Jazzman goes talkabout

Its 530am and Anna Maria Jopek's crystal clear voice is singing sweetly in the background,the whiff of cheap chinese cigarettes fills my room and still I can't get no sleep. Outside, all is still save for a few nightowls on their bikes pedalling to god knows where at this ungodly hour. Earlier on this evening, I stepped off the lift onto the wrong floor only to be greeted by chinese carol singers in silly santa hats. So much from getting away from the christmas orgy. Unusaually for me I am sober on Christmas eve. I had a bit of a bender on my first night here and still suffering from the effects. That queasy feeling of alcohol swilling around in my half empty stomach. You'd think by now I'd know not to go out drinking on an empty stomach. But I needed a beer more than I did a meal, and now I live with the consequences.

My room is pretty much a mess, with last nights clothes thrown everywhere, chinese yuan littering my table top and my ashtray half full of fag butts. Pretty digusting really. The only oasis of tidiness is my yet to be slept in bed which is still made up. I must turn some lights off and do my bit for the environment. I think I must have evey single light in my room on. Being in smog filled Shanghai makes you forget about saving the planet. All those empty taxis chasing each other in between the hordes on cyclists, motocylists, quad bikes, tricycles,etc trailing all those nasty fumes as they go.

Its ten to six, only a few more minutes then I can go for breakfast. An assortment of grease, salt and sugar. You have a choice though; chinese or western. Which reminds me, coming through passport control at Pudong Airport you have two choices; Chinese Nationals or Foreigners. Apparently, so I am told, it used to be Chinese Nationals or Aliens. But since language does not stand still and no martian has yet seen fit to visit China, it had to be changed. I still think 'foreigners' is no more welcoming. Incidentally, I had the usaual five minutes scrutiny of my passport as I passed through passport control. This routine I am somewhat used to now. I can't wait to get a new passport when this one expires but with a colour photograph that will hopefully resemble me rather then the present one which could be anyone darker than Micheal Jackson.

Its 6 on the dot and neither breakfast nor my bed has manged to allure me away from my tappping away on the silver keys of my laptop. Anna is still seranading away and getting more melancholy with every strain of her voice. My smoke filled rooom adds to the atmosphere.
I'll grab a shower and see if my appetite returns.

Christmas Eve party at Zapata's in Shanghai