dance dance dance

so, forget all my philosophical birthday ramblings from yesterday. i really came to china to dance. at least that is what i apparently believed last night. when i may as well have been in monaco for the evening. (and rather impressively managed to make it back in time to talk about human trafficking this morning! (there is some kind of off-colour humour in there somewhere, but i can't quite discern it.)) why was i ostensibly in monaco? because the evening involved cake, champagne, diamonds, and dancing. and also shots of fishy stuff mixed with vodka. sounds disgusting, i know, but it was actually delicious. and possibly my undoing.

actually, my undoing may have begun earlier in the day when, aside from the poetic interlude when i posted about having returned to china for love*, i spent a good portion of the day listening to absolutely filthy horrible awesome fun hiphop and rap. really, it's against all of my principles and if i listen to the lyrics some essential part of my sweet blossom of a soul quivers in terror and shame. the misogyny and the objectification and the straight up dirty sex talk, it's utterly offensive and inexcusable. and yet. sometimes i simply love the beats. so i don't listen to the lyrics. yesterday i chair-danced my way through the work day. (my work wife was out of town so i had the office to myself, allowing sufficient privacy for rocking out.) the theme song of this birthday may be kid cudi's 'make her say'** (his response to lady gaga's poker face. she is even sampled in. and sings. well. who knew?). it is filthy, filthy, freaknasty gross if you listen to what he says. but is awesome. if you haven't heard it, please go listen now.

anyway, the reason all the hiphop may have been my undoing is because, aside from the fishjuice vodka shots (which really were a good idea, i promise) there was a rather dodgy interlude in the evening when i was dressed down and publicly insulted by a jazz singer who was allegedly singing happy birthday to me. not only did he instead sing a song which may or may not have been a love song for sarah palin (it was entitled 'drill baby drill' and i believe those were the only lyrics), but he actually insulted me. more than once. and made me stand by myself in the middle of the club. with crazy lights on me. while he sang the sarah palin song. i'm not even making this up. how could i? i'm creative, but this was beyond my wildest imagination. anyway, when i was asked to give a birthday speech at my birthday dinner, the best i could come up with (after the fishjuice vodka, mind) was: "i will pay cashmoney to anyone who can get the soulful sweet-eyed jazz singer we're about go see to play a cover of 50 cent's 'in da club' in my honour". i consider this speech a marginal improvement over the one i gave at my massive amazing 30th birthday blowout. to wit: "30 is the new 17!" actually, i had first said some very nice meaningful things thanking my wonderful gorgeous fabulous friends and family for all of their love and all the joy they bring to my life and telling everyone how blessed i feel to have them in my life. i still do. feel blessed, that is. even after being abused by a 22-year-old, barefoot, sweaty jazz singer. and drinking fishjuice vodka. but i'll get to that in a moment. i think this jazz singer was upset because maybe one of my friend's actually asked him to play 50 cent. or ani difranco. or both. so he got upset and said he wasn't a jukebox. or something like that. then he made me come to the front and centre of the club and stand below him while he strummed my pain with his fingers and destroyed the alaskan wilderness with his words, all the while glaring at me. (i glared back and calmly sipped my champagne with quiet aggression.) kind of unbelievable.

the only place to go from there was monaco. or, more precisely, the opposite of monaco. xiu. a club at the grand hyatt with a very mediocre band****** that covers all sorts of dance music (including but not limited to hiphop) and a mediocre DJ. but the best to be found in beijing. in any case, what we were really going for was champagne and dancing. we drank a lot of the former and did a lot of the latter. and the band sang a raucous, funkdefied version of happy birthday to me while i rocked out dancing on stage. i was then the star of the club for the night. all in all it was actually nothing like my nights in monaco, when once upon a lifetime i had such things, save for the bottle of moet we opened after midnight. in any case, we had a grand time.

two points to ponder:

1 - the diamonds came into the picture via a very surprising, sweet, generous gift from my crazysexycool beautiful beijing girlfriends. they got me a gorgeous diamond necklace. this was of course so kind and wonderful and overwhelming. but it made me realise that all of the diamonds i presently have come from my grandmother or girlfriends. and for some reason recalled for me the bachelorette-that-wasn't-a-bachelorette that some of my girlfriends threw for me for my 30th birthday. i wonder if slowly all of my girlfriends all over the world are, like my mother, giving up hope that i'll ever get married. so they are stepping up and giving me all the of the trapsings that typically surround that process - diamonds, a hen party, etc. hmmm.

