In the community where I live, there was a humble cigarette stand. Its shabby cover could barely ward off wind or rain, but the cigarettes were the best in the neighborhood.
The Chinese can sometimes be a weird bunch. In summer, the men love pulling their T-shirts up to expose their mighty bellies.
In the spirit of this column's title, I feel the need to share a very bizarre experience, in which I became the main course of a fish-filled hotpot.
Zhang Ziyi has unveiled her new date. Before I burst into Que sera, sera, one thing is definite: He is not Chinese.
It is with more than a little disappointment that I read that someone was offering to sell the secrets of bianlian for 3,000 yuan.
There I was, enjoying a leisurely morning stroll to work when my reverie was shattered in a barrage of blasts from a particularly dirty-sounding car horn.
I did my Christmas shopping on Sunday. How's that for a time warp?
Since the earliest piece of clothing I have was made in 1993, I could only put on a sweater that looked 80s style.
Chinese don't utter "um", when they are lost for words, they say "nage".
I reckoned it was not too outlandish to wear my flowery cotton pajamas in the neighborhood.
The movie is partly a Chinese production, and judging by word of mouth it should have grossed some decent box office gloss.
Chi fan le ma (have you eaten?) is what many Chinese ask after saying ni hao.
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