Today’s adventure: As I was getting ready to leave in the afternoon, I picked up a bag off the table and knocked the hanging lamp above it. The glass plate in the bottom of the lamp came out, hit the table, and shattered into a million little pieces, with great sound effects. Glass scattered across the room.

I stood and stared for a bit, as it was probably one of the largest items I have been party to the shattering of, then found a dictionary and looked up the word for broken, got up my courage, and went out into the hall. A few doors down, I could see a cart for the housekeepers, so I approached and said, ‘Duibuqi, wo de dian deng sui de. Sorry, my light broke.‘ (Awfully proud of myself for being able to complete the sentence.) They asked me a question which I didn’t understand, but which I presumed to be ‘What room are you?’ and so ushered one of them with me and showed him to what I was referring. Glass piled on the table, shards on the floor, a few outliers on the couch, in the sink. He surveyed, then picked up the phone and made a call, and went away. After a bit, he returned with a woman who brought a vacuum and began to pick up the large pieces.

‘Duibuqi,’ I said. Sorry. Her reply, of course, I did not understand. The man came back and asked another incomprehensible question, and I understood through sign language that they wanted to make sure I hadn’t cut myself. I had not.

There didn’t seem to be much I could do, other than apologize and not understand anything they said, so I finished gathering up my things and left, to meet Alex, and visit a gym with him after work. It was a nice walk today, since it was raining all day yesterday and most of this morning. The air has cleared up considerably, and I was even able to see the mountains in the west, as well as the building by which Alex judges air quality — the tallest of the buildings in the Olympic complex, shaped somewhat like a can-opener.

The gym was your typical, internationally recognizable setup: weight machines (and most of the men) on one side, cardio machines (and most of the women) on the other. Alex pointed out the rowing machine, and I spent some time on it reflecting how long it has been since I did any erging.

I also learned that Chinese women don’t wear shorts at the gym. I pointed that out the Alex, and he said, ‘Yeah, and they don’t do what you’re doing, either.’

‘What, sweat?’ I asked.

‘No, wipe their face with their shirt.’

I’m kind of coming to the conclusion that if people will stare at me no matter what I do (on account of being white and blond), then I might as well do whatever I want…