Pics from Mix, The Zoo, & Getting Served!

First off, I finally have a few pics to put on this bad boy. The girl in the white shirt screaming at that lovely panda would be my friend Victoria, and the guy wearing the white shirt that says Billabong on it would be my amigo Justin, and Fat Joe could be recognized by Stevie Wonder. I do apologize for being blessed in these pics with eyes as red as Ron Howard's hair. Now, I have a story to tell about getting served. It was bound to happen and on Saturday I had a serving that was reminiscent of Omarion's dance team (this would be, of course, in reference to the epic film "You Got Served", which is the most hilarious movie I have ever seen...ever) getting served in a dance-off battle for neighborhood supremacy. After getting beaten down in the battle of the fittest, the other dance team lets them know "That You Got Served!" http://www.sonypictures.com/homevideo/yougotserved/ This was probably how the caveman and barbarians determined the outcomes of their vicious battles as well.

So I went out to play ball on Saturday with two comrades from work, who took me out to Tsinghua Science Park where we were supposed to meet up with like fifteen other dudes. As soon as we got there it started to rain, and then thunder, and then rain and thunder. This was serving number one. Determined to play hoops no matter what we continued our quest to the gymnasium, where we were told that this gym was closed to us because of Olympic hoopla. Serving dos. We were instructed to go to the campus's other gym, and when we finally got there, we found out that the gym was booked all day long. A third helping of getting served was thrown our way, but this time we fought back with a break dance that Omarion himself would applaud. We saw that these older men that looked like crustaceans from the Mesozoic Era with jerseys on were methodically entering the gym. One of them, whose front teeth were so far apart that you could kick a fifty yard field goal through the uprights, looked like a stand-up dude who might speak some English (and he did), and I explained our tragic plight to him and how all we wanted to do was play ball, and this kind-hearted dinosaur waved us in.

When in the gym, I was licking my chops thinking about how many points, rebounds, dimes, and swats I would be collecting in the coming hours. I felt bad for the crustaceans, but this was my court. And then it happened... the two biggest Chinese people I have ever seen in person stormed through the gates into the gym I had previously claimed. Both were at least six-foot six, and they were not nearly as old as the other guys. One was in his thirties, the other probably forty. Twenty minutes later I was guarding the younger mammoth (who I later found out was a former professional basketball player), and he just flat out ate my lunch. He put the ball in my face, and when I pawed at it, would lift it up like a crane, and drain jumpers in my grill. The worst part is, the guy was a total jerk. The kinda guy that as you're walking down the street and say, "Hey, how's it going?" He barks back, "Do I know you?" So, no he did not take it easy on me, and it was as if he was trying to send me the message, "this is my gym and never come back!" I mean, he would let me drive by him, and as I was about to lay it up he would come out of nowhere and blast my shot into the top row and then point his finger in my face. In the four games we played he easily outscored me at a 4:1 clip, and he was constantly pointing at me, for some strange reason. After we finally finished, and I was a beaten man, I went to shake his hand and he gave me the Heisman. This would be serving four, five, and six.

My body today is beaten like a drum today. Not only was I taken to the woodshed by an ex-pro, but I used every ounce of energy in my body because I really did not want to get embarrassed in the prescence of co-workers: I dove for lose balls on the ground; ran up an down the court like a chicken with its head cut-off; and gave everything I had for a gain of absolute zero. So, after having dinner with the Filipino hotel singer at the Westin, later that evening (who I met in a random way that I might explain somewhere down the road), I decided to watch the Indiana Jones movie instead of going out with my friends to a fiesta. This would be serving number seven. Harrison Ford, I just don't know what to say. Hans Solo and Indiana Jones were two icons that I have admired and respected for years, but you just send fedoras and whips back to the stone age. Please retire. I will even make a deal with you. I will not go back to that gym and get embarrassed again for America, if you promised not to make another Indiana Jones. Deal?

