Friday night marked the beginning of Spring Festival, the most important holiday of the year. Everyone in China celebrated (and continues to celebrate) as the lunar calendar turned over to the year of the Golden Pig. Spring Festival, which is referred to as Chinese New Year in the states, is a combination of Thanksgiving and New Years and is simply epic. It commences the world’s largest annual human migration, as over one billion people return home, stressing China’s infrastructure for over two weeks. On the night of Spring Festival, people eat only steamed dumplings in order to bring themselves wealth, as dumplings are shaped like the currency used before paper money. People also light fireworks, which is perhaps the most sensational part of Spring Festival. In the past decade in Beijing, fireworks have been outlawed because of a (reasonable) fear of widespread fires. However, last year signaled a change in the policy and rules have been even more relaxed this year. As a result, the days leading up to Spring Festival were loud, as fireworks were exploded throughout the city from when sun went down until about three in the morning.

On the Friday of Spring Festival, I woke up early and decided to find a park well south of Beijing’s subway system. During my wanderings, I encountered some guys setting off fireworks on the side of the road. These fireworks were dangerous – definitely not the kind you could buy in the US. They looked like a fuse attached to the tube of a toilet paper roll. When they lit the fuse, the bottom of the toilet paper roll exploded, sending the other half about thirty feet skyward, where it would explode. I asked them if I could watch, and they insisted that I light one, so I did. They lit me a cigarette, which they were using to set the fireworks off, and gave me one of the perilous toilet paper rolls. I set it down and used the cigarette to light the fuse, which burned extremely fast. I ran away and my firework exploded sideways, sending the other half into the street to explode near the undercarriage of a moving car. They thought this was hilarious and we began the "usual conversation" - I’m American. I’m in China studying Chinese at Jingjimaoyidaxue. Thank you, but I don’t think my Chinese is very good. Yes I’m not entirely white – my mother is Korean (this last part, which is a staple of any conversation I have with Chinese, isn’t true. I’m actually half-Japanese, but I don’t want to deal with Chinese prejudice against Japanese. Though it is relatively minor, I don’t want to encounter any potential problems. I also realized that I can’t say I’m half-Chinese, as it opens the door to a number of other questions that I can’t answer.)

This time, the conversation had a twist – one of the guys asked me if I had eaten. I said I had, but I was still hungry. He thought this was great and told me to follow him. I followed him into one of the foreboding and dirty alleys that open into the minor pedestrian streets. I then followed him into a smaller alley, and then an even smaller one, which turned out to be the courtyard of his family’s home. Everyone was sitting together in one room, surrounding a table filled with food. I sat across from the grisly, unshaven father, who was seated on a bed with his wife, who had curly hair that was dyed red. The family consisted of two sons and two daughters. I had already met the first son and the other son was at the computer, video-chatting on QQ, the most popular messaging service in China. The daughters, who looked like they were about my age, were ordered to bring me a clean bowl and rice. At first, they were confused by my presence, but as I explained they started shoveling food onto my plate. They were all very excited to have a guest, especially since I was American who could understand Chinese. At one point during my meal, they all insisted that I go to the computer, whereupon I provided the family video-evidence of my existence. On the screen were the astonished faces of the friends of the family, all of whom were video chatting. I greeted their gawking friends and then crafted an excuse for leaving, as I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.

I don’t want to further burden this post with the intricacies of the interaction, but it is important to note that this family was anything but rich. I think the son that I had met on the street was a Fuwuyuan, a service person whose job description (and relative pay) is not unlike a movie theatre cleaner in America. This family was definitely on the losing end of China’s growth – the lower end of the economic stratification that is developing. However, it is important to note that, despite their relative poverty, they had a computer with internet service.

After I left the family, I visited a park and then returned to my dorm. That night, at around midnight, some students and I went to the roof of the library to see the fireworks go off around the city. It was amazing – the countdown to midnight was accompanied with a crescendo of sound and light. By the time the clock struck, every apartment building was hosting its own fireworks show. The fireworks themselves were remarkable, as they were much larger than what can be bought in the US. However, what was most amazing was the effect of the ritual - rather than everyone going to one place for public fireworks, each family bought their own to set off at midnight. From our perspective - about 10 stories up and eye level with the explosions - the effect was incredible. Each dark alley and street was erupting, spewing sparks, bangs and flashes into the sky. We eventually gave up futile attempts to take pictures of the transient flashes of light and just appreciated the collective chaos, stopping occasionally to smile and wish each other 春节快了 - Happy New Year.

We stood awestruck for about an hour before the cachophany subsided. At that point, I took out my own personal stash and we went to the street to set them off.

The next day, I went to a few 庙会, or temple festivals. These week-long New Years festivals take place all throughout Beijing. So far, I've only attended two of them, but they're better explained with pictures than with words (especially my words, as evidenced by the previous paragraphs). So, here are some pictures of the festivals. Also included are pictures of my visit to the Yonghe Gong Tibetan Buddhist Lamasary, an analysis of Beijing's walls, and a sad clown:

The Tibetan Lamasary, which was constructed in the 18th century, is one of the few temples that survived the Cultural Revolution. The architecture and decorations are all very Chinese, but they still speak to the influence of Indian art and architecture. Also, all of the dieties, which I was not permitted to photograph, were strange - most were traditional Chinese symbols of power imposed on Indian figures. The result was a dragon with one thousand hands or a many-armed figure copulating with an eight-headed lion. The picture that began this post is of the gateway and this is the main prayer hall.












In Beijing, mostly south of the Forbidden City, are a number of walls that boast of Beijing's preemincence. Few ads decorate these walls, and they seem to be mostly government-sponsered propaganda.











However, behind all of these walls are dilapidated ruins, buildings destroyed by wrecking cranes and underuse. All of these areas will be developed into Western-style apartments and shopping malls, and one hopes that they are only destroying the Soviet-style block buildings rather than the few remaining traditional alleys (胡同) and homes that the Beijing government begrudgingly preserved.





This is the first festival I visited, Longtan Park. It is the largest festival and was extremely crowded. With the exception of the staged "cultural shows," there wasn't much to do except walk through the crowds and buy things.











This is the stage that hosted the cultural show. Not very exciting, but every minority got to show off its funny songs and dance. China has a particular way of dealing with its minorities, which will be addressed later.












Sad clown.



















This is the second festival I went to. It was at the oldest Taoist temple in Beijing - the White Cloud temple. People would wait for 40-50 minutes in order to touch the archway to the temple, which was supposed to bring good luck.















People also waited long in line to touch the symbols of the Chinese Zodiac, which was also supposed to bring luck.












The amount of incense burned was incredible. There were appointed incence handlers and the devoted would light their incense, say prayers, and hand their incense to a monk, who would throw them on a huge pyre. (I didn't feel right taking pictures of this ritual, so all that I photographed is the massive amounts of extinguished incense.) As a result of the incredible amount of incense expended, the temple had a very pleasant fragrance, and I enjoyed it much more than the usual scent of pollution.