Washing FAIL

Ok. Just instigated my first laundry here in my new building. Feels very eerie. Well, first it felt annoying; hence I (we; everyone in this building) have to pay for it. No one mentioned that – not even when I persistently asked many, many dumb and inane questions about the laundry procedures. “You don’t have to make a reservation? No, not at all? Funny. In Sweden, laundry hours are the number one reason for arsons, murders and arguments at large.”

But they cleverly avoided all those remarks about paying procedures when running through the washing procedures. Basterds.

So there I went. The place was clustered with people of course so I quickly acted as if I knew exactly what I was doing. I always feel the impulse of doing this. Instead of asking a friendly question (and hitting on a hot chic, who knows; possibilities are endless down there) I rather cruise along. Pretend that only retards do this. That the rest of us are better than morons asking questions.

And by doing this we pay a very simple but dear price: getting our clothes back shrunken. A lot. You see, we don’t have a regular drying lines/room/whatever. Only regular dryers. We all know what dryers love to do to our most precious clothing’s. Yes. Fuck them up big time. I did put my delicates in the dryer, pressing the delicates key/mode. Yet something tells me US dryers have a different opinion than I to whatever delicate means. All due to my overly judgmental/skepticism regarding American's taste in fashion: oversized jerseys here, ill-fitted trousers there, completely no fitting clothing whatsoever everywhere – they are in relentless pursuit of not looking good (succeeding quite well too). We can expect a full need in replacing my fav’s in the coming week. Good thing Christmas coming up. Mom, first time in fifteen years - wish list coming up.

Hew was a retard.

Remarkable living

Adorable modest, little house that's just waiting for new tenants. Check out more of the house here.

Over-hydrating

Estimation has never been a field of mine. And when the water keg yells almost-empty late at night I didn’t want to wake up with no water before my ridiculous stair run.
So I start drinking so I could call for a new one before I went to bed.
But and after a good ten liters the almost-empty keg turned out to be a lot more than met the eye.
And like that, puffing up in my own couch, I almost suffocated from plain water.

Ran late

Super stress this morning. Got out late and tried to get the stair-running over with – quickly.
That was smart, totally exhausted on the third lap and barely made it up and are still, two hours afterwards boiling hot.
But it’s moments like these when you’re particularly pleased with your uncanny cleverness – the walk to work shirt.
Thank you god.

Someone is coming

Arrives Monday morning and still not sure when she’s leaving.
I’m already exhausted by the thought of it.
Have to chart my morning runs in detail now. Shall I tell her my route and risk all chance of being judged as at least partially sane, or leave her with a false impression of me covering the run-distance horizontal and not vertical.
But what if she wants to run and asks for suggestions where to go, what to tell her?
Double-steps are more fatiguing and just ignore the maintenance personnel you’ll probably meet on your way.
Plan now is to work intentionally late and eliminate most of the required chatter about nothing that might occur.

Dehydrating, no more

It used to take two persons two weeks to empty one water keg.
One person’s gone.
A hero refilled it Saturday, emptied it yesterday.
BOOM! Chazz Michael Michaels is figure skating.

Friday, Saturday, Sunday and a slice of Monday

Headed straight to Hollywood DVD with a rabbit foot tied to my hope.
Bought loads of movies and a box of what looked like a fake season four of Lost, but fortunately it was a real version and finished it late Saturday night.
In-between this I went on the weirdest short-pursuit ever. Went to the other big Nike store but ended up at the huge one I’ve already visited with empty result.
Strolled around shopping streets and dodged salesmen, until I started following them, up and in strange shops with secret walls functioning as doors to hidden tunnels and stairs leading to Louis Vuitton fake-heavens.
But our language difficulties turned out to be too vast when they kept insisting that shirts and shorts was the same.
Instead I headed to my fav fake-market and ended up with four stupid bags of clothes I don't need, but also managed to get three pairs of my objective of the journey; shorts – and their matching Man U home-and-away shirts + the Barca kit.
The police came and closed the whole thing a few hours earlier than opening hours and obviously the mission to sweep the streets from fake ‘til Friday is on.
Needed to expand my dining variety on Saturday, so I ordered home the food from where I sat to have dinner on Friday.
The big plan was to go for our 10k test-run Sunday and my new shorts would come to use better than the match-uniform-catwalks I perform alone in the apartment, but unpredictable rain cancelled it.
Instead I just geared up with chocolate at Whisk and used my entitlement to favorite the black away-kit of the lot so far.
And this morning seven police officers greeted me in the lobby to check my passport. As if I wasn’t late as it was and in case the stair-running doesn’t keep my body warm enough…
I was soaked when I reached the office, and Nick's, what the hell happened to you mate, -greeting was a perfect summarize.

What if they arrest me?