Well that's all folks. As I types this post some fifteen hours away my brethren are enjoying Cheech and Larry's Flip Cup Extravaganza. Flip one for me fellas.

served but not surrendering,

Matthew

Kung Fu Panda and Fat Joe

I am the proud owner of all the movies that you know and cherish in the movie theatres of America: Kung Fu Panda, Indiana Jones, Sex and the City(purchased for my roommate, but still owned by me, and I hated it), The Incredible Hulk, and the list goes on and on. Yes, the magnificent rumors of the Chinese DVD Express are true. However, the quality is far from top shelf. You see, the most recent movies are as sharp as a beach ball when it comes to color, and sometimes the sound is a little bit off. It is not until the movies come out on "The 9" (examples from my library would be 21 and What Happens in Vegas (surprisingly funny), that they reach the quality of a regular DVD. The lesser quality movies sell for ten RMB, while "The 9" flicks are fifteen RMB, this equates to about a dollar-fifty and two dollars. So being a film critic is one of my new past times.

But eating like I'm General Custer the night before he got served by the Indians is still much higher on the list. I went out with my French friend Luojia and her posse to a makeshift Beni Hana's, which was all you can eat and all you can drink for around twenty dollars US. Man, did they not see this hurricane named Matthew S. Atkinson coming for blood; otherwise, they would have locked the doors on that fateful Thursday night and given the staff a holiday. Always hoping to achieve the greatness that is the most competitive, competitive eaters of the modern era: Kobayashi, Joey Chesnut, Sonya "The Black Widow", Ed "Cookie" Jarvis, and "Crazy" Kevin Lipshwitz http://www.ifoce.com/, I was finally granted my chance for immortality. Ladies and gents, I did not disappoint, making the poor chef run back and forth around the grill for scallops, lamb chops, salmon, and anything else I could think of. My dinner party was comprised of Luojia's friends from Tsinghua University who recently completed their semester study abroad, and were meeting for a very "unique" German fellow named Christian's going away party. I was fortunate enough to sit across from Luojia, and next to her friend Anya who happens to be a member of the Swiss national field hockey team, and probably the most attractive field hockey player that I have ever met. But the stories of her teammate, whose name I cannot remember, destroying birthday cakes at parties like pinatas made me cringe and laugh simultaneously. I always wondered what the inner workings of the women's' field hockey circuit were really like, and it appears that some of these women like to eat more than me, and that is a scary, scary thought, because I like to eat my face off.

I signed a non-disclosure agreement for work, so I can't discuss the business. But I can tell you that my office is hotter than Riverside, California (AKA HELL) on the Fourth of July; that I hear Backstreet Boys music blasting from somewhere outside all day long, and that they serve me room temperature Coke with honey in it that is the most disgusting thing I have ever drank. It is like being lost in the desert with no water, and only a cup of venom to sip from in a grand goblet. I HATE IT! But, I pretend to drink it all day long, and then dump it out when nobody is looking. I went to the cafeteria a few more times this week, as the four Chinese girls have taken me under their wing, and are interested in teaching me Chinese. Or is it that they are interested in laughing at me as I shoot rice, pork fat, and other absurd items around the table as I fumble around with my chopsticks? I am just flat-out awful at using chop-sticks, and believe me there is not a fork in site. I can't even snap my fingers (sad but true), so chopsticks are probably not the best weapon of cutlery for myself. But you give me a fork and knife and I am ready for war, it's like giving a soldier a bazooka and putting him in a fox hole right before the enemy is coming. But with my chopsticks, all I have is a sling-shot.

