Shanghai: First Day on the Job

I hope I make it out of Shanghai alive. I told my cousin the other day that I remembered that in Shanghai, green means go, and red means go faster. Now take that into consideration and imagine me trying to cross an eight-lane highway where there's no stoplights anywhere in the area. Now imagine me only making it halfway across because the traffic on the other side caught up. Now imagine standing on the yellow line with cars honking everytime they zoomed by at 50 mph. I lived. Barely. And it wasn't like I was jaywalking either, because there were definitely zebra lines. And thinking back on it, I want to yell at those drivers for honking like it was my fault. After all, according to the law, they are supposed to stop for me. I'm not supposed to stop for them.
So, the office where I'm working is quite nice. They use a lot of stone in the place, and, as Zach says, the signage is awesome. One thing I noticed is that the office is definitely not to code. USA safety codes, I mean. The stairs don't have any railings at all and the glass thingies that enclose the mezzanine aren't structural in the least, nor do they have mullions. That means that if you lean on the glass, you make the glass fall. Also, there's a crazy sort of half-bridge that hangs out over the workspace. Think prow of the boat, or "off the plank!" or maybe have some mad scientist laughing devilishly as he lords over his little minions below. Of course, as lovely as the idea is, one also has to beware of the fact that not only is there no safety rails surrounding the thing, there's a 6 inch gap between the edge of the mezzanine and the start of the plank.
In the office itself, I have my own desk, my own box of pencils, my own desk lamp, my own computer and my very own empty drawers for stuff I don't have. The only other people in the office fluent in English are the architect himself (fat chance on getting to talk with him - he only spoke a hand full of sentences to me all day because he's so busy) and another intern - a grad student from Yale named Shelly. After a very frustrating day of not understanding my Malaysian neighbor (he mumbles too much) it was a relief to turn off the Chinese side of my brain and speak some English. I later realized, too, that it isn't that my Chinese is bad, it's that people from different parts of China have completely different accents. I had a hard time with the Malaysian accent, but when I talked to the senior project manager, I didn't have to ask more than a couple times for translations (I found out later that he is Taiwanese, so that explains it). It is also a bit of a relief to realize that my reading in Chinese isn't too bad. I need to find time to get my hands on a Chinese English dictionary so I don't have to keep bothering everyone for explanations. I think I made a lot of friends today. Shelly, Mr. Malaysian and some of the other younger people in the firm asked me if I wanted to stay a bit later and play some badminton, but I decided that I would save today for trying to get home without getting lost. Fortunately, I didn't get lost. Day one is over and I'm alive and well.