I Have A Toaster

I have a toaster.

I know, this sounds like a very simple statement, but in Beijing, and in much of China, nothing is as simple as it seems.

I've lived in China's capital for 11 months, through the Spring Festival madness, through the earthquake terror, through the Olympics spectacular. I was almost kicked out my apartment once, crashed in taxis twice, stranded in airports, choked by the pollution, sickened by the food, revolted by local health care professionals, and disgusted by the lack of manners on the streets. But it is the adventure of a lifetime, and I would not trade the experience for all the tea in, well, you know.

And now, it's all good, because I have a toaster.

This is important, because you should not believe everything you read about the rush to get in on the Chinese market and the fast-growing Chinese economy. The fact of the matter is that 1.3 billion Chinese may not want what you're trying to sell them, and the vast majority of Chinese have no need for a toaster. But I do. It took Starbucks years to understand how to sell its product to the Chinese market. Dunkin' Donuts is still trying to figure it out. My morning needs are relatively simple, and highly attainable -- if I still lived in the United States. But China is China, and your morning here begins with one thing: tea.

I can guarantee that if I limited my morning diet to tea, I would still be asleep at noon -- the next day.

So I managed to find a Wal-Mart store, in the basement of a forbidding East side office building, and finally grabbed the only toaster on the shelf. This simple, yet mighty appliance will finally turn my life in China around, I just know it.

Now, if I can only find some butter.