To celebrate the pending “expansion” of PatandMeg.com, Meghan was kind enough to let Pat tear across the country on his motorcycle, and play the mud with a bunch of other goofballs for the weekend in Colorado. You can follow his adventures on on Advrider, complete with witty commentary and stunning (well, mostly mediocre) photography.

You can also fulfill your big brother dreams and track Pat’s progress across the country, brought to you by Satellite tracking devices and Internet Elves (note that this only shows updates from the past 7 days).

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I know, I know, I’ve been pretty bad with updates on this trip, despite being gone for a month. There were several highlights to this visit: my first trip to Beijing, two visits to the Great Wall, a side trip to Xi’an to see the Terra Cotta Warriors and most exciting, Meghan joining me for the last 8 days. The last point was perhaps the most exciting; I’ve deluged Meghan with stories about all the crazy and wonderful things that happen out here, from the traffic and Chinese lack of respect for lines, to the dirty air and beautiful buildings and now she finally had a chance to experience it herself.

This trip started with some “old hat:” a flight into Hong Kong and a fairly boring evening spent at the Sheraton Hong Kong. I generally don’t sleep particularly well on the flight to HK, so upon arrival the best I can do is get to the hotel, unpack my toiletries and promptly hit the sack, generally waking up at some ungodly hour due to jet lag. Luckily it was a fairly nice morning, and I walked along Victoria Harbor taking a few pictures and taking in Hong Kong’s amazing skyline before taking the ferry over to Shenzhen in mainland China.

Being a China veteran I knew to pass the “hustle taxis:” unlicensed taxi drivers that had a good enough command of English to understand China neophytes and make them comfortable, then charge them 200 Yuan for a ride that should be 12.50. I walked to the hotel, settled in and then began work the next day. The purpose of the trip was to make presentations and gather information from three different business units, and the first several days went off without a hitch. I spent Friday evening out on the town with a few colleagues near my hotel, and then spent Saturday night in Hong Kong with a coworker at the very flashy W hotel. Not one to fit in with the “beautiful people,” we found a night market and outdoor restaurant where we were able to enjoy 6 rounds of Tsing Tao beer for around $120HK (about 12 USD). My buddy was a bit more of a hipster, so we made our way to one of the HK hotspots and I was shocked by a $260HK tab for two drinks. Not having anyone to impress, I’ll stick to the street from now on!

The following day my friend and I returned to Louhu Commercial City, the 5 story market with everything from counterfeit iPods and clothing to jade jewelry and bicycles. I’ve described the utter chaos that is shopping at this type of mall in a previous email, and must confess that I’ve come to really enjoy it. Once you get past the standard marketing pitch of someone grabbing your arm and shouting “HEY MISTER! YOU LOOK NOW! GOOD QUALITY! YOU BUY NOW!” it’s actually quite fun. I developed a defense for the touts that hang out by the escalators at each floor, who follow you around endlessly asking: “Hey mister. What are you looking for? Copy watch? North Face? Camera? iPhone? Sexy massage? What are you looking for?” About the third time they ask what I am looking for I look them straight in the eye and say something ridiculous that they likely won’t understand, my favorite being “Redemption.” Stumped, they finally admit defeat and seek an easier mark.

I love the art of bargaining in China, the seller punching an insanely high amount into the calculator, and me responding with an equally insulting lowball offer, both of us feigning disgust as the counteroffers, insults, compliments, and grave mumblings fly. I’ve learned to say “pretty girl” in mandarin (it sounds like the English word “menu” with a bit of extra ewe on the “U”) so when they butter me up with “You are so handsome” I can play right along . One of my highest bargaining compliments came in Beijing when I scored two pairs of “Puma” sneakers for about $12 US, and the seller, frowning gravely said “Feel good price for you, feel BAD price for me!”

In addition to bargaining, I’ve come to enjoy the “interesting” English translations that abound in China. At the request of my client, I now have a Blackberry that has an unlimited international data plan which allows me to post frequent picture updates on Facebook and via email so I’ve captured some of the more colorful examples and I am hopeful that the Chinese get a good laugh out of whatever strange translations we’ve placed in Chinatowns across the US. Perhaps the highlight of the bad translations (no, I am not making this up) was a sign for an apartment building in HK that proudly advertised the “GOFUKU Towers.” This was even better than the “Yuppie Building” in Beijing and perhaps equal of the sign that advised that “Drunkards and insane people are prohibited” on the cable car up the Great Wall.

The next week was fairly uneventful until Friday, when the team flew up to Beijing. For a reason unbeknownst to me, our team leader decided to fly out of HK rather than the local airport in Shekou, which generally would not have been a problem save for the Swine Flu scare. HK is considered an international border, so we were prodded by officials in medical coats, subjected to a questionnaire and a thermal camera at each side of the flight. Given a clean bill of health, we arrived in the amazing Beijing airport, my first clue to the fact that every top-notch architect and civil engineer is apparently welcome to express his or her most daring and innovative ideas in Beijing. From airports, bridges, train stations and skyscrapers of all shapes and sizes, the communist style of drab concrete block structures apparently has been long dead and buried in Beijing. Structures that seem impossible or impractical abound, with modern steel and glass within eyeshot of traditional Chinese wood buildings that are hundreds of years old. I’m still not sure whether I’m more impressed by the whimsical modern structures or the ancient temples and palaces held together with elaborate wooden joints that don’t use a single nail.

Our team spent the weekend visiting all the tourist sites, from the Great Wall to the Forbidden City and the various markets around Beijing. Travelling with six adults of various levels of endurance, degrees of whininess and varying demeanor made me all the more eager for Meghan to arrive on Thursday.