2 - all of the men i danced with last night were gay. in fact a friend of one of my (gay male) friends who was there who i didn't know and came up to dance with me prefaced his approach with "it's ok, i'm gay". this makes me wonder if i really do intimidate every man in beijing. (as was suggested over lunch by a (gay) guy friend the other day.) hmmm. to be fair, there was one single man who was meant to join the party last night. but he got held up with work. or so he said. maybe he was scared.... tehe. that was fun to write. in any case, even if i am intimidating, there is nothing to be done. i can only be me. [speaking of which, take a moment to appreciate the shout out to murakami in the subject of this post.]

and now the moment you've all been waiting for. i shall explain the fishjuice vodka! we had dinner at a lovely new restaurant in beijing. a cevichera (sp?) called terra which focuses on (big surpise) ceviche and peruvian food. all delicious and they couldn't have been better to me on my birthday! the owner, who is also a friend, suggested that she give us vodka shots flavoured with various ceviche juices and fish to accompany the meal. (the flavours included tomato, i think cilantro, and some sort of ayayayayay spicy pepper (loved that one).) we all raised one eyebrow at first and weren't convinced, but decided to be brave. [goethe: whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. boldness has genius, power, and magic in it!] and it was surprisingly delicious. and left me surprisingly and deliciously wasteycakes.

and that is the story of my birthday. go shorty.

31 was kind of a tough year. but i have great expectations for 32. so 32'd better bring it. because i won't stop believing. or dreaming boldly. so i'm ready for the ensuing genious, power, and magic. i'm also always ready to dance.



*a curious, perhaps dubious, proposition i am still contemplating. comments encouraged.

**i was introduced to it by a more culturally in touch friend while back in the us. i also (finally!) have a new ipod and have been downloading all kinds of new music. my previous ipod was held hostage by the ghosts of boyfriends past, so this is really exciting. i also am intending to shake what my momma gave me all over again on saturday. throwing myself a birthday bubbly and cupcakes in the courtyard party (at my place). in a truly astonishing tist of fate, a friend who has an amazing cupcakery here in beijing (check on it: http://www.lollipopbakery.cn/) has come out with a new red bean cupcake just in time for my birthday. SJ,*** this is glorious news. red bean is among that which is sacred to me. and eating red bean is as about as much pleasure as i get these days. in fact, i spoiled myself on birthday eve**** by having a dinner than consisted amost entirely of red bean. bliss.

***SJ = sweet jesus. also, i am not sure it is appropriate to footnote a footnote in a blog post. perhaps i need to reconsider how i structure these profound pieces. then again maybe i'll just continue to do as i please. (go shorty, it's your birthday.)

****day / evening before your birthday. also worth celebrating. as is, i suppose, the day after. i am going to a friend's new pizza place this eve (check baby, check baby, 1, 2: www.gunghopizza.com) where i am promised amazing pies and a delicious new zealand sauvignon blanc. yum. i am also loving all these shout-outs, mjj! (yes, i am talking to myself. if this disturbs you, please see yesterday's self-indulgent yet eloquent post about self-love. rinse. repeat.)

