I have been receiving more emails from overseas these days than usual.
The word "democracy" keeps haunting me these days as I read the Western media's reports about the recent riots in Lhasa and Tibetan-populated areas in neighboring provinces. They have gone to the extent of even condoning the ones who killed innocent people and looted and set fire to stores and other properties.
I have recently read a lot about the people who cry out for "Tibetan independence". They state their objectives with such hatred and violence that it arouses second thoughts about their true character.
There is no way we can liken the singing competition on China Central Television to Fox TV's popular American Idol show.
The first Tomb Sweeping Day as a national holiday arrives in a week's time.
A colleague of mine returned home last Thursday from a four-day trip overseas. He turned on his cell phone when the passengers were told to get ready to disembark.
I have found it more and more difficult to write on issues about gender equality, even as March 8, International Women's Day, is approaching and when many of my colleagues believe it is only natural that I should write something.
The Ministry of Education's plan to introduce, on a trial basis, Peking Opera into the arts curricula of primary and middle schools in 10 metropolises and provinces has aroused heated debate among netizens and the media since it was reported last week.
My husband and I once tried to remove a few electrical cables hanging over a beautiful bridge in a photograph that my husband took in Ottawa a decade ago. The miracle tool was none other than Photoshop.
I remember sweeping the snow off Chang'an Avenue as the flakes continued to fall for almost the whole morning on Feb 21, 1971, when US President Richard Nixon arrived in Beijing for an ice-breaking visit to China.
I was surprised to get a phone call from my cousin in Hubei province at 9 pm on Sunday.
Tuesday was the eighth day of the 12th month on the Chinese lunar calendar. I first became aware of the day as a traditional festival - called laba, or the eighth day of the winter month - when I was working in a factory 30 years ago.
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