Summer camp ended in a tide of tears and goodbyes. I am free, for a fortnight.

Two weeks, more than 1100 photos, countless hours and agnostic prayers.

Now it’s time for a little traveling.

Do you remember one year ago?

The sweaty train ride, me worried about another bout of near-heat stroke? Arriving late in Changsha? Racing through the streets of a city we didn’t know to a registry office we weren’t sure was open?

Do you remember completing the forms and making our promise before the three uniformed women in a dark office? Or me, not being able to recite that pledge, written only in Chinese characters?

Do you remember it was 7-7, Chinese Valentines day, unplanned, and a fortuitous omen. It was if the fates had smiled and spread their blessings upon us. That was why I was rushed that day, panicked on the train as I looked at my watch, and ran through the station, hell-bent. We had to be married that day, July 31, 7-7, there could be no better beginning.

Do you remember the yet-to-be opened hotel where we shared our first official night? Or our wedding feast at KFC while trying to book plane tickets to return home? Or the police knocking on the door and hurriedly dressing, like caught teenagers, even though we had the papers to prove our union?

I know you remember. I do too.

Our first anniversary finds you in a different country, on a different continent. I write you this, 爱人, to show there are some things I will never forget.

我爱你。

Hot dogs in China are served on a stick, not in a bun. This is unfortunate and I hope to see a change in my lifetime. I think of the hot dog carts outside of Union Station in Toronto, and their tasty wares. A stick leaves you nowhere to stuff the condiments.

The nameless hot dog product pictured above needs no refrigeration. I’m a fan of food preservatives, only because I think they will help cut down on the cost to embalm my body after I shed this mortal coil. When I think of the preservatives required to keep unrefrigerated mystery meat edible, I shutter.

This was one of the first shots I took with my new DSLR last fall. It was captured outside my favorite restaurant, The Black Horse, that serves cuisine from the Xin Jiang Province of north-west China. The hot dog vendor set up shop directly across the street from a middle school. His lunch-time trade was brisk.

It may look like an act of ritualistic suicide with a plastic scimitar, but it’s not. The person above (let’s call her Frowena, as when I met her last August she was sporting a head of close-cropped hair, and now has a magnificent fro) and her compatriots competed against yours truly in the summer camp World Idol Contest. The trio’s recreation of Michael Jackson’s Beat It video came complete with a fake knife fight.

I had no props, or backup singers, or stage presence for that matter. In the vernacular of today’s youth, I got served. Three staff performances made it past the first round. In the second round, after a secret ballot vote by the 200+ campers, I was eliminated. There was a small and vocal group of Stevo fans, Grade 5 boys who think me cool for some strange reason, but they were unable to sway the results.

No trophy for me. As always. Damn you Frowena, and your coolness!

I can’t sing or dance, but I take a hell of a picture.

technical notes for photo geeks: 70-300 f/4-5.6 IS USM lens, 580 EX II flash. The grainy 1600 ISO image was touched up with the Noise Ninja Photoshop plug-in by PictureCode.

During the last Spring Festival (Chinese New Year to those in North America) my housing development glowed unnaturally red after dark. Read the full story

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Five Stars for HK Supplies

Canon’s Digital Rebel XTi is Top in Class

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