Over the past week or more, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands. There was the usual surfing the internet, watching a movie or catching up on my favorite TV shows, running and reading the news. I’ve also been shopping around for a nice sized internal-frame backpack for my travels. I came here with a large suitcase, but that’s pretty inconvenient when traveling on trains and buses and staying in hostels. You just can’t roll around that big box everywhere you go.

Earlier this week I went out for a few drinks with the British friends I met a few months ago. We started off at the Park Qin, a popular expat bar in Xi’an where I was introduced to a friend of theirs, Jackie. I think I complimented Jackie pretty well actually, she’s Chinese, looks Chinese, but speaks English like she was born in the U.S. I actually asked her “are you actually Chinese or are you an ABC?” She was surprised to say the least, but her English speaking is just so polished that it sounds very natural. We hung out at the Park Qin and put back a few while a few more friends joined in, bringing the crew to an even six, three guys, three girls. One of the girls, another Brit, suggested we check out another bar down the street. I’d never been there and this was a night to have a good time so why the heck not.

I don’t know if this bar has a name, and if it does I certainly don’t know it. But I do know where it is, and that’s all that matters. When I first walked in I didn’t know what to think. There was a room, not much larger than my living room with a long coffee-table type thing in the middle of the room. At each end of this table was a small fire pit made of bricks where small pieces of anthracite burned to keep the place warm. Around this table was two concentric rectangles of benches and lastly furthest from the door was a stage just large enough for 2 guys with guitars. The dark and smoky feel to the place just reminded me of a sweat lodge.

» Read more: Confucius and Hippie Drum Circles