As I type this magnificent blog, I'm still shaking out the cobwebs from last night. I went out to "Mix" (which is right next to "Vics"), with my friends Justin, Victoria, and about twenty other people that I am now full-fledged acquaintances with. In Beijing, stuff starts late, so we arrived at twelve, and left around three-ish. Actually, I don't know if Victoria left, she still may be at the club. A highlight/low-light of the night, was that we bumped into this Chinese-American guy who is as big as a walrus, and wore a mammoth-sized blinged-out chain that said NYC. After Victoria asked the biggie if he was a famous gangster, she asked me what rapper he reminded me of. Without a second of recourse I popped out "Fat Joe", and proceeded to hum one of his songs. He was maybe a foot away from me (I feel not so good about this one, and really need to keep my big trap shut sometimes), and "Fat Joe" almost definitely heard us as we cackled with delight. I also vaguely remember shooting the breeze with Justin and some Chinese guy who kept telling us how in love he was with this one girl, and if I remember correctly it wasn't thirty minutes later that this vixen was shacking up in the bathroom with somebody else, who she was more than likely having "sexual relations" with. This place is a great spot, to just kick back and shoot the breeze with your friends, as all kinds of shenanigans happen in every direction. It's like I'm sitting in the front row of a Lakers vs. Suns game as Kobe and Shaq fight it out (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y5VHDVLySNQ). Furthermore, the city is completely safe, so after the madness ends all I have to do is walk right out flash up my hand, holler out a "YO TAXI!" (which the driver of course does not understand, but I still do it anyways), and withing minutes I am home sweet home.

Well, I am off to play basketball against my co-workers in a company game. I know they say that it's good to let your boss win and stuff, BUT NOT IN MY BOOK! I am so fired up right now. I am going to just serve these guys like a bad piece of fried chicken at Shakey's (not KFC, because their chicken is grizzled gold). I played hoops yesterday, and ran the court, and today will be no different. I still need a basketball nickname, and any requests, no matter how outlandish, will be considered.
still keepin' it real,
in China,
Matt
p.s. As a pre-game snack I will, of course, be visiting my good friend "Colonel Sanders".

HOOP DREAMS

So I've been looking for a basketball court for a week now, and just when I was about to give up I heard a ball bounce......there is a court not 200 yards from my lodging. I laced up my new Nike's, threw on a headband, and I draped myself in the cardinal and gold of the mighty juggernaut USC TROJANS. For ten yuan you can get onto a private court and ball til' you fall. Within minutes I was dominating in the paint, blocking shots, and scoring more points than the entire opposition. I felt like Shaq, and I can't even touch the rim with a trampoline. I was "in the zone". The fellow ballers spoke as much English as a manatee, but they all had jerseys from NBA ballers: Tracy McGrady was represented three times. One of the players, who I thought was mute (side-note: sorry I did not bring my digital camera, but he was also wearing a tapestry that not even Brian Boitano would sport in the Olympics), all of the sudden shot out the infamous words, "I think Tracy McGrady is soft!" My man I couldn't agree more! This may not be the best barometer of basketball as I found out my oldest adversary was twenty years old, but my career as a street baller in China is off to a fantastic beginning. Nickname coming soon.

Started work too, now that is a glove in my face. I still can't get into the nitty-gritty details of what the company does, but I am helping them redefine their business plan. And it's hard work. Ferris Bueller's Chinese Vacation is officially over, but I still can't complain. I'm here to learn the culture more than anything, so when my co-workers invited me out for lunch at the cafeteria (yep, a Chinese cafeteria not named Panda Express) I had no answer but she (yes). There were well over two-hundred eaters in that cafeteria, and there was not a single one with pasty skin like me, so I stuck out more than a little. The Chinese people touch a lot. And at times I felt like Chuck Liddell running through the arena before a fight, as hands were extended and descended upon my milky white skin. I even slapped a five or two, because I didn't know what else to do. It was like they had seen a koala rollerblading down their hallways with reflective oakleys on. The food was well...CHINESE. I had no idea what to do, so I just played Russian roulette and randomly scooped up strange dishes. As we sat down and chop-sticked our way to full stomachs, I was told that my main course was a delectable delicacy that was much-loved. IT WAS PORK FAT! Not only do I rarely dine on swine, I have never dined on the fat of a pig. I mean pigs are not so fit as is, so if it's the fattiest fat of a pig, then it is probably the kindof stuff that Richard Simmons wouldn't even feast upon years before his deal-a-meal days. But I ate it out of respect for the culture. My new colleagues are teaching me Chinese, and I have found the language not as difficult as I thought that it would be. Although I am still speaking at the level of an autistic toddler.

