My Life as a Deaf Mute

This is China. That's what I seem to tell myself at least every hour. It's all I knew it would be, and nothing like I thought it would be.
Traffic has a new meaning. Take an open air mall and mix in a flea market and a farmer's market. Stack eight floors of apartments on top of that, add a street festival, a motorbike and scooter rally to that, and allow the normal auto traffic too, then send all the police home, take down the street signs, and you've got a pretty good idea of the street life here. Cars, people, and bikes mingle freely all over the streets and both sidewalks. Someone once painted lines on the streets, but no one pays them any heed. Intersections are indescribable. Except where a policeman is personally directing traffic, the lights are regarded merely as decorations. The rule is "go and don't get hit"
Food is good, cheap, and diverse. I like Chinese, and even if I didn't there is a KFC, McDonald's, McDonald's knock off, a steak house in walking distance. It's citrus season in the homeland of the genus right now, and the oranges are truly wonderful. The more pressing problem is communicating what it is I want. I learned today that "moaw bao" means "take out"- "doggy bag" really, and that "lao dow" will get the attention of the manager. Other than that and "please" and "thank you" I'm still a deaf mute in this land.
It's strange, and humbling to have to rely on someone for absolutely everything, but it's also quite surprising how far you can get with pointing, pictures, and symbols. I'm beginning to understand how an illiterate person could survive. Overall, everyone I've met has been at least polite, and most are very willing to help. There are not many forigners here, so you do get noticed, but not to the level of being obnoxious.