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Published: February 23rd 2010
Huge, colorful fireworks explode mere meters from my sixth-story apartment window. Firecrackers so loud that I can't hear myself think erupt throughout my neighborhood. Families gather to watch CCTV stations broadcast the New Year's Eve television extravaganza. In southern China, lion dances abound as drums pound and cymbals crash. The Year of the Tiger has arrived with a roar.
Although I had celebrated the Lunar New Year in China in previous years, this year was going to be special: my aunt and cousin, who are currently living in Kunming, Yunnan province, were coming to visit me in Beijing to celebrate the New Year. This Spring Festival (as the Chinese New Year is known in Chinese) would be most appropriately celebrated with a week of family togetherness.
Before I knew it, I had been working in Beijing for five weeks, my toilet was
finally in good working order, and the holiday was looming. Makeshift tents had sprung up all over the city, the grungy fabric plastered with waterproof plastic advertisements touting the wares within as the biggest, brightest, best fireworks available to the average Joe. As I exited the subway station each evening after work, I was forced
to push my way through the hordes of excited Chinese men, young and old alike, who were all vying to buy the biggest, most explosive box of fireworks. I briefly considered joining the masses in their quest, but decided I liked my eyes too much to risk losing them in a firework-related debacle on New Year's Eve.
This year, Chinese New Year's Eve fell on a Saturday; on Thursday evening, my aunt and cousin arrived from Kunming. I made it to the airport shortly after they deplaned and was scanning the arrival screen when I glimpsed a blur of pink streak past in my peripheral vision and my cousin, Ya-Li, threw herself at me. I had last seen them in the United States in July, shortly before my brother and I jetted off to Italy for two weeks. Although it was somewhat surreal to see two members of my family standing before me in Beijing, I knew I had little time to dwell on the experience if we were to make it into the city before dark.
Or so I thought.
For the first time, there was no taxi queue. We strolled up to the line of
waiting taxis, hopped in, and were promptly driven straight to the city center. Ah, so
this is what the traffic is like during the New Year, when all of Beijing's migrant workers and non-native citizens return to their hometowns to visit family and friends. I was so shell-shocked, I could barely speak. It was going to be an unusual week, indeed.
The first evening my aunt, Kathryn, and Ya-Li were in Beijing, I gave them a brief walking tour of my neighborhood, showed off the end result of the epic apartment search (decorated with style, natch), and took them to dinner at a local hole-in-the-wall within walking distance from my apartment. A recently discovered gem, the restaurant did not disappoint, serving up delicious Beijing grub at amazingly low prices- to me, anyway. My aunt and cousin could not help comparing the cost differentials between a meal in Beijing and one in Kunming. This would be the first of many surprises during the week.
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 2010
Since I had to work on Friday, my aunt and cousin decided to visit the Forbidden City, which was actually relatively close to my office. I described
to them in painstaking detail how to walk to the subway station, which line to take, how to make the transfer to another line, and which exit would best deliver them to the Palace, forgetting, of course, that not everyone is as directionally-challenged as I am. However, my aunt humored me and listened to my step-by-step instructions with only the slightest hint of a wry smile.
I spent the morning catching up on emails and flipping through the newest additions of expatriate magazines, marking events that I wanted to attend for networking purposes after the holiday. The office was quiet; most of my colleagues had already left for their hometowns. Suddenly, I had the brilliant idea of cranking up some rock music and air guitaring my way through the day. Alas, my seemingly fool-proof inspiration was not to be, as my speakers had been disabled (likely for that very reason). Soon enough, though, my aunt and cousin arrived to see where I work and to meet for lunch. I escorted them to a restaurant across the street from my office, where they were shocked to discover propane-fueled heaters fueling the warmth of the establishment; a definite no-no by the
US safety code. However, I assured them we would likely not die in the span of an hour. With that reassurance, we dug into our Shaanxi-style noodles, spicy dumpling soup, and chilled celery salad with relish.