*****lost track of the number of stars here. this post is out of control! ahhh. point about the band - no one should try to cover jay-z's 'empire state of mind'. no one. even the truly amazing unbelievable best band i've ever heard that performed at my dear friend's wedding the other weekend couldn't quite pull it off. so the xiu set was doomed. but they tried. style points for effort anyway.

on suppression and short shorts

so, clearly my post-a-day plan crumbled. i could blame the firewall or my frequent travels to second tier cities to ganbei (do shots of) mediocre hongjiu (red wine) with local partners. i could bemoan my frustrating lack of email access on a few critical occasions (june 4 / 20th anniversary of the tiananmen massacre) just after writing amazing, insightful collections of thoughts that i am unable to share. i could claim that i have been too caught up in life - pushing forward the frontiers of the rule of law (update: still no independent judiciary in china), keeping track of little trouble (takes more time than you'd think), and searching for new and interesting ways to consume red bean (latest obsession: red bean and yogurt popsicles). instead, i will not attempt to make excuses. in fact, these months of silence are liberating in a sense. i can now safely assuming that anyone who was attempting to read my musings has given up so i can write with the comfort of anonymity, knowing that i am just writing for myself. which is what i sat down to do today.

i determined that it's time for reflection in light of my recent birthday and all that has been happening in this land of late. birthdays always make me thoughtful. so does the imprisonment of human rights lawyers. and pollution. and bad haircuts. i am wearing my “inspi(red)” t-shirt at the moment, perhaps to make up for the uninspiring weather. it's as though a pall has descended on or been draped over the city for the last few weeks. the sky and air are grey, and it is oppressively hot. it’s perhaps appropriate; were i to pick a word to describe the essence of beijing this august it would be ‘suppression’. maybe that’s the name of paint colour of the beijing sky were it to be tinned: ‘suppression: beijing grey’ – looks great in bathrooms!

the suppression has been disheartening and weighing heavily on me (not unlike the polluted haze that you cannot escape breathing). i sometimes wish that i could not let it get to me, that i could not get tangled up in it emotionally. but i have come to accept that, even as i am every seeking to quiet my mind and cultivate the inner tranquility which transcends outer experience, feeling deeply is simply part of who i am. i feel the suppression of which i speak – the assault on gong meng / the open constitution initiative, a Chinese legal NGO doing public interest advocacy entirely within the bounds of the law, and the detaining of xu zhiyong, its founder, and zhuang lu, its sweet young financial manger; the announcement by the MOJ that all law firms will have a party liaison to monitor their work; the reminder from above that the role of lawyers is to serve the party leadership; and the continued and increasingly widespread control of the internet – in the same way that i feel this oppressive, pollute heat. it is all around and only seems to be getting worse. more disturbing shades of grey, hotter, and more quietly tolerated as simply the way things are.

sadly, it seems that the prevailing idea in the international rule of law community over the last few months – that this is just a sensitive time – may be misguided, a collective willing illusion perhaps. this suppression, and the party’s seeing lawyers as a threat to their power, seems here to stay. not something that is likely to abate after national day and the 60th anniversary festivities have concluded. i’m afraid this particular shade of control won’t wash away after a rainstorm like the polluted air. and i fear for what this means, not only for china, but the world. china’s power and size cannot be underestimated. astute point that, i know, but i think it needs to be said over and over again. especially when so many – individuals, artists, economies, nations, corporations, NGOs, journalists – are willing to self-censor and resist speaking truth to power in order to gain access to china. but is market access / relationship building / the capacity to do programming in the people’s republic worth it? it’s something i struggle with.

one positive aspect of this increasingly grey backdrop to my life is that it compliments my miserable new hair colour. long story short: (1 attempt to get subtle highlights before my sisters wedding + 1 inexperienced stylist who had never touched blonde hair before = madonna meets jessica rabbit strawberry bottle blonde nightmare) x (1 senior stylist who insisted he could “fix it” + 4 more hours of torture involving various shades of purple) = a head full of deep purple / brown hair best described as “ripe plum”. with time, that shade has faded to a reddish brown (goes great with suppression!). and most of my hair has now been chopped off. (as the (new) stylist who cut it said, my hair was “huai le” or broken, so had to go.) not exactly the look i was going for as i properly enter and embrace my 30s, but a good lesson in what really matters in life (spirit, love) and what doesn’t (hair, superficial form).

a word on being “in my 30s”. i am now 31. on my birthday, i sat down to compose a list for myself of 31 thoughts on being 31. (i have recently also accepted that i love lists. unfortunately only lists of impractical things – dreams, ideas, places to visit, interesting meditations or quotes, interesting words, plays i will produce one day in my political theatre, names for my future children, names for my current imaginary pets, images i want to use in somewhere in a piece of writing some day, pros and cons. lists of practical things – groceries, errands, things i need for the flat, things to pick up when i am back in north america to bring back – have no interest to me and i can never, or at least rarely bring myself to make them. instead, i make grocery lists in my head and invariably cannot find them when i am at the market. standing lost amid the spices, however, i could easily rummage around in my bag and pull out a list of 30 things to do in my 30s i made on my last birthday that is still in my diary. this is a deeply flawed system.) when i decided to list 31 thoughts on being 31, i didn’t get very far. it felt too monumental a task. i was turning all metaphysical, hippie-zen-slumber-party-theology on myself and thinking of thoughts like “there is only love” and somehow i couldn’t have that as thought number 2. thought number 1 was easy: “it might be time to stop wearing short shorts”. to avoid swimming through pools of my own existential and spiritual angst, questioning, joy, and overthinking, i decided to stop the list there. so my deep thought on turning 31 is that it might be time to stop wearing short-shorts. operative word in that sentence being “might”.

in all seriousness, i am trying not to take this birthday – and the attendant social pressures that seem to come with it – too seriously. but it has not always been easy. especially with all my brooding on and breathing in various shades of grey lately, i have found myself questioning what i am doing and where i am going – in so many senses – in a more urgent way than i did a few short weeks ago when i was a sweet, young, wisp of a girl. there’s something more substantial about being 31. time to be wholly yourself, unapologetically, and give deeply, love unconditionally, and not compromise. though i suppose we ought to do that at any age. always.

somewhere over the firewall

so i have been unable to access blogspot for the past little while as the site was recently blocked. thankfully, little trouble is back in town & was able to download some magic cyberslippers that allow my little laptop to appear as if it's somewhere over the government firewall with azure bluebirds. i realized today that the bbc is blocked as well & i wonder if there's some sort of suppression of expression storm brewing. more likely, this may all be related to the approaching 20 year anniversary of tiananmen (june 4th). it's always a sensitive time, but this year perhaps especially so. i still plan to go to the square on the anniversary if possible (as i've done in years past, trailed by the not-so-secret police).

between now and june 4th, things will be busy. and they have been. i realized that in my last sappy, drunk-on-lychees post, i may have given a false impression about this beautiful, complicated country. the government is not monolithic. the past few weeks have reminded me of all that the remarkable and inspirational work that is happening on promoting rights, equality, and justice. there are real openings for reform and progress. identifying such openings and running as far as you can while they are there seems to be the m.o. for activists, scholars, international orgs, and others here.

this city is, in so many ways, a far cry from the dusty metropolis i grew up in. partially as a result of an increasing number of small initiatives which shift the shape of things more than the incessant construction. such shifts are subtle, yet powerful. now that i have found a way to safely transcend the trappings of the government firewall (nothing subtle about that), i intend to get back to the business of considering these shifts.

