...that fits.
I arrived in Beijing for an AIESEC internship on Thursday, having had 8 months to dither and doubt. It's a strange place for a Westerner to be, in the heart of the political machine, lacking the glamour of Hong Kong or Shanghai, or the blue skies of, erm, Mongolia. It's a noisy, polluted, over-lit sprawl of poverty and wealth, conformity and silly hair, rickshaws and sleek subway trains, dodgy smells and amazing flavours, brutalist edifices and small treasures.
One such treasure is the S.I.T ("Sculpting In Time") café branch near UIBE in North East Beijing. It's of the Jack Johnson-playin', crazy tea-servin', open-till-late, wi-fi variety and I plan to fit through their doorway often.
I will now proceed to make a number of weak jokes about fitness and fitting into various places. The only thing that could stop me doing so would be some catastrophic network failu
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