Whipped into shape by kneading hands

Just as bamboo bends with the wind so as not to break, it is natural for expatriates in China to change their habits to suit the daily realities of life in their chosen city.

Not wishing to end up with a snapped neck, I forego jogging on the streets of Beijing. Cars, electric bikes, pedicabs all jostle to claim the pedestrian's life. I don't intend to make their job easier by dashing through the streets blindly at a rate of knots.

I have, however, become rather accustomed to taking advantage of the plentiful and, in my locality, completely legitimate massage parlors. Translated literally, the process of having my willowy frame pounded and slapped by an underpaid masseuse is "protecting the health" and thus makes up for my otherwise slothful lifestyle, I feel.