for now, some more amusing mentions. 1 - my former school is a fat camp. i'm serious. the building that once housed the international school of beijing is now a facility for obese chinese children. as a comment on globalization, it is just too good. 2 - i may have a new food obsession that is borderline red-bean level serious. there is a ma la xiang gu - spicy fragrant bowl - place near us that a colleague and i have started frequenting for lunch. you pick what you want - dofu skin, glass noodles, golden needle mushrooms, greens, fish cakes - and then they fry it all up and add their amazingly delicious, spicy mala magic & bring it to you in a large bowl. it is so addictive that we have been known to go two days in a row and go every friday. so that is the most delicious thing i've eaten of late. 3 - after learning about a cat on twitter with more than 500,000 followers (thank you, CNN, for being absurd enough to consider this news), i am thinking about starting to tweet for the neighbour's cat, misha. misha is a most curious creature. literally. she spends most of her days stealthily making her way around the compound, spying on everyone. she often sits outside the glass door, peering in. i have also awoken to find her perched on the ledge outside the second-floor bedroom window, wide blue eyes alert, head cocked to one side, pondering. we are sure she is keeping files on all the neighbours and has a side job with the local paichusuo (police station). either that, or she is slowing planning a kitty revolution.

with that thought i realize i need to wait until i am in a more substantive frame of mind to say anything further. until then, apologies for the disappearance. more soon. meow.

strength in the differences between us, comfort where we overlap

so, in spite of years of my not being here, neither an inch nor half a globe too far, i've finally decided to start gathering my wandering thoughts. perhaps it took coming back to beijing for me to finally brave blogging, because returning to the most formative city of my youth was coming full circle and proffered a profound opportunity for reflection, introspection, and mediocre poetry.* or perhaps it simply took learning that the u.s. embassy uses twitter to send out updates on pollution levels in beijing. (if the embassy is hip enough to twitter, surely i can blog.)

although this is my first 'post', i have a bit of a storeroom full of thoughts and plots that i hope sharing here will allow for some sort of katharsis / epiphany / amusement. i realize as i tried to complete that sentence that i don't have a particular agenda. "all red on the inside" refers to a failed effort i made to express the idea of common humanity to a group of chinese classmates in 1997. i'll share the complete story at some point. at the time, i was seeking to convey a concept of the universal - that we are all, regardless of country, race, religion, culture, more alike than different. the image failed then (they thought i was talking about communism). but my faith in the universal hasn't faltered.

this thimbleful of thoughts, then, will consider themes of universality, reveling in our beautiful differences and appreciating the soft spots of common overlap. (that's a very lofty way of saying i will write about anything / everything and it will likely touch on cross-cultural themes because so does life.) being the creature that i am, a public interest lawyer newly returned to china, be prepared for pontifications on justice and jiaozi.... in fact, maybe i should write exclusively about justice and jiaozi. or maybe just a justice and jiaozi weekly dish - the most interesting legal issue of the week and the best thing i've eaten. hmmm. so far this week it was a particularly delicious doushabing** on tuesday morning and a real appreciation for an independent judiciary on monday afternoon (a topic i intend to return to in detail at some point).

with that, comrades, it begins.



*i write mediocre poetry. no, i am not being humble, just honest. i like to think of it as a unique niche talent. many, many people write poor poetry. (many people also write self-indulgent poem-like, clammy things that are best thrown into the ocean.) a small handful write excellent poetry. (a very, very small handful of people write transcendent, beautiful poetry that stays with you always.) a few people write good poetry. a few people write fair poetry. hitting the sweet spot of mediocrity is actually quite special and harder to achieve than you think. it's a delicate balance to strike that perfect chord between good and bad. yet somehow, i have been blessed with a talent for writing mediocre poetry. on occasion, i confess, i falter and a poem ends up sliding down the scale to bad (or even worse - melodramatic). perhaps once, i faltered and produced an almost good poem. but generally, without to much effort, my poetry is soundly mediocre. i never plan to write a poem. usually, a poem just comes to me and begs to be written and i ignore the poem as long as possible and then when i cannot contain it any longer, i write it. i think of them like unruly baby swans.

** red bean bread. i am kind of obsessed with doushabing. red bean in general, really. speaking of red bean, it occurred to me while walking to work this morning as i was eating doushabao (red bean steamed buns), that if you were to cut me open, i might bleed red bean i eat it so much. then i realized what a ridiculous thought that was and wondered how it ever occurred to me to even think it. then i was almost hit by a bicycle.