May 1st is International Labor Day. This is a week-long, national holiday in China.

In North America I had associated Labour (the correct Canadian spelling) Day, the September holiday, as a last-fling with summer. It was a day of barbeques, cold beer, and lawn chairs. Sure, there were union parades, that grew smaller and smaller as the years passed.

Chinese national flag guards march across the Chang’an Avenue to the
Tiananmen Square for national flag-raising ceremony in Beijing, capital of
China, May 1, 2006. Xinhua News

After a couple of months in China I was given an entire week off, paid, for Labor Day, or May Day, or, International Workers’ Day. This is my third and I have never questioned the reasons behind such a holiday. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?
I did some research and discovered this is actually a holiday I can sink my teeth into. Being an anarchist-revolutionary type this holiday speaks to inner rebel.

From Wikipedia
Among American non-pagans, May Day is now more commonly celebrated as a commemoration of the Haymarket Riot of 1886 in Chicago, United States which occurred on May 4, but was the culmination of labor unrest which began on May 1. The date consequently became established as an anarchist and socialist holiday during the 20th century, and in these circles it is often known as International Workers’ Day or Labour Day. In this form, May Day has become an international celebration of the social and economic achievements of the working class and labor movement.

Read the full story

Clothesline of a 50-year-old expat.

Playing dumb, I have found, is extremely useful. A somewhat lackluster student of Mandarin, or Putonghua, I understand much more than I am given credit for. That said, I don’t use my language skills because I’m somewhat private and reclusive. I once took an aptitude test; the results, read by an amazed guidance counselor, said I should pursue a career as a shepherd.

Hammy Hamster

I was at the drug store last week, a place haunted by grandmotherly and grandfatherly types. I have used the same drugstore for two years, because I fear counterfeit medication, and I’m too lazy to walk another 10 yards to try another establishment. While I trust this store, I have yet to try their 40 kuai ($ 5 US) Viagra.

After selecting my medication I made my way to the cash register. The staff wear starched white lab coats and look extremely professional. Buying prophylactics in such an environment is unnerving, but as the narrator on Hammy Hamster used to say, that’s another story.

The bespectacled, 30-something manager was working the till. She scanned my purchase with a smile. Having more money than I know what to do with leads to an untidy bundle (nay, wad) of bills in my pocket. As I searched for the correct notes the manager and the old man leaning on the counter started to speak.

Old man: Ta hui shou zhong wen ma?
Manager: Shi, ta hui shou yi dian dian.
Old man: Bu shi. Read the full story

I was safe, or so I thought.

I left the cafeteria bound for home, and dry shoes and socks. The staff gate locked, I cut thru the dormitory area and made for another exit. From under my ragged, grey umbrella I spotted a class of Grade 1 boys in yellow and red rain slickers, marching in two rows to their naps.

Damn, I thought, much like a starlet, I hope I wasn’t recognized.

I continued towards the gate, twenty yards away. The puddle-covered, white tile ground required some fancy foot work to stay upright and reasonably dry. I glanced to my left as I walked; the bushes had been recently pruned. Between two fine examples of manicured shrubbery stood Rick.

Rick, my toothless fan

He looked at me. I looked at him.

He smiled his toothless Grade 1 smile.

Damn, I thought.

“Si Di Fu,” he said.

“Hello Rick.”

“Si Di Fu,” he said, his voice stronger, his smile wider.

“Goodbye Rick,” I said and headed for the gate.

“SI DI FU!” he exclaimed.

Then, in Chinese: Look! Look! Read the full story

Shenzhen dawn thru the tree, April 21, 2007.