Easter

I travelled a lot this weekend. Not so much in China, though. Did the tourist thing on Saturday and went to the Forbidden City, but really the bulk of my travel was to other places - to England via Bridget Jones' Diary (I don't know why, so don't bother asking, but it was just as irritating and insipid as I expected it to be), to New York through Mad Hot Ballroom (which was delightful and reminded me of my sister, the dancer), to Wisconsin through Brokeback Mountain (just as good as I had heard and despite its crushing melancholy I want to watch it again and again). Also, The Simpsons, Thumbsucker (really nice coming-of-age movie reminiscent of Rushmore), The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Chinese title: "Jeans Summer"), and bit of Jeeves and Wooster (which is literally "a bit of Fry and Laurie" but not actually A Bit of Fry and Laurie. Never mind). Recently I have been an absolute movie addict because when I'm watching movies or reading books I am not in China and as much as I love China (and I really, really do) that is so refreshing sometimes.

Also left China this morning for Easter Sunday. A group of people went to my roommate's church, Beijing International Christian Fellowship. This was the first time I've ever spent Easter at a non-Catholic church, and I was interested to see what other types of Christians do on this holiday. For two hours.

The religious situation in China is complicated. I honestly have no idea how it works. I'm under the impression that, technically, religion is allowed in China, but this particular church is officially Laowai Only - you actually have to bring your passport to show you are not a Chinese national. Apart from China, many countries were represented, and the choir was decked out in all sorts of traditional outfits - from saris to qipao. My roommate said there were a lot of African people in the congregation, which was interesting. I'm so used to everyone being Chinese that this international church really did feel like we were in the States.

The service was nice, but so very, very different from what I'm used to. It was in an enormous auditorium with stadium seating and a stage in front where the choir stood, and there was a whole band including what the minister, an American, referred to as "electrified guitars" and a drum kit. The first hour, more or less, consisted of music, including a Hong Kong gospel singer (pretty famous, according to Zhu Meina) and the French Sunday school class's dance performance. Then there was a long sermon, followed by an interpretive dance and some more singing. There was applause after each segment, which I found odd, and the minister cracked a lot of little jokes. My father would have hated it. Me, I didn't mind, although I missed the Catholic mass - the smell of the incense, the familiar service. There was no communion, which I suppose makes sense - can Protestants take each others' communions? I don't see why not, really, since theirs is just bread, but who knows.

I can't say more about Bridget Jones' Diary than the Forbidden City - that's inexcusable.

Lili has less than a month left in China, so we're making sure she hasn't forgotten to do anything important. On Saturday, we took the subway to Tiananmen Square, which is next to the Forbidden City. The Forbidden City is where the emperor used to live with his wife and concubines and eunuchs during the Ming and Qing dynasties. It's very big - so big you forget you're in Beijing - and the buildings are all red, with gold roofs, including the Starbucks. Inside the buildings are many artifacts from that time period, and many tourists, mainly Chinese, but with a generous portion of laowai as well. Beforehand, when I heard that there was a Starbucks in the Forbidden City, I was picturing a normal looking, stick-out-like-a-sore-thumb sort of Starbucks, but actually it blends right in, apart from the big glass window that says Starbucks. I am still appalled but I am mollified ever so slightly.