I would've bought all the lemons for one picture

The bagels turned out less than perfect. But they're bagels, I tell myself. My first try. And look at the oven I have to work with! A real bakery with a real oven, ZX and I agree, is going to feel like heaven after three bagels at a time in the boiling pot and the baking pan.

Meanwhile the freshman are so easy and fun that I'm asking for more classes. Willingly hanging around after the bell with patient smiles and the expected advice . . . but in the end I sail back into my anonymous life in the city. Where every day people I meet - the McDonald's workers waiting in line in the women's bathroom, the teenage girl and her father come to Nanchong to visit relatives, the girls selling dried snacks on the street - are friends for a few minutes. But it's not like I can invite them over for dinner.

On the busy market sidewalk this evening, one basket held less than ten lemons, and some ginger root. Behind the basket, the seller sat, but he was half-turned away, fully absorbed in a game of chess (or something like it) with another old man. Normal street activity. Like the crowd of seven or so clustered around the regular game down the street. They'll be there all day, only thin out later in the evening, and the die-hards will stay into the wee hours of the morning. Down the street they've got a real board though, and stools, to go with their real players and their real audience. Here behind the lemons there are just a few scratched lines on the sidewalk, and torn bits of lemon and orange peel to serve as pieces. Just two old men, but no less a game of chess.