The adventure from my apartment on the east side of Beijing to the office that lays in the northern district of the sprawling metropolis, known as Yan Yun Cun is one continuous, seamless motion. Waking up is a struggle that is met head on day in and day out. The shower that awakens leaden senses and the rituals of personal hygiene followed by an exit through a door. A brief descention down a stairwell, and I'm greeted by a solid wall of human beings. 

My habit of taking a taxi has been overidden by a walk to the di tie or subway. I encounter a human spectalce unrivaled in western lands. The immense, mind boggling density of human beings on the streets, scurrying here and there, leaves me breathless and in awe. Underneath the apparent confusion outlined by bustle, there lies a certain kind of organazation. Subway trains arrive and depart like clockwork. Buses take me and others where I want to go without a hitch. Street vendors selling Chinese breakfast items that fill the air with smells, initiate rumblings in my stomach. They call out what they're selling in a broken record, monotone voice that is largely ignored. Old men set up chairs in alleyways and advertise stop and go haircuts. In the hour that it took to get from my apartment to work, I saw more than I'd see in a month in the States. That's why I came here. That's the incredible difference of culture I craved.

Leaving work and going home will be the same thing in reverse. The bus, the subway, the walk. Mix in 10 million other people partaking in the after work rush, and you have the makings of apparent anarchy. I love it. A stop at a restaurant for some food consumed with chopsticks and washed down by a cool Yanjing beer. It's fun. I think it's fun.