It has come to my attention that a few of you might have sent mail to me here in Shanghai. Duibuqi, but I think the censors managed to get in between your mail and me. I haven't received not a one. Either the censors got to the letters OR I gave you a faulty address (most likely the latter...). So, I'll say THANK YOU for trying, and please, don't give up! I'll post the address for Wuhan as soon as I am there and have proof that it works. Also, I'll have a land line once again for emergencies or whathaveyou, not to mention my cell phone and SKYPE. (This service still eludes me but I keep hearing wonderful things about it...especially that it is delightfully cheap!)



On a side note regarding communication, I heard from a dear friend tonight - Peter Schumacher - who happens to be in Hong Kong for work. He's returning to the States tomorrow, but he managed to survive the Typhoon Prapiroon that swept the Southern part of the country last week. I love that name, "Prapiroon", especially when connected to the word "Typhoon" - it reminds me of a Dr. Seuss title.



So the Typhoon caused havoc in Peter's life last week while breaking a terrible heat spell here in SH. We have been thankful for the storm here, up North, knowing it is doing damage down South. You become obsessed with wind and anything other than standing hot air after such a long time.



Hearing Peter's voice so close, I realized how quickly this time in SH has gone by. Only a month and a half ago, Peter and I were talking face to face at a party. It was also great to hear an AMERICAN accent. I'm sorry, but I've started speaking special English when talking English with anyone else, except maybe Monica, because the majority of what I say isn't understood unless it is an octave or two higher and three or four paces slower than usual. I feel like I'm at choral practice when I chat with classmates before class in the morning. This is another reason I really enjoy my solitude sometimes.



This afternoon, Monica and I went to Yuan-Yuan and were met by Artur for lunch. Afterwards, Artur and I grabbed a cab (zuo chu zu che or da di) to the Propaganda Poster Museum to talk with the manager for a bit. I've got a few schemes up my sleeve and wanted to discuss possible shows for the US with the manager while Artur wanted to look into buying some of the posters in bulk to sell in England and Russia. The meeting with the manager was very successful and unbelievably informative. This man is a walking historical cache, understanding the suffering that artists went through during the Revolution - knowing they wanted to create no matter what and thus were willing to drop their own interests in order to pursue the only legal art, that of Mao's propaganda.



After the meeting, we zuo chu zu che zai women de jia (took a cab to our home) and on the way, Artur was contacted by Shou Ping from last night. The lovely 18 yr old wanted to have a little snack with Artur and myself. We arrived at our apartment and went to the restaurant below where Shao Ping began ordering food off of the menu. I had eaten only an hour before and wasn't feeling empty yet, but you can't refuse the hospitality offered by the Chinese, so I ate the salted carp and spicy chicken joints that arrived from the kitchen.



Artur and I kept trying to guess Shou Ping's career and were going off into shady territory when finally, Artur called a friend and had the friend speak to Shou Ping. When the friend was returned to Artur he told him that Ping said she was an entertainer and when he asked in what capacity she said, "I do anything anyone asks for..." Artur and I had already deduced as much and were feeling very uncomfortable because she kept getting calls from someone asking her to come back to work and she said she was with friends. We didn't want the wrath of the person on the other line, so we politely said our goodbyes. Artur is determined to stick by Ping and will go out with her tonight when she gets off work at 2am. I, of course, will be safe at home. I've had enough of being interpreter for the two of them. If the language of love doesn't work for them, they'll have to try harder to learn each other's native tongue.