! Hopefully it will be on the slow boat to China! (Bam!)

But what I’d like to use the rest of this inaugural ‘Beijing Bakers’ blog post for, is to regurgitate some of those thoughts that have been rapid cycling in my brain these past few days. Hold on tight, get a glass of wine or a cup of Joe, depending on when you’re reading this; there is after all a 14-hour time difference between Beijing and Kansas City… I’m ahead!  Here goes!

Some of you have been long time readers of my blog, ChrissyCan. For those who are new to it, I began blogging in 2005 when most people didn’t even know what a blog was. I include myself in that group. I am self-taught, and a little rusty now, but I’ll get back up to speed. The short of it, (right… when do I ever give an abridged version of anything), is I was desperately looking for a way to cheat, on replying to emails, when we moved to Texas. I was just “one person”, who left a whole lot of friends and family behind when we moved down to Clear Lake, TX for Mike’s job. This collective group would email me frequently. Email has never been a strong suit of mine and I found it excruciating to reply to each and every one. So I started cutting and pasting my replies and just changing a few details to personalize it… lame I know. “There has to be a better way”, I thought. And damn if there wasn’t. And that folks, is how my blog began.  

I haven’t consistently blogged in a long time… I blame it on Facebook! I used to craft a story that sometimes took hours. All of a sudden we were living in a world of instant gratification. A mere thought could be regurgitated into a FB post in a few lines and bam it was over. I will still post there; don’t think I’ve gone completely off the deep end… but I am looking forward to getting back to my roots. Writing.

There are a few disclosures I’d like to make, especially for you newbies. I cuss. I cuss a fucking lot. Consider yourselves warned.

I also don’t get hung up on proper grammar or punctuation… although let it be known… I am a fan of the Oxford Comma AND 2 spaces at the end of a sentence… although I am working on that last one. Other than that… you purists are just going to have to get over it. I write like I speak… gasp! I was born in and raised by a New Yorker… I often drop my “G’s”. I’m not fuckin kiddin.

Sometimes I’m funny. Real fuckin funny. I know that. You know that. But if you’ve been with me for the long haul you also know that I lay it all out there too. When my heart is breaking, you will probably cry along with me. When I’m pissed… trust me you’ll know it. If every third post of mine is a hit, that’d be an incredible stat. Don’t expect it!

I don’t blog about Mikey. He’s off limits. But if you promise not to tell anyone I’ll let you in on a secret. Sometimes I do, but I back-date it so he doesn’t see it! Not that he would see it anyway… he doesn’t read my blog. Honest! Neither did my mom. I still can’t shake that… my own mutha didn’t read my blog. Guess I’m not all that after all! BTW… I do use categories on the blog, you’ll see them listed down the right-side margin. There’s no real science to it and quite frankly I’m only thrilled with a few of them but this thing will be 11 years old this year… there’s no going back now! (But if you are looking for good stuff on Mikey… there may or may not be a category for him listed there. But don’t tell him that!)

Most posts are not this long. But some are. Deal or move on.

Comments. Not gonna lie… I love your comments. But from what I remember, and it has something to do with the way I set up my privacy settings, I think you might have to jump through a couple of hoops your first time. But once you do… you’re golden. Quite frankly, I don’t remember what they are, register with Google or something… I’d check for you but I only decided to pay the $40 bucks for International Wi-Fi four hours into the flight and we lost it one hour after that! So check for yourselves. Or better yet… comment on this post, jump through said hoops, and make me a happy chick!

You can also “subscribe” to my blog. All that means is that you will get an email letting you know when I’ve posted. That’s important because we all know what I have to say is of the utmost importance in the world. Ok, ok… at least (hopefully) I’ll supply you with a morning giggle to go along with your coffee! Again… I’ve not really been active on my blog for a while so if that link to subscribe is working properly or not, I could not tell you right now. Again… I’m flying blind here, (Oh, how I love a good pun!) so check it out for yourself if you’d like. I think it’s, again, on the right side of the page but you’ll have to scroll down toward the bottom.

I’m happy to be back again writing; it’s my one true passion. And if you’ll humor me just a little bit longer I would like to write a few words about writing a personal blog in hopes that others will use this medium to find their inner voice and maybe share their experiences. 

Blogging, especially one with no real purpose other than to, let’s call it what it is… online journaling with a twist of voyeurism… is fucking hard. The writing part isn’t hard, words flow like water… sometimes hot lava… for some of us; I’m blessed to be one of those people. But it takes balls. Big balls. It doesn’t bother me as much as it used to, but the angst that builds right before you hit the “Publish” button is huge! First it’s the content… is it good enough? Did I fuck up my grammar and punctuation too badly? Did I cuss too much? And the biggest fear of all… did I expose myself… the good (entertaining), the bad (lame posts), and the ugly (exposing weakness and vulnerability) in a way that I can never get back? It’s scary; words written in truth are sometimes raw. But I have never once deleted a single post I’ve written; that’s a statistic I intend to keep. As much as, many of you tell me, you get from some of my writing, believe you me… I get ten-fold more.  Writing is sanity to me. It frees my rapid cycling brain and offers me, at least in the short term, a peaceful, quiet mind. So if you’ve ever thought about blogging but get tripped up by the very fears I just mentioned… power through and do it. For you!

I have no idea what this new chapter of ChrissyCan will look like. But I sure appreciate you coming along for the ride!

I’ll finish up now with one final thought. I really wanted to title this post, “I’m moving to FUCKING Beijing” but I hadn’t yet covered that whole “I cuss” thang. Now you know.