Location: Xi'an, China  Photos: Wilson Tai   Foreigners: Wilson Tai & Helene Chung   Native: Cathy Liao

Summer Weather: It's been sprinkling in Xi'an so the summer weather has been cooler. I've been sporting the same Banana Republic pants & leather sandals for the past 3 days. Restaurants are numerous and packed full, especially those seats next to the air conditioner units. For the unlucky souls who cant find those comfortable seats, it's like a trip to the hot sauna - sweating, like a savage, for the whole duration of the meal. I am grateful that I paired up with Helene and opted to fly as opposed to taking the 28 hour hard-sleeper train ride from Hangzhou (South East China) to Xi'an (North West China). 

Dining: Yesterday evening our group met up with friends (two couples and a master's student at the local university) of Cathy's and ate a traditional Kao Rou (skewers of BBQ pork, chicken, and beef). 8 people ate like pigs for 70 RMB - less than TEN AMERICAN BUCKS! By the end of the meal, the two tables were filled with BBQ skewers cleaned down to the metal, flushed Tsing Tao bottles (Gan Bei!), and a group of joyful savages. You'd be hard pressed to find a finer meal for less than $10.00 US dollars anywhere in the world. The group went around the table and we guessed each other's ages - ages ranged from 21 to 25 - global "Generation Y" in full effect. Great dining and new friends, woo-hoo!

I found that the earliest known version of a necktie was worn by Emperor Shih Huan-ti! The first version of the necktie was found in the massive mausoleum. Afraid of death, the emperor wanted to slaughter an entire army to accompany him into the next world. However, much to the relief of the army, the emperors advisers ultimately persuaded him to join life-sized replicas instead. So why did the warriors all wear neckties? History suggests that the Chinese did not wear neck ties as daily attire, however, silk was considered highest luxury. With soldiers sporting silk "neckties," the Emperor bestowed honor upon his army - so much honor as to seek the afterlife in the tomb with him.

To John who is curious with the status of the beloved DVD's: Hangzhou has been on lockdown for the past month in regards to pirated DVD's and CD music. So of course, one of the first things I asked about upon arrival to Xi'an was, "Where the DVD's at?!" According to a taxi driver, DVD vendors are also getting cracked down here which was a suprise. The movie industry must have a strong influence in China in order to crack down on such a huge population of pirated goods (while pirate Gucci shoes, Prada bags, and the likes seem to have no ending). In China, it don't matter who tries to stop the pirated goods ... somewhere, somehow, someway, you will find pirated goods.

Money: If you were wanted to live, study, or travel in Xi'an, you can  live comfortably for 2000 RMB a month or $250 USD. Amazing.

Arrival: Peter is flying independently in the skies, on his way to acquire his commercial pilots license and meshing with the "cultured" folk (more like savage hillbillies) of Pensicola, Florida. I'm here with Helene and Cathy in Xi'an, China. Helene and I took to the skies and landed in Xi'An two hours later to find the weather at 35 degrees celcius (perspective: I keep my apartment air conditioner on at 22 degrees celcius). Suprisingly the weather was quite tolerable as it wasn't shirt-sticking-to-your-back humid like Hangzhou. Currently, I'm chillin' with a chilled Heineken on the table, a 17" flat-panel LCD monitor, and a fully air-conditioned cafe.

McDonalds: I don't eat McDonald's back home but damn, after a lunch there consisting of the Big Mac meal and a pineapple pie, my stomach is happy and I got a grin on my face. Why? I can't stand the food back in the states because the eatery is dime-a-dozen (like liquor stores in the ghetto), but this is the only McDonald's in this region of China and it's a monster: two floors, half-a-dozen lines of hungry Chinese fiendin' for trademark fries, and almost every seat filled in this flagship eatery.

Conclusion: Late one evening, I was walking back to Cathy's apartment, when I crossed a number of ladies huddled around a table under a single street lamp. They were playing Mahjong, a popular classical Chinese game that is played with 136, 144, 152 or more thick tiles of bone, bamboo, or plastic, and typically four players. It was quiet up until the games ended, and then they would mix the tiles together causing a clack-ity-clack noise. I observed the women as they played and in a crazy, high-speed world, I was eased and humbled that they were having fun with this nightly ritual of "simple pleasures."