感冒了

It is in following the long tradition of delivering globally-relevant news via the medium of bloggery that I have called you all together today to announce that yes, I have a cold.

Of course it wouldn't bear mentioning, even in this lowly format, were it not a very special and unique cold, picked up not just anywhere, but in Xi'an, one of the cradles of Chinese civilization. I have it on good authority that this cold was the very same one that led to the death of the mad Emperor Qin, and which would have infected his entire army, were they not, due to great foresight on his part, made entirely of terracotta.

The demon cold made its first appearance the morning after I returned to Beijing, Uncle Mu and Auntie Zhang greeting it with a mixture of care and concern (Chinese herbal tonics and meals delivered to my room) and the satisfaction of having their long-held medico-physiological views validated (because clearly I became sick due to skirt wearing and a fondness for drinking tea late at night, NOT because I came in contact with thousands and thousands and thousands of people and their germs over the last week).

Christmas in Xi'an was a surprise. Nothing really happens on the holiday in Beijing, aside from some folks taking it as an excuse to go out to dinner or go window shopping, but then Beijing is a bit odd for not having a city center where people in search of the 热闹 ("hot noisy" or the bustle and novelty that is considered a desirable characteristic of public spaces) naturally congregate. Tiananmen Square, the geographic and historical heart of the city, would be the natural choice but assembling there is hardly encouraged. Xi'an, by contrast, still has its ancient city wall, and within it, the old bell tower, under which labyrinthine pedestrian tunnels direct torrents of tourists and urbanites. On Christmas Eve, clearly anticipating that these would be choked by seekers of the hot and noisy, the authorities blocked them off and closed the center of the city to auto traffic. I love pedestrianized areas but this was something else entirely. The streets were filled with revelers wearing santa hats, devil ears, santa hats w/ devil ears over them, rabbit ears, at least one witches' hat, and clusters of peddlers selling all these random goods. On the Muslim street I watched a young couple wearing garish green and purple masquerade masks feeding each other tofu from a street vendor; in less densely crowded areas teenagers carrying cans of silly string and/or aerosol fake snow chased each other around and passers-by got caught in the crossfire. Traveling south there were makeshift carnival-esque games where you could win a giant stuffed animal for your sweetheart, and down at the south gate there were fireworks, pale blue christmas lights wrapped round every leafless tree, and red paper lanterns set aloft with burning wicks inside to drift about in the starless sky.

I was curious as to what was going through people's heads as they engaged in this strange Carnival/Halloween/Christmas spectacle but I'd had a long day and was about to have yet another one. The wine deal, while not disastrous, was stressful and difficult, and I wasn't crazy about being in the middle. I won't say more than that I learned a lot.

I've been here more than 3 1/2 months now and have been expecting this cold for quite a long while but that didn't make me any more patient when it finally arrived. I stayed in for two days pouting and power-watching a Chinese tv series and then I had to escape. On the 30th I visited my new office, went out for sushi with a friend, and then met another at the LAN club, a garishly decorated place with a house band of African American guys from Atlanta, the most amazing bathrooms I've ever seen, and a very generous ladies' night. I drank vodka tonics with Leslie, an old classmate from IUP, and we explored some of the deserted theme rooms, particularly favoring the dark neo-colonialist fantasy "library".

I received my punishment in the morning, realizing that the night had spoiled me for any New Year's Eve festivities. I hadn't planned on anything in particular but I knew that if I stayed home I would be absolutely miserable thinking about and missing my friends. I know a lot of people don't like NYE because they feel pressure to find the best party and have the most amazing time but I don't care, I just want to be around the people I love and celebrate the very simple pleasure of clearing the slate and starting fresh. Besides, who doesn't like a good party?

I chose, like many before me, to suffer the consequences and hustled down to the Treehouse, which, while a little smoky and loud, was a fairly happy place to be. I talked Sophie into making me a ginger hot toddy and tried not to let my nasty mood infect the good atmosphere. I should qualify that NYE isn't a very big deal here, outside of the expat community. Clearly all are aware that the Gregorian calendar year changes but it isn't the calendar anyone cares about. We still have a month and a half until the year of the tiger begins and that is when the big celebrations will occur. There also is not a huge tradition of drinking or bars here; it is still, for all the changes of the last three decades, a very family and kin-focused society, and those institutions which draw individuals away from family networks to interact with strangers or friends are viewed ambivalently at best.

Still, people can be wonderfully open and friendly here, even if they are wary of many of the changes that my red-haired self, leaving a bar after midnight alone, might portend for society at large. I left the Treehouse shortly after midnight and walked to Gulou to catch a cab. My driver, a slender man with a deeply lined face probably in his early fifties, drove silently after grunting in acknowledgement when I stated my destination. I directed him to pull over across the street from my complex and we waited, watching the dashboard dumbly, for the receipt to print out. The driver tore it off and our eyes met as he handed it to me. 新年快乐 (xin nian kuaile = happy new year), I said to him, reaching for the receipt. 新年快乐, he replied, smiling with tired eyes.