Journey to the East

A sign of Spring's arrival: Dogwood Blossoms.

Spring seems to have finally arrived in Ji’nan. On Monday, a day marked by warm temperatures, blue skies and abundant sunshine, it seemed silly to be inside. I hopped on my bike and took off, heading in no particular direction. Almost instinctively, I headed towards Old Ji’nan, the well preserved core of the city not far from the center square. This mostly residential area is pretty tucked away. Down its narrow, winding cobblestone alleys you can find some of the city’s best kept secrets: local watering holes, nice little shrines, pleasantly sloping rooftops, excellent grilled meat vendors, etc. There, you can see life unfolding much as you imagine it would have 50 years ago, if not longer. On Monday afternoon it was pleasantly sunsplashed and bustling as the residents went out to do laundry, enjoy a beer by the side of one of the neighborhood’s many spring, or just simply enjoy a walk on a spring afternoon. Every time I venture into this part of the city, I find myself seeing or experiencing something which I would have never previously known about, or anticipated. Monday was no exception. Here are some of the highlights:

a

A typical alley in Old Ji'nan

Private homes like this one still make up most of Old Ji'nan.

Down a back-alley in Old Ji'nan: A public well.

Sometimes, the fascinating thing about being in Old Ji'nan are the very small details. Case in point: ornate roof tiles.

A map which lays out the networks of alleys and paths at the heart of the Old City.

A common sight in the old neighborhood: A wall mural intended to bestow good fortune upon the household.

New Year's couplets on the door of an old house. These will be displayed all year long.

One of Ji'nan's major tourist attractions, the "72 Beautiful Springs." This is a good spot for dining outdoors when the weather warms up. Nothing beats BBQ by the canal.

Reflections: Old Ji'nan.

Nestled in the center of Old Ji'nan: A decorative arch for a local temple.

The entrance to a shrine to the local god in the heart of Old Ji'nan.

Incense sticks at the local god temple.

In Old Ji'nan: a surprise around every corner.

Warm weather seems to be here to stay at last (expect another entry about that soon). Yesterday, I went with friends and hiked Hero Mountain (one of the high hills that rim the Eastern end of the city), taking in the city in spring from another vantage point: one in the heights. It’s good to, at long last, get outdoors for a while without feeling like you’ll soon freeze up.

Stay tuned, there’ll be more to come shortly.

As promised, here’s the photo re-cap of my recent trip to Beijing.

One of the best parts of this trip to Beijing was getting to explore new places within the city, places that I’d never been to before. One of the first was Yonghegong Lama Temple, one of the most renowned Buddhist temples in China. It was built in the 1600’s to honor the visit of a very important Lama to the Emperor of the Qing Dynasty, who was a devout follower. It’s a pretty colorful place, and it boasts lots of significant items, like the Emperor’s ceremonial robes, and the world’s tallest wooden carving of the Buddha made entirely from one tree (couldn’t take pictures of this, sadly). Because of its history and prominent location in the heart of the capital city, this temple draws LOTS of pilgrims. During our trip it was especially packed, as people who were looking to make a visit to this holy place at the start of a new year. Here’s a look:

A tower at the entrance to Yonghegong Temple in the heart of Beijing.

Prayer flags at Yonghegong Temple.

Spinning one of the temple's many prayer wheels.

Prayer wheel in mid-spin.

Pilgrims flock to this temple. The place was especially crowded on our visit, as it was during New Year festivities.

Prayer flags at Yonghegong Temple.

The signs at the temple are written in three languages (From the left to the right): Manchu, Tibetan and Chinese.

For me, a highlight of this trip was getting to see Beijing’s old city walls. They’re mostly gone now, due to being demolished in the ’50s and ’60s to make way for modern highways. What remains, however, is fantastic. The walls are crumbling, but something about the fact that they are in ruins lends an air of authenticity to them. Much like the acropolis of Athens or the Colosseum in Rome, the fact that the walls have been left in their disarray makes them feel much older, much more real. A restored gatehouse sits at the end, and gives you a good sense of just how magnificent the walls must have once been.

The entrance to the very small park which is devoted to preserving the old city walls.

Some views of the ruins:

Gazing up at the heights to admire the wall.

The restored gatehouse at the very end of the park.

The stairs up to the top of the wall.

The view from the top of the old wall.

