So far, China is kicking my ass

I embrace cultural differences. Really, I do. I detest people who disdain an entire country based on something as trivial as, say, an (admittedly somewhat unfathomable) fondness for squat toilets. Or an affinity for mystery meats of extremely dubious origin.

But then there's these homicidal taxi drivers whose philosophy of the road eschews that hackneyed old "one lane per car" rule in favor of a much more progressive "the road is my oyster (including the lanes for oncoming traffic)" system. I'm especially impressed by their refusal to view pedestrians and bicyclists as obstacles that should be avoided, but rather as opportunities to combat the overpopulation problem.

And these inexplicable "split pants" for babies. I don't want to be a cultural imperialist, but what's wrong with a diaper? I understand that allowing infants to roam around urinating and defecating freely through a giant slit in their pants -- on the sidewalk, the metro and in stores -- really cuts down on diaper rash. I just wonder if that perk really outweighs the attendant public health concerns.

Which brings me to my so-far least-favorite little cultural quirk: the spitting. The daintiest of old ladies produce these great hacking, hocking, snorting giant wads of mucus, complete with intense sound effects, and spray the street, sidewalk, railings or, you know, my shoulder with the fallout.

I might, maybe, just possibly be experiencing culture shock. I'm not positive, though -- I'll have to double check the handy chart entitled "How to know if you're in culture shock" that they gave us at orientation and get back to you.