When in Rome...

Last night we strayed from the beaten tourist path and experienced Beijing as locals. Afternoon reconnaissance by two of my friends led us to a dimly-lit lane where we dined outdoors at a teetering card table and drew dumbfounded stares from the regulars. Despite warnings from friends before I left, I tasted my first Chinese street meat - skewered goat, chicken, and shrimp barbecued on a primitive hibachi. After the street meat, we feasted on mutton stew, eggplant, and fried rice. It was one of the best meals I've had, no doubt assisted by the endless flow of Tsing Tao beer.

We capped the night off with karaoke. Unlike at home, where I have viscously assaulted the senses of strangers and embarrassed friends and family, the Chinese limit the damage by giving each group its own room where you are free to butcher any and all songs in its catalogue. For those of you who are wondering, I did manage to find a few George Strait tunes and introduced Beijing to Fool Hearted Memory.