Nestled in the northern reaches of Vietnam, Ha Long Bay and Cat Ba Island offer a tapestry of breathtaking landscapes and serene waters, interwoven with the rich texture of Vietnamese culture and history. My recent voyage to these iconic destinations was an experience that danced gracefully between relaxation and adventure, leaving me with memories etched in the beauty of their natural wonders.

The passion of the fans was palpable. From the moment we entered the ground until well after the final whistle, the Suhoshin, the name given to the hardcore fan group situated in the North Stand, never stopped singing.

On this afternoon, the streets were abuzz with local life; the lack of expats in the crowd hinted at this hutong's authentic day-to-day vibrancy. Families, scooters zipping by, and the kaleidoscope of traditional Chinese fast food coalesced into a singular visual feast distinct to hutongs. It was in the narrow side streets, however, where a quieter story unfolded—one that allowed my camera to focus on scenes less traveled.

I joked with a friend that I had been Beijing’ed. My family and I moved here last June, and ever since, I’ve felt my connection to the Iranian diaspora slipping–this week hammered that home. My mistake, missing the ever-important kick-off event to the Nowruz season, wouldn’t have been a thing back in DC. But, if I’m honest, this disconnect isn’t anything new. I mean, we grew up in rural Kentucky. So, it felt like everything Iranian happened in a vacuum. While we knew we were Iranian, my father’s maintenance of our cultural touch points was basically limited to rice with every meal and facilitating a love of radishes.

Back then, it was known as a nightlife hotspot. It was where expats and young Beijingers went for a night of drinking and dancing—a Beijing version of DC’s Adams Morgan or Dupont Circle. As things go in Beijing, however, the area isn’t as hip as it once was. The new chic area of town moved further east, down to Sanlitun.

I fell in love with Tokyo quickly. Like maybe immediately. I don’t know. In the first few days there, I kept thinking about how it reminded me of New York City. It’s big, bustling, and full of life. But it’s a calmer, cleaner, and cheaper version of the Big Apple. Sure, Shibuya is Times Square meets Bourbon Street, but the rest of the city operated much slower than I expected for a city of 31 million.

If you missed the sign out front indicating Epilogue was for Liverpool supporters only, you couldn’t miss the other clues on display as you entered. Patrons clad in red, a collection of the most recent kits worn by the Mighty Reds. Posters and signed jerseys hung from the wall. Liverpool pint glasses are stacked neatly behind the bar. Graphics from The Anfield Wrap hang from the doors along a back corridor.

In fact, the craft beer industry in Beijing and China is quite robust, mature, and producing high-quality craft beer on par with anything I have consumed in the US. Despite that, the beer culture remains vastly different from what you can find in the States. This stems, in large part, from differences in tastes, practices, and purchasing trends.

I had a choice to make, and it was one that would affect the direction of this piece. I could continue the night’s festivities and end up with something akin to Hunter S. Thompson’s essay on the Kentucky Derby. While it would probably have made for a great story, I didn’t believe it was in my best interests to roll those dice here in Beijing.

If there’s anything from living in Washington, DC that prepared me for living in Beijing, it has to be spending the previous four and half years living on Georgia Avenue. I know what you’re thinking, ‘But David, Georgia Ave and Beijing are nothing alike.’ Au contraire, mon ami. They very much are. Well, at least in this one very narrow aspect…bad driving maneuvers, specifically U-Turns.

I was worried that whatever the special oil was would be the sort of hot that I couldn’t handle. The rankings of chilis on the menu mean nothing without an actual reference. One place's single chili rating could be another place’s three. Luckily, I had nothing to worry about.

As with most craft breweries, their beers lean heavily on the ale side of the market. They’re easier to make, and most folks patronize these establishments because they want ales instead of lagers. Even though I enjoy an excellent lager and will not hesitate to elevate a brewery simply based on its lagers, I’ve been pleased with the beer I’ve consumed at Great Leap.

They were busy, but the server directed me to the one open table remaining. I scanned the patrons and realized it was full of locals–precisely what I wanted. Another server brought over a menu far more approachable than the binders at the other place. Each page except the sections for dumplings and drinks had two to three options, pictures of each option, and a translation (sometimes humorously bad) into English.

There’s nothing more shocking than walking into the local nut store (yes, there is a local nut store) only to be greeted by a timid ‘ni-hao’ from behind one of these pastel face coverings. Am I speaking to the man in the iron mask or the lovely woman who sold me Turkish pistachios during my first week here? I don’t know because that mask makes it impossible to sort out what’s what.

The brewery she pointed to was just the brewpub for one of the local beer makers–Arrow Factory Brewing. Like with Slow Boat, I had previously heard about them through the craft beer bar in our building. The owner had pointed them out on a map and told me it was an excellent place to grab a few pints.

It sits along a quiet tree-lined side street among residential highrises on the south side of the Liangma River, just a few hundred meters west of Xindong Road. If there weren’t a big sign out front, you’d miss it. However, the facade does stand out among the drab grays and dull pinks of some of the surrounding buildings. So maybe even without the sign, it would at least draw your attention.

I was reminded of it early on after our move to Beijing. Dog ownership isn’t a new thing in China, but the rapid rise of it over the last decade has turned it from a novelty into something more commonplace. This is especially true for millennials who have, for several reasons, put off starting a family.

But unlike in the US, where certain, dirtier aspects of pet ownership see both widely held adherence and some level of public opprobrium if not followed, those things are the exception rather than the rule in China.

“Japanese,” she said in an aggressive whisper as she leaned in, making it almost conspiratorial like an inside joke, only I had no fucking clue what she was on about.

She’d said it before, too, with her wide hyena-like grin. Those first few times, I laughed it off. What else was I going to do? Her crazy eyes exposed little to no depth other than malice. Was that malice directed at me? It wasn’t quite clear.

But here’s the thing: I’m out of shape. Even if I had taken it easy, there’s a good chance I would have been fucked halfway up the mountainside anyway. Because, like the ambitious fool I am, I tried to take this thing like I was in high school or college. You know, back when you could go out partying, put away the better part of a 12-pack of the worst beer imaginable, and still wake up the following day to run three miles in twenty-one minutes.