北京奥运 The Beijing Olympics

There has been rising calls from the West for boycotting the Beijing Olympics due to Chinese government’s clashdown of the Riot in Lhasa. The French president Sarkozy even threatened to keep the option open not to show up in the opening ceremony. The base for such discussions, is, as always, China’s violation of human rights in Tibet.

I thought the time for waging ideological war was over, I am apparently wrong. I forgot that people who grew up with required reading of George Orwell’s Animal Farm and later did not read anything else would never get out of such brain-wash or open their eyes to see the completely changed world. The sad situation is that they seem to enjoy all the freedom to think and to speak and proudly believe so but volunterily and automatically take side based on ideology instead of facts and reasoning. Seek truth from facts. This should be the conciense of all journalists, but let me ask how many Western journalists have reported on the riot in Tibet out of such conciense? The double-standard and self-censorship Western media exhibted in reporting this event is astounishing. Please read the Economist correspondant’s report, who was the only foreign journalist that witnessed the event. Read about the Tibetan mobs’ violent burning, looting and attacking people purely because of their ethnic orginin. Which government in the world would sit there and watch this happen? Talking about human rights, how many have compared the life expectancy and child mortality rate in Tibet in 1959 and 2006? Isn’t the right to live the very basic human right?

Indeed, China was a communist nation that had experienced many man-made catastophes. It’s also an oriental nation, with different set of values and way of life from the West. People are inclined to hate something they don’t know or understand. They comdemn instead of trying to learn. But didn’t China and the Chinese government lift the most people out of poverty within the shortest time in history? Isn’t China now shouldering a large part of the world’s growth need and try to handle its challenges domestic and abroad responsibly? For that, China deserves some respect, and Chinese people deserve some pride. I’m sure such pride will be shown in the Beijing Olympics when the world meet in Beijing. It’s a chance for the Chinese to get closer to the world through its openess and hospitality, and vice versa.

When I was in Beijing a month ago, I could feel people’s enthusiam for the Olympics in their everyday life. Can you imagine that in the glove box of every taxi driver on the road of the city is an English phrase book? People of Beijing are waiting for the world, with open hearts. Any reckless threatening of boycotting is not justified. Honestly, I’m not so keen on seeing Sarkozy’s twisted face in the opening ceremony. Of course that’s just some irrational, personal anger of a Chinese, who has the impression that no matter what happens, China is always on the wrong side in the eye of the West.

舞蹈 Dance

我是一个不太容易在公众场合达到忘我境界的人，不太善于跳出自我享受人群中的乐趣，多处于观察者的状态。这也许是为什么我在众人中常常显得温和而安静。

记忆中有两次中了邪。一次刚上小学，上语文课的时候走神儿心里哼起了歌，不知不觉从心里哼到了教室里, 直到老师喊我的名字才醒了。 再一次大学刚刚毕业到外交部工作去军训。一天大家全排队去了食堂，只有我一人落在后面。心里忽然回荡起Yesterday Once More的词曲, 竟震天动地地高歌起来，听到空旷的营房里自己的歌声越发心潮澎湃。此时外交部带队的田老师蓦然出现，我嘎燃而止，脸上起了火。

无论什么性格的人，大概都需要自由抒发内在自我的出口。世上百试不爽始终能迅速带我进入忘我境界的事不多，有一个便是舞蹈。音乐一起，周围一切都隐去，我成了一个崭新空间里的人，从心灵到身体全在音乐里得到了完整自由的释放。无论是“高山流水”的古典柔美，“西班牙斗牛”的热烈狂野，“命运”的起伏挣扎，还是印度“拍球”的活泼顽皮，全都好象开了闸的水，奔涌而出。我相信它们都是我内在性格的一部分，在舞蹈中得以彰显。

忘我其实何等美妙！离开了舞台，在舞蹈中淋漓尽致的时候少了，生命之舞却仍在继续。或许是岁月赋予了更多的成熟和悟性，我好象正在感受到一种力量或是一种召唤，象乐曲般带我进入自由挥洒的空间，随心的节奏而舞，过至情至性的生活。这是人生的舞蹈，相信它比舞台上的更加真实而美丽。

我爱北京 I Love Beijing

让我们荡起双桨
小船儿推开波浪
水中倒映着美丽的白塔
四周环绕着绿树红墙

小船儿轻轻，漂荡在水中
迎面吹来了凉爽的风

这个冬日新春即将来临的一个黄昏，我们走在北海公园的湖畔，夕阳在光滑的柳枝间徐徐降落,无比静谧的一刻，从心中的某个角落飞出了儿时的这首歌，觉着自己好像就是这条小船，漂过了五湖四海，今天漂回到曾经熟悉的红墙碧瓦之间，眼睛热热的潮湿了。几个曲艺艺人从身边经过，对着我打起了快板儿，清脆的声音跳跃着划过正在降临的夜色，我们开心地朗声而笑。

回了张自忠路铁一号的老房子,灰楼长廊下那棵国槐竟还在。我依稀看到一个穿着鲜红色灯芯绒外衣扎着编辫儿的小姑娘在树间的皮筋儿上跳跃，白色的槐花在夏天最后的日子里正发出浓郁的香气...这画面这气味仿若一梦, 却又熟悉得如同昨天。离家多远,走了多久,一瞬间与童年相遇，竟如此温暖。明白了一件事:故乡是永远故乡,即便它面目全非,它却是过去的现实活在我今天和明天的生命中,永不改变。

我爱我的故乡北京。

“Let us swing the oars
See little boats push the waves
In the water is the reflection of the White Pagoda
Around are green trees and red wall

Softly drifting, little boats
Into our face blowing a cool breeze
……”

When the winter was receding and the spring was faintly felt in the air, we came to Beijing. At one serene moment while we were walking in Beihai Park, this childhood song emerged from a secret corner of my heart. Behind the willow branches, the sun was setting. I felt like one of these little boats, drifting across waters and now back into the red wall and emerald tiles once so familiar to me. A few folklore performers passed by and started to recite a joke to us to the rhythm of their bamboo clappers. The crisp sound pierced through the dusk, and we all laughed with joy.

We made it back to my old home decades ago at “Iron No. 1” of Zhangzizhong Road, once the government of a warlord who seized power of Beijing for some time. By the long covered corridor outside my window, the Chinese scholartrees were still standing. Dreamily, I came into a late summer afternoon and saw a little girl in a red corduroy jacket, hair in braids, jumping between two rubber-band strings tied to these scholartrees. The white flowers hung in full blossom, sending forth wafts of strong fragrance… The scene and the scent were as clear and close as yesterday. This sudden encounter with my childhood face to face, even in a twinkling, filled me with tenderness and warmath. Hometown is always there, even it takes on an unrecognisable new appearance. The past is a reality, not just a memory. It will live on in my life today, tomorrow, and never change.

I love my hometown Beijing.