We spent the first day in scorching Xiamen at Jimei, one of the areas in Xiamen. Specifically, we toured an area dedicated to Tan Kah Kee, who was a ethnic Chinese Malaysian who supported a lot of education and relief during the late 30′s and 40′s in China. His memorial is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Everywhere are stone carvings of plain, everyday things. How to make soap; which plants to eat or use as medicine; categories of animals. These illustrations of the foundations of civilization seem purposefully designed to outlive the civilization they reflect. As we and other tourists scurried away from the brutal heat and humidity, the stone sat unflinchingly as the sweltering coastal breeze bore down on Jimei. Some day, when we are but scars on the earth, these memorials will outlive us all. Perhaps even now, as we have become so advanced that many people have forgotten how wheat is crushed or plants are grown or clothes are sewn, this memorial will be a twisted memento from us to the machines that will take over these duties. And moreso than the hard-drives and cell-phones and laptops that will lie mute in the ground, the carvings at Jimei will be our culture’s monument.

It is sweltering outside.  The internet says it got somewhere north of 103 today in Menlo Park.  I sat in our living room this afternoon feeling like a fish baking in an oven.  So, while Christina went in to lab like a good researcher, I went to Target and bought a fan.

The weather reminds me of our trip to China, where it was also extraordinarily hot (and humid).  We took a long trip from SFO, where we sat behind the privileged few in the exit row.  They chatted with the flight attendant, who relayed her concerns about landing in Shanghai.  Even moreso than Beijing, the political capital of China, Shanghai, as the economic capital of China, was subject to strict swine flu controls.  Thus, before we landed, the pilot cranked up the air conditioner and cooled down the plane in preparation for fever checks.  On cue, a team of haz-mat-suited men and women came aboard with a 4-pronged infrared temperature gauge, as well as an old fashioned gauge for backup.  I could tell they were barely competent at their jobs, probably having been pressed into duty and struggling to quickly and efficiently check hundreds of passengers.  It’s not an easy feat.

We managed to pass alright, although it took a while due to a malfunction in the backup temperature gauge.  Also, a few passengers, including one or two within the 3-row quarantine line, checked in with higher-than-normal temperatures, although most of these were double-checked and were okay.  With a gracious thanks from a bureaucratically crafted and read outloud note, the public health officials scurried out of the plane.  As we stepped out from the chilled aircraft cabin into the polluted heat and polished streets of Shanghai, passengers from other planes spilled from the causeways like ants.  None, as far as I knew, had been quarantined that day.

Okay, if you haven’t guessed yet, we went to China. Specifically, we went to Shanghai and my birthplace of Xiamen. Highlights of the trip include: an angry platypus, a 50-ft candle, an island of pianos, chickens on a rice farm, riding a tank, a blue whale and a dress made of mirrors, asparagus juice and wild persimmons, and woeful tales of lasers to the head and GPS gone horribly, horribly wrong.

All this, and more, begin tomorrow. For now, a picture of me and Christina with my four aunts and my mother.