The Chinese blogosphere (at least on Sina's blogs) has not been completely silent on Hu Jia's arrest. One thanked Sina for having not deleted his post immediately. Another two (here and here) somehow passed through the censor.

Of course there are those representing the government's view cheering (here and here).

Hu Jia was living in an apartment complex called Bobo Freedom City. What an apt misnomer!

Even after almost four years back in China now, I was still often branded "American" by my colleagues. When I showed physical impatience at four-hour-long weekly meetings, argueded with my boss about some of his not-so-wise decisions, or asked questions about details of some business that people at my level are supposed to know and not to inquire even if don't know, I would be told--"Only Americans would do that." (Good Chinese, I came to understand, are supposed to follow orders and when frustrated, shrug their shoulders and sigh, "Mei you ban fa, there's nothing we can do about it.")

It has begun to annoy me. I really enjoyed my job, much more so than back in the Silicon Valley. Learning about my colleagues' way of life is fun. Helping them grow professionally is fun. Even more fun is to feel being part of something that I don't have to try but just naturally understand. Yet despite all that, I was still recognized as the odd one out.

(I wanted to tell them that my impatience and tendency to argue were from my incredibly difficult and very very Chinese mother. Then unfortunately I found myself at a loss to come up with something clever in Chinese to deliver that.)

Anyway, there's this very cool young colleague of mine who always dresses in trendy Korean clothes. She belongs to the post-80s generation, which to my peers born in the 70s, often meant self-centered, pleasure seeking and reckless at their lives' responsibilities (what are they again?). Slightly disappointing to me, however, she has all the wild rings and bracelets and looks all rebellious, but at work she speaks low and walks quiet.

So one day we were talking about fashion. She said she was switching from Korean to Japanese (what's the difference?). I asked her to pick out the best dressers in the department (me! me! me!). She mentioned her boss, a guy in his early 30s who carries Louis Vitton bag and wears Prada. She said he is a... metrosexual. (Brand queen?)

How about this other good-looking trendy manager in the department?

He? He dresses like a homosexual, with his tight colored T over tight long T, she giggled. (Gasp! The guy is married with a new born baby!)

Oh well, I had to volunteer myself. "How about me? What's my style?" I asked.

"You?" She scanned me from top to bottom. "You try everything. Most often you just look... how should I say it...American."

That's so not true! I protested. I shopped mostly at Zara nowadays to save time and keep my style consistent. How could she mistake a distinct European style for American?

But she only shrugged. "It's American to me," she said.

Oh well, perhaps being American isn't so bad if it allows me to be Chinese and forgiven at the same time for being different--loud, argumentative, and fashionably sloppy.

Just learned last night that one person I became connected to almost two years ago was taken in, under one of the shakiest pretense in this country. He was stubbornly honest to himself-- some called him nutty--so he was accused of inciting something something.

Alas, this brand new year of 2008 with all the Olympic glory and the obligatory house cleaning to welcome foreign guests.

Many have asked how I could still remain hopeful. It's a human weakness of mine, I often confessed. Even with statistics one could look at the myriad of the numbers in different ways. Beijing has supposedly the worst pollution among the world's capitals, yet once in a while the wind would come and blow the dust away. Like this early December day when the company I work for organized 100 employees to participate in the AIDS Day Great Wall Hike. It was windy and chilly but the sky was gorgeously blue. And there were many enthusiastic young faces smiling and excited because they were participating in an AIDS Day event.

The pessimist in me saw a turnout not big enough. The optimist caught a bright glimpse of the future in which more in China would be caring, activistic, and creative. (Check the hikers from the condom company!)

Yes, despite the smog and the taking in of honest people hope still persists. History tells us that the right shall eventually prevail. The kids will grow up, and we will grow stronger and wiser ourselves.

Time is our best friend.

Happy new year!