Those Happy Birthday Blues

My friends and I had just finished our beef hotpot at a new restaurant in town, when my phone buzzed, and there was a text message. It was from this girl I dated briefly, you may remember her from my earlier post : The 996 Culture in China. The last time we spoke was four months ago, when we broke up, so, I didn’t see a need to reply back right away. But then the phone buzzed again: “Wow! You’re just gonna ignore me, you know I can see you,” she wrote. What the fuck, I thought and scanned the restaurant. There she was, across from our table, staring at me. I got up, walked up to her table, and gave her a hug. The invigorating aroma of lavender and Abyssinian oil in her hair brought back many memories. Why did I break up with her? I thought. When I looked at her lips, all I wanted to do was kiss her, but instead I took a step back, and said, “so, here we are.”

She introduced me to her friends, and then pointed to a girl who was standing at the edge of the table, “tonight, we’re celebrating her,” she said. “Happy birthday,” I looked at the girl. “Sank You Sank You!” The birthday girl yelled out from across the table, sort of stumbled towards me in her stiletto boots, with a red face, and gave me a big, drunken hug.

“Hǎole, xiànzài gòule” (Okay, now that’s enough,) my ex said, and pulled the birthday girl away from me, “she’s had too much,” she said.

The birthday girl passed me a slice of cake, “Chī yīxiē” (eat some,) she said.

“Xièxiè” (thank you,) I said, and put the plate back on the table.

“You’re not even gonna take a small bite?” My ex said.

“I don’t like cakes, I only eat brownies,” I said.

My ex rolled her eyes, “glad we’re not dating anymore,” she said.

I noticed that my friends were getting ready to leave, so I gave a hug to my ex, and waved at her friends, “Hěn gāoxìng rènshí nǐmen” (It was a pleasure meeting you guys,) I said. “Wait,” my ex said, “what are you doing for you birthday next week?” I wondered how did she even remember my birthday, I had no idea about her birthday. “Oh, I’m not a big fan of birthdays,” I said. “Let’s go to Guizhou,” her eyes sparkled, “together,” she said. “What? You mean, us?” I said. She nodded, took a step towards me, and held my hand, “it’ll be fun, just like old times,” she whispered into my ears. “You’re crazy,” I said, and walked away.

On the way home, in the cab, I thought about what she said. Then I remembered I had told her when we dated that Guizhou was one of the destinations on my travel list for 2021. The only problem was that it was my birthday week. I hate celebrating birthdays, I always have, since my childhood, and she knew about it, so I didn’t understand why she suggested that.

It all started when I turned five. A few weeks before my fifth birthday, one of my favorite aunts sent a set of colorful clothes that I could wear for my birthday party. I loved the style, the colors, the texture. Those two weeks, I looked at the clothes every day, and imagined myself in them. My mom and I went shopping and picked out all the decorations for the party, gifts for all the guests, and fresh flowers for the veranda. I was ecstatic.

Then the day came when I turned five. The house was decorated with all the ornaments my mom and I bought, music played in the background, and my friends admired my new clothes. I still remember the moment vividly, when my dad entered the house with my paternal grandparents. They handed me a transparent plastic bag that carried the ugliest clothes I had ever seen, “go change,” my dad said. “What do you mean?” I looked at him. “Go, change your clothes, this is a gift from your grandparents,” my dad said. “But, I love what I’m wearing,” I said. “Don’t argue, go change, now,” my dad pointed his index finger at me. The happiest day of my childhood turned into a nightmare.

For my eight birthday, my dad didn’t let me celebrate because I refused to lead the community prayers. After that day, I just gave up and stopped celebrating birthdays once and for all. I know I know, you’re gonna say, c’mon dude get over it, those birthday blues are not worth it, you’re special and you deserve to celebrate you. I know all that stuff but it’s not that simple. At some point, in my childhood, I lost the magic of birthdays, so it’s hard when someone makes a big deal about it now.

When I got home from the beef hotpot restaurant, my phone buzzed again, “Hey, I was serious. We’ll keep it low key. No cakes, I promise,” my ex texted. I’m not sure what came over me at that moment, but I felt something. She remembered my birthday, I thought, and she promised there will be no cakes. It wasn’t something I was used to. So, I picked up my phone and wrote, “let’s do it!”

The following week, we took the high-speed train to Guizhou, and started our week-long holiday. She planned everything for our trip, got us a gorgeous hotel room overlooking the ancient architecture and the majestic mountains, booked all the amazing excursions, and reserved the top restaurants. She even found a music concert because she remembered that I loved live music.

The days prior to my birthday were perfect, I had so much fun, but on the day of my birthday, as soon as I woke up, I felt uneasy, as if something was in the air. The birthday blues were back. I know that it was all in my head, but nevertheless it was there. I hate this feeling, I thought, why do I do this to myself, every year?

My ex was asleep, so, I got out of bed, showered, and went for a walk. When I came out of the hotel, there was a faint scent of sugar and sesame seeds in the air, which reminded me of the candies my uncle used to make when I was young. I followed the scent, and it took me to a small shop where a 50-year old man was pressing a thick layer of peanut paste with a huge wooden hammer. I wanted to tell him that he reminded me of my uncle, but I just smiled at him and took his photo. It felt good. I continued exploring the area, photographed shopkeepers, children playing in the street, and even cloth less mannequins. The more I shot, the better I felt. It was my birthday and I was doing something I loved; traveling and photographing diverse cultures. What could be better than that.

That was it. The birthday blues were gone, it was as if the ancient village of Dong held some magical powers of curing my sadness. Of course this skepticism was inevitable, but had I denied this and shoved this natural fear into the vacuum, I wouldn’t have witnessed the magic of life.

We all experience unpleasant circumstances in our lives, no one is exempt from it, it’s part of life. If it doesn’t kill you, it only makes you stronger, and if you’re lucky, a bit wiser.

It was time for me to let my defenses down and be honest with myself. So, later that day, before we got on the high-speed train to Guiyang, I went into a small bakery to see if they had any brownies (of course they didn’t). So, I got a slice of dark chocolate cake instead and got on the train. You should have seen the look on my ex’s face.

“What happened to I only eat brownies?” She smiled.

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me,” I whispered the song, and took a bite of the cake.

“Zhù nǐ shēngrì kuàilè, zhù nǐ shēngrì kuàilè” (Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,) she sang in Chinese.

All of a sudden, two little girls (probably around five years old) who were sitting in the row in front of us popped their heads out to look at us, then they looked at each other mesmerized. One of them shouted, “Jīntiān shì wàiguó rén de shēngrì” (It's the foreigner's birthday.) And guess what? The whole train compartment sang the birthday song in sync.

That wasn’t low key, but I loved it.