Work flew by, the one highlight being a visit out to a Chinese factory my client is considering acquiring. I love manufacturing in general, and was excited to see what was behind “Made in China.” No one from the client’s local office was available to escort me to the factory, so I was left to my own devices to get to its location, in a town about 100 miles to the southeast. A train was suggested, and high-tech Beijing did not disappoint. I took a car to Beijing South Station, an incredibly modern and airy building that rivals most international airports I’ve seen. Being a high roller, I sprung for the extra 10 Yuan (around a dollar) to upgrade to a first class seat, and found myself on the ultra-modern high-speed rail connecting Beijing and the city of Tian Jin. The display in the car indicated we were cruising at 340km/hr, or just shy of 200 mph, blasting through fields and countryside at a pace that puts Amtrak to shame.

After some trouble finding the factory, and my taxi driver and I delighting in the stoic silence induced by mutually incomprehensible languages, I finally arrived. The factory was about what I expected, and would likely cause minor heart palpitations in an OHSHA inspector. No safety goggles or eye wash stations were to be found, and three dogs lounged next to the CNC machines. The reception hall was given over to an impressive looking ping pong table, and I was later informed that after 5PM there were “table tennis” sessions between all employees.

The owner took me to an amazing place for lunch. It was essentially a giant greenhouse, completely made of glass and filled with all manner of tropical plants inside, including a faux “river” running through the jungle that was inhabited by two seals. A menu would be far too gauche for such a place, and to select your food you entered a room with about 60 fish tanks where you could select your fish, crab or lobster, and a wall with pictures of the approximately 100 meal choices, each plated and displayed on a counter below the picture. I deferred to my hosts, and we were escorted to our table, which was surrounded by a thicket of live bamboo, making it seem like you were the only person eating in a strange and intimate jungle. Living up to Chinese standards of efficiency, the food was delivered by waiters on roller skates, who tore through the jungle at high speeds with overloaded trays. Despite the intimacy, my host told me that the restaurant could seat approximately 6000 people on two floors.

I made the mistake of informing my host that I enjoyed Chinese beer, and he ordered me a large pitcher of the house brew (apparently there was a micro-brewery somewhere in the jungle) and proudly announced “We will drink the delicious beer!” It was extremely tasty, having a smoky finish that I’ve never experienced in a beer and giving me pause to consider that I was in an unfamiliar city in a strange country, having one of the tastiest beers I’ve ever drank in an indoor jungle, next to a live seal during business hours AND getting paid for it!

On Thursday evening I met Meghan at the airport. Apparently she was given the 5th degree in terms of medical screening, with people in biohazard suits boarding the plane and looking for anyone making oinking noises or smelling like bacon, both clear indicators of the swine flu, at least as I understand it. Meghan and I spent the next day doing some easy touring around Beijing, and visiting the Forbidden City. We also visited the Great Wall, neither of which I can describe with any justice, save to say that both were structures I remember staring at in grade school social studies books, daydreaming about who could ever build such marvels and trying to repress the tiny glimmer of hope that I would one day see them with my own eyes, a possibility that seemed so remote as to not even be worth considering.

On Sunday we headed to the airport for the flight to Xi’an, a city in the northwest of China and home to the Terra Cotta Warriors. It was hear I solidified my “theory of third place,” which states that every city in China is the third <something> after Beijing and Shanghai. Shenzhen was the third richest. Tian Jin was the third largest, and Xi’an had the third highest number of universities. I would imagine that even the most remote farming village has the third highest number of Maoist cattle or some other third place claim to fame.

The city itself was fairly standard for China: overcrowded, polluted and filled with drivers, bikers and walkers careful balanced on a fine line between life and death. Xi’an does have one of the only intact city walls in China, and Meghan and I spent our first full day walking around the city, and walking a portion of the wall. Nearly as thick and high as the Great Wall it had a similar purpose of keeping unsavory characters at bay, and provided a great view of the city. The next day we signed on for a tour that made several stops, saving the warriors for last.

The emperor who built the warriors was the first emperor of the Quing (pronounced “Chin”) dynasty that conquered and unified several disparate states to create a country that largely resembles modern China. Constantly worried about subterfuge from the people’s he conquered, he decided to build an elaborate tomb complex to maintain his reign in the afterlife. Needing protection, he commissioned an army of clay warriors, estimated to number around 8,000, each life size and with a unique face, weapon, rank and function. Each warrior apparently took around 10 years to complete, and an army of slaves was commissioned to make the warriors and build the tomb. In the 1970’s, a farmer digging a well found pieces of the warriors, and today around 3,000 of them have been unearthed. Most of them were smashed during an uprising shortly after the emperor’s death, and they have been painstakingly reconstructed and replaced in their original positions. Each was equipped with a weapon, most of which were stolen by the revolutionaries and used in combat, since they were life-size, combat ready weapons.

It is an amazing sight to walk into the hangar-like structure covering the warriors, as you start down upon row after row of warriors, horses, archers and generals, all precisely lined up and awaiting battle. The warriors are finely painted, but the paint disappears a few weeks after they are unearthed, so excavation has largely halted until some way of maintaining the paint can be found. Each is marvelously detailed, from fine hair to treads on an archer’s shoe.

The emperor’s tomb is a few miles away, and it remains sealed since legend has it that it is surrounded by rivers of mercury, and enough mercury vapor to kill anyone who breaks its seal. This type of extravagance is so mind boggling it makes Michael Jackson look like a stamp collector.

The next day brought an early flight back to Beijing, and Meghan and I explored various temples and a Chinese mosque through the intermittent rain. The rain had the great benefit of clearing up the air, and we spent a heartrendingly gorgeous day at the Summer Palace yesterday. Needing somewhere to relax from the stressful duties of “managing” 81 concubines, the Ming emperors built a summer retreat about 30 minutes outside Beijing on 70sq km of hilly land, complete with several lakes and ponds, pagodas and temples. It was like a giant park filled with what you would imagine traditional Chinese architecture to be, and it was a perfect day to explore it. While the entrance gate was mobbed, the park was so large and filled with so many meandering paths, we had much of the day to ourselves, delighting in wandering with no particular direction in mind. We ended the day with a fancy dinner, and Meghan made her way to the airport for her 9AM flight this morning. I fly out at 6PM, and after a morning run am wrapping up some work and then saying goodbye to China until my next trip. Until then…

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It has been just about a week since I arrived back in Shenzhen, China for my 3 week trip. I started this trip with an evening in Hong Kong, one of the most futuristic cities I have ever visited. I managed to score a harbor view room at my hotel, which overlooked Victoria Harbor with a fantastic view of the Center side of Hong Kong. HK is essentially a large island, a few smaller islands and the portion connected with the Chinese mainland, and I was staying on the mainland in Kowloon overlooking HK Island. The cityscape was incredible, with tall modern skyscrapers trimmed in every imaginable color of neon, and hundreds of animated billboards hawking everything from casinos to Chinese brands. Imagine Times Square extended to the whole of Manhattan and you would have the right mental image. I half expected a flying car to zoom past my window as I admired the view.

The next morning I walked around the city, getting a good dose of dumplings, checking out the jade market and passing myriad high-end watch and jewelry stores. Rolex seemed to play the role of Timex in Hong Kong, and I admired several $50,000-$100,000 Swiss watches sitting proudly in seemingly every other store window. I picked up a lowly Citizen Asia-only model with several timezones and other neat features that I found particularly fitting for this city of the future.

That afternoon I took the ferry over to Shekou and checked into my home for the next several weeks. I’m staying in the heart of the expat area, in a part of town (Shekou) that is renowned for expats. I have an apartment-style room with a sitting area, kitchen and bedroom which is nice, although my sparkling kitchen is equipped with a tea serving for four and no other utensils or cooking implements. I guess I look like a man that enjoys his tea.

The hotel is a couple blocks from an area called “Sea World,” which has nothing to do with Shamu (other than cooking quite a few of his cousins) but has a docked cruise ship-turned sportsbar/hotel, and about 20 restaurants. There is everything from McDonalds to Starbucks, a few Chinese and Asian places, and a mix of Italian, Indian, Irish and everything in between. I had dinner at an Italian place with our project manager who generally refuses to eat Chinese food, and was amazed to find that the lasagna was actually quite good, and on par with anything I’ve ever had in the states. No small feat for a country where cheese is virtually ignored and unknown. Not only can the Chinese come up with a decent copy of an Italian suit, but they also have the food down pretty well.

After a relatively uneventful week of work, yesterday I ventured into Lohou Commercial City, cited as a mecca of counterfeit goods and apparently where people from Hong Kong go to shop for cheap stuff as it is literally right on the border. The city I am in, Shenzhen, is home to China’s 2nd busiest port, and also many of the factories churning out goods for western companies so counterfeiting runs rampant, to the point that some factories making legitimate goods have been busted producing exact counterfeits during the night shift. The market was five stories of madness, with literally thousands of small shops most of which were hawking some combination of bags, luggage, watches, shoes and clothing. You could drink and smoke in the market, so there was a haze that seemed to go well with the crowds and shouts of “ROLEX! DVD! NORTH FACE! IPHONE! HANDBAG! YOU LOOK NOW! YOU BUY NOW!” Hawkers would firmly grab your arm in an attempt to corral you, while proudly displaying catalogs of designer copies. While I was told the market once had the latest Gucci copies proudly displayed, several bands are no longer on the shelves after some high-profile police actions, but a western face and 30 seconds got you’re a look at glossy full-color catalogs of copies of varying quality. You could get everything from low grade knockoffs to what seemed like quality stuff, with brands from Adidas and Nike, to relatively esoteric once like Mountain Hardware and IWC.

At one point, I was looking at jackets and the lady produced a catalog of North Face knockoffs. I told her I would take a look and she said someone had to go to the “warehouse.” She shouted to a colleague, who pushed aside a rack of coats revealing what seemed to be a wall. He pushed open a panel, crawled in, and returned a few minutes later with a bagged North Face jacket. The bag even had the correct logo, and the jacket had North Face and Gore Tex tags (despite there being no actual Gore Tex in the coat). It was quite amazing and while the jacket did not fit, it seemed to be about 80% of the quality of the genuine article for 20% of the price.

A colleague picked up an “iPhone” that does not resemble any current model, but had Apple branding and even had the “Designed in California by Apple” quip on the back like the real thing. The phone actually works, and includes a copy of Apple’s operating system and everything, although it looks only vaguely like the real thing and a few programs were still in Chinese. Despite that, it plays video and music, includes a GPS chip and was his for about $40US. Fake Nokia phones also abounded, and even Shure wireless microphones and Panasonic DVD players were not safe from being knocked off.

There were even some legitimate goods. My iPhone friend also bought what was billed as an “MP9 Player” (and here we Westerners are still stuck on MP3) which looked like a large pen, but was actually a working video and sound recorder. The pen would even write, and at the press of a hidden button the device would begin recording video and audio, in what was every James Bond fan’s dream. Once done, you unscrewed the pen revealing a USB plug that connected to your computer and allowed you to download the captured video. All this for about $14US.

China clearly places more stock in the doing rather than the conceiving, and no compunction was shown for painstakingly ripping off major brands. Most of the items were high quality, and I got the sense that there was a pride in workmanship and that if you could build something that was similar in quality for a pittance of the price you were actually doing the world a service. This even seems to extend to China’s adoption of a market economy. In talking with people here it seems relatively easy to start a business, and government interference and taxation is minimal to the point that China’s “wild west” capitalistic economic system is arguably more open (for better and worse) that the US. The area I am in was one of China’s first “Special Economic Zones,” where China essentially “knocked off” market economics as an experiment and then ran with it. This seems rather unexciting today, but when you think about it this would be like the US declaring California or Massachusetts a “special economic zone,” then coming back a few years later to find everyone wearing a grey smock, calling each other comrade and leaving to go work on their five year plan at the village commune. The Chinese seem to have no compunction whatsoever about taking anyone’s ideas and making them their own, a trait that might just well be an asset despite giving Intellectual Property lawyers a bad case of heartburn.

