It's Hard Out Here for a Hick:
I have finally realized, after two weeks in China, what it is that's been bugging me all this time.
It's not that I can't read 90 percent of the street signs.
It's not the toilets that require a contortionist's skills to use.
It's not the ubiquitous guys with a cellphone in one hand and a ciggy in the other.
It's not getting stared at for being the weirdo ethnic minority.

It's this: I am not used to seeing buildings higher than ten stories anymore.

When I visited Tiananmen Square two weeks ago, I thought, "Wow, you could fit the entire population of The Island (where I live) in here, and everyone would still have room to swing a cricket bat 360 degrees."

That was weird. (I'm desperately trying to avoid saying "disorienting," in case you hadn't noticed.) But now that I 'm here in Shanghai, where any building under 30 meters tall is probably "historic" it's really hit me just How Effing Small The Island Really Is. You could not fit this city on The Island. You probably couldn't fit this neighborhood on The Island. Even the last City I lived in-- when I started this blog four and a half years ago -- was "historic" and had few buildings higher than the old imperial palaces (oh, and the Germans having bombed the crap out of it for a few years didn't help the real estate market much for about 50 years).

I don't consider myself a small-town kid just off the turnip truck. But anybody could get lost in this city. And I have been on The Island too long.

Fortunately, my employer has offered me a new contract at Headquarters, on the mainland, just one time zone away from where I am currently working. I'll start next summer. I can hardly wait.