YOU SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY TOO, YEAH

Friday the 13^th of November 2009, the 32^nd anniversary of my birth, began like so many before it: with the ritualistic playing of “Birthday” from the White Album immediately after I woke up. There were presents to be opened as well, mostly those contained within the magnificent care package that had arrived the week before from Montana and John (Auntie Zhang had also given me a few trinkets the night before – no better landlord in the world I tell you).

I tend not to have high expectations where birthdays are concerned, especially when I happen to be celebrating them in places far away from my friends. There is also the precedent set by my 2004 birthday, a day on which, among other things, I was photographed for Bon Appetit, given a gratis bottle of champagne to share with friends from my favorite neighborhood restaurant, and was a +8 on the guest list for a concert downtown. Tough to beat.

This year, to stave off disappointment, I had originally planned to let the day pass without telling anyone but then I let it slip at a Fulbright event the week before and was consequently ordered to invite everyone to come out and celebrate with me. I tried to hide it on facebook but stealthy birthday hunters found me out and rained their love down on me. The indefatigable Siano went all-out, successfully getting all Up in My Inbox.

The day itself was fairly low-key. I went to the gym in the late morning and ran into my buddy Li Chao, one of the trainers there. He insisted on taking me out to lunch so we went to a tasty hole-in-the-wall muslim restaurant.

I ran some errands in the afternoon, watched a movie, ate a specially-prepared dinner with Uncle & Auntie, dressed myself up in a seasonally-appropriate party dress,

(apologies. I went several rounds with photobooth but was unable to capture anything but pure dork)

and went down to the Treehouse an hour or so before my comrades were due to arrive. I’ve always wanted to buy a round for the whole bar but fiscal circumstances have never before made it feasible. Not only are beers super cheap here, but I welcomed another opportunity to give the Treehouse my money and show my appreciation to the staff for making me feel so at home.

I’d never been there so late on a weekend night though and I was glad to see that business was booming. I spent about 200RMB ($30) on 20 beers and felt successful. Most of my favorite regulars were there, and by some lucky (celestial?) stroke none of my erstwhile suitors were among them. I mentioned how strange I found it that so many Chinese men have expressed their romantic interests towards me on this visit and not on the last (though I should point out that I am still terrifying enough in aspect to make children in Shanxi cry). Uri, studying China-Middle East relations at Peking U., helpfully theorized the origins of the interest: an assumption that Western girls were good bets for a 一夜请 (one-night stand). Veronica, carrying out a photographic study of Chinese farmers, shared a story from the first week she was here, stretching out after jogging, when one of the security guards on the campus of her language program attempted to engage her in conversation using a program on his cell phone which gave painfully awkward English translations and prompted him to ask questions such as “do you often eat food?” and “do you like to harden the body?”, causing poor Veronica to fear she was being asked out by a 14-year old.

It was good times. There’s nothing like boozing it up in an alley to bring you closer to people you hardly know. The next day was another Fulbrighter birthday and many of us met up with Ariane, studying the consumption of internet news, at a Hot Pot restaurant with noodle swinging acrobatics (a slender man all in white swung a 2-meter long noodle over our heads and then dropped it into the pot to boil and be consumed) where we were given not only bibs and chair covers (to protect coats) but also tiny plastic bags to keep our cell phones in. Brilliant! Afterwards we went to Q Bar for cocktails both scrumptious (Ginger Martini!) and so-so (Green Tea Long Island), ending the evening at a silly, overpriced neo-Gothic subterranean nightclub called Punk. I accidentally lost a hand-knitted scarf in the pile of winter wear built when we all went out on the dance floor, but chalked it up as a sacrifice that afforded me yet another happy birthday.

And today, I'd like to wish a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my dear SARAHSAURUS!