I always feel a bit stressed waiting for the elevator to transport me down when I run in the stairs.
What if what I’m doing is wrong, what if someone called someone and there are guards ready for me. What if these guards are heavy-geared SWAT.
You can’t run here, it’s China you fool, now let’s go to prison for the rest of your life.
The reason of my alertness is that the construction workers and I usually begin our routine at the same time.
And they love the roof. And I run to the roof. You see the uncanny encounters that can occur here.
Already shared elevator experiences twice with them.
It was horrible.
They saw right through me, where some could be proud and see heroism formed as a real life athlete in action, they only spotted the weird sweaty Swede running up and down some stairs in a service apartment in Shanghai, still troubled from the tales of the outside air and its pollutions.
I’ve noticed a surveillance camera on the 25th floor, so I’m not that far out.

Four triple-doubles

Pulling off something you’ve never achieved before is just awesome.
Especially when your original plan was to lay low, chill in bed and skip the whole thing.
Whether it’s traveling around the world, get your drivers license (I guess) or making four consecutive laps in the stairs with the infamous double step, they’re all pretty much on the same level.
Plus, and this is creepy in the same creepy-level of likes such as “wow, is that even possible” and déjà vu and shit.
Played the new theme song for chris and hoped for the next one to be this one, guess which track came straight after without having to skip a single one, and just to emphasize the brilliance of this morning, this came on right after this one.
Yesterday was awesome, does this mean I’m gonna top its awesomeness?
Me think so.

She said hi

Almost forgot. Today, right before I vomited cause of running, she said hi.
I was startled when I saw the door open and the cleaning lady entered, she hasn’t been there for a while now, and chocked I mouthed, ni hao, to her.
Not only did she reply with a brisk, ni hao, straight to my sweaty face, she even smiled.
The fact that it was a complete different cleaning lady than the usual is besides the point I think.
The cleaning lady finally said hi.

Forget the key is clever

Almost forgot to mention my major catastrophe yesterday morning when I was running late to work.
I wasn’t really late in the first place, but she went here like an hour before me so I got all stressed.
I remembered getting dressed that I couldn’t find my key to my desk where all my necessities are when I switched pants from shorts to jeans; which later turned out to be exceptionally clever on this heated day, but thought, whataheck, I’m glad I gave the extra-key to her a few weeks ago.
Meaning I don’t have to worry about that now.
So I didn’t and rushed to the office only to see her nodding her head with a face that said, ‘nope, key's in the apartment’ better than any words could.
Charging through the crowded streets again wasn’t the best for my increasingly heated body.
Body fluids were starting to egress again. Chaos inside. But a clever mind convincing the body to just relax, it’ll be fine; I love my mind sometimes.
Got all naked and stood in front of the swiftly turned on AC before I decided I could double back full speed again when it hit me; my soaked clothes.
I’ve already showed myself in the office, people know what I’m wearing today.
Even now, writing this, I actually think that people notice what the ridiculous Swede wore on his 5 min appearance in the office that morning, I mean, I notice them and like to compliment them on their outfits when nice enough to be appreciated.
Does anyone really give a damn?

The wall

You’ve finished your stair running and stretched your pathetic muscles.
And now the real race starts: get ready before nine.
AC is on full speed and you carry your mini-towel the whole time, ready to wipe off the abrupt moist.
It’s the same procedure everyday so you reflect on the master classes taken:
Experience is a hard teacher, because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward.
-Vernon Law, Pitcher for the Pirates
But as time has finally met with what-you-must-do, you leave the apartment, and though you should know by now that the outside temperature is not your allied, the maddest wall of heat slams you straight on, all your preys are instantly towards Lou:
No one has ever drowned in sweat.
-Lou Holtz, 1937-, American Football Coach

Nihao

When I’m late to my Stair Running I usually meet the cleaning girl. She comes out around my third lap.
She never says hi.
And even though I feel like a sweaty, heavy-breathing idiot running up and down the stairs, I 'nihao' her a lot, possibly every time.
Not even once.

Stairmaster

I’ve mentioned the air here and the consequences to us athletes. This has led me to our hotel's gym and their treadmill.
But.
The gym opens at 10 am.
Which is great for everyone who wants to workout before work.
Forced to aim for other options, I’ve turned right, so to speak.
I run in the stairs now.
To the top, elevator down* and all over again a few times. Up and down. Exactly as idiotic it sounds like.
But the most annoying thing is, after a while you get kinda dizzy after too many consequent-right-turns.
So I’ve developed a sharp tactic:
Gawk to your left running up. It decreases dizziness and helps you from keeping track on which floor you’re at. Persuade your brain you’re not the moron you feel like.
I’m starting to realize this is almost as focus-ensuing as running on a treadmill.

*Louise says it’s really bad for the knees to run downwards in stairs, I trust her.

Hotel / Service Apartment

We live in a service apartment.
Not a hotel.
The manager made this perfectly clear on the day we moved in.
I brought to his attention the lack of cups, glasses, plates, knifes n’ forks, pots, pans, towels etc. Everything you need when moving abroad into a rented, furnished apartment.
And he taught me the severe difference between accommodations with a grim smile and the words still clinching to my head.
Haha, noo, this is nooot a hooootel.