We’re back in Chengdu after a whirlwind month of travel from Singapore, beach hopping across Thailand, up to Bangkok, down to Kuala Lumpur, and home again. It is a bittersweet feeling, as usual after an amazing vacation. The beaches were perfect (minus the monsoons) and exploring the big cities was amazing– I was completely obsessed with Singapore, Bangkok was a frenetic buzz of color and food (and sex), and I learned how underrated and delicious Kuala Lumpur is. Stepping off the plane and into the cold was a challenge, but I disembarked.
I felt sure this month away served it’s purpose – to refresh, to reflect, to take a step back from the life I’ve stumbled into here in Chengdu and help me figure out what I want to do with it. Although it’s taken 4 days to re-heat our apartment to an inhabitable temperature (somehow it’s at least 10 degrees colder inside than out), it’s nice to re-enter the familiar; to wake up in my own bed and know where the nearest Starbucks is.
Ever so slowly, this city is waking up from it’s spring festival hibernation – for the full week surrounding the Chinese New Year EVERYTHING shut down and everyone returned home to their families; this city is down 1/3 of it’s usual inhabitants. Traffic is bearable, taxis are attainable, this Starbucks is completely empty and it’s after noon (unheard of). On the downside, all our favorite noodle shops and food stalls are still boarded up. Fireworks have been non-stop since our return; on nearly every corner a makeshift firework shop has been erected, offering some of the most gigantic, dangerous fireworks for obscenely reasonable prices by American standards. 
Our first night back Jeff and I spent around $40 on a 36-shot firework that we lit off on the bridge. I had no idea what we had just purchased; it was quite literally on-par with the fireworks lit off at my hometown’s 4th of july show. Last night we set off more fireworks with our friend Walter. I didn’t think it was possible to be responsible for an even bigger explosion than our bridge show, but it was. The problem of course is that these fireworks are also available to 8 year olds if they happen to have the cash. Huge. Boom.
UPDATE: we just watched an 8 year old light off a firework AT his parents. flaming flecks actually shot at their faces and the father brushed smoldering ashes out of his hair. the mother looked mildly shocked, but let me tell you that kid was hysterical.
