生日快乐?

This year my birthday fell on a Tuesday which also happened to be the first day of the new semester. As much as I agree with my teachers that a glorious entree into the Chinese language is the greatest gift of all, this happenstance didn't exactly lend itself to an opportunity for celebration. Luckily we had Monday off, so I went to explore the city's tea district then met a dozen or so classmates for dinner at Xiangyang Tun, a Cultural Revolution themed restaurant (because who doesn't want to re-live those all-singing, all-dancing, all-persecuting, halcyon days?).
Because it was a Monday night there wasn't much of a show, but we did get a taste of the comedic and acrobatic skills of the proletariat.



We would have missed most of the show anyway, as we had our own Chinese style private room, which was kind of lavish looking and unsurprisingly, rather red. The gilded Buddha in the center was flanked on either side by little cubbies with beds, reflecting, I am sure, the opulence enjoyed by the peasantry in the mid to late 1960s. The food was good, though not spectacular. The meat-eaters liked the ribs, and the herbivores enjoyed the soybeans, greens, and Chinese chives cooked in a clay pot. A surprise hit was the fish stew with cornbread (at right). We opted against sampling the more authentic fare of variously prepared innards, and were all the happier for it. Not that we didn't eat well...


Apparently there was an attempt to bring the evening's performers into the room to sing to me, but there was a miscommunication and they went home early. I was perfectly happy just to be serenaded by all of my classmates.

Bellies filled, we departed for a round of drinks at a bar close to campus. Chinese people don't really go to bars, preferring to drink at restaurants or at home, so the only bars around are those catering to and populated by foreigners. It seems that certain of these foreigners believe they have reason to doubt the quality or authenticity of the beverages on offer at these establishments, thus the reassurance below:

When Jessica and I got home, it was almost midnight, and I responded with the tears and lamentations I thought appropriate upon reaching an age at which unmarried women are referred to in Chinese as the 大龄女青年 (aged youth). Jessica presented me with a gift bag of marvelously weird stickers, notebooks, and pins, and I gibbered unintelligibly about my 学历太高了and 找不到男朋友 problems. The girl is a saint really.

The week staggered by, but the blows of the new semester were softened by all of the thoughtful birthday greetings from friends near and far. My dear mb must come in for extra special commendation, as her care package of handmade birthday wonder was one of the nicest things I've ever received.

On Friday we hosted IUP's weekly happy hour, starting at 7:30pm so the teachers could come if they wanted to, but lasting into the early morning (at around 2:30 we accompanied the last 5 or 6 revelers to our classmate Adam's apartment two floors for an "after-after-party", though I fear that my bragging about this just shows how old I really am). I was nervous, as I always am when hosting a party, that no one would show up, but as it turned out it was a really, really fun time. Hula hoops were employed, hipster music videos were viewed, towers of Yanjing beer were created, and I mixed drinks using my new Olympic mascot shot glass.

This panda, who goes by the name of Jingjing, is my favorite of the five Olympic friendlies depicted in murals and on souvenirs all over town. Jingjing represents sports classified as liliang (meaning physical strength or force) and according to the official mascot website:

Jingjing makes children smile -- and that's why he brings the blessing of happiness wherever he goes. You can see his joy in the charming naivety of his dancing pose and the lovely wave of his black and white fur. As a national treasure and a protected species, pandas are adored by people everywhere.

And that's all fine and good, but I am slightly troubled that Jingjing's "charming naivety and optimism" seem to lend so much to his sharpshooting. If you think about it though, violent pandas are pretty freaking punk rock.

All of which goes to say, you really shouldn't let me get started on pandas. Returning to the party, I must say again that it was terribly fun, and that it felt kind of deliciously naughty speaking all night in English to people that I have to speak Chinese with during the week. Although party photos tend to make both participants and event look less fun that they really are, here are a few.

Leslie and Jason (whose blog is essential reading for those wanting more critical observations on modern China as well as for those just wanting vicarious visits to Siberian tiger reserves).

Laura, working the red on red.

Canaan, who celebrated his birthday on Friday and wore the birthday crown I passed down to him with great manly gusto.

Though I woke up happy this morning in recalling the evening's merriment, I confess that at times I have felt better. It was a grand, lazy day though, with much tea drinking, a bit of internet time-wasting, bustling about the house, and a trip to the city's art district to see a gallery exhibit on the Chinese New Wave. Chinese Dada from the 1980's? I don't know if it can get much cooler than that (but if it can, rest assured that you will hear all about it).