That evening, we had dinner at another Mom-and-Pop restaurant in my Tuanjiehu neighborhood. Exhausted from hours of walking through the Forbidden City and traipsing through the extensive subway system in Beijing, my aunt and cousin barely made it through the meal before calling it a night. We all needed a good night's sleep before the ensuing week of fireworks and noise.
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2010. NEW YEAR'S EVE.
After a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and black sesame paste (don't knock it 'til you've tried it!), we were off and running. In honor of the holiday, I had decided to treat us to a day of pampering, commencing with simultanous manicure/pedicures. As the three of us reclined in soft, squishy armchairs, I closed my eyes and allowed the technicians to make my fingers and toes beautiful. After consulation with Ya-Li about the most appropriate color to achieve this goal, I sank into a state of raptured bliss, such that can only be
accomplished when getting the princess treatment. I was on the road to dreamland when a piercing shriek startled me out of my rapture.
Who dared disturb me? I surveyed the room and was surprised to discover that other patrons appeared to be staring in the direction of where I was seated with my aunt and cousin. I glanced to my left; my cousin looked as perplexed as I did. As we turned to look at my aunt, we discovered the source of the commotion. The young man removing layers of tough skin from her heels had gotten a little too zealous with his instrument and had appeared to have actually removed a layer or two of much-needed skin from my aunt's foot. The young man clearly was in a panic over what to do; he decided the best solution would be to submerge my aunt's foot back into the disinfecting foot bath, which only served to turn the water red and make her scream again.
By this time, a crowd of curious onlookers and worried shop tenders had gathered, as people are wont to do in China. Suggestions of "Find some salve!" were interspersed with "What happened?"
and a few hearty "Icks". My poor aunt suffered through the indignity of being poked and prodded by the shop manager and was eventually sent home with a package of Chinese medicine, some bandages, and guaze. This incident was only too reminiscent of the Great Leg Wax Debacle of 2007 (remember that, Mom?). Being the trooper she is, my aunt forged ahead with our evening plans, which included an absolutely sumptious feast at Pure Lotus, a monk-run vegetarian restaurant near my neighborhood and fireworks at the stroke of midnight. The fireworks this year did not disappoint (see video), ending what could have been a very bad day on a very positive note.
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 2010
After the excitement of the previous day, you might think we would sleep in. Nay, not these lasses. We arose at the ungodly hour of 8 AM to trek to Ditan Park, where Beijing's largest Temple Fair was being held. Temple fairs were originally held to pay respects to Buddha or another deity, but after the Communist Revolution, they became more like glorified carnivals. Unfortunately for my aunt, cousin, and myself, the sky was overcast (likely ripe with leftover firework smoke) and
the weather cold and windy. We had barely entered the park before I lost feeling in my extremeties. We pressed on, sampling treats from all over China, admiring the creative hats being worn by young and old alike, and stamping our feet to ward off the winter chill. Despite hailng from Alaska, my aunt and cousin had become accustomed to the balmy 70-degree days in Kunming and seemed a bit shell-shocked by the cold. We lasted about an hour and a half before calling it a day and returning to their nice, warm hotel.
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2010
Ah, Monday. Monday, Monday. Monday morning. Whenever you wake up on a Monday morning with that delightful Mamas and Papas song playing in your mind, you know it's going to be a good day- or at least eventually end up that way. Although the lack of crowds in Beijing was quite welcome over the Spring Festival holiday, the dearth of people also meant that nearly everything worth doing was closed for the week. Consequently, we three found ourselves seated in a little piece of hell called "Be for Time" teahouse.
Allow me to elaborate.
