It happens, okay? We are human after all, is not it? I remember the blissful innocence when I was told "no" place in the old dorm, but there is that new, freshly prepared "; remember my guess, too fresh Italian holiday, miraboli attractions such as the building I would have reserved . Here, beyond the widely described in the last month, I want to share a gem that haunts me since I set foot in here. Maybe I did not say that I pay 3 yuan more because my window is facing the sun, which in the local culture is synonymous with health (but you cover from the sun with parasols ... mah). Well, beyond that of the sun could not care less, there is also the second, substitution: the monster of concrete construction in the adjacent lot. When I arrived it was already up, finished, so I did not expect much work. And you discover? Here not only of the pipe (beware, not the connections, all possible tubes) are built into the ground after work, but who work from 7 to 11 at night. For several days have dug the ground, put pipes, put the ground, dug up again. And late in the evening the technical department welded, and covered and carrying away waste.

Returning to the beginning ... It happens right? Happening to look down and cursing the yellow cap from the ants that dig and cover the tubes at the same depth for even five times in a row. The theory of the big hole does not pierce the minds of the project manager? And those manholes? Please tell me that there were not deliberately designed, completely staggered at random. Please, can you say that constant little man who sits every three to see others smoking a cigarette that is moving? You can say that the little man driving the excavator to learn how to use the half, so maybe you avoid paying twenty people with a shovel to move the earth with centimeter?

But I'm saying, here are working day and night, build in a hurry. So where is the mistake? Why all this can not be really considered efficient. The designer. He draws, he is the director of these works raises bestiality. And he, I know. Why, think of it, must be connected to the one who designed the new buildings of the university, with stairs at random, underground bunkers with a thousand entrances (not used for security reasons), even with the entrance of the complex random , with an air hose in the middle dell'antrata and narrow streets that create mind-blowing traffic jams of people and bicycles, which require to take a poor Christ paid for telling students where to put them in front of the table, because there is no place and is a mess.

And then, back to calm, razionalià .. And the voice of my friend, and wise seraphic enlightens me: "Most of these architects and directors studied during the Cultural Revolution (which means he has not studied), you claim?". That's it. All clear, we live in chaos, and we help them as well.

I distinctly remember that night, I had just received a phone call and others dozed in front of the TV after a hard day ( Fengcheng ). All of a sudden there's the burst of pride and finished the last sip of beer at 11 o'clock in the evening we go out to get something to nibble. The goal was some yangrouchuan (goat kebabs extremely popular in northern China), a beer and a chat .. And then clicks the evening you do not expect, with characters in search of an author and new experiences. We arrive at this little place with open grate and chairs typically Chinese, we sit down and clearly perceive that we are the first foreigners to set foot in that place for a long time. The time to ask what we wanted to eat, to understand that we spoke Chinese, and here the laoban (boss) comes and sits with us.

He previously worked at the factory, then made ​​the leap and opened risorantino, his son is studying at university somewhere in Beijing. We tell ourselves a little ', with the tranquility that a little' reminded me of the chatter over a glass of wine in a late afternoon in Venice. And in the meantime here we are offered cockles, marine creatures of various kinds, dried fish and the like. Apart from the dried everything was "alive" and in the water before finishing on the grid. Except for the grilled fish we had never eaten clams "grilled". So after a quick glance mutual, immediately soothed by the care of our guests, we ate.

We have asked ourselves in what sguazzassero water, or in which they lived before the creatures appear to the gallows. We ate. Everything was delicious, topped with a cold beer unexpectedly. Every time a neighbor, a customer was usually greeted with something like "hey, did you see that guests eat at my restaurant," but everything was very nice. The bad Western mind lurked two big questions, like what we paid, and if we would spend the night (from the digestive point of view). And here we are on the edge of the street food, where customers pay only what they ask for and enjoy what is offered, and where you wake up in the morning in perfect health, happy chatter of the night before.