Words Fail Me

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the ubiquitous Paul Krugman.

I thought Shanghai was Blade Runner. I was wrong. Hong Kong is.

Tomorrow, I check out of my hotel and move into my apartment.  But that afternoon I fly out to Hong Kong for visa shenanigans.  I land back here in Shanghai on Christmas Eve at 11:30pm.  I feel like George Clooney.

I told a couple of expat coworkers the Shanghai pickup line I’ve been working on:

I’m here to appreciate 3000 years of language & culture and to crush pussy.  And I’m all out of 3000 years of language & culture.

One of my new coworkers is a charming young lady who sits in the cubicle next to me.  Her name is Daly, which I quite like because it either sounds like the English word “dolly” or like I’m Cary Grant calling her “darling”.

We compare cross-culture notes often.  Today, we were discussing Pasadena woodfired pizzas.

DALY:  Are they very big?

DAVID:  No, no.  But they have good ingredients, nice quality…

DALY:  Ah!  Gwyneth Paltrow pizza.

DAVID:  Gwyneth Paltrow pizza.

Coming in to work this morning it was zero degrees.  (Celsius, not Fahrenheit, thankfully.)

Is there anything more self-indulgent than writing a blog?  Let me answer my own question.  No, no there is not.

I landed here in Shanghai one week ago tonight.  The transition has been surprisingly smooth.  The weather has been what in my family we have always referred to as “San Francisco weather” and that has been the most pleasant surprise of all.