Beijing leaves few opportunities to be bored, but during the past few weekends I had the chance to get out into the countryside and see some new places and some old friends.

Three weekends ago, my program director organized a trip for me to go to Chengde, an imperial holiday spot which is a four hour train ride north of Beijing. So, one Friday night turned into a Saturday morning, where I got back to my flat around 4, after a long night of karaoke and off to the station I went. I slept like a baby on Nyquil, despite the ridiculously stiff neck I got once we pulled into the station at Chengde. Since I am the only intern on this program, I went alone, with a tour group of Chinese nationals from all over and a few Singaporeans, my favourite kind of people (thank you, Mr. Brown). The tour was conducted entirely in Chinese, and surprisingly, I understood most of it and even managed to ask a few questions in my sleep-deprived, stiff-necked state. Our trip of the first day took us to the Mountain Resort, which was a pretty sweet spot. It's a huge piece of real estate with temples, villas and even it's own mock up of the Great Wall. Across a modern road is a mock-up of the Potala Palace, which various Emperors would stay in from time to time. It was really interesting to see that on the other side of the country, even in the 18th century, links between Beijing and Tibet were healthy, flourishing and appreciated enough to share Tibetan architecture with the Chinese people who never would have been able to visit, let alone imagine visiting, the land to the West. The next day was spent at the Pu Ning temple, a sprawling beautiful temple nestled in the mountains of Chengde. It just so happened that when we were visiting, there were dignitaries from other monasteries in town performing rites and ceremonies with much pomp, and it was really cool to see that. After lunch, we all boarded a train back to Beijing, and I met up with some friends for a delicious dinner of Beijing-style roast duck.

The next weekend gave me the opportunity to head down to Qingdao, a beautiful coastal city where the Olympic sailing and windsurfing events were held last summer. It is also where Vassar holds their summer language program, at the city university. I had a few friends who taking classes who I hadn't seen since I left Vassar in December, and I needed an excuse to get back down, so I hopped a six-hour bullet train early Friday morning. I got in around 2, hailed a cab and was across the city in half an hour. I was last in Qingdao in 2007, and made great friends with a local martial arts master of Northern Praying Mantis Fist kung fu. One of my best friends, Olivia, went back last summer on a summer program sponsored by Bard College, and she got to see him. Now it was my turn. He had moved from his flat in central Qingdao up to the hill that houses the Qingdao TV tower to be closer to his grandfather and open a martial arts school, in earnest. I called him as soon as I got in, and we arranged to meet the next afternoon.

After meeting up with my friends and dropping my bags, it was time for some SK, or shaokao, which is roast meat on skewers. We walked over to a restaurant I ate at almost every day for lunch two years ago with Olivia and some other students, but one day, service was so slow that we ended up paying only for the dishes that had come, and nothing else, and walked out. Thankfully, they didn't remember that, and didn't spit on our skewers. Usually, the skewers (Chinese: chuan) are decked out with lamb meat sprinkled with chili flakes. We got a good helping of lamb chuan, pork and chicken heart (my favourite), along with Chinese steamed bread that had also been grilled and wiped with chili paste. It was not the best decision, but an experience nonetheless. Of course, the Qingdao experience is not complete without a bottle of the world famous beer, and my summer afternoon was complete.

The next day was the Fourth of July, and Professor Du of the Chinese department organized a beach outing. Conveniently, I forgot my trunks in my flat, so there was no way I was getting my only pair of shorts wet having to meet my master later that afternoon, but I did help Professor Du's kids make a massive sandcastle. We started pretty far up on the beach, then decided to move down to make an avenue for the water coming in, and then make a small pool inside a little sand tower. This would prove tricky working against a tide that was quickly going out. In the end, with about seven other college kids, we made an immense avenue with two towers and a little sand village that measured something near twenty-two paces long. The locals definitely got a kick out of watching the crazy foreigners try build their own architectual wonder out of sand, but in the end, it was all in vain. And not a moment too soon, since I had to get downtown to the TV tower to meet my master.

By the time I reached his martial arts school, he was waiting out front for me. He looked younger and a lot happier, and the place lent itself well to being a school and dorm. On one side of the training yard, you could see the impressive TV tower, and the other side was lush green hillside. In his living room were collages of photos we had taken in 2007: training, eating, singing and of course, toasting with the local fare. Soon, old friends were coming over, and we all headed to dinner. Once we arrived, I was suprised to see another friend who was a chef there, and he whisked us up to a private room, where the dishes he prepared were sent up one after another. Once he joined us, toasts to friendships that crossed oceans, years and generations came just as quickly. Before I knew it, more than six hours had passed since we all got together, but I had to get back to the university to figure out how we would celebrate the Fourth. First order of business, I soon found out, was a stop in Tai Dong, Qingdao's shopping district with an amazing night market to meet up for ice cream and shopping, and then we made our way back to the university.

The rest of the night was spent playing a dice game made famous by the Pirates of the Caribbean movie, where you guess the quantity of a certain face value of dice based on the ones under your cup. I only know the Cantonese name of dai wah sik, but if you've seen the movie, you know what I mean. I also broke out an awesome Beijing snack that I brought along: green bean cakes, which, late at night, really hit the spot.

The next day, I made my way groggily back across town to the train station to catch a 12:30 train, and once I had settled into my seat, I was out again.

This past weekend was a bit of a sag, since I felt I was coming down with something since the middle of last week. Bahamian Independence Day was on Friday, and I took a half-day off at work to be at the Bahamian ambassador's flat for good down home cooking. Lunch was at 1, we ended up leaving around half 8, as any good Bahamian gathering should be: long and full of good conversation. I celebrated not by going out, but by catching an early night and getting something like fourteen hours of sleep. I was much better for it, and it left me in decent enough condition to meet up with a friend who I met last summer at the Chinese University of Hong Kong's summer school. She just graduated from Middlebury and is living in this sweet siheyuan (a traditional Beijing home, meaning "four-walled courtyard) with a few foreigners who grew up in Hong Kong. She introduced me to this band called Hanggai, who are Mongolian and mix Western folk rhythms with Mongolian throat-singing and instruments in a really cool way. They were performing at a small, homey venue near Beihai Park, and I'm always down for a live performance. They were really good! So good, in fact, that in between writing a fellowship proposal and sipping coffee at Starbucks (while chilling on the WiFi, of course), I tried to listen to some of their stuff, but the connection still wasn't that good. I'll probably just crash my friend's place and get the music that way. I highly recommend them.

Til next time, faithful readers. May the fog stay here, and far away from you!