I had promised Ya-Li
a hot cup of papaya milk tea since the day she had arrived; however, my usual haunt was closed. With trepidation, I suggested an establishment that served all-you-can-drink milk tea and smoothies for 18 RMB (which, I'm sure, sounds far more wonderful than it wound up being). Right off the bat, we were charged 28 MRB each, a New Year's holiday mark-up. Clearly, the surly attendants were not pleased to be working during the holiday week. Ya-Li and I ordered hot, fruit-flavored milk teas with tapioca balls, while my aunt ordered a coffee-flavored milk tea. The drinks arrived promptly, but were not hot and lacked the sweet goodness of tapioca. When questioned, our waitress informed me that a fresh batch was being mixed up and would be ready in 20 minutes. Okay, fine. I was just finishing relaying this information when my aunt took a sip of her coffee-flavored milk tea. Apparently, it did not taste good.
By hour two, we were on a roll. Determined to squeeze every last kuai from the 28 RMB markup, we ordered milk teas, smoothies, ice cream, and shaved ice- everything except coffee. The service began to slow down, the workers blankly staring
at a soap opera that was playing on a TV overhead. The drinks got progressively less drinkable. By the time we ordered our "strawberry" ice cream, it was clearly time to go.
For some reason, that experience struck us as wildly funny; I'm not sure the workers felt the same. At any rate, we continued down the street, stopping into a small tea shop to purchase good Wulong tea and made our way to the local Tuanjiehu park, where we spent a better part of the afternoon rollerblading around a small, marble-inspired rink. We ended the day with a fabulous dinner at Ganges, my favorite Indian restaurant in Beijing. I had originally suggested that location because it was adjacent to the world's largest LCD screen and within walking distance from my favorite hush-hush DVD shop- neither of which were open or running. Naturally.
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 2010
The day before my aunt and cousin returned to Kunming was spent shopping and visiting with my Chinese family. I introduced my aunt and cousin to the wonderful world of Yashow Market- where anything and everything you need is within reach. Manicures, pedicures, makeup, belts, shoes, handbags, clothing, winter jackets,
(fake) name brand clothing, scrolls, "antiques", DVDs; you name it, they have it. I had to tear my cousin away from the wig and tiara counter in order to meet my host family.
I lived with Wu Jinquan, Qiao Hong, and Wu Yushi during the summer of 2005; we have remained close ever since, exchanging letters, emails, and pictures when I'm in the US and having dinner together frequently when I'm in China. My parents met my Chinese family when they came to Beijing in 2005; now I had the opportunity to introduce more of my Western family to my Chinese one.
As I had suspected, my Chinese parents were enamored with Ya-li. Here was a girl who looked Chinese, but spoke perfect English. My Chinese dad had a ball practicing his English with her, while my Chinese mom delighted in teaching Ya-li more Chinese. Although we had planned to stop by for a one-hour visit, as is often the case when I visit them, we were invited for dinner and didn't leave until nearly 8 o'clock in the evening. I know that my aunt and cousin will be welcome in their home whenever they next come back
to Beijing.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 2010
All too soon, the day of departure arrived. Due to a mixup in flight times, we had five hours less than we had planned to finish our shopping, further solidfying my aunt and cousin's resolve to return to Beijing within the year (that is, if I don't visit them in Kunming first!). In the blink of an eye, I was hugging them goodbye and telling the taxi driver to take them to Beijing International Airport.
It was wonderful to celebrate Spring Festival with both my American family and my Chinese family and friends. There is nowhere on earth that does fireworks quite like China; it is a sight to behold, indeed. Whenever I am blinded by the dazzling brilliance of the fireworks bursting all over the city at midnight, or left with ringing ears for days on end, I count myself truly blessed to be back in this charismatic, egnimatic, ever-changing city.
At least until some rabble-rouser lights off firecrackers under my window again.
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blackponytail
...
Aww I miss the fireworks all around the neighborhood, and the shredded red papers from firecrackers...I'm actually feeling kinda homesick or nostalgic just looking at your pictures and videos :( Well anyway, Happy Chinese New Year and gong xi fa cai! (Hehe in Sydney they say it the Cantonese way: Gong heik fa choy)