The differences between Beijing and the provincial cities I've been living in for the past year are not subtle. The urban cesspit is intimidating and unknown. The public transportation map renders my frontal lobe numb. I begin perusing a bus line map that leads my eyes to unknown realms known as neighborhoods. I begin with assertiveness, a strong desire and motivation to get informed. Fifteen minutes later, I give up and plug in a DVD.

Scarface. Let's watch Al Pacino stuff as much go powder up his nose as possible. That oughta bring my brain back to life. And a cigarette. That oughta release some much needed endorphins. I grab the map again and decide it's futile. I'm just going to have to learn by getting lost and finding my own way around.

I leave the flat and take a long deep breath of the frigid air that has migrated from Siberia and settled in the flat lands of Beijing. I walk around. Pass a McDonalds. Ahh...the western invasion. There's the bus stop. Too bad I can't read Chinese all that well. Hmm...scrath of the head, hail of a taxi cab. Much easier. The office building is in sight and I'm glad I made it. It's an accomplishment. I only had to call for directions once. I want a gold medal for this. A meeting and quick catered lunch later and it's time to brave the jumbled grid of boulevards and streets that make up Beijing. Overcrowed as usual. That's fine. The anonymity that so many people afford me is something I enjoy. Let me just melt into the crowd for a second...I'll be back in a few.

Empty pack of cigarettes, I temporarily divert my failing attention to the street seller who peddles pirated DVD's. Cheap as hell, I'll take this one, that one, and yeah. This one too for extra measure. Quick SMS to the girlfriend. She's in a tattoo parlor. A tattoo parlor? Oh, her friend is permanately marking his body with ink and she's just watching. For now. Don't get any ideas...

The net bar. The jumbled Chinese language that leads to confusion about how much per hour, and which computer I'm to sit at. Smiles at the end of the transaction. The flicker of the awakening screen and the hum of the fan that lives deep in the bowels of a machine that is almost as intelligent as I. Empty pack of cigarettes. Lemme think. I think. I think. I think it's time to go.