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As I walked up the stairs, I was staring at what had to be the stupidest cicada I had ever come across in my life. It, the single buzzing insect, kept flying into the hot florescent lamp in the landing and shrieking painfully as it burned itself more and more. Yup, you guessed it, this is another blog entry in which I associate myself with something else: sometimes it’s a homeless man in a train station, sometimes it’s a pigeon with a puffed up chest, sometimes it’s an ugly crow, and today it’s a stupid cicada.

Cicadas, you see, are nature’s way of reminding us that Summer is upon us. And I’ve never seen a place where this is more so than in East Asia, where the cicadas shriek the loudest in what might be considered their Summer songs. I’m not talking about cicadas in any symbolic or spiritual sense, I’m just talking about the ugly insect that makes a rather disturbing sound when the Summer is at its hottest and especially when it is slowly being singed to death by a hot electrical lamp.

Once every four years, the cicadas, unknowingly to the rest of the world, announce the arrival of the Summer Olympic games. (I know, that does sound a little far-fetched, but nevermind).

Just moments ago, I was downstairs in the plaza lounge, where a projector projected on a large wall the opening ceremony for the 2008 Beijing Olympics. I was practically the only non-Chinese person watching the ceremony and didn’t feel much of the “Olympic spirit” during the extra-long ceremony. There were a few things that put me off: how the Olympic flag was passed from a group of children to a fearsome group of revolutionary soldiers, and how the ceremony was completely run by Chinese (making it more of a specifically Chinese Olympics rather than a global event). The “theme song” with Sarah Brightman and “the other guy” (can’t remember his name) was terribly boring, and the last guy who lit the Olympic flame looked like he was going to get a heart-attack or burn the support-wires that were suspending him scores of meters above the ground.

The Chinese students seated around me, of course, cheered mightily at the end of each segment that was just an overdone light-show spectacle of media effects and fireworks. They cheered when some paunchy washed up politician would show up on the screen. They stood up when the Chinese national anthem was being played, and sang along to it, too. I didn’t understand any of their gestures: Especially not in front of something as inanimate as a grainy projection on a concrete wall this late at night.

(On another note, I also didn’t really appreciate a few particularly unpopular politicians being given attention and airtime as they blankly waved at the athletes down below - who on their part were too busy waving at someone else in somewhere else - this however cannot be blamed on the organizers of the event).

As I stared at the cicada that was unknowingly killing itself, I stood there and wondered why I hadn’t been able to enjoy the Opening Ceremony. Was it because all my cultural references were skewed towards enjoying a different type of stimuli? Or had I been to focused on the “burning florescent light” of over-politicizing a symbolic parade or was I justified? Or am I just tired after an especially long semester with a few rough patches along the way? Maybe I just need to lighten up a little.

Either way, congratulations Beijing on hosting the Olympics. May the games be peaceful and fun for all.