Sleep is a wonderful thing.

I have spent many astonishing hours covered by that dark and mysterious blanket, where dreams approach and the real world is far, far away.

Lately, my sleep patterns have been erratic. It’s funny how your need for sleep changes during your life. Back in the day, when I was an up-and-coming manager in the graphics field, I needed very little. We would finish work at 10 pm, then eat pizza and watch Law and Order, and Homicide. I would sleep four-or-so hours and head back to the office around 7 am.

Back then, all-nighters were par for the course. I could go without sleep for 36 hours, sitting at my computer and completing mammoth projects. Of course, whenever I closed my eyes for more than a second I instantly started to dream. By the end of the sleepless stretch I was drained.

Skip ahead. When I started working as a reporter I found I needed seven or eight hours a night just to stay sane. I wasn’t a fan of being a practicing journalist. You have to do a lot of slimy things and I think that sleep was a brief escape from a job I didn’t really enjoy.

Skip ahead again: The present. Again, a manager, and to usurp the title of a bad movie, I’m “Sleepless in Shenzhen.” Interviewing prospective teachers in other time zones explains part of this. I rise after only four to five hours of sack time. I need more, desperately, but manage to catch up on weekends.

It’s an evil cycle. I wake up at two or three, do school work, blog, write email, etc. until it’s time for work. I do my day, and after getting home it is a giant struggle to stay awake. When I fall asleep I wake up after four hours and do it again. My attempts to change this pattern have so far failed. The longest stretch I have slept in the last seven months is six-and-a-half hours.

Sleeping with someone else is a challenge. I was a celibate hermit for many a year. Adjusting to a hot someone, figuratively and literally, in your bed is a chore. I’m not complaining, but when it’s more than 40 degrees outside, a hot body beside you can be an impediment to a good night’s rest. (also an impediment in other ways, but I’ll leave that alone)

I’m not complaining. You can get a lot accomplished when you’re awake 20 hours a day. I’m certain the surrounding apartments are less-than-pleased listening to my washing machine at 5:00 am. I’m amazed my wife can sleep thru the noise of me attempting to defeat the sentient monster that has formed in the kitchen sink from dirty plates and chopsticks.

Maybe this will change, maybe it won’t. For now, I’ll enjoy the early morning quiet time. When baby arrives (if ever) I’m sure my quiet time with be at a premium.

I am now the proud and temporary owner of a large block of cheese. More than two pounds of the magical, pale orange, milk-based extravagance reside in my refrigerator.

Are you that bored, Stevo? You have resorted to listing the items in your fridge?

Yes. No. Maybe.

In China, cheese is hard to come by. Yes, the perfect snack food is available, but, randomly. Over the last two-plus years I have taken to eating processed cheese slices, of the Kraft variety. How I hated the “cheese food” when I lived in Canada (except when melted in a grilled cheese sandwich, that is a little taste of heaven.) Being far from Canada, and a reliable source of cheese, I was forced to consume the cheese food, and like it.

Standard and delightful hard cheese is available at the imported food store. But, that requires a rather lengthy bus ride. And it’s expensive. Since I am both lazy and cheap, real cheese is not often found in my home.

Are pirates stealing China’s cheese?

Wal-Mart used to stock New Zealand cheese, but it disappeared, like everything the mega store stocks and I start to buy with zeal. The hypothesis developed by myself and long-time coworkers states that the cheese tanker from NZ to China is frequently attacked and hijacked by pirates. Or, there is a diplomatic squabble between NZ and China that has led to a cheese embargo. The only victims are China’s foreign residents.

I love cheese. My block of old cheddar was sampled last evening. I fried eight rashers of bacon, made toast, and built a heroic (and heart attack-inducing) sandwich. If my body, dehydrated from the evil humidity, had any fluid left I would have wept at the velvety taste of the melted treat.

How long will this cheese last? Will I binge on dairy until I am lethargic and cheese-like? Most likely. Since I have time to write little more than brief updates, cheese will be my topic of choice. Any cheese-based recipes are appreciated.

I will quote Alton Brown and say cheese is, “Good eats.”

Spring festival, 2007, near Guiyang, Hunan province, China. Fireworks and firecrackers are an important (and fun) part of Spring Festival, or Chinese New Year.

Early morning work, Shenzhen, China.

Chili: The easiest thing in the world to make, if you put aside the peanut butter and jam sandwich. An amalgam of tomato, meat, beans and spice, it is comfort food that warms to soul of a foreigner sick-to-death of ginger, la jiao, and small pieces of meat.

chili in a dirty kitchen

I made chili last week. It’s was not an easy process. Some things in the Middle Kingdom can be downright difficult. There is no one store that holds all the magical ingredients. Creating a pot of chili involves at least two retailers and a lot of forward planning.

Man cannot live on dumplings alone. Noodles and ever-present rice can drain the life out of you faster than a parched vampire. A pengyou and I decided to make chili, pooling our resources. The idea evolved into bacon-chili-cheese dogs. It was Sunday, after all, the only night of must-see TV in Shenzhen.
America’s Next Top Model is broadcast Sundays at 8:35 pm. I would never watch this sad excuse for television if living a North American existence. Even completely removed from this free-falling, morally-and-intellectually-suspect culture I still need nausea medication after watching Tyra Bank boost her already giant ego for 44 minutes.

Sorry, I digressed.

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midday on qin jin er lu, shenzhen, China, May 12, 2007.