Words to describe: Loud, bright, loud, overwhelming, very loud. Did I mention loud?

It’s a literal war zone and an impressive one at that. The Chinese don’t have any elite or exotic fireworks — ironic given this country originally invented them — but what they lack in creativity they more than makeup for in relentlessness.

Every city block has between 3-5 peasant groups firing them off creating a literal firewall sweeping across the skyline.

When I asked a friend why this was allowed by the government, he laughed and stated all the buildings were made of concrete and not to worry. And technically speaking they don’t allow it; they just can’t be bothered to enforce those specific laws.

Oh those lovable commies.

They know how to have fun, for one day a year at least.

Apartment hunting in Beijing has been an intriguing experience.

For the last month, I’ve split my time between staying with friends who out of the goodness of their hearts can tolerate my presence in their homes. Being something of a prideful individual, this unadulterated exploiting of their generosity has been hard for me to swallow. So much that I’m now embracing my bum-bastic life.

…except that I’ve sorta signed a signed a contract promising to sign a contract for a lease.

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Given that learning Chinese is my primary focus while studying abroad, I felt keen to comment on my progression.

Simply put, Mandarin is a completely new way of communicating. Unlike English, vowels receive the most enunciation focus. The basic A-E-I-O-U sounds are different requiring tongue to be strategically place in the middle of the mouth or touching the upper or lower teeth ridge line. Once the four tones come into play the sounds become even more problematic.

Thankfully, my mind is slowly adapting. In another couple of weeks and I feel confident that I’ll have this aspect — along with the “initials” and “finals” combinations — down.

My personal goals of keeping up with homework assignments have been met so far. My teachers are praising my progression whether by merit or their desire to maintain my 200RMB an hour clientèle.

What’s been forefront on my mind is how deep down the rabbit hole I wish to go. I’m living in a bubble — all my friends are Westerners and I’m still primarily communicating in English. If this train of thought is followed to its logical conclusion, I’ll know the technical aspects of the Chinese language by the time I leave but I won’t be natural or comfortable speaking it.

Where and with whom to speak is therefore the quandary I need to resolve.

Do I downgrade my apartment plans and find local flatmates?
Do I find a housemate for my current apartment plan?
Do I just launch myself into communicating with every street vendor and person who seems inclined to listen to me?

(I have Faye, but I hate burdening her when her life is busy enough as is.)

Between work, school, life and church my hands have been busy and this precarious juggling act I’ve been pulling off is taking its natural toll. I can handle it, but with little things like this apartment snafu and church responsibilities, my breathing has become decisively more pinched.

For this week, I intend to maintain the status quo. The brief reprieve will do nothing to hide the reality that there is a significant number of decisions rapidly approaching that will in great part determine the integrity of my China experience.

I was trying to think of the most stereotypical way to open this post and was mulling either “Ni Hao” or “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto” or even maybe “Holy *$%ing *&^% I’m in China!!!!” (note the use of 3 exclamation marks).

Ultimately, I went with “Ni Hao” because the latter phrase has already been beaten to death on various trips to California, Hawaii, Utah, Thailand, Cambodia and who knows where else and that other one contains too many self-censored words for my taste.

But I digress, the underlying point here is that I now claim home as Beijing, China.

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It is perhaps the understatement of the year to say that Michael F. (last name held by request) was in the wrong place at the wrong time:

I had put off coming to my Father’s homeland because there was always some kind of trouble or war going on… I figured after 10 years of peace and rebuilding here in Lebanon it was safe to come and see what where my father grew up and meet a bunch of relatives I didn’t know.

Of course the world is funny like that.

This is the story of an American visiting his grandfather’s home in the southern Lebanese village of Yarun when Hezbollah forces crossed the border and abducted two Israeli soldiers on July 12, 2006. Less than three weeks later, it is reported that 750 people have perished and 800,000 more made refugees.

With Michael’s permission, we have published his diary and select photographs from the day the Israeli military operations began to his miraculous escape of the country.

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After spending three years in Hawaii, I am often asked what was the most difficult and challenging hike I completed. My response normally entails a narrowing of the eyes, followed by a far off look with my voice becoming extremly grave. On occasion, I’ve even been told I look like a Vietnam veteran going through some kind of horrendous flashback.

The hike was the “Haiku Stairway,” as the locals tend to call it. Everyone else on the face of the planet simply refers to it as the Stairway to Heaven.

On my first attempt, I was unable to finish the hike and it almost killed me.

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In Laie, Hawaii there are bands of rogue chickens that roam the streets searching for unsuspecting prey to terrorize. Getting used to cohabitation with these flightless wonders is something that took some getting used to. For an entire year, these midget-demons from hell would wake me up at 4am and camp outside of my window.

And yes, their numbers are many.

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Kamehameha Highway circles the island of O’ahu and is the primary junction for those in Laie to get to Honolulu and the east side. “Kam Hwy” (as us non-local haole-types tend to call it) has two very distinguishing traits:

1. It is a very poorly designed highway
2. It is an incredibly dangerous highway

When you you factor in these characteristics it pretty much means that you, the driver, are going to be incredibly bored waiting behind car after car going 25 miles per hour, or, having the time of your life zipping away on Kam’s curvey surface going 50-60 miles per hour.

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Beware the Cheesecake Factory in downtown Waikiki, for it will lead to your doom. While in BYU-Hawaii you will surely encounter indomitable peer pressure to make the sojourn at least once.

Don’t give in, remember what you stand for and know the tactics of the enemy who would see you spend significant amounts of money and time on what is the most over-hyped and craptacular dining experience Oahu has to offer.

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