That said, politically this is still a socialist country. This hotel is connected to a Chinese internet connection, and I’ve already ran into several websites blocked by Chinese government firewalls, including my own company blog at www.itbswatch.com, as it’s hosted by a major blog company that also carries blogs the government might find unsavory. Articles about Tibet on Wikipedia are blocked, as well as the Chinese-language versions of several western media outlets. Mao still smiles benevolently from the currency, and immaculately uniformed police and military still stroll the streets. Despite all that, this is an incredibly exciting country and I’m quite happy to see it.

This should be a busy workweek, and then on Friday I grab the ferry back to Hong Kong and catch a flight to Bangkok, where I’m staying for the weekend and meeting my good friend Sean. He working in Jakarta and Bangkok is about half-way between us, had cheap flights and does not require a visa in advance, a perfect combo for a quick reunion as I have not seen Sean in quite some time.

Until next time…

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One of my favorite aspects of being in China is that I generally don’t have a clue as to what is happening when trying to read or communicate with others. I thought the Chinese language would be a bit like a pictograph, a more advanced version of hieroglyphics perhaps. While you might not initially know the meaning of the Egyptian dude with a bird and a stick, once you found out that the symbol meant “Tasty chicken” you could readily pick him out on future menu and order accordingly. With languages that use the traditional alphabet and 26 characters, give or take, it’s only a matter of time before you figure out that poullet or pollo are chicken, and bier/beer/cervesa makes for a nice pairing. Not so with Chinese characters. In some cases it seems that a fairly simple word like “Welcome” (posted at the door to our office) entails 8 seemingly complex and almost indistinguishable (to my western eyes) characters. In other situations, a complex English word like “Incorporated” is a single character. Spoken Mandarin also seems to be a challenge, and only last night, with the help of a Cantonese speaker on our team, did I expand my Mandarin by 100%, adding “yes” and “no” to “hello” and “thank you” (although I’ll give myself a half point bonus for an ability to order my beverage of choice, Tsing Tao beer, which is procured by demanding, in a rather gruff tone: CHINGDOWBEER!”)

There are also strange things that happen without explanation. For example, when paying in cash at a restaurant, it usually takes a bit of pantomime and pointing to get a receipt. Where we dined last night, a modern establishment with what looked like a very high-tech cash register, the waitress painstakingly generated a handwritten receipt for our meal. You also get a wad of certificates when paying in cash. I picked up pizza buying duty yesterday (yes, we did have pizza for lunch EVERY day we have been here) and for my 400 yuan I received four certificates with lots of Chinese writing and a 100 in the corner. There are also a few scratch off areas, so I’m unsure if this is a lottery ticket of some sort, or a certificate that must be presented to some government official lest you be summarily executed when leaving the country, so I’ve dutifully stashed the certificates in my passport, ready to present them when and if they are demanded.

Apparently the difficulties go both ways, as the English translations to various phrases range from prophetic to fairly amusing. A billboard at street level a few blocks from our hotel admonishes the Chinese (according to the English translation) that: TIME IS MONEY, EFFICIENCY IS LIFE. On of my favorites gives me a chuckle every morning. Our office building houses several of the major oilfield services companies, familiar names like Halliburton and Weatherford are matched with local companies, the most amusing of which is translated as “OILFIELD DECORATING ENGINEERS.” I have a mental image of slim men with pastel hard hats, designer shirts slightly open at the chest and perhaps an ascot or pocket square, prancing around a drilling rig considering the feng shui between a paisley submersible pump and a diamond drill bit.

On Monday I finally convinced my colleagues to eat some bonna-fide Chinese food for dinner. We were all dealing with the lingering effects of jet lag so we tried the hotel restaurant, and it ended up being fairly good. One section had several fish tanks with various aquatic treats. Occasionally a chef would walk to a tank, net a fish and presumably send him to his early demise. Luckily several years of eating a Noche Buena pig had me a bit used to being closer to the start of the supply chain for your dinner, but it unsettled the other American on the team a bit. We also ordered Beijing Duck (the more familiar Peking is the old name for Beijing) and Donald came to our table, head and all. After some of our team still in the states expressed some concern about the food and went so far as to lookup locations for the nearest McDonalds, someone took a picture of the duck to email to the rest of the team and suggest this would be a frequent delicacy.

Last night three of us decided to take a quick shopping expedition. Along the way we passed everything from a dingy strawberry field to high-rise apartments while our taxi driver attempted to set a new land speed record, passing on what seemed to be double lines and running red lights for no discernable reason. Taxis are surprisingly cheap, with what must have been a good 9 mile ride costing approximately $3.50. I finally had a chance to witness what I had imagined China to be like, and realized that we’re staying out in the boonies. The palm trees and greenery around our hotel were rapidly replaced with tall buildings, neon signs, cars and people everywhere. Once again, save for the occasionally green uniform, random slogan and red flag, there is little to indicate you are anywhere but a mecca of capitalism. The mall was as modern as could be, and frequented with well-dressed and obviously moneyed individuals. Interestingly, the shops had almost as many staff as there were customers. An average-size jewelry store had six or seven staff eagerly standing by, and whichever store I went in would have a staffer shadow my every move. This was a bit unnerving, and I’m unsure if this was to ensure the large gringo did not do anything uncouth, or if this is high-touch Chinese customer service.

The last few days have also been marked by an unfortunate aspect of China’s economic boom: pollution. On my first day, I woke up to relatively clear skies and thought the stories of China’s air pollution were overblown. The last two mornings however, I awoke to a nasty grey-brown haze. At home, when it’s naturally foggy you generally get grey and depressing light, and can’t see the sun save for when it peaks out from behind a cloud. There’s a sense of depth to the cloud cover and a sense of motion; you can feel the fog lift and eventually succumb to the sun’s light and gradually dissipate. Here, you can actually see the sun, but it’s a muted white disc behind a ubiquitous layer of smog. It’s almost as if you’re surrounded by an opaque bubble rather than a shifting, cotton-like foam of natural fog. The buildings and trees also have a thin coat of dust and funk, and most buildings look rather unkempt, despite them being relatively new as this area was all farmland a mere thirty years ago. This makes for an odd contrast. A particularly grim and depressing housing block on our way to work is lit up with vibrantly colored laundry hung out to dry, and dingy buildings and offices are brightened with up to a hundred baskets of flowers and orange trees celebrating the Chinese New Year. It’s almost as if there’s no time to clean and rebuild and abandonment and starting anew seems to be preferred to refurbishing.

It’s easy as an American to turn one’s nose up and indict China for spewing pollution into the air and water, but it is difficult to reconcile this smug moral high road with the fact that the US more or less invented the consumerist society, and who are we to deny others that dream. Not having lived during the industrial revolution, I can only imagine what our air was like in the late 1800’s, and I wonder how the world will reconcile China’s aspirations with the demands of other nations already secure in their post-industrial boom comfort.

Moving away from the deep moral quandaries, it seems our team has selected Indian food for tonight’s dining. Unfortunately, Papa John’s and other non-Chinese dining establishments will get the majority of my Chairman Mao’s while I’m here. I have insisted that we push dinner back a bit so I can spend some time on the treadmill. After seeing the drivers and battling my way away from crazy old ladies, not to mention the air quality, I’ve abandoned my plans of outdoor running for the moment. The China-made scale in my hotel room indicates I’ve either gained 30 pounds or lost 40 in the 4 days I’ve been here, so apparently I have some work to do, or the gravitational pull on this side of the world is a bit unstable. Until the next update, remember that time is money, and efficiency (combined with Papa John’s) is indeed life.

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I arrived safely in Hong Kong last night after the 14 hour flight. Despite the length it was not too bad; I managed to get a lot of reading done as well as catch up on a recent James Bond movie. The Hong Kong airport was easy to navigate, and despite some minor missteps I met up with a client colleague and we made it to the bus terminal for the ferry. The ferry terminal itself was a fairly drab white building, but was decked out with paper lanterns and large flower displays, apparently for Chinese New Year. Everything from the boat to the hotel and taxi had similar decorations which leant a festive air to our arrival.

I had a mental image of an overloaded boat, livestock and choppy seas, but the boat was a modern catamaran and was not particularly crowded. Lists of rules and regulations on the wall admonished mariners that they could dump their trash overboard as long as they were 25 miles from the mainland, except when they were in the Antarctic, Caribbean or North America. Luckily the 30 minute ride did not deviate into any of those waters and we arrived at the mainland in one piece.

Customs was surprisingly low-key as well. No submachine-toting members of the People’s Liberation Army or patriotic music, and other than asking if this was my first visit to China, no questioning from immigration. A poster of Jackie Chan admonished us to avoid counterfeit goods, and with that, I walked out of the ferry terminal in Shekou into mainland China. I had pictured hustle and bustle and a highly urban environment and was instead greeted with lush greenery swaying in the ocean breeze, and tree-covered mountains rising up just beyond the hotels and skyscrapers. Shekou is where China first dipped its toe into a market economy, setting up a free-trade zone in the city in the 1970’s. Being right across from Hong Kong, Shekou provided access to international capital and markets, and provided a buffer between mainland China and those pesky remnants of the British empire in Hong Kong, like a free press.

Our hotel was right next to the ferry terminal, so check in was easy. We met up with a third person from Denmark and hit the town to grab some dinner. My request for Chinese food (we are in China after all) was panned by the group, and we headed for where else, but an Irish pub. I did have some Chinese beer to wash down bangers and mash, and with that we called it a night. On the walk home I picked up some cash, and was pleased to get a fist full of 100 yuan notes with a benevolently smiling portrait of Chairman Mao on them… Finally some proper propaganda. We did manage to be accosted on the walk home, first by a woman and her 7-8 year old child, who walked up saying “MONEY! MONEY!” while the little boy grabbed each of our arms in turn. A few hundred yards later, a toothless woman avoided the formalities and simply locked onto my arm with a kung fu grip. I squirmed my way out, and was comforted that the scantily clad ladies in the local red light district kept their distance.

Beds in China are deceiving. The one in my hotel room was large and comfortable looking, yet warnings I had heard that Chinese beds are a bit firm were absolutely true. Despite the comfortable appearance, the bed was hard as a rock. Firmness aside, I promptly fell asleep until 4AM, when a barrage of fireworks was launched from a nearby park, apparently an ongoing salutes to the Chinese New Year that was followed up with another volley around 7:30am.

This morning we were off to the office after waiting for our car. We had a quick introduction to driving in China, when our driver went through a red light and then went into what appeared to be oncoming traffic. Apparently the four lane road we were entering had alternating lanes in each direction, so while we were facing three lanes of cars, technically the middle lane should have been going in our direction. A bout of horn honking ensued, and not giving up his ground, our driver eventually prevailed.

The office I’m in is fairly generic, save for the bright red New Year’s decorations. Despite my gentle suggestion, my two colleagues again opted out of actual Chinese food in China, and had Papa John’s pizza ordered. I can’t say I though my first two meals in China would be from an Irish pub and Papa John’s, but I am trying to go with the flow, although I may mutiny if they suggest McDonald’s tomorrow. We have our first bout of meetings in fifteen minutes, so I’ll close for now and update all of you later in the week.

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A couple of weeks ago a friend and I took a trip down the Blue Ridge Parkway, one of the premier motorcycle roads on the east coast. Rather than recount the entire trip here, you can follow the link for the ride report at Adventure Rider.

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My friends and fellow Americans, I usually keep politics off of PatandMeg.com, but there’s one issue that’s just too important to ignore. It’s an issue that has been keeping me awake at night, and one that the press and both candidates have attempted to cover up, in what can only be described as a vast middle-wing conspiracy. It is time we as Americans stop sitting on the sidelines while the fat cats in Washington trample the little guy. It’s time we institute comprehensive reform to rid ourselves of the scourge of… Main St/Wall St references!

Perhaps I’m the only one that thanks our forefathers for a right to bear arms each time I hear “It’s time for those fatcats in <DC/Congress/CEO Suites/Paris Hilton’s Underwear Drawer/boardrooms/New York City/London/Frankfurt/Jimmy Hoffa’s Basement> to stop thinking about Wall St. and start thinking about Main St!!!! (insert applause track here).” I started seriously contemplated parking my noggin in front of a 12-guage by the 3984729^thtime I heard a Wall St/Main St reference. The gimmick was cute the first time I heard it. In case you’ve lived in a cave (apparently a cave with an internet connection since you’re here) I’ll break it down for you. See there are all these eeeeeeevil white guys in suits on Wall St, and they traipsed down to Main Streets in wholesome towns like Scranton and Peoria in their Mabach Benzes. They drove over puppies and killed cute kittens and made everyone take bad mortgages, when all everyone on Main St. ever wanted was a house with 6 98″ plasma TV’s bought on credit and a bunch of crap from Wal*Mart they couldn’t really afford. The nice politicians in both parties all tried to stop them by encouraging the government to back all the silly mortgages, but when the whole house of cards came crashing down, the white guys in suits we’re the easiest to blame, and made for the best soundbites, so here we are, with Main St getting pummeled by stupid soundbites brought on by fast and loose play on Wall St.

I’m preparing to file my own bid for President, where we’ll institute a comprehensive bailout program for those Americans who find themselves drowning in Main St/Wall St references. The Federal Government will purchase preferred shares in any media outlet that can go for more than 23 seconds without a Main St/Wall St reference, and finally rid our streets and cities of the evils of high-powered Main St/Wall St assault-style soundbites. This common-sense legislation will turn our homes and workplaces back into decent public spaces, where any American can live and work free from the fear of another Main St/Wall St reference. My two opponents have found themselves in the pockets of lobbyists and special interests, and I have shocking footage of them repeatedly associating with Main St/Wall St references. For the safety of our children, and our children’s children, and our children’s children’s children’s children’s children, we must act now.

I’m Pat of PatandMeg.com, and I approved this message.

Categories: Humor
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It’s been quite a while since I’ve had a good travel rant, and after a long (and delightful) absence from the friendly skies, Monday morning marked my return to that ethereal entity know as “the road.” I’ve picked up a new client that promises some interesting international travel, but the experience kicked off with a trip to the decidedly non-international area known as “north Houston,” a stone’s throw from the airport.

I was relieved to find a Sheraton near the client site, but rebuffed by Starwood’s website as the red lettering informed me, in no uncertain terms, that the hotel was fully booked due to the flood of construction workers helping rebuild damaged buildings left in Hurricane Ike’s wake. Orbitz informed me, much to my dismay, that my only option was the Clarion Inn. I generally have a no-Inn travel policy, but in this case, it was the Clarion or a park bench.

The motel itself was OK, and the cheerful check-in agent informed me there was a “Shopping Center” next door with myriad dining options (he didn’t actually use the word myriad, but the small ghetto blaster behind the desk playing “All up in the Club” inspired me to class up his act). After depositing my suitcase, I sauntered over to the “Shopping Center” with visions of grandeur. The shopping center was a strip mall, the anchor store, JFK Liquors, presumably playing a humble tribute to the fallen president. It was flanked by an anonymous Chinese Food place, and a pizza joint featuring an all-you-can-eat $5.99 buffet. Hoping for healthier options further afield, I continued my walk to find a Taco Bell and Jack in the Box. I hung my head as I traded haute cuisine on the Champs d’Elysses for Mr. in the Box, opting for a chicken strip salad.

My next trip remains a mystery, but hopefully will not involve any more Jack in the Box!

Categories: Travel
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I have recently begun a fitness regime in an attempt to “streamline operations” and get in some sort of shape other than round. Seeking an activity I can do while travelling, with a minimum of equipment, I turned to running and found the appropriately named “Couch to 5K” nine week program on a running website. The appeal was instant, as I met the initial barrier to entry, being a bit of a fan of the couch, and 5K (3 miles) seemed like a lofty yet attainable goal for this reforming couch jockey.

As you read this, I am huffing and puffing my way into the final week of the program, although after watching several weeks of the Olympics, it is clear that the activity I engage in looks more like awkward trudging than what one could legitimately call running. I’ve also signed up for my first athletic competition since my days as a lackluster college athlete, a 5K appropriately named the “Hog Jog.”

Despite my less than athletic appearance, I have begun to feel a difference and was growing more confident in my fitness prowess until we purchased a Wii Fit, essentially a video game connected to a balance board/scale that purports to improve your fitness. I strode to the machine with a swagger, happy with the ten pounds our bathroom scale informed me I had lost, and stepped on the balance board. The animated representation of me in the game promptly ballooned as the machine told me, in no uncertain terms: “You’re Obese!” Adding insult to injury, a lengthy balance test ended in the machine asking if I “trip over my own feet” or “have difficulty walking.”

So, if you seen an obese gentleman trudging along the side of the road, tripping over his own feet and clearly experiencing trouble, resist the urge to veer your automobile to the side of the road and put him out of his misery!

Categories: Mobile Updates
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For patandmeg.com the summer began with traveling and merrymaking with our friends and family, including two family reunions in the Poconos and New Hampshire, and a wedding in Puerto Rico. Besides the Gray family of Fort Mill, SC, there were three other guests that traveled with us to each of these occasions: Billy Beer, Wanda Wine and Larry Liquor. While we definitely enjoyed all of the events and these three guests were tremendous additions, the ultimate result was an addition to our waistlines and butts! Several pounds heavier on our return from San Juan—yes we did manage to pry our hands from the half empty bottles of rum—we made a decision: not to diet, but to make a “lifestyle change”.

In the past, we have both tried to “diet” with great short term results but no long term reductions and life satisfaction. We do well for a bit—bending the rules here and there to meet our needs—but in the end there is no net loss. While I was still in Philly and Pat was in Stamford we tried (for solidarity)the long distance Atkins Diet: lots of meat and cheese and no carbs. My affair with Dr Atkins ended upbruptly with a bowl of pasta and an intervention from my roommates stating that without carbs in my life I became really mean and short volatile. For Pat the diet went on longer and after a few months was down about 20 pounds, but when a few nights of drinking and real nachos (with tortilla chips and not flaxseed ones) came about, in the end there was little loss.

Our next foray in dieting was with the South Beach Diet. The key to this one is navigating your large bum through three phases and altering your body’s response to food and insulin production. The first phase, the most restrictive, lasts two weeks and does not allow any fruit, flour, baked goods, starches, and alcohol. After those two weeks it is said that your body has adjusted and you can start bringing back healthy amounts of some of these items and staying away from others. Our biggest challenge with this diet was always the two weeks on the wagon and not spending any time with our friends Billy Beer, Wanda Wine and Larry Liquor at all during those first two weeks. There was always an event, or night out that kept us from maintaining our booze-free promise to the beach and led to a downward spiral from the actual diet.

This time is different though… we decided that we weren’t going to call it a diet, but a lifestyle change instead. Since work-wise I am on the beach right now, we thought it a good time to try and transition to the South Beach way of thinking again. I have plenty of time to read up on recipes and plan menus so we have been pretty happy with the food side of things; and we have plenty of time to work out so exercise and fitness is also taken care of. We also made a commitment to ourselves and each other to uphold the no alcohol side of the bargain as well. A tremendous feat knowing us! So far we have lost a collective 20 pounds and are really starting to love Sugar Free Cool Whip….

The past two weeks on the wagon (16 booze free days to be exact—we worked hard for every one of those days) has been pretty interesting. We talked about it a lot, and we wanted to make sure that we weren’t locking ourselves in the house and not having any fun, because that would ultimately make us sour on the whole experience. Among the highlights were that we went to trivia and karaoke at Beef’s with our crew and managed to stick to Iced Tea and Diet Coke. In order to help us keep track of our time, I installed a countdown on my homepage listing the days, hours and minutes remaining until we can dabble with life off the wagon a bit. Today at 5:00 pm we will celebrate our will power and stamina with a Manhattan for Pat and some wine for Meg. Join us ?!?

Categories: General
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I found this picture during an unrelated search:

Bizarro Pat and Meg.

Categories: Humor
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I got back from the Bahamas yesterday afternoon around 5. It was a great trip, and the resort was really nice. I stayed at Atlantis, and it’s almost a self-contained city. They have 5 hotels on the property, four of which are almost Vegas-size. Two of the larger towers have what looks like a huge crosswalk connecting them, and it’s actually a 2500 sq ft. room that Opera and Michael Jackson reportedly frequent. It can be had for a mere $25K/night.

The property has around 30 restaurants, and many of them are Vegas and NY favorites. I ate a Nobu which was excellent, and another restaurant on the property where scenes from the latest Bond movie were filmed. There’s a Vegas-style casino, complete with Chaholie (sp?) glasswork reminiscent of the Bellagio and a complete water park with pools and slides everywhere.

Categories: Travel
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I’m making this posting from Paradise Island, in the Bahamas, where I have been for the last several days for a work conference. Unfortunately it is raining and the beaches and pools are abandoned, but there is good high-speed interest for catching up with work and email.

Yesterday I joined a trio of colleagues at the resort’s water park. One slide rose approximately five stories, embedded in the face of a building in the shape of a Mayan temple providing a commanding view of the waters around Paradise Island. The dull rush of waves was punctuated by the occasional scream from the ride itself, chillingly titled: “The Leap of Faith.”

A high wall at the top of the pyramid prevented a direct view of the slide itself, and one sat at the entrance to the tubular slide, with water flowing from one’s back. The tube extended a few feet, so again one could not see what lay in front or below the slider, save for the metallic tube of the slide. The slider would assume “the position,” crossing their arms and legs, laying down, and letting the water push them over the brink.

With my heart picking up its pace, I could not help but think of the obvious metaphor for life itself. From the dramatic to the utterly mundane act of getting out of bed each morning, we are never certain what lies ahead, and nearly every act takes some minor leap of faith. In the case of the slide, I felt my feet hit open air, then a sudden flash of light, acceleration, noise and water inundated my senses before I was thrust into a pool to decelerate and gather my bearings. Like life, I the experience involved an element of fear and the unknown, but was vastly more enjoyable than sitting on the sidelines watching others take a leap of faith of their own.

Categories: Mobile Updates
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Here go the sirens again. Helmet and ruby slippers standing by.

Categories: Home
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One of the new features I’ve found of living in the south is the possibility of tornados. Before conjuring up apocalyptic visions of Hollywood-inspired twisters, realize that the death toll from these storms over the last fifty years can be counted on one hand. That said, while working away this morning I heard a strange wailing noise through the sound of rain falling on the roof. I went out to my porch and discovered it was indeed a wailing siren.

Having just read a book about WWII, my first instinct was to check the skies for an approaching airstrike, and then I came to my senses and fired up Google. The nuclear power plant nearby seemed ship shape, and a visit to a weather site confirmed that a tornado had been sited and is headed my way. The best advice I found said to put on a helmet and hide in an interior room, making the fact that Meghan and I have no disaster plan, or way to find each other should I end up chasing a wizard in a land called Oz all too apparent.

