Set the Wayback Machine to...2010

In August 2010 I moved to Shanghai.  What made this move different from other expat adventures was the fact that I already knew people who would be in Shanghai...not only Socrates, whom I was stupidly following there, but our colleague Meen from RAK as well as a teacher I never actually worked with in Korea, Roisin.  I knew she was cool because she had become friends with MY cool friends during the year I was gone to Bahrain, but I didn't realize exactly how cool she was until I made it to Shanghai and, in spite of not actually knowing me all that well, she welcomed me to China.

Within the first month I was there she asked if I'd be interested in going to the big, fat birthday party of an Irishman named Nick.  Shanghai is chock full of expats, but none bring the craic like the Irish.  In fact, there is a big Irish organization, the aptly named Shanghai Ireland Association, and if they were the mafia, Nick would have been one of their dons.  Thus the big birthday party.  Complete with guys in kilts.  Authentically wearing nothing underneath.  Kilts are Scottish, you say?  Who cares???

Roisin, being Irish, was our link to the Irish mafia (she also organized our tickets to the St. Pat's ball, which was even better craic, even if I did forget my bag o' swag when I left that night).  She even let me bring Socrates and Meen (if that doesn't seem like a big deal, you've obviously never socialized with Socrates before).

If I could change one thing about my two years in Shanghai, I'd want to spend more time with Meen.  She was always up to try new things, and I never had bad Chinese food with her.  My last two weeks there she let me stay at her apartment (the Hami Lu Hilton!) when I had to clear out of mine to make way for a new tenant.


In addition to good friends and men in kilts there were some rockin' tunes, some of which were on bagpipes.  There was also food and booze - which I generously allowed others to partake of in my stead.  It was a really great evening, and it added to the hopeful feeling I had that Shanghai was going to turn out to be a really great place.

Set the Wayback Machine to...2008

As I mentioned yesterday, I kept coming back to Korea because of the people, particularly Bronte and my Dark Lord and Master.  Well, you can't call yourself Evil Incarnate and not expect your Spawn to follow suit.  This is how he came to have a surprise party thrown for his 39th birthday.

We talked about the idea at school, and later I went to her mom's shop and we worked on the plan some more.  I was sure he was going to figure out what we were up to because that night his wife insisted I stay at the shop until my Dark Lord got there to give me a ride home.  Somehow, we got away with it.

The three of them picked me up at the park in the 'Dong across from GDA - the story was that we were going out for dinner to celebrate.  Instead, the Spawn and I ran off to the playground, and my Dark Lord and his wife got out of the car to follow us.  He got the shock of his life.

The party was a big school secret - all of the teachers were invited, as well as some of his friends that the Spawn had to get me contacts for.  Bronte had already moved on to Greece, but she provided the music by burning us a collection of her favorite tunes - one of the things she'd shared with our Dark Lord.

One of my favorite things about my time in Korea was belly dancing, and since my Dark Lord and his Spawn had been there for my first performance - a hafla that Azhaar put on just for me - it seemed fitting that I would dance at his birthday.  I had two choreographies I'd been working on at the time: Sonia's Art of the Drum Solo (with a few modifications by Azhaar), and the veil routine we'd put together to Massive Attack's "Teardrop" (which I'd first experienced another year in Korea, courtesy of another friend). 

Teaching at a hagwon brought together an eclectic bunch of 20-somethings from all walks of life every single time I did it.  It was absolutely crazy, and I loved most of them even though I often had little in common with them other than the black sheepishness that led us to move to the other side of the world in a career move that I've often thought of as Russian roulette.  There are really no guarantees that the school that you're signing a year of your life away to is going to follow through on its promises. 

But we got lucky.

I found belly dance.

Some people found love.

Others found a new career.  I can't tell you how many people I knew who went home and started working on a degree in education, because that year and those kids had that kind of impact.

But I think just about all of us found friends and shared a time that we'll always remember.  Especially those of us that were there that night, 'cause that shit got crazy.

INDIA!!! It's set in India!

I've been waiting a while to use that line.

So here I am, in Hyderabad, in the Evil One's fabulous state department flat. Let me tell you something - this is not how I typically travel. Not just the posh lodgings, but giving up my navigational duties and taking things at a slower pace. I got in at 5 a.m. on Thursday morning. I slept til ten, then I wasted a few hours reading and goofing off on the internet before Evil came home and put me to work stirring the things she was making for her Christmas party. I socialized with strangers...well, to an extent. Before the party really got started, I got out the back of the belt I needed to sew and started stitching, which later on sort of backfired, because when her friends asked what I was making, I saw no reason to lie about the fact that it was a belly dance costume, and they all wanted me to demonstrate...which led to everyone showing off their dance skills. Kinda strange and wonderful, actually.

The next day was Christmas, and while Indian Mormons apparently go to church on Christmas, the Evil One and I saw no reason to do so ourselves. Instead we opened our presents, went across the street for coke and Indian food, and napped while waiting for her cute Indian-Mormon-boy-Partner-in-Crime, Nik, to come over for a True Blood marathon. "Nik watches True Blood???" I asked Evil. "Does he KNOW what HBO is like??" Apparently he does. He was likewise interested in my decision to drag her to Khajuraho...a stop on our itinerary that she hasn't shared with her other church friends. That evening, she dragged me to a Christmas dinner at a consular friend's EVEN LARGER AND POSHER flat. One of the gals had been to Shilparamam that day, a huge craft fair, and Raika, a soon-to-be-consular-ex-wife volunteered to take us yesterday. Of course, though, she had a hangover from the previous night's wine, so it was noon before we left the house, late roll-outs being another thing I don't normally do on my travels...but then, things in India don't open until 11 or so, anyways, or so the Evil One tells me, so I should just probably just shut the heck up, sit back, and enjoy the ride. I can do this - I don't normally travel this way, but I managed it for Bronte last fall...but of course, that was Greece, and I was getting cooking lessons during the lazy afternoons, and it's hard to feel antsy when you're full of moussaka. And just as I had real travel coming up then, this tour's real travel bit doesn't start til the 2nd, so I should probably conserve my energy and money and concentrate on not getting Delhi Belly...(non-degenerate formula? A coke for brekke, a coke for lunch, a coke for dinner - this method has seen me through the third world countless times over. The acid in coke will kill just about anything).