Though in the midst of a hot day in June or July you’d never know it, Beijing is very much a northern city. While it may not get as cold as Haerbin or the extreme northeastern part of China, winter in Beijing is chilly to say the least. As a result, Beijing is a city where people know what to do with cold weather, and how to have fun when temperatures drop. No place is this more apparent than around the center of town, where the lakes that draw strollers and pleasure boaters in the summer are FROZEN SOLID in the winter months. What do you do with a large, solidly frozen lake? Improvised ice-skating. Such was the case at Hou Hai lake (后海) during our visit. Here’s what our venture out onto the ice looked like:

The residents of Beijing flock to the ice at Hou Hai.

Cautiously, my friend Dave takes to the ice.

Standing on the ice at Hou Hai.

I think that the look on my face says everything you need to know about how eager I was to be out on the ice, and how confident I was to be out in the middle of it when we first stepped out. After about 30 seconds it became totally apparent that we were completely safe- the ice was well over a foot thick.

This woman was offering to tow people around on the ice in a psuedo-sled ride arrangement for a small fee.

Improvised sledding: A chair and a pair of ski poles.

During the summertime, this is a boat dock.

Out of place: Frozen boats on Hou Hai

The Drum Tower in Old Beijing as seen from Hou Hai, at night.

This trip to Beijing was my third. Like all major cultural centers, Beijing is a place that holds far too much to be seen in one trip. In fact, you can go to Beijing multiple times, and still not even hit all of the major tourists sites, let alone the smaller attractions. For instance: I’d really never been able to thoroughly explore the large lakes in the center of town. Bei Hai Park (北海) is located at the center of Beijing. It used to be part of the vast Imperial complex during former days, and served (as I understand it) as one of the Emperor’s many pleasure gardens. It’s renowned for the very surreal White Dagoba, a Buddhist stupa planted on an island in the center. It’s also home to a very odd network of caves, previously used as sacred grottoes for local monks. If nothing else, it’s a pleasant place for a walk, even when it’s freezing cold.

The Jade Islet in the middle of Bei Hai, home to the strange White Dagoba.

The White Dagoba: A close up.

Peeking out on Bei Hai from the top of the Jade Islet.

Like its neighbor, Hou Hai, Bei Hai was completely frozen.

Scenic spot: A restaurant at the edge of the Jade Islet.

In search of some seclusion: Bei Hai offers some peace and quiet at the heart of Beijing.

Down under: exploring the caves at Bei Hai.

These guys were kinda creepy when we first happened upon them in the Bei Hai caves.

One of the most interesting (and rapidly dissapearing) parts of Beijing is its core of old neighborhoods (called 胡同, hútòng). These low lying buildings, tucked away down winding and narrow alleyways and cobblestone paths provide a glimpse of a much older time. Exploring here is fun, and worthwhile, even though these old neighborhoods have largely been converted into souvenir shops, coffee houses, bars and restaurants. Sometimes while exploring a hútòng, you’ll happen upon a slice of authentic Old Beijing… a really rewarding experience.

A typical house in a Beijing hútòng.

The Drum tower, in the middle of the maze of hútòng in Old Beijing.

Rooftops, Old Beijing.

The REAL Beijing? A typical hútòng alleyway.

As seen in Old Beijing: Peking Roast Duck, an enduring symbol of the city.

More updates will come later… including, at long last, a photo recap of my journeys to Nanjing and Hangzhou in January.

Perhaps I spoke too soon about warm weather. Yesterday, temperatures in Ji’nan dropped suddenly and dramatically. And it snowed. So, now, not even a week after I boldly declared an end to winter, it’s winter again.  I suppose that March in Ji’nan will be no different from March in the Eastern US: In like a lion…

Unfortunately, this turn in the weather dampened one of the most interesting parts of Spring Festival: Lantern Festival, which marks the very last night of the holiday. True to its name, Lantern Festival features all kinds of illuminated display, the setting off of paper lanterns (you light them and the hot air propels them into the sky like otherworldly object, floating up towards some completely unknown end… I’ve seen lots of lanterns lit, but I’ve never seen one coming down from up high, so I can truly say that I have no idea where a lit lantern goes), and eating what I’ve just come to call Lantern Soup, known in Chinese as 汤圆, Tāngyuán, ( which is a dessert course consisting of small, sweet, round dumplings in a slightly sugary broth (kind of like gulab jamun, for those of your familiar with Indian food, but not as syrupy and  not fried).

Tāngyuán, a traditional Lantern Festival dessert (thanks to Google for the image).

Of course, yesterday’s weather conditions were not ideal for any of the traditional lantern festival celebrations: try setting off a lantern made of paper in a driving snow storm and heavy wind. The square was deserted, with would be revelers staying inside rather than trying to navigate the slippery, treacherous, tiled morass that QuanCheng Square becomes when a little moisture is added. Even the extravagant light displays at Baotu Springs (which are traditional for lantern festival and are kind of like those drive-through Winter-Wonderland/Christmas Light displays in the US) were closed down due to snow (a shame, because I’d really wanted to check them out… I’m hoping that maybe they’ll still be open for today).

This past weekend was also marked the end of the Fall Semester for Aston. Soon, I’ll have a new batch of classes with different students and different Chinese Teachers working alongside me. There will be new foreign teachers, too. Already many of the Aston employees who were only signed on to teach here for six months have moved out and headed for their various destinations away from Ji’nan. Simultaneously, new staff have started to arrive and so it feels as if we’re stuck in a very strange period of limbo in which we must all say goodbye to old friends while meeting lots of new people. In this sense it’s neither a beginning or an end. Rather, it’s both at once. I can only imagine what it must feel like to be a new arrival at this time, trying to meet everyone in a very new and different environment, only to realize that many of them are imminently leaving. A strange thought indeed.

The next couple of days will bring in lots of changes. I’ll have plenty to say about it, I’m sure. Also, be sure to check in, as I’ll FINALLY be putting up lots of photos from previous travels. Stay tuned…

The third part of my photo entry on Spring Festival in Ji’nan. These photos were taken on the first day of the lunar New Year. The celebration begins!

A New Year comes to Ji'nan: Festive pinwheels turn in the shadow of the Blue Thing.

The first day of the Year of the Tiger brought a lot of excitement to heart of Ji’nan. As people crammed into buses and packed the streets with bikes and converged on QuanCheng Square, in the very heart of town, I grabbed my camera and went out to join them. Everywhere throughout the city, there was a great deal of energy. Firecrackers were STILL set off to ring in the Year of the Tiger. Kite fliers and food vendors crowded around the Blue Thing, vending their wares. Performers took center stage in the middle of the square, treating the audience to singing, dancing, opera and other merriment. Forget about 2010, it’s the Year of the Tiger that was being greeted in on February 14. Here are the best of the day’s photos:

A balloon vendor in the streets near QuanCheng Square on the first day of the Year of the Tiger. (This photo reminds me of e.e. cummings' poem "In Just").

More balloons, including tiger-shaped ones especially for this year.

The Blue Thing was the staging ground for a huge festival celebration. You can see it here from afar.

Rows of vendors in QuanCheng Square. These stalls sold everything from food, to paper kites, to New Year's ornaments, to children's toys.

These delicious snacks are made of rice paper, stuffed with a rice and meat filling. They're not like anything that I've eaten before, so comparisons are not really adequate here. I'll just say this: the ones which have big pieces of roasted duck on the inside are incredible.

These long scrolls of calligraphy symbolize longevity and luck in the coming year. These particular scrolls stretched out to well over 20 feet.

Pinwheels: A popular New Year's souvenir.

The double fish is a symbol for Spring Festival that I've seen in a lot of places. They're intended to symbolize surplus and wealth.

A Lion Dance: A Northern Chinese Spring Festival tradition. The Lion Dance is actually very similar to its more famous Southern cousin, the Dragon Dance, which involves a LONG train of people making up the body of the dragon rather than two who make up the lion in the photos above. Like the Dragon Dance though, these events have become fixtures in Spring Festival celebrations. This one was put on, I think, to advertise for a store's Spring Festival sales.

The Lion Dance: Up close.

These guys are pounding some sort of rice paste together. I'm not really sure what it was being put into, but it looked like a pretty labor-intensive process.

More pinwheels. It seemed like everyone, especially kids, were buying these.

Candied fruits skewered on a stick, particularly hawthorne berries, are a winter treat in China called "糖葫芦“ or tánghúlu, literally meaning 'sugared gourd' because of their lumpy appearance. The ones which are made entirely of candied strawberries are especially good.

A red lantern serves as part of the New Year's decorations in QuanCheng Square.

These were an interesting sight: steamed sticky rice stuffed inside shells that looked like casings for ammunition.

A close up.

In a big display of New Year spirit, kites shaped like tigers went up all over the square by mid-afternoon.

Flower vendors on the sidewalks near QuanCheng Square.

More scenes of festivity from the square: