Autumn wins you best by this, its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay

Well, as hard as I may try, I can't deny that autumn is upon us here in the northern hemisphere. And as depressing as this sounds, I've come to dread these funny few weeks of mid-September. St Andrews term starts late compared to a lot of places, so for the past three years it has felt like I'm trying in vain to cling on to that warm-sunny-holiday idea. Then, of course, I've started to associate this time of year with goodbyes (California, our summer flat last year, Shanghai). Add to that this imminent sense of dread at the approach of a Scottish winter, and, well, it makes you feel a bit...meh. Don't get me wrong, the weather is really lovely and all that, but I can't shake off that little something niggling at my heart. I have to say that I preferred this time of year when I was a kid, even if I had been in school for something ridiculous like three weeks already at this point. In California, Indian summer is simply gorgeous, and I had Hallowe'en, Thanksgiving, ski season, Christmas and a generally sunny, mild winter to look forward to.

This year, it's especially difficult because of two things, the first of which is the Shanghai goodbyes. Seeing people head back to Europe and the States has sucked. The second thing is that I'm heading into my last year at St Andrews, and no matter how much I slag off the winters there, I love my town and my friends and my St Andrean life more than I could ever say. I'm so excited to graduate, but the thought of leaving my adopted home is enough to leave me in tears. And it's still months away! Then again, I've never been good at...um...not crying. Considering that I always seem to be about 6000 miles away from at least someone that I really care about, you would think that I would have learned to cope better, but most every time I leave California or the UK I end up in tears. The kind of hug-my-knees-to-my-chest-and-sniffle tears that, when I'm sitting alone in a departure lounge, make people think that I'm being deported or something.

I'm afraid that there is a 99 per cent chance that I will be in a similar state in six days' time, but it will be even more depressing because it will be in the middle of the night (thanks a whole f***ing lot, Qatar Airways, for having your ONLY flight out of Shanghai leave at 1 am, that's so convenient).

You can feel that it's autumn here now. All summer long the temperature has been around 34, 35 degrees (high 90s for all Fahrenheit people out there) and pretty steamy, with lots of sun. I would hardly call it cold-29 degrees is still considered 'sweltering' by many of the Brits I know-but it doesn't sap your energy or make you feel like you're being cooked quite the same way it did earlier during the summer. The little blue fan I keep in my handbag has gotten much less use over the past few weeks. I won't lie, I'm worried. If I think that 29 degrees is counts as 'cool', then how am I going to survive landing in Edinburgh to a more-than-likely rainy 13 degrees? Will my fingers fall off? Will I die?? I remember landing at EDI in early February wearing flipflops and a sleeveless top after having been in Singapore and Thailand for two weeks. It was pitch-black and snowing. It took weeks to get over the trauma.

It's getting dark earlier as well. I left the office at about quarter past six the other day after fifteen minutes of heaving frustrated sighs at my computer (my laptop has this spectacular talent for uploading files very, very slowly, leaving me to wonder just how much of my life I've wasted attaching documents to emails) and to my surprise I stepped outside and it was NIGHTTIME. Gah! Doesn't that seem a bit early to you?! This is, of course, mere foreshadowing. I know how much worse it can get. For those of you that have never watched a sunset at 2.30 in the afternoon, I can't say that I would recommend it, but it's an experience. Ditto waking up in the dark for four months straight. Most of you know about my beloved sunlamp that resides on my desk back in St Andrews-the giant square lightbulb with two settings, 0 (off) and 1 (SUPERNATURALLY BRIGHT)-so that's my answer as to how I get through the winter. Unfortunately, even prostrating myself in front of the lamp for those minimum 90 minutes a day doesn't always work. As my aunt says, the best way to combat darkness like that is a boarding pass. After enjoying long evenings and dusky sunsets over the city's skyscrapers all summer, the early nightfall is quite sad.

Shanghai doesn't exactly have New England's reputation for leaf change (no leaf-peeping buses here). but if you look at the trees overhead you can definitely see autumn coming to them as well. This morning I went for one of my standard long ambles, and up on Yuyao Lu, suddenly found myself walking beneath a shower of slim golden leaves being shaken loose by a gust of wind. The street was silent and nearly empty, sort of like being in a surreal urban grove. The sky overhead was a thick blanket of gunmetal clouds, as there was a heavy storm brewing all morning, and you could fill that anticipatory click and whirr of brewing rain. Simply put, it just didn't feel like summer anymore.