I have to say that I really do like it out here. I know it is early in the race, but I have found the culture, industry, and social accommodations far ahead of almost any country that I have traveled to, and I travel a lot. People really love American out here, they call it "worship the American syndrome". And I kinda like that... Everywhere I go, I hear: American music, see American fashion, and notice American brands and logos. And yes Colonel Sanders, you are ever-present my fine-feathered friend.

Well I'm off ladies and gents. Have a few more days of work, and then it's off to the club with the new friends Justin and Victoria and their party posse(going to Spring Break Beijing AKA "Vic's"). Another hoops game on Saturday with my bosses (who I am gonna take to the cleaners), a dinner with a pretty Filipino hotel singer, and then more hoop dreams and maybe a little sight-seeing.

Hope all are happy and well in the States, and pay my respects to the good Colonel.

hasta,

Matthew

My first week in China

So I left for China at 7:00 AM on June the 16th through the carrier Air Canada. I really don't know what I did to Canadians but they sure did a number on me. I was OK on flight number one, but man was the second flight a doozy. I had my seat moved, as it was a lovely seat in the back of the plane, and a baby was given priority over me since it was close to the bathroom and babies demand satisfaction. Babies were king on this flight, as the second seat I was transferred to was in the war zone of a singing quartet of boisterous babies. It was like listening to a scratched C.D. for twelve hours. Also my t.v. screen broke and there was turbulence. When I landed I felt like I was in some sort of a time warp, like I was in Star Trek and they beamed me to the wrong direction. Fortunately my roommate was kind enough to have a driver ready to pick me up and escort me to my lodging; otherwise I may have never made it out of the airport. My liaison was like a Sherpa and I was climbing Mount Everest without an oxygen tank and a bad ankle, and with my hand on her shoulder we eventually made it to the summit. I got home and slept for about fourteen hours...now that was magnificent.

On Day Two, which was kind of day three due to the time change, I woke up and was happy as a clam knowing that the Lakers were about to play the Celtics in the NBA Finals. There is a communal breakfast area with a t.v. at my flat for everyone that stays here, and I convinced the staff that they must watch the NBA Finals and change it (for once) from BBC News Report. To the disdain of an Austrian businessman my wish was granted, and within a matter of minutes I had everyone cheering for the Lakers. As most of you know, the Lakers did not win, in fact they got smashed by the goofy green Celtics who I have as much love for as a mosquito. I decided to work out afterwards to take out some of my disdain for Beantown, and for some strange reason was overcome with the idea of going to the Beijing Zoo. I know, I know, with all of the marvelous attractions in Beijing. Why the zoo? In my Mandarin classes at Pepperdine taught by Tian Yu I have been nicknamed PANDA (long story), so in order to give my respects to my brethren I deemed it only right that I must pay my respects to the powers that be.

I took a taxi to the zoo, and was lucky enough to bump into two incredibly cool Americans named Justin and Victoria. Both had attended Peking University for a study abroad and were back to visit their old friends. Within minutes I was walking, laughing, and getting to know these two incredibly cool peeps. They were fun-loving and sarcastic with a similar sense of humor to me: and as we watched magnificent beasts from all over the world we also marveled at one of my other favorite images. CHINESE COUPLES WEARING MATCHING OUTFITS! It is uncanny, I mean one, then two, then three, and by the time we had finished we must have seen a baker's dozen of matching couples with attire choreographed perfectly from head-to-toe. I will tell you, it just never gets old. We eventually made our way to the Holy Temple of the Giant Panda. The panda is king out here in China. Watching the locals (the zoo was almost all Chinese people) take pictures and adore the panda was fantastic. One of the pandas pressed his nose up against the glass so that you were literally a foot away from the king of the Beijing Zoo. People stormed the exhibit like a bunch of groupies in the 80's seeing Bret Michaels from Poison at a McDonald's. They thrust their babies close to him, loved his every move, and gave him the respect that he deserves. LOL.

