Lost on Planet China by J. Maarten Troost

I'm obviously a little anxious about my impending trip to the far east. This book's subtitle is "One man's attempt to understand the world's most mystifying nation". Sounds like it might be helpful. I think instead I'm more anxious. It sounds like breathing will be challenging, as not only am I going to the Himilayas, where oxygen is scarce, apparently, the pollution in China is abysmal. On the other hand, I've been practicing two phrases that I think will be most comforting; "Qingwen. Wo buhui dun zhege cesuo. Youmeiyou biede cesuo keyi yong?" Translated; "Excuse me, I am not proficient at squatting. Is there another toilet option?" And, the more simple, but perhaps more crucial "Zhege zhende shi jirou ma?"Translated; "Are you sure that's chicken?" Thank you Mr. Troost for these helpful navigators. Unfortunately, he also points out that learning something in Mandarin does not mean you'll be understood by those who speak Cantonese, or the other 291 languages in the country of China. It's not that I'm expecting to be understood by the 1.5 billion inhabitants of China, but I'm afraid I may not be understood by any of them. I will be an unintelligible, blonde, tall, Laowei female wearing scuba gear. If you are feeling disheartened about living in the Good Ol' USA, picking up this book will make you feel much better. As usual, much of the language that crosses all barriers would never cross my Grandmother's threshold, and once again, it seems harder to avoid members of the sex trade in this country than here in the rural cornfields of middle America. Not sure I would share this book with my kids, unless they were of the mind to get a back pack and head for the Orient to find themselves. Cruising through these pages might make them skew their travels more towards Norway. "Jeg er glad Norweigans bruk toilet papir!" Translated: Heck, you don't even need me to translate it.