You can tell, as well, by the hairy soft shell crabs that are suddenly popping up at all the fishmongers. All through July and August it was crawdads crawdads crawdads, all stacked immaculately in massive red piles, but now it's the crabs' turn. Ditto with persimmons, apples, pomegranates, and all the rest of the fall fruits. The other thing you see everywhere now is, of course, moon cakes! The mid-autumn moon festival is almost here, so they are EVERYWHERE in all their exquisitely crafted festive glory-from vendors in the street selling them off the top of a battered steel bicycle to the bakeries of luxury hotels. If only I were around for the actual holiday, which is the 22nd. To be entirely honest, I'll probably be bleary-eyed and wrapped in a cardigan and uggs in Starbucks with the girls rehashing whatever mayhem freshers week will bring. It doesn't really evoke that same romantic oriental image, does it?

Again, though, I know that there's no reason to get sad, as I'll be back after graduation. I really am just that bad at goodbyes. Oh, and cold weather. According to my weather widget, it's about 19 in St Andys right now (65F) and not pouring rain, which is not awful. I still see many scarves and ugly-but-warm hats in my future, though.

Small things:

-The other day, I walked into a shop and plucked a few dresses off the central rack. I pointed to the dressing room and asked if I could try them on, but the girl behind the counter gave a weary sigh and told me, very definitively, no. Why? I asked. The girl then told me that I couldn't try them on because I was too fat. We all appreciate it when people are straightforward, but what do you even say to that?!
-I promise (really, I do) that I will put my photos on shutterfly when I get back to the UK. It just takes forever with the VPN, and Mom and Dad, you've both made it clear that you don't want to go anywhere near my facebook. Good call.
-As Qatar Airways are so ridiculously anal about overweight luggage, I have decided to ship some clothes/stuff back to Scotland via the China Post slow boat. It's only 50rmb per kilo, which is a fraction of what QA would charge, and will get to the UK in a month. My goal is to have The Box (as I've taken to calling it) prepared and sent off in the next few days. Well, I guess it kind of has to be in the next few days, but sooner rather than later. If anyone wants anything sent to the UK in The Box, let me know asap and somehow get me the money for the extra kilos. For the record, I'm very curious to see whether or not The Box will actually get to me. Ever. If it does arrive within a month, I'll probably have a coronary out of pure shock. There's apparently an even slower option for 25rmb per kilo. A parcel is meant to take three months to arrive, meaning it probably reaches its destination within the next two years. It's 2010, why do these things still take so bloody long?! Ahem. Sorry.
-This afternoon I went up to Hongkou to get some clothes and jewellery at the Qipu Market, which is one of those multi-story labyrinthine behemoths packed full of stalls and pushy vendors. Amongst the things I bought was a necklace of a rhinestone panda playing an electric guitar. Pandas? Rock 'n roll? Totally logical combination. I also got myself a shirt that reads, 'THE FILTH AND THE FURY!' (yes, in all caps, with exclamation point). Behind the words is the outline of some very bizarre and perhaps Satanic-looking animal, like a cross between a rabid bunny and a goat. I really have no idea what the shirt means. At all. Finally, I figured I should buy some little souvenir touristy thing, so I got myself a shirt to sleep in. It appears to be a Texas extra large and has a picture of two pandas eating bamboo above the words 'Shanghai, China'. That may seem like a pointless disambiguation, but there are apparently Shanghais in North Korea and Puerto Rico as well. I would hate for people to be confused. We don't have pandas in Shanghai, though. That part is a lie.

An auspicious start, or How I Ended Up In a Frying Pan on the Persian Gulf

'The internship' period has technically gone on for a few days now, so I've been writing things down until I had solid internet access. This is from the 12th:

As to how my internship is shaping up so far, I’ll give you a hint: that first title is the tiniest bit sarcastic. My flight to Doha with Qatar Airways, yes, ‘the world’s five-star airline’, is already two and a half hours behind schedule; considering that I had all of eighty minutes to make my connection once I got to Doha, I can safely assume that I will be in that oh-so-scenic little Gulf state for a little longer than I expected. I should add that there is only one Doha-Shanghai flight per day.

The launch of my internship, so to speak, has so far proceeded as such:

-I had a lovely sleep on a plush white downy bed and then had a long soak in the bath, emerging relaxed, well-rested and eager to arrive in Shanghai.
-I arrived at the Qatar Airways desk, where they actually weighed my hand luggage and told me there was no way they would allow it onto the flight. What kind of airline weighs hand luggage?? (nb: I am fully aware that this whole thing was my fault; I plead young and stupid.) Anyway, the excess baggage charges were going to be about 300 pounds.
-I cried (kind of). I can do this on command and though I’m not terribly proud of it, it has indeed allowed me to weasel my way out of about 150 quid worth of overweight charges before.
-The guy behind the desk relented about halfway and told me to get rid of five kilos (instead of eight), which I promptly did, much to the amusement of the massive Indian family surrounding me. I’m not very good at throwing things out, even clothes that I’ve had for the past seven years, so maybe it was good for me. At any rate, my wardrobe has been streamlined.
-I pelted through security and duty free with the briefest of stops to squirt some Chanel Chance on my wrists (I really can’t help it), screeched to a halt at the gate and filed onto the plane with everyone else. I’m pretty sure that most everyone is connecting to somewhere that is NOT Qatar—it’s hard to imagine why there would be enough people that wanted to go to Doha to fill an entire plane. Perhaps that a bit harsh, but most everyone says it’s an armpit.
-The pilot told us that the plane was being towed back because of a ‘fuel tank malfunction’. As fuel tanks are the things that seem to explode a lot, I figured this was for the best.
-The pilot told us with a few nervous laughs that we would have to disembark, because they actually had to replace the faulty fuel tank with a working one. The last time we heard from him, he said it would be ‘at least an hour’. This means it will probably be about four hours.
-I went back to duty free to try on some lip gloss and then got myself some juice at WH Smith. Absentmindedly I stuck my Boots card into the machine; the girl behind the counter told me, ‘That’s a Boots card. This is W-Haytche Smif’. Feeling stupid, I took my card back; as I looked down to take a five pound note from my wallet, I gestured towards the total on the till and asked, ‘What’s that, again?’ Referring to the cost of the juice, of course. The girl looked at the fiver in my hand and informed me, ‘That’s five pound’. Thank you for that.

I’ve also had the pleasure of meeting an actual resident of Qatar—not a Qatari but rather a native Mancunian. This inexplicably cowboy hat-wearing guy was kind enough to confirm that the Qatari sand thing was true—that is, Qatar is so unsuitable for living that even the sand is useless, as in you can’t make concrete out of it, so the country actually has to import sand from Saudi Arabia. It’s apparently not even sand, just baked dirt. My new chum also confirmed that it’s a ****hole crawling with fast food restaurants and people with more money than sense…kind of like Dubai, but with less in the way of entertainment. Indeed, when I read through the QA Oryx magazine, it included a friendly welcome from the Emir of Qatar in which His Highness claimed that his state was ‘fairly liberal’ because it permits Westerners to drink alcohol…in hotels only (by the way, don’t even think about bringing your own booze into the country). The Emir did abolish child slavery and the Orwellian Ministry of Information, though, so he sounds like a decent fellow. Relatively.

Some other fun facts about Qatar:

-It’s only three hours ahead of Britain and two in the summer! It seems like the difference should be greater, considering that Doha is far away from pretty much everything apart from Yemen.
-Its national animal is the gazelle-like oryx, which is probably the only thing that’s actually suited to living in Qatar. Homo sapiens, not so much.
-I’m sure there are other things.

Qatari musings aside, I am SO excited to (eventually) get to Shanghai! The Chinese government has poured ten times the money into the city for the 2010 World Expo as it did for the Olympics in Beijing, and apparently the whole place looks gorgeous and is packed with people from all over the world. Hopefully I’ll get to take a look at some of the podiums during my time off—as great as it would be to see the Chinese or Saudi Arabian ones, the queues are about six hours long, so I’m keen to see the smaller, more obscure countries’. I’m sure Belarus has put together something spectacular, or at least funny. And of course I can’t wait to meet my colleagues and flatmates, stuff myself with the famous local dumplings, explore the old neighbourhoods and soak up some of that lovely humidity.