Shanghai: For 50-year-old Jiang Shiwei and his family, the Beijing Olympics torch relay, now on across the world, carries a special meaning. It parallels a family relay spanning at least 76 years.
When I entered the restaurant downstairs last night, I spotted a man and a woman sitting together. She was dressed in black, he in red. The restaurant was bathed in orange. All of these colors stimulated my appetite.
At the end of 2007, Soldier Sortie (Shibing Tuji), a TV drama dubbed the Chinese-version of Forest Gump, attracted millions of Chinese viewers, old and young.
A plucky mother chose to protect her unborn child over undergoing treatment for third-degree burns, joining the ranks of this year's China's 10 Most Outstanding Mothers, as chosen by the All-China Women's Federation.
It is the most important day of our lives and we're too young to even know it. I am talking about the day our parents name us. On this day we could spend the rest of our lives being called Bill Ding (building) or Don Key (donkey) or Chris P. Bacon (crispy bacon). We put a tremendous amount of trust in our parents' on this day.
Teacher Shi Shangbai's lessons could come straight out of the Central Academy of Drama. The stage is set in a classroom, which is located on a sheep farm in Beijing's northern suburbs. He asks one student to lie down on her side on a large piece of white paper and then instructs one of her classmates to bend over, and using a crayon, draw an outline of her torso.
"You're here to climb the mountain?" the owner of the roadside hun tun (dumpling soup) stall asks me in the city of Tai'an, Shandong province.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|