A Fat Purple Fig

I will almost certainly fail my HSK2 exam. I elected to level up in a moment of sheer hubris, reassured by it being the second of two test levels that don’t require knowledge of Hànzì. After all, 一 二 三 四 五 人 喜 and 囍 do not a conversation make.

I climb, red-clad, onto the tour bus, offering our driver a casual zǎo shang hǎo as I pass. Our itinerary includes The Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, and Wangfujing shopping street. Once on the road, our tour guide, Fangfang, begins by teaching us how to speak like Beijing locals.

It was a doozy of a week. The days leading up to this trip were packed to the brim, and every little task seemed determined to take its pound of flesh. (Actually, I’m not sure if ‘return email’ can be classified as a pound of flesh, but there you go – procrastinators feel things magnified.)