I have progressed from ”not a word” in Chinese to precisely four: yoghurt, and ice café mocha. I think I have prioritized wisely.
you have to understand that the status of my living conditions here is equivalent to ”illegal dorm cat”—no one sees me, hears me, or lets the authorities know I exist and it’s all cool.
confessions of a lychee juice and traditional beijing drinkable yoghurt addict
that moment when you’ve travelled around the world and still end up talking until 2am about your favourite books, films and tv shows.
generally I am the sort of girl who gets kicked out at closing time at bars and museums. there is no drinking on this trip. what do you think has happened.
post-karaoke syndrome includes ringing ears, hoarse throats, and the horrifying realisation that you’ve slept half of one of your limited days away.
yesterday’s scientific experiment proved that the best way to relearn riding a bicycle is not to be wearing pennyloafers and hurtling through Beijing traffic.
Hello dearhearts, I’m off to China tomorrow, so I decided that this deserves shenanigans. Why? Because I’m needy/love you all/trying not to drink alone/have finally accepted in my heart that I throw hipster parties and should never change.
Ham, potato salad, leafy salad. 6pm and later. Bring your friends, bring beverages, bring music.
THE USUAL PLACE. Need an address? Drop me a line.