Hiatus
The Art of Business Etiquette
Having not received much information besides when and where to meet, I was convinced that they were expecting a forty-something person with actual business experience to be delivering a lecture to a large crowd of business people eager. So, I did what any reasonable person would do in the situation: I googled "business etiquette" and read some websites on how to act in “businessey situations.” I tried my best to look the part, too. I put on the nicest, most formal combination of clothes I owned: brown slacks, brown suede shoes, and a wrinkly oxford blue button-down shirt. I regretted the absence of an iron in my apartment, as well as my decision not to pack at least one tie. And, finally, I shaved.
After feeding me some Chinese take-out before the event, the organizers ushered me to the “lecture hall,” which, as it turned out, was just a large classroom. The throngs of people I had imagined previously actually numbered about fifteen and my choice of dress turned out to be quite appropriate—anything more and I would have looked a bit silly. The class went great too. By the end, I realized it was about learning English as much as it was about learning business etiquette. Thus concluded my first and last "lecture on business etiquette."


Embassy Under Construction
My Neighborhood

I can say that I truly like my neighborhood (propaganda notwithstanding - see below). It's a fairly old neighborhood, yet with modern and foreign influences noticeably creeping in. Purists may turn up their nose, but, in my opinion, it’s not an altogether bad trend, at least for a bumbling ex-pat like myself. When I feel like having some good ol’ spaghetti and tomato sauce, for example, there's Jenny Lou's, the foreign grocer, not far from me. Also, the shuttle stop, which I often catch to teach international students, is conveniently nearby.
The Air
The China Open
There is a little-known tournament on the professional tennis circuit called the China Open, played here in
A couple friends, Natasha and Vinny, and I arrived at the stadium half-way through the first match of the double-header, in which the top seed, Ljubicic, was cruising through his match. When it ended, he signed a few balls and launched them up into the stands, and, as luck would have it, one of those balls landed directly into my hands. To this day, I haven't figured out how he aimed so well.
During the intermission, as we waited around bouncing our new ball, Natasha suddenly remembered: “Last year,” she said, “you could turn those balls in for something, like a Citizen watch or something.” Ooh, intriguing, I thought, I was happy just to watch tennis, but there might be a souvenir too!
After asking around, one of the ticket people indicated that, indeed, there is a prize. He leads me around the stadium, to a tent, and presents me with a . . . white baseball-style cap with a Lacoste alligator on the front. Suppressing my disappointment, I walked back with prize in hand, trying to recall if I knew anyone who likes white hats with alligators.
Neither Natasha nor Vinny, I soon found out, likes those sort of hats. The second match had already started when I returned, featuring a guy named Gremelmayr and a guy named Baghdatis. Wait a minute! Baghdatis, the fun-loving Cypriot who, last time I saw him play (on TV), made a valiant, gut-wrenching effort against the mighty Federer. I like this guy and was psyched to be watching him play! Unlike the first one, this was a close, well-fought match, and the players split the first two sets. Meanwhile, as I sat holding the unusable white hat, an idea suddenly struck me: wouldn’t the hat make a nice surface for an autograph?
I tried my darnedest to sneak my way down to the expensive seats immediately after Baghdatis completed his comeback victory in the last set tie-breaker. But no tennis ball-launching after this match, and, when I arrived on the floor, nobody was there. No worries, I thought, I’ll just wait outside the exit for him. Two hours later, to delight of me and a handful of other patient Baghdatis groupies, our hero emerged. I had prepared painstakingly for this very moment, hat and marker in hand, and had even learned a few Cypriot phrases from Natasha. He was either too tired to respond to the overtures of congratulations in his native tongue or, more likely, didn't understand them. He was kind enough, however, to sign the white alligator hat, and, thus, the night decidedly ended with a victory on multiple fronts.