“Hurry,” my host dad tells me, “it’s happening.” I throw on my jacket and scarf and descend down the stairs. Outside in -10 degrees Celsius frigid weather waits my host brother. Suddenly, I hear a crackle and bang from around the other side of the crassly built complex. A cloud of smoke and the thick smell of sulfur permeates through the already toxic air. My host brother directs his wife and I out of the enclosure, into the wide main street. But we’re surrounded; explosions in every direction cut off our path. I catch a glimpse of a running flare, but turn away quickly, covering my eyes. Someone in an overcoat sets down a small red box, heroically swipes the cigarette from his mouth and nonchalantly lights the fuse. I cover my ears. This is the first day of Lunar New Year in China.
In our Monday assemblies our principal rhetorically asks, “Now what are you FORBIDDEN to do during Chinese New Year?” “Watch the firecrackers…” we sarcastically respond*. But our host parents don’t care. In particular, mine said, “Well what’s the point of studying abroad in China if you’re not going to celebrate an authentic Chinese New Year?” From dawn to dusk we watch the fireworks, not set off by credited officials but the people. My cousin in America told me, “Dude, you should have seen it, some dude with a funny hat came and lit these poppers which went off on my block for like 4 minutes.” I tell him “Try a whole day, from 6 in the morning to 2 at night.” Katy Perry has nothing on Beijing.
Over here, the Chinese celebrate a separate new year dictated by the lunar calendar. Chinese students get 7 days off of school, which beats the break given to the students of SFUSD, who only get one day. I asked my host parents, “So everyone’s off work during the Spring Festival (another name for Chinese New Year), right?” which they respond with a blunt, “No.” They explain that for some big enterprises closing down for one week entails a massive decrease in monthly profit. So what about the working people? Isn’t it that everyone–the migrant workers, the esteemed teachers, the random old guy who plays erhu in the park–is able to take the journey from Heilongjiang to Yunnan return home for the holidays? Well, equal rights would imply that China is a Communist country.
Another notable feature of Chinese-Lunar New Year (as opposed to its counterparts in other countries) is the miao hui, carnivals open all over Beijing during the 7 days. The excitement towards the miao hui is on par with that of the Cherry Blossom festival in San Francisco. Foods range from grilled goat meat to spicy squid skewers, distinct flavors from provinces such as Xinjiang and Xizang (Tibet). Miao hui also feature performances by local performers; exhibitions include spinning plates, balancing 20 feet tall poles, and dancing traditional choreographs. My friend Zack and I decided against playing the overpriced carnival games, the typical dart-throw, ball-toss commodities. Instead, we bought a pair of nunchaku and swung them around in a nearby forest, earning local suspicion; two adolescents (or what they probably thought was one unruly Chinese kid and one typical foreign devil) imitating yesteryear’s most popular Hong Kong action film. I’m glad I came to China.
*A past SYA student lost hearing in one ear due to standing too close to live firecrackers. As such, SYA’s administration has gone to an extent to prohibit students from playing with them, although they haven’t been too successful.
