My husband and I had a lovely time at a Chinese friend's Chinese New Years celebration last night. It was just us, our host friend, and one of her Chinese friends (from Beijing) that also works where my husband does. I confess that in the very beginning, I was quite nervous, as I often am around new people. I started to sweat. Luckily, a tall glass of ice water, and some time, calmed that. Such anxiety if often triggered by a feeling that I must perform. The performance, in this case, was to speak as much Mandarin Chinese as I could remember. I did better than I expected. It's surprising how words and phrases come out of the dusty memory archives, when pressured.

The dinner was outstanding. We had a traditional soup, homemade dumplings, spring rolls, short ribs, pick and peel shrimp, and even a traditional sweet purple rice dessert, and other goodies. We drank rose petal tea and wine. Hubby drank a famous Chinese beer from our friend's hometown, called "Tsing tao". Hubby got a bit drunk, unlike the rest of us. I had to drive home.

While reminiscing about my time in Beijing in 1989 (right before the Tiananmen crisis), the ladies made me realize that I had been the American student selected (out of five) as the primary student representative visiting Beijing No. 8 high school (among the best in China). It was during my senior year in high school. I was assigned to the host family with the nicest apartment, and more "duties" than any of the other four students on the trip. I had to give a speech in Chinese, in front of much of the school. It was me that gave a speech, in English, in front of another school (a School for the Arts), and me that had to demonstrate my dancing ability in front of the school. Each performance was attended by almost 100 Chinese students and teachers, combined. For some reason, I just didn't question why only I had such duties, or object to doing them. The others did nothing solo. When they did anything, I was involved, too. In recent years, since my bipolar diagnosis, I identified having been hypomanic during that trip. I'm guessing it was hypomania that made me able to perform as I did, and be a bit oblivious to my special role; a role that I was not notified about in advance. I also now understand why I was given such a starring role.

Only recently did I read a particular high school grade report from that year. The teacher (also the host of the China trip and my assigned guidance counselor) made a big deal about me representing the US, very admirably, in China. As a teen, I believe I brushed off that praise as nothing.

A few years back, I started to write a memoir. For some very odd reason, I didn't even think to include my China trip in it. And yet, it was extremely significant in my life, and significant to the Chinese; it was during a time when they were only just forming more cultural exchanges with the US. But now, so many aspects of it are clearer than ever. I wonder if other memories of past hypomanias and full manias will become more vivid? I have written about many, these last few years, but continue to add more details. When I write about this China trip chapter, I plan to consult with my friend who served as my host student there. Luckily, I have kept in touch with her a bit over the years. I'm certain that her memory is clearer than mine.