Now that the sirens have stopped I feel safe returning my motorcycle helmet to the garage, but definitely will work on a slightly more effective plan for future siren soundings!

Categories: Home
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Last night I attended my first meeting of the NC Chapter of Trout Unlimited. It’s an interesting mix of young and old, and different work background. THe organization is dedicated to fly fishermen, a sport I’ve wanted to try since seeing the preview of A River Runs Through It, and a peaceful-looking Robert Redford casting out into the river.

On Saturday, I am getting my first lesson from a member of the club, followed by a fishing shopping spree. I’ll post and update and hopefully have some pictures of a shiny rainbow trout up here in the near future!

Categories: Play
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I am sitting in the lobby of the Embassy Suites "Outdoor World" hotel, located near the Dallas airport, and in the middle of nowhere, save for a gigantic Bass Pro shop next door. We are here for a convention of Meghan’s school network, and why a bunch of young fun-loving teachers decided to hold their convention next to a hunting and fishing supply store I am not entirely sure. For once, I get to play the role of "tag along spouse," and set to planning my weekend in earnest.

Excited to have a day to myself in Dallas, I arranged a couple of meetings and visits to favorite restaurants. Living up to the old saying about the best laid plans, ours began to unravel once we heard it was snowing in Dallas. Our departing flight from Charlotte was several hours late, pushing our slated 7PM arrival in Dallas to an actual 9PM; not too bad for a snowed in airport that was not used to dealing with the white stuff.

After a few false starts, we located the hotel where we were promptly told there was no room at the inn, and we were being sent to the "Great Wolf Lodge." I have a policy about never staying at a chain with "Inn" in the name, but Lodges were uncharted territory. We rolled into the drive and were greeted with a strange combination of the Mohegan Sun casino, and a gigantic greenhouse-looking structure. With a bit more investigation, I discovered the greenhouse was actually an indoor water park!

We walked to our room in a state of general confusion, especially once Meghan presented me with my room key. Rather than the traditional key card, the room key was a yellow wristband, much like one you would get at a nightclub. The plot thickened when we saw "Kids Club" bodily noted on the door to our room. The "Kids Club" featured ended up consisting of a large log cabin-like structure in the middle of the room, with three bunk beds and appropriately cheesy wolf and bear decor. Our window overlooked the outdoor portion of the water park, now accented with snow.

At this point, we needed a drink. We located the only open bar and restaurant, and were told by the hostess "There’s a wait." The hostess and I stared each other down, me waiting for the rest of the sentence, the "Would you like me to add you to the list?" and her doing a fine impression of the carved wooden bear next to her. Noting the slew of open barstools, and figuring close proximity to the booze was a benefit at this point, we bellied up to the bar.

The waitress asked Meghan for ID, which as usual she had left in the room. On returning, she expressed confusion over Meghan’s South Carolina ID, explaining that they usually don’t accept out of state ID but she would make an exception. As if the water park and bunk beds were not enough, this was a "hotel" within spitting distance of an international airport that assumed no one from another state would ever arrive.

Beers finally came, as well as surprisingly good food, well appreciated after the long day. Adjourning to our log cabin, we hoped for a better, or at least less confusing day!

Categories: Travel
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We have a new addition to the family! Coltrane arrived from animal rescue on the 27th of December, a few days earlier than planned. Meghan and I went to visit the shelter and fell in love with this little guy. The shelter cannot hold animals, and there was a chance he would be gone when we returned, so plans changed and here he is! Coltrane is a male Border Terrier and Black Lab mix, and he is currently about eight weeks old.

He is very well behaved save for crating time, when he becomes a bit of, shall we say, a whiner.

Categories: Home
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Here is a little Christmas Cheer from PatandMeg.com:

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1609950280

Categories: Humor
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I spent the first week of December in Paris for work, and decided I would rent a car to get around. For some odd reason, I rather enjoy driving in foreign cities. First, there is the difference in vehicles, with most countries have vastly smaller cars than the US, from the go-cart like machine we rented in the Caribbean, to the standard European car, which is sized like our compact cars. Secondly, there’s a sense of adventure. Signs are different, rules of the road are different, and there is mystery around each corner.

This was especially the case in Paris. I’ve spent years driving in Boston and New York, generally considered quite bad by US standards, so driving in a major city is not particularly intimidating. It was quite fun to drive in Paris… there are essentially no rules that I can ascertain, except that every possible space must be filled. In the roundabouts, space that in the US or UK would hold 5 cars driving next to each other is completely devoid of any lane markings, and has about 9 cars in all manner of configurations. Some are sideways, some are going from the innermost lane to the outermost, and there are motorcycles and scooters going every which way in the midst of all the madness. Any unfilled space will soon have a car or motorcycle in it, and while it seems very aggressive, people let you merge or move where you need to be without much fuss, remaining calm in what would result in violent road rage in NY or Boston.

The last point was the most interesting. The driving seemed amazingly aggressive, yet everyone was as calm as could be, almost as if it was all a well choreographed show put on for a foreigner, and everyone was trying to maintain a steady face just before bursting into laughter.

A flick of the turn signal would result in a space magically appearing as someone waited for you to merge, and there was never a polite wave of acknowledgement, nor was there a “one finger salute” should you violently cut someone off. Somehow in all the madness was a sense of respect and amusement, rather than rage and frustration.

Perhaps the best part of Parisian driving was that getting lost would result in suddenly happening upon some marvel of architecture. Missing the entrance to my hotel for the fourth time (it was in a 9 lane roundabout, again with no lane markers), I randomly turned onto the Champs d’Elysse, with l’Arc de Triomphe staring me square in the face. On the commute home from my client site, rounding a curve in the highway brought me a beautiful vision of the Eiffel Tower.

Categories: Travel
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