After the zoo my new friends took me to an all-you-can-eat chicken skewer joint where they were met by a half dozen of their compadres. Each skewer is fifty cuai, which is fifty cents. Here in China the native currency is the RMB with a roughly 7:1 ratio to the dollar. So half an RMB is fifty cuai, now I am not going to pull out my calculator, but you do the math. Food, taxis, and basic amenities here in China are incredibly cheap. After eating about fifteen skewers (not joking) I decided to call it a night. I reserved a later date to meet my new amigos, and was off on my way to sleep. The next day was my get stuff done day. So I went to the mall and bought a cell phone. The way to do it here, is the cell phones are kind of expensive (mine was roughly $1400 RMB), but the minutes are very inexpensive. The funny part about my negotiation is that the people at AnyCall (my carrier) could only read English but not speak it. So we conducted our negotiations with pencil and paper. My monthly plan is $50 RMB, which I am told will cover me nicely. Thursday was rather uneventful as I just had to catch up with stuff and get acclimated to my new environment.

On Friday I met my new bosses for the internship that I start next week. I will be working for a small start-up company that a Pepperdine MBA student started a few years ago. This businessman is from China but also speaks perfect English. Everybody at the company was very nice, and I think my introductory meeting went very well. I can't really write too much about the company as it is still in the infancy stages and I may have to keep a tight lid on things. But I will ask next week what I can write regarding the details. Afterwards I ate at a fast-food Chinese joint that was shadier than a tree and immediately felt ill. Twenty minutes later I was at home as sick as Old Yeller. Fortunately, I recognized that I had eaten something that did not agree with me quickly, and was able to vanquish my adversary before it really did a number on me. I knew from that point afterwards that in terms of fast-food I can only trust the good Colonel. In Beijing, KFC is everywhere! I mean Colonel Sanders might as well be the mayor of the city. And there is a KFC a block from where I live that I have been eating at like a third-grader eats at the cafeteria. I know that fast-food is not healthy or even that good; however, I have eaten at KFC three times already, and the Colonel has never let me down. I may have to write him a letter of appreciation when I get home. Speaking of fast-food, American fast-food is everywhere. Within a block of where I live there is: Starbucks, KFC!, McDonald's, TGIF, and Dr. Pepper's Pizza. Every one of these places does a legendary amount of business.

Later that night my new friend's Justin and Victoria took me out clubbing to a place called "Vic's" located right by Worker's Stadium. Now this was a party! I got there late as eardrum-blaring music rattled through this gargantuan-sized club, and was sent a text by Justin to ask for Table A-1. A-1 was the best table in the house located right next to DJ booth, and there were about twenty party people who were friends with Justin and Victoria. A bevy of beautiful women surrounded me, as well as some incredibly interesting and entertaining guys. A few of them had been in China for a long time, in fact one was a surgeon who has lived in Beijing for six and a half years, and everybody welcomed me into the clique immediately. The adult beverages were mixed with the most mysterious mixer I have ever met: GREEN TEA. And it was lovely. The vibe of the club was like a Chinese version of Spring Break Cancun, and loud rap music was played all night long. FYI- SOULJA BOY IS NOT DEAD!!! I thought we had killed him off in the States (not literally of course), but the peeps out here love that infamous song of his. It is like he just came out a week ago! They all do the dance, and the crowd goes nuts for his awful song. The funny thing is not one of these peeps has any idea what it means (THIS IS A WARNING: if you want to know what he is saying go to http://www.urbandictionary.com/). I hate Soulja Boy. Probably more than the Celtics... So I am just going to say that it was a great night minus the Soulja Boy shenanigans and I plan on meeting up with the posse many times again before I leave.

On my way out of the club I heard some ruckus and saw that there was a fistfight. A Chinese guy that looked like a combination of "Jabba The Hut" from Star Wars and "Grimmace" from McDonald's (wearing a pink polo shirt) was beating the living tar out of some poor Chinese guy that weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. A mob of people watched and did nothing, except for the scandalous women who looked like they just got off of work from a Massage Parlor, who screamed like banshees. After knocking this poor guy down Jabba/Grimmace proceeded to kick and stomp the skinny guy. Appaled and shocked that nobody did anything, I decided to get into the middle of the skirmish and break it up. Probably not the best idea. After shoving Jabba/Grimmace I was spit on by one of the massage parlor girls, and the guy who got beaten bled on my shirt... But Jabba/Grimmace decided to get the heck out of dodge before the cops came jumping in a taxi, and the string bean was beaten but not severely injured. So I did do a good deed, and felt better afterwards. Even though I really do not like getting spit on. Spitting is very common here, and I will go into detail about this another time.

