Watch as the person shifts from first to third to second to first.

I realize that this blog of mine has been sparse lately, and I apologize. It seems that life has been coming at me quickly of late.

Yesterday, I in fact did not buy a bicycle. Instead, I went with the other guys on a Beijing adventure! Actually, we were just looking for a bookstore, but we went the wrong way and got a little lost. Eventually, though, we found a Subway (as in the sandwiches), a Starbucks, and the foreign bookstore. That said, this was not a good night for Mr. I'm-on-a-budget. (That's me.) Actually, it was a really good night, but I have to be careful the rest of the week. I've been tracking my spending all week thus far, and it's been a bit on the high side, but at least I'm aware of that. By the high side, I mean I've spent around $30 US for three days' living (food, transit) and about $10 of that was on a book at the bookstore.

The book I bought is titled Lhasa and it is an Immersion Guides book. In case I haven't said so yet (and how would I go back and look? It's blocked...) I really want to go to Tibet in January/February. Really really. At this point it is admittedly a pipedream, but it needn't be! The Lhasa guide (Lhasa is the capitol of Tibet, people) tells me how to get there on the cheap, where to stay, where to eat, and how not to be strapped to a tour guide. I kind of just want to go and see the temples and palaces and try drinking some yak butter tea. Maybe hang out with some cool Tibetans, perhaps spin a (subversive) prayer wheel, and ride the train across China. I'd get to see the Himalayas. I'd probably meet the Dalai Lama. He lives in Lhasa, you know.

I'm met with a couple of problems:
1. It is illegal to go to Tibet without a special permit by the same friendly folks who give you visas. And to get one, you have to be traveling with a tour group. (The book reminds you that you can just choose not to call the guide when you get there.) Anyway, a tour package is always more expensive than a plan it yourself trip with a train ticket and a hostel reservation.
2. This brings me to the next problem. I've got about $0.50 to put toward this trip at the moment. That may change, but most likely not by much.

So it's time for a bit of shameless internet whoring. Who wants to see a twentysomething American in China not be able to get out of Beijing? I mean, he'll be off for a month between semesters. Stuck watching the ugly pink of the dorm walls? Now, who wants to see that same twentysomething living an adventure? Who wants to see pictures of his face as he tastes yak butter tea? Who wants to get him to offer a Christian prayer for them in a Buddhist temple? I thought you might raise your hand. Yes, I see you. You see, they don't have Christmas in China. I'll still be in school until mid-January. So, your last minute charity donations might be sending me to some Autonomous Region of western China. I bet that gets written off the taxes, eh?

Ok, now I really do feel a bit sleazy, so know that I really do want to go, but I'm kidding about the tax write-offs. Also know that I understand how fortunate I am to be here and be living in Beijing. I know how much my plane tickets have cost, and how much I've paid for tuition and dorm room, and how little of it I worked for. I know that I'm in an amazing position, and that I'm sounding spoiled.

So I leave you with a quote from Lhasa:
"Yak butter," of course, is arguably a misnomer. A true yak would be no more likely to produce butter than Mike Tyson would be to successfully breastfeed a baby kitten. In Tibetan, the word "yak" refers only to the male of the species - the females are called "dri." Therefore the punctilious term would be "dri yoghurt," and "dri milk." Luckily, foreign languages don't know any better, and yak in English refers to both genders. Somehow "dri butter" just can't compare to the therapeutically intoned hard finals of "yak butter."

T