Obviously, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Friday afternoon after a long week. Lots of meetings, lots of angst. What to do for a distraction that would enable me not to worry (I wasn’t really worried.) Thinking that this was a good exercise in empathy for us – a way to get a bit of perspective. After all, there were folks back home who had lost or were going to lose their jobs or take pay cuts or lose benefits.

My friend had been told about a place on Lady Street. Yes, that is where one goes to procure lots of things; picture frames, ceramic lamps, orchids, plants, and, oh yes, probably ladies . . . Located in the basement of one of the largest buildings on the street is a little salon, more like a cubicle really, with wall to wall chairs and manicurists sitting on stools plying their skills. The lack of anything resembling water didn’t bother me quite as much as the fact that at one point one of the manicurists stuck a piece of Kleenex in her right nostril, left it there and kept working on the manicure at hand.

Obviously this is a culture that doesn’t exactly believe in the Germ Theory of Illness. Oh well.

My friend went first and then it was my turn. May be I should’ve opted for a manicure.
And for some reason they hadn’t expected two of us and it was getting rather late so I considered backing out . . .for a minute or two. It would be so nice to eliminate the 15 minutes in the morning I use to put on my eyebrows . . . One might think that I could just stop using make-up but like I said a minute ago . . . You can take the girl out of . . .

So I assumed the position in a rickety lounge chair at about 8 p.m.. The “esthetician” took her art very seriously and commenced. After completing my right eyebrow, in what seemed like hours, the lights in the entire building were completely turned off. Everything went pitch black except for the neon Exit signs. That’s right – the whole entire building. Apparently they were closing and locking up for the night. It was about 9 p.m. and there we were in a basement in a building in Beijing, China.

Think OSHA.

I was ready to leave because the whole experience had not been exactly pleasant. In fact, it was hilarious but down-right unpleasant and painful. I was willing to go through my whole entire life with one eyebrow on, one eyebrow off, but the two Chinese women who had stayed after the shop had closed and everyone else had gone home weren’t going to settle for anything other than completing the task at hand. It took about 10 minutes of pleading, yelling, begging and finally paying off the night watchmen 100 yuan ($15) to turn the lights back on so that I could leave the shop with only the worry that I had done something really stupid, rather than I would look stupid for the rest of my life. Now I just look like I have two dark eyebrows that will never go gray!

From this day forth I will be celebrating Furlough Friday and calling my friend, wherever she is in the world, to say –

“Did that really happen? Did we really do that?!”

at the Llama Temple, Beijing

Reflexology is big here so foot massages are a dime-a-dozen. Last weekend I opted for a one-hour foot massage instead of a pedicure. Such difficult life decisions.

But last Saturday was the big day. Meeting Babbi at the Embassy at 8:30 a.m. and driving to beyond the end of the Metro line to meet Dr. Wang. At least, I think that’s his name because I can’t read his business card which is entirely in Mandarin! Dr. Wang’s office is on the first floor of a high-rise apartment-office complex. I have no idea how I’ll find the place tomorrow when I go on my own but that will be an e-mail for another day.

Entering the building, Babbi was greeted by an entire family who had obviously just had themselves poked and prodded. The big smiles on their faces were a good indication of nothing . . . everyone smiles here . . . all the time. It’s a refreshing change from my last two years.

So I ask you – how can two cultures be so diametrically different? Inquiring minds want to know. Both Russians and Chinese have endured centuries of hardship and deprivation yet they seem to have accommodated to their histories in very different ways.

The entrance to Dr. Wang’s office is actually like entering an apartment – which is really what it is. The living room is set-up like an office, with a desk, a table and a few chairs, a few plants. The medical students and assistant doctors were all in a second room which is arranged with four treatment tables separated by screens – two tables on each side of the screen. I guess that the family that acupunctures together stays together.

After one patient left, I was called to the hot seat – a stool next to the doctor’s desk. Yes, there were doctors from the US and students from Germany and 5 of the 7 assistants present spoke English. And boy was the initial treatment painful – worse than Shiatsu which I vowed never to have again after my first experience. This was not your mother’s Acupressure massage.

They kept asking me if it hurt and I said “yes, a lot”. “Most people would be screaming by now. You seem to have a high tolerance to pain.” Lucky me.

The next step was the treatment table with everyone gathered around. Tongue diagnosis, pulse diagnosis and finally a (disposable and with alcohol) needle in only one point followed by moxabustion which looks like a cigar and smells like old incense. One of the assistant doctors warmed my knee while the needle remained in place and the students asked questions and periodically looked at my tongue and took my pulses. An altogether pleasant experience.

And my knee was about 75% improved for most of last week.

Hence my return to the scene of the crime tomorrow – Christmas day. So what else can Jews do on Christmas day besides go to the movies and out for Chinese food? Go to a non-Christian Chinese Acupuncturist, of course.

I put it back in the freezer where it will probably stay for the next three years!

The flights from Madison to Chicago and Chicago to Beijing were totally and surprisingly uneventful. For 14 hours from Chicago to Beijing I never had to fasten my seatbelt it was so calm. We had been re-routed west and not over the pole due to weather concerns and that was obviously a good decision.

My seat mate slept for most of the trip. Our section was entirely businessmen. The Choir from a central Ohio college were all crammed into the rear section with a few Chinese travelers. Having been told about the noodle snacks at the seven hour mark, I had come prepared and landed in Beijing feeling relatively compus-mentis.

There was Melissa Cox’s smiling face at the gate. AT THE GATE!! I had never been met at the gate before and always had to try to find my minder in a sea of black coats, black pants and black suitcases. There she was and took me in hand, gently guiding me to Passport Control where the Diplomatic Line actually means something. There were at least 12 passport lines open and they were all full. A little wait for baggage and we were on our way into Beijing.

My apartment was ready and waiting, as were my social sponsors, Zulal and Al who immediately fed and watered me. I smiled politely and kept trying to lasso my brain, to no avail.

I was determined to unpack so that I had a fighting chance of getting ready for work without major trauma in the morning. It’s not that bad unpacking two suitcases but I still can’t find some of the stuff I thought I had with me . . . Oh well, it will show up eventually.

Waking up at 12 MN, 1 a.m., 2 a.m., 3 am and 4 a.m. was a sure sign that I might be a bit jet-lagged.

Since I can now say “I work at the American Embassy”, it’s time to move on!

For those of you who don’t know Guy Fawkes and often wonder why I run around the world celebrating my birthday.

I love fireworks on my birthday.