expats

Is China a drug? Like any drug, it depends entirely on the user__ own state of mind. If we__e making metaphors, for old China hands I__ imagine their time here draws parallels with the soaring euphoria and bleak depths of smoking opium, while China for the uninitiated is probably a bit like bath salts: the constantly convulsing nervous system, the paranoia, the god-complex, the rage. I__ liken my own China experience to a decade-long acid trip. It began with liberating my mind from the restraints of Western society. Then I departed on an odyssey that took me tens of thousands of miles across China, experiencing various metaphysical and spiritual states as my journey progressed, punctuated by periods of intense creativity due to my heightened sensory perceptions. To a background score of warped erhu and guzheng, and the looped calls of sidewalk vendors echoing into the void, the kaleidoscopic chaos of this culture surged around me like the Yangtze river _ in outer space. Now I__ one with China__ cosmic consciousness. I want to reeducate the communists with love. Or maybe I__ not even here. Maybe I really did perish during my kora around Mount Kailash and none of this ever happened...

I was supposed to stay for 3 months. But I think I always knew I would stay a little longer, despite the crazy Frenchies. Or maybe because of them.

Random acts of kindness show that even amidst the hustle and bustle, Paris inhabitants are more welcoming that their reputation gives them credit for.

People wonder why so many writers come to live in Paris. I__e been living ten years in Paris and the answer seems simple to me: because it__ the best place to pick ideas. Just like Italy, Spain.. or Iran are the best places to pick saffron. If you want to pick opium poppies you go to Burma or South-East Asia. And if you want to pick novel ideas, you go to Paris.