We celebrated my brother’s arrival P.D. (Pre Diarrhea) by, what else, making him do stuff for us. Thus, early last week he found himself in the kitchen, working on making burritos and salsa and tacos for the panda household.

For those of you who have never met my brother, he’s a stand-up fellow with a very relaxed demeanor and a very unassuming disposition. This sets him up to be the perfect bitch for me, and I took full advantage, forcing him to compliment my apartment every 20 minutes and to set up my exfoliating bubble bath at 8:30 pm every night. And of course, to make the one thing that I crave the most every since I moved out here.

Needless to say, ANY burrito would have been savory and welcome in my mouth. Nevertheless, I as surprised at how delicious my carne asade burrito el Andrew tasted. I crammed two down my mouth, along with three tacos, and was reminded of El Faralito down in San Francisco’s Mission District, where Harsha and Joe and I often found ourselves around 2 a.m. in the morning, waiting in the ever-egalitarian line (SOMA geeks, Market Street bankers, Mission St. artists alike) for the steak quesadillas. Man, sometimes I really miss being back in S.F..

But then, there’s Shanghai, the greatest city west of the Huangpu! And for my loyal readers outside of this gloriously decadent city, here’s a not-so-clear shot from my balcony. Imagine it being much clearer and brighter, and know that that is the sight that greets me from a long day of slacking at work.


A glimpse of the world at my feet