The next day I woke up feeling a little less than perfect, and jumped in a taxi destined for the Red Square. I dawned head-phones the size of pineapples, a tank top, board shorts, black shades, and sandals. So sorry comrades, but I may have set American tourism back twenty years by looking like the most ignorant American this side of Chevie Chase in "European Vacation". The square has an incredible amount of history, and I will be going on the full tour sometime next week. My Saturday walk was just to get an appetizer of the square now, knowing that I will come back for the main course in the future. After that I went for a swim in the pool, the building that I live at has a huge pool, and I have started to take up swimming. I work out every day to deal with the stress of moving to a completely foreign land, and I feel that swimming especially has been very therapeutic for me. The only problem is that there are no swimming lanes in the pool, and none of the other swimmers can swim straight for more than five feet. So going from one end of the pool to the other is like playing the video game "Frogger". But I am up to the challenge.

So my friend Julie Metral, who is from France but studied abroad at Pepperdine, has a very close friend that is just finishing at Tsinghua University (where I will be studying in the Fall), and invited me out for dinner with her and her fellow students. I expected this to be a normal night out, but as soon as I walked through the door at the Spanish restaurant Mare I knew that luck had smiled upon me once again. There were eight pretty girls all dressed like it was Prom night, and two guys who seemed to be (and were) completely mellow fellows. Within minutes I was cracking bad jokes and laughing like a hyena as the dinner party turned out to be a laugh-a-thon. The food was native Spanish paiea, and the drink on tap was a freshly-fruited Sangria. Luojia (pronounced LU-JA), was my host for the evening and she turned out to be great company as she was smart (she speaks French, Mandarin, English, and some German and Spanish); has a sarcastic sense of humor; and has really cool friends. It was an awkward site though being in a Spanish restaurant in China with a bunch of French girls, but hey...when in Rome right. Another highlight was that one of the guys, whose name is Sun is going to plug me into the basketball games and soccer games that occur regularly at Tsinghua. I cannot wait! I have not decided if I want to buy a Yao Ming jersey or a Shaq jersey, but I will be sporting one of them on a court near you (if you live in Beijing) very, very soon.

After eating my face off, we descended upon a Mexican restaurant/bar that looked like a spin off of the illustrious Cabo San Lucas bar owned by Sammy Hagar. Music blasted, tasty beverages followed, and bad jokes were ever-present. One of the highlights of the night, was that some dumb American had taught all the French girls all of these horrible curse words. So I would be having a normal conversation, and all of the sudden the worst and most incomprehensible saying would spout from the mouth of one of the Frechies. I still am completely befuddled. After leaving Margaritaville we grabbed some grub and then headed off to some dance party. But by then I was a little tired, and while the girls were dancing on stage I managed to get out of dodge with only a few handshakes. I texted Luojia that I needed to go because I had stuff to do Sunday morning (writing this blog for one), and thought that it would be no problemo. I guess she did not check her phone because here is the text that she sent me later that evening: "OH my god I thought you were dead was looking for you for 20 minutes!!!!!!" I apologized via text and have not talked to her yet today, and she may still be a little upset. But I am no Mario Lopez, and I was not about to parade my way through the dance floor and up on stage by the D.J. booth to alert here of my leave of absence for the evening. I'm sure it will be all good. Although she will probably strike down upon me with one of the horrible American sayings, that I cannot write in this blog. But just thing of the worst thing you have ever heard and multiply that by fifty.

So now it is Sunday, and I am finally done writing...Hooray! The weather looks good so I am going to grab some groceries down the street. And then I am going to continue my quest for "Hoop Dreams" as I ball til' I fall in the Orient.

love and respect,

Matthew S. Atkinson