So this is Part II of Babes of Beijing.
A brand new blog series documenting stories of places and people I encountered during my various trips to Beijing.
Long, punchy, candid. Basically, cultural word porn strapped with cheeky observations and delicious anecdotes.
The last one was about a fruit seller. This one is about a handsome Swedish photographer I met on a random school night. At an odd watering hole. In a dark, quiet alley.
PG-zero and 120% safe for work, I promise.
Now, come on in.
Never had I been so intrigued by the people of a country that I would stuff my suitcase with twenty books written by local authors, watch a complete series of totalitarian-nostalgic drama and talk to strangers for the sole purpose of getting to know the people better. This attraction is gravitational.
Babes of Beijing is a series of blog posts about the people I met during my various trips to Beijing. Some long, some short.
Featuring the locals, whose cultures and beliefs are deeply influenced by the teachings of Confucius, as well as the non-locals who, fluent in Chinese or not, have made the Middle Kingdom their home.
All interesting people, all true stories.
Believe me when I say it will get juicy.
*/Backpack sponsored by Gaston Luga
I could have gone to Miami, but chose to take countless vaccinations and flew to Mumbai instead. Read and you won’t need to wonder why.
This is not a place that many of you snobs would approve of.
It’s a little dusty, with wan furniture and interior that has seen better days. From the outside, it looked like another tattered shop that cowers by the narrow street of Mumbai. One of those that doesn’t seem to meet satisfactory levels for food hygiene.
But frankly, I don’t give two donuts about that. Come say Hi to the Yazdani.
*/Sunglasses sponsored by SmartBuyGlasses
I know I still owe you stories from my second trip to Beijing, 60 hours in Bangkok (can’t say no to Thai mango) and a stonking good holiday in Mumbai. But these bad boys call. And I can’t say no.