While it has been dreadfully chilly, the afternoon sun from my “sniper’s” nest at Momo Bar has provided some wonderful light. Two days of sun? I can’t believe it. Last week it was hot – shorts-weather. This week? I’m wearing a toque and long-johns. There’s no insulation in south China homes – plain old cement walls. If it’s 40 degrees outside, it’s 40 degrees inside. Often, it’s warming outside than it is inside. I think the Chinese weather has developed bi-polar disorder and needs medication and therapy.

It was wet too weeks ago, I don’t mean rain or assorted precipitation, I mean wet.  Like every tile surface was covered in water. I don’t know the physics behind the phenomenon. My Chinese friends believe it is water in the air. My belief is that warm weather after ten days of temps just above freezing, caused condensation to form everywhere. Please, correct me if I’m wrong.

I witnessed the downside of the freakish wetness in my second apartment. I hadn’t been there for three weeks. I noticed as I prepared to sleep Monday night that the sheets smelled decidedly funky. Upon closer inspection I find lovely black mold spots on my pillows and a strange connect-the-dots pattern on a sheet. Lovely. I went home the next day, linens in hand, ready for the washing machine and Mr. Sun.

Chinese Lunar New Year is also called Spring Festival. It should be called Almost Spring Festival. I spoke with a Canadian in Shanghai earlier this week – he opined that Canada was warmer than China. That’s not enough to draw me back but is certainly food for thought.

I’m off to Hong Kong tomorrow to a Strobist shoot with some local photographers and 3 models. The public wharf in Kennedy Town, Hong Kong Island is our location. Photos of Asian models to follow.

From my usual perch at Momo Bar and spied this young lad taking a hearty sip of milk tea. If there’s one thing a growing toddler needs it’s a good hit of sugar and caffeine. Welcome to China.

Grandparents are generally the caregivers of their grandchildren. While mother and father are out making money, granny or grandpa are at home with the kids. An afternoon visit to the playground features a stunning contrast in ages: Wrinkled faces that witnessed the Cultural Revolution chat as wee ones climb, laugh and cry. There are domestics, mostly rural village girls, but they are not as prevalent as the Filipina, Malaysian and Indonesian domestics in Hong Kong.

A year from now I will be able to take this photo of Grandmother Stevo and still-percolating Baby Stevo. Mrs. Stevo’s mother will be coming to live with us. This raises some issues. Grandmother Stevo speaks neither English or Mandarin, only her village dialect that I find impossible difficult to understand. And, Chinese child-rearing is not the something I want to comment on. I’ll hypothesize: If Dr. Spock’s work has been translated it hasn’t been read. The One-child policy has led to a lot of spoiled children but not a sparing of the rod.

Mrs. Stevo returned from the hospital yesterday with a fresh ultrasound pic. I’m not being unkind when I say the 1.5 pound Baby Stevo looks like some sort of bizarre sea creature. Ultrasound images are about as flattering as photos of yours truly.

This image was shot “on the sly” with a Phottix Hero Wireless Live View Remote.

As I was saying, Shenzhen, China is a sprawling city, it’s hard to believe that places like Sanmenkou Island co-exist with monolithic concrete creations. The airport and the Shenzhen’s beaches are separated by 50 km. I’ve been to the beach twice in my almost five years in China. I like the beach, I don’t like public transportation. Luckily, on our October holiday excursion, a friend had a car.

Dongchong beach was our destination. From there it was tickets on a small and scary boat across the water to Sanmenkou Island. The boat’s pilot, a Kejia man, has skin the color of leather from his daily journeys back and forth across the south China Sea, smiled as his craft smashed through the waves and his passenger squealed.

A large dog, in China? Sanmenkou Island must be a magic place.

If you’re from a large city you can appreciate what Sanmenkou has to offer. The island rises like a tree-covered, crooked finger from the Pacific. There are few cars, few people, and the only sounds are children splashing in the sea and the waves lapping at the sand and rocks.  Peaceful. Serene. Idyllic.

A photographer (or two) have been known to shoot Shenzhen's Sanmenkou Island.

Most of eastern Shenzhen is undeveloped. There are settled areas, but the green mountains make urbanization difficult. Two nuclear power plants and a prison share the area, as do merry-makers looking for a quiet escape.

Sanmenkou Island is place where time has little meaning. People seem to drift from place to place, ghosts of their busy city selves. Small hotels, fresh seafood, the remains of a military facility, and climbable hills offer these ghosts a variety of way to stay content. An afternoon on the island is a restful tonic to the weary urban warrior or the burnt-out traveler.

The day never ends at Sanmenkou and Dongchong beach. As dusk settles hordes of people arrive to spend the night on the beach. Facing east, it offers the early-riser a chance to watch the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean

Dusk over the mountains at Sanmenkou Beach, Shenzhen, China.

Thanks to David at Random Wire for recommending this great spot. His flickr images gives a much better picture of the place.

Getting to Sanmenkou Island, Shenzhen

Boats run from Xichong Beach and Dongchong Beach to Sanmenkou Island. Prices vary, be prepared to bargain.

Beach at Sanmenkou Island, Shezhen, China

It’s easy to forget that Shenzhen is more than just concrete. It’s a sprawling city, the east on the South China Sea.

Tomorrow: My day at the beach.  Stay tuned.

Mates for life. We could learn from fowl. Shenzhen, PRC, October 17, 2007.

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.
Friedrich Nietzsche

I bought some new duds for my new role as a … I don’t think I have a title at my new job. Mrs. Stevo gave me instructions before I went to the market. No XL-sized shirts. As I’ve lost weight she thought I could wear something a little less tent-like.

And nothing ugly.

Ugly is a pretty relative term. I won’t argue the fact that I do buy ugly shirts: In fact, the ugliest shirts I can find. Anyone who has visited China (no, not Beijing or Shanghai, and certainly not Hong Kong) will know that foreigners tend to be stared at. I figure I will give the staring public something to see, and possibly blind them, with an assortment of garish plaids and neon monstrosities. I use Asian Fashion to my advantage.

Aside: the day before I was wed my bride-to-be and we were taken to a restaurant in Hunan Province. The town boasts (occasionally) one foreign English teacher. We walked into the upscale eatery and the room went completely silent. It was like something from a movie. Every eye was focused on me. I think I was wearing an orange and yellow striped shirt. No, no one to the best of my knowledge, went blind.

Nothing ugly, she said.

Mrs. Stevo’s wardrobe has improved greatly since I first met her. Back in the heady dating days of 2005 she was festooned with lace and sequins. Her color combination were both frightening and interesting. Slowly, with a gentle nudge or two (and several pounds of severed sequins lodged inside the washing machine) she started to wear clothes I would call “classy.” I place the love of sequins at the feet of the Chinese education system. After 12 years of school uniforms you might be up for wearing a sequin or two.

Question: Did I buy anything ugly? Did you disobey the Hunanese fireball?

Unfortunately, no. A pink short-sleeve shirt, and golf shirts, purple and black (they say Polo and even have the little logo, but I don’t think they are strictly kosher). The Lee navy-blue trousers (knock-offs) have a size 34 waist. I haven’t worn something so small since my pre-fat days (before 2002). They are a little tight, not in the waist. I could be an extra on Queer as Folk if needed.

As soon as she returned from work Mrs. Stevo inspected my purchases. All passed muster, except the pink shirt – it was too faded and looked old. A passing grade for me.

I will sneak back to the market and buy something incredibly ugly. It’s a must.