And so it seems that tonight, January 15th by the Chinese lunar calendar, February 9th by the Western, marks the end of Chinese New Year, and everywhere firecrackers and fireworks can be seen and heard to mark the occasion.
Spring Festival is a 15 day celebration here in China, and, fortunately, I was able to spend the first nine with my Chinese family in Shi Fang.
As with last time, from the moment I stepped foot on the farm in Shi Fang, I felt at home. My "Mom" and "Dad" had prepared a "Welcome Home" feast for me, the relatives all came back to welcome me home, and while there was still a feel of "guest" in the sense that they wanted to make sure everything was comfortable and convenient for me, the family made sure to know that we were no longer host/guest, we had evolved to "relative." All throughout the time in Shi Fang, whenever a subject would come up that would normally make them "lose face" or would be a "family secret" they would say something like "Fei Fei, you should know this, since you're family, too."
New Year's Eve in China is such a culture-filled celebration! Everything has significance and has to be done according to its tradition and in a particular order, as that's the only way to ensure a successful year ahead. For weeks, the family (and I, in Guiyang) prepared for the day, buying abundant gifts (food and clothes), paper decorations to bring luck to the household, food, drinks, fireworks, etc. Before returning to Shi Fang, I spent my day's in Guiyang with Lulu, my Chinese friend/teacher, drilling her for as much Spring Festival language and culture as possible so as to avoid making any naive (but offensive) mistakes. When New Year's Eve came, January 25th by our calendar, I was so filled with knowledge about customs and rituals that my head was about to explode: "don't clean yourself at all on New Year's Eve or New Year's Day in order to keep the good luck from last year with you," "before dinner on New Year's Eve you should light firecrackers to chase away spirits," "stand around table and wait for elders to sit, even though they'll offer you a seat first, insist that they sit first or you're rude," "at dinner, there will be a fish on the table, don't eat it even if it's offered to you—they're just being polite," "if you make a mistake and accidentally eat the fish, you should say 'may we have fish (luck/wealth) everyday!'," "at dinner, give gifts to relatives in this order: grandma, dad, mom, uncles, aunts, youth by age," "after dinner help bring dishes to kitchen but don't clean anything"…. and that was just up until dinner time. The list went on and on and on and I found myself reciting it throughout the afternoon in my head, terrified that when dinner came I would make a silly mistake (because in Chinese culture, they have "polite talk" which is when someone offers you something, even though they don't want you to take/do it, simply because they want to show that they're being accommodating and polite. If you accept, you're rude and, well, in my case, stupid). Finally, evening came, and the family told me that it was time for me to shower. Having ran through the drill a million times before, I figured this was "polite talk" and, feeling proud of myself, thanked them and explained why I would not shower. Well, they looked at me in disbelief, jaws dropped as if to say "stupid." Go figure. It turns out that's just the rule in Guizhou. In Sichuan, on the other hand, one must shower before the meal, getting as clean as possible before the festivities begin and then not able to clean yourself for days after. So, after first allowing the older family members shower (and thus being polite and making sure that they were being honest), I showered my first and last shower in the duration of my stay in Shi Fang. It was nice, because we were able to heat water, but because the air was so cold and there was no way to get warm after the shower (and tradition allowed it) I never showered again after that day. Nor did I change my clothes. I'm told that brings luck, anyway. :)
After the shower, Zhou Lei (my Chinese brother/student) showed me how they concoct homemade glue from tang yuan, the same thing we eat for breakfast on special occasions here, and together we sat down in front of a huge pile of "chun lian," special red papers used for the house at Spring Festival. When I first came to China, the first thing I noticed was that almost every door to every person's home had, what I initially thought, "tacky" red paper hanging around it, and inside the home would be the occasional red hangings that were also "tacky" and clashed with the surroundings. I gradually learned that these things all were for luck and fortune, but I still, in less-than-humble thoughts wondered "why not get a smaller one and put it where it isn't so noticeable and visually unpleasant?" Well, as it turns out, all of the red hangings that I've seen in China were newly put up on New Year's Eve as part of a ritual to bring luck throughout the year. Being a part of the ritual, I suddenly felt my opinion on these papers change, and even now that I've returned to Guiyang, I notice myself stopping to admire some of the nicest ones I see, seeing them all in a different light. So, with our homemade glue and chopsticks, Zhou Lei and I spread out outside putting glue on the backs of paper and then hanging them in each of the door ways in a particular order, each paper carefully chosen for each door of the house. The papers had messages of luck, fortune, chasing away bad spirits, bringing prosperity, overcoming hardship, etc. We hung lanterns (always in pairs) inside, and made sure that we had a red hanging with a cow on it, too (since it's year of the cow. Oh. Excuse me, that's Chin-glish. I mean ox. haha).
