So here I am, updating my journal in a dry, warm place as Chinese drivers angrily honk at each other in the pungent dampness. I don't think there is a single millisecond in this town when the air isn't saturated with the constant cacophony of car horns - like giant asshole cicadas.
As for yesterday, it went like this:
LAX --> Slept. I sleep reasonably well on planes, except for the saliva trickling and aching neckbone part. --> Caught the second half of "Screaming & Kicking." Why do they vilify coffee in this shitty film? Why? --> Slept. --> Caught all of "Madagascar." Should've punched myself in the face and knocked myself out instead. --> Slept through "March of the Penguins," which was the only movie on the flight I should've watched. --> Narita --> Finished chapter 30 of "A Wild Sheep Chase." On a previous trip last year, I read "Dance Dance Dance." Afterward, I found out it was the sequel to "A Wild Sheep Chase." --> Pudong. Wherever you go in Asia - and this goes for every country - there's this very distinct smell that hits you as soon as you step off the plane and continues to follow you everywhere until you get back on a plane. It kinda smells like truck exhaust with a mild hint of dirty bathroom. --> Guandi. I was at the opening night party many years ago. Surprised to find it's still popular. But now it's filled with Chinese people dressed like Japanese hip-hopsters, bobbing their heads to 50. --> Park 97. Cheezy old expats and the oriental women who love them. Hasn't changed a bit. --> Slept.