Jessica Bellas' new book "Maotai, mooncakes & monks: Misadventures in Hong Kong & China" is not one of those how-to guides. It is a collection of light-spirited essays that vividly reflect an American expatriate's first impressions of and culture shocks mostly in Hong Kong.

The title of the book is quite telling itself. Maotai is a famous brand of high-end Chinese rice liquor often served at business banquets on the mainland. Bellas' demonstrated ability to drink large quantities of Maotai won her a job offer from a government official from Zhejiang province, because toasting Maotai is a fundamental practice that builds bonds and lubricates business and government relations.

The mooncake, on the other hand, is a traditional Chinese pastry for lunar worship and moon watching during the Mid-Autumn Festival. There are many varieties of mooncakes in different regions, and innovative new flavors keep coming out, such as the ice cream mooncake by Häagen-Dazs. Bellas didn't particularly enjoy the Cantonese mooncakes offered by her Hong Kong colleague.

"This must be what it would be like to bite into a hunk of lard," she described the taste of the "bean-flavored, pastry-enclosed lump of jello."

I don't blame her. My own colleagues, the adventurous ones, at Plastics News also found it hard to like the mooncakes I brought to the office. The mooncake is indeed on the top of my own list of "famous Chinese food that Westerns hate." What else is on the list? There is Zongzi, a chunk of glutinous rice stuffed with fillings and wrapped in reed or giant bamboo leaves. People eat Zongzi during the Dragon Boat Festival, commemorating the death of ancient patriot poet Qu Yuan.

What's the story behind monks? Bellas encountered a wild monkey irritated by her photo flash during her tour of Hong Kong's Ten Thousand Buddhas Monastery, which I visited a number of years ago. I'm just glad the angry monkey didn't attack Bellas or anyone else.

The book's subtitle "Misadventures in Hong Kong and China" seems to be hinting that the book is intended for Westerners only. I make this speculation because it's not politically correct to juxtapose "Hong Kong" and "China", at least not from the Mainland perspective, just like how the Americans won't appreciate the saying of "Texas and the U.S."

Adsale the Hong Kong organizer of the Chinaplas trade show, for example, consistently uses the official name of "Hong Kong Special Administration Region." In the English version of its Web site, it refers to Taiwan as "Taiwan", while the Chinese version phrases it "Taiwan province of China." Right or wrong, the matter of fact is, nobody can succeed in China without handling political correctness properly.

Regardless, this book is a refreshing and fun read filled with passion, humor and wit. More information can be found on www.tamcopublishing.com.

As the H1N1 flu has been declared a pandemic by the World Health Organization, NPE2009 is taking precautionary measures, including setting up hand-sanitizer stations throughout Chicago's McCormick Place convention center, having all shuttle buses cleaned daily, and making sure all Chicago hotels have instituted additional cleaning measures.

In a statement issued today, SPI President & CEO William R. Carteaux said: "It is certainly not my intention to make light of concerns regarding the H1N1 pandemic, but the plain fact is that in the United States, aside from a few temporary school closings, the situation continues to be 'business as usual'. The percentage of the total population affected remains less than one-tenth of 1 percent. Furthermore, after thoughtful research based on mathematical modeling, the World Health Organization decided not to restrict global travel because limiting travel would have very little effect on stopping the virus from spreading. Historical records of previous influenza pandemics, as well as experience with SARS, validate this."

The good news is that 30,000 attendees from more than 100 countries have already registered for NPE2009 after the initial media coverage of H1N1. Carteaux said he will bring his entire family and 80 percent of his staff to Chicago for NPE week.

All is encouraging. But just as how many American citizens were culture shocked with China's heavy hand on H1N1 prevention (see PN editor Bob Grace's recent column from Chinaplas called "Taking temperature of the flu outbreak"), I can just imagine how Chinese exhibitors and visitors will be shocked that American airports and convention centers don't take people's temperature, that the authorities don't quarantine people who have had contact with H1N1 patients or those who have fever, that Americans are not very nervous about the pandemic. China and the U.S. have very different legal, political and medical systems, population conditions as well as mentalities.

Let's hope everything goes smoothly at the upcoming NPE show, and everyone remains safe and healthy.

Back in the early summer of 2003, at the tale of the SARS outbreak, Beijing was gradually going back to business as usual.

I was in a cab to go the U.S. embassy in Beijing for a student visa interview. With the rising sun scorching the earth, I started to sweat, because the cab driver insisted leaving the windows open without air conditioning. His excuse was to keep the air flowing to help prevent SARS. But I knew many cab drivers had the habit of not using air conditioning just to save gas.

About 40 minutes later, I arrived in the embassy and joined a long line outside of the gate. I actually arrived early, 90 minutes before my appointment, to make up for the notorious long wait in line. It was not a pleasant experience to stand outside under the summer sun for an hour and half. I also didn't have the wisdom to bring a sun umbrella or a paper fan or to wear casual, short-sleeve summer clothes.

By the time I finished the line and was allowed into the nicely air-conditioned security check room, I thought the day was finally going to move on. But the high-tech temperature monitor on the wall caught me. With a sharp beep sound, a security guard immediately came up: "Your temperature is too high. Go back outside and try to cool down."

I went outside, desperate. How am I going to lower my temperature standing under the sun? With a dozen other fever-suspected applicants next to me, I asked the guard whether we could move to a tree's shade. The answer, of course, was no.

For the next three hours, I tried to meditate and cool myself down with my mind. I was called back to test my temperature several times and failed every time. With the clock ticking, I was almost certain that I was going to miss the visa officers' working hours. They cut off applicants at noon. The next available interview would be 30 days later, and I would for sure to miss the graduate school orientation.

Finally, 10 minutes before noon, a manager-looking man brought us back to the air-conditioned room. "We'll give you one last chance in three minutes. Try to relax and cool down."

Three minutes of air-conditioning worked wonder. All of us passed the security check. And I got my visa that day.