After the papers were hung in a significant order and we were all cleaned, donned in red (China red) clothing for luck, "Mom" and "Dad" set up an offering for the ancestors in the living room, which consisted of two cups of alcohol, a slab of red meat (meat experts can tell me what part from looking at photo; I'm not sure), incense, candy, and other little goodies. To our surprise, as we were preparing to eat, Zhou Lei's aunt and uncle stopped in, deciding they wanted to spend New Year's with us, since it may be their only chance to spend a holiday with their "niece" (me). In Shi Fang, I'm not sure about other parts of China, New Year's Eve is supposed to be spent at home with your immediate relatives (which usually includes grandma/grandpa since they often live in the same home). When I heard this, I wondered how "my" immediate family felt, but much to my pleasure, they were overjoyed at the prospect of more guests, seeing more people at the table as a sign of more prosperity and wealth.
Once all food was on the table and everyone was ready, the firecrackers began. I had heard firecrackers being lit off at neighbors' homes all evening, but finally it was our turn. "Dad" hung up a line of firecrackers outside the door (there are no fire codes observed here) and we all stood around, trying not to flinch, watching as the hung line of firecrackers went off, scaring off any ghosts or bad spirits from robbing us of our harvest or wealth this year.
The dinner went over well, and, as a member of their family, they insisted that I need not observe polite courtesies, especially regarding the fish. Fish is expensive, and there was no way we were going to waste freshly cooked fish, so "Dad" reached over and put a slab in my bowl, with a few words toasting his fortune at having such a special "daughter" and then put fish in his own bowl, and together the family joined in eating the fish, meant to bring us good luck and fortune all year long.
After dinner, we were careful not to clean/wash anything, and then stepped outside into the farmland, where we were joined by all of Zhou Lei's many neighbors. We stood together in the fields and lit off hundreds of fireworks, children and old alike. Some fireworks landed on houses roofs, some ruminants fell and burned my eyelid, singed Zhou Lei's hair, left a few ailments on some of our neighbors, but it didn't matter. It was so fun (and unsafe) and beautiful. Every family in China lit them off after dinner, at around the same time, and with us being in the countryside, far from any big buildings, we could see them everywhere we looked. Unlike our 4th of the July, where the government puts on a big show, here every individual family puts on their own (even in the city outside of their apartments, in the street, etc.—remember how someone threw one at me last year?) so it was unlike any firework show I've ever seen.
After fireworks, everyone immediately retreated to their homes to crowd around their TV sets and watch Chun Jie Nian Huan Wan Hui, the Spring Festival show in Beijing celebrating the New Year. The show was about 4 hours of mini skits, performances, songs, etc. Mom, Dad, Zhou Lei and I sat next to their TV, eating sun flower seeds, peanuts and candy, watching the show and talking throughout. It was cool watching Chinese TV again. It's been a long time since I've seen it, and it was a testimony to how far my language had come as I understood almost everything being said (standard Chinese, rather than the heavy dialect I encounter in Guizhou, and the entirely different heavy dialect I encounter in Sichuan).
At midnight, the show came to an end, and we again found ourselves lighting off firecrackers, again scaring the bad spirits before we retire to bed. Much like tonight will again be, all night long I was lulled to sleep by the sound of firecrackers and fireworks going off at homes all around us.
The next day, New Year's Day, we woke up early and ate a bowl of 12 tang yuan together. Tang yuan is round, which is supposed to symbolize togetherness, and 12, because there are 12 months in the year. That day, and every day after that, was spent going to relatives' and neighbors' homes to celebrate the New Year together, spread good fortune, give children gifts (red envelopes with money), play majiang or cards, eat, eat and eat. On New Year's Day, my "mom" and "dad" presented me with the first (of many) gifts: a new winter coat. This was an amazing gift for so many reasons. For one, coats are expensive and, as we know, this family is far from even reaching middle-class economic status. For another, it showed how much they cared because I had been, all year, hiding how terrible my winter coat is, embarrassed by the feathers that were constantly leaking out of it and cold because it was so thin. The biggest reason, though, is that in China, parents give their children new clothes to meet the New Year with. When they gave me the coat, I had no idea what they were doing. First, they pulled me into my bedroom, their faces alive with excitement. Then they eagerly pulled it out of the bag and held it up "Quickly! Fei Fei, try it on!" and they were putting it on for me as I stood, dumbfounded and teary-eyed. "You are no different to us than our son, so we want to make sure you both have nice new coats to wear this year." And that was the start of the gift giving. Later that night, "Dad" said he wanted to get me a new pair of pants. I insisted that I don't know my size (which is true, in China) and didn't want or need new pants, that the coat was enough, but before I knew it he had a tape measurer out and "Mom" held me still while he measured me (against my wishes). The next day, at an aunt's home (a bigger sized aunt, I should say), I was told that the aunt wanted to take me to meet some of her friends. Together we rode off to another town, and only then did she tell me that it was a ploy to get me to a clothing shop (for "fat" people). We stepped inside the little shop, and my "aunt" just took over. She barked out to the owner what size we were looking for, then turned to me and started unbuttoning my pants, pulling them down for me (for family, this isn't taboo, so I took it as a compliment rather than an infringement—besides, like every other Chinese person in the room, I had on 3 pair of long johns underneath) and, before I knew it, I owned my first new pair of jeans in China.
The rest of the week was much the same. Every day they tricked me into receiving new gifts, and I tricked them into allowing me to buy them as many as I could (besides the gifts I had purchased in Guiyang, it was difficult to get gifts in Shi Fang since I was always with the family and they were always making sure I didn't sneak off to get them anything, although I successfully duped them one or two times with pretend trips to the public bathroom which turned into speed gift-shopping).
Every home we visited, relative, friend, neighbor, accepted me without question. They gave me the same treatment as any other relative, knowing little about me other than I am the newest member of the family. They never commented on me being foreign, they simply referred to me as "Zhou Fei Fei, Zhou's surrogate daughter." When I first went to Shi Fang (the last trip) I had a difficult time adjusting to the Sichuan dialect and didn't understand a lot. Gradually, people learned that if they spoke slowly to me, I could understand, and by this trip, "Mom" and "Dad" and any other relatives who met me last time had perfected the art of speaking slow Sichuan dialect and we never had problems communicating. So, when we would visit other peoples' homes and they would talk to me at a rapid rate of speed, speaking in a language equivalent to English Ebonics (it may seem like common sense to speak slowly to a non-native speaker to Americans who are exposed to foreigners, but they have NEVER encountered a non-Chinese person before), I often wouldn't understand what the relatives were trying to say. I would explain that, if they speak slowly, or try to speak standard Chinese, I could understand, but they found it easier to just turn to my family and ask them to translate for their "daughter" (I should point out that they weren't doing this in a state of frustration, they were incredibly patient and understanding and wanted to communicate with me, but didn't trust themselves to be able to communicate with me alone). So a typical conversation would go like this: Relative looks at me and speaks Sichuan dialect in rapid rate of speed while I smile back politely. "Mom," "Dad," or Zhou Lei (whoever was closer) would then repeat the exact same sentence in Sichuan dialect (most of them cannot speak standard Chinese, although they understand it) but say it slowly so I could taste the words and compare it to standard Chinese, I would reply back in standard Chinese (or Guizhou dialect, which was easier for them to understand), then my family would repeat the exact same thing in Sichuan dialect. It was weird. And exciting. From the moment I woke up until the moment I fell asleep every day, my world was a sea of Chinese and Chinese dialects and every night my dreams would be in Chinese. By the end of my stay there, Sichuan dialect came easily and I found myself speaking some, much to the relatives' excitement (to be fair, it was similar to Guizhou dialect so once I got a good taste of it, it wasn't too difficult to pick up).
In addition to lots of time visiting relatives and eating with family, which took up the majority of our 10 days together, I also spent a lot of time with the friends I made in Shi Fang from the last trip, Zhou Lei's classmates. We hiked, visited parks, played carnival games on the streets, met up with other classmates, visited other small towns on day trips, etc. Unfortunately, Zhou Zhou's grandma (see previous blog: the one who lived in a tent from the earthquake—near the factory that fell—and gave us dinner in her tent) had suffered a great fall (not surprising, considering where she lived) and broke her leg so we also spent some time visiting her and giving her gifts. It was strangely poetic to be able to return and see this same woman, who lived alone in such dangerous circumstances and was the subject of many of my prayers in Guiyang, now in the hospital, suffering from a fall. Thankfully, the fall only broke her leg, allowing her to stay in the hospital (which was warmer than her tent) and gave her reason to succumb to humbleness and allow herself to move in with Zhou Zhou's parents and be given some assistance. She seemed much happier in the hospital than she did in her tent, so I think the fall was a blessing of sorts.
Leaving Shi Fang was, as expected, difficult and sad. My family bought my train ticket, not allowing me to give them money for it, regardless of how hard I tried, and saw me off to Chengdu. They packed me loads of their self-grown rice and oil, lots of food and drinks for the trip, and had a huge lunch at 10:30 am so that they could eat with me before I had to leave. Both of my "parents," standing in the bus station seeing me off, looked profoundly pained as they said goodbye, and turned in a hurry. Both of them were teary-eyed. It's such a beautiful thing to be accepted into a family so readily, and to know that there are such amazing people in the world who, in spite of their own hardships, are willing to give up everything for someone they barely know. They made sure to tell me that, no matter what or no matter how much time passes, Shi Fang is always my home and I am welcome back anytime. Zhou Lei then handed me 4 gifts, each wrapped according to gender and age: one for me, and one for each member of my real family, Mom, Dad and Luke. Family is family, even if they have never met in person. The Zhou's and the Flynn's are now, by beautiful circumstance, relatives, not because of marriage or blood, but because of love and understanding.
Since returning to Guiyang, my Chinese family has called 3 times just to say hello. The conversations never last more than 1 minute, but it's just their way of letting me know they're still thinking of me. Two days ago, however, Zhou Lei called to tell me that something was wrong with "Dad's" head. Neither of us knew the language to explain it, but apparently he's not allowed to do any heavy lifting for a while, which makes farming difficult. Unfortunately still, farmers have absolutely no financial security here, so if he doesn't work, dire troubles could be on the way. If you think of it, send a prayer or two out for their—my—family, please.
So, tonight marks the end of the 15 day celebration. Again, fireworks and firecrackers are everywhere. I will again fall asleep to the sound of popping, but this will be the last time in 2009, and, circumstances being what they will, potentially the last time in China. It's alarmingly sad to think I only have 5 months left in this beautiful place.
In two days, February 11th by the Western calendar, January 17th by the Chinese, I will depart for a long 2.5 week journey to warmth. Together with Kim, Patrick and Dave, I will ride a 20 hour train ride (all seats were sold out so we're STANDING for that entire time unless a miracle happens) to sunny Shenzhen, in Guangdong province (Cantonese speaking), then spending a day in Hong Kong, and then flying out to the magnificent country of Thailand for two weeks before school starts. We're all so excited! :)
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