9:30 pm, November 20

Wow, this “farm” I’m on really…isn’t one. It’s a mountainside orchard-villa-cultural exchange, all rolled into one. Once you arrive, you’re greeted with a sight so unmistakably Chinese: stone and wood furniture, calligraphy carvings and paper wall partitions. A short walk around the scattered villas reveals an orchard—no, a park, really, just with fruit trees—snaking around a fenceless ravine down to the bottom. (Way, way down to the bottom.)

And the cultural exchange began sometime around after dinner. Perhaps only on holiday do people not find it strange sitting around a wooden table with strangers, making small talk whilst handrolling little glutinous rice tang yuan balls. (Maybe just a little strange, hopefully.) And then having a bowl of those boiled in what looks like sugared water (”what looks like”, I say, since I didn’t have any) and writing wishes on small hot air balloons, before sending them off into the dark sky.

I wished for something completely unsurprising. And I also made my mother write the same wish down, just to double my chances.

Back to civilisation tomorrow. And back to an Internet connection. People say I might be addicted to it, but don’t worry, I’ve got it under control. *Breathe*

*Looks at stagnant e-mail box.*
*Stares at empty browser window.*
*Chews nails*

*Breathe*