Ever since my son's birth two years ago, I have been engaged in a losing battle against my mother over how to feed the boy.
Nearly every time I enter a neighborhood grocery store and pick up a shopping basket, I regret deciding again to cobble together a meal on my own.
Beijing taxi drivers are famous for being talkative. I wonder if they will age to become the world's most articulate group of elderly people.
A friend of mine MSNed me, mentioning that a book I wrote two years ago was available for download on a certain website.
You might not lose your way in a city if you have a map in hand. But you might get lost in a crowd of waiters sent from different restaurants to tout for business.
My husband came home one morning complaining of mosquito bites.
Forgive me, Mother Earth, for I have sinned. Every morning, while brushing my teeth, I open the water tap approximately 30 percent of the way while massaging my gums and polishing my not-so-pearly white teeth.
It's been three years in Beijing now, but one thing that I am yet to get used to is the winter.
Taxi drivers have the best knowledge of the changes Beijing has seen in recent years as they drive through the city all day long, picking up juicy bits of information.
I had been making small talk with this middle-aged Chinese man I met on a bus from Beijing bound for Tianjin.
The audio system in our car stopped playing all CDs about a year ago.
Street peddlers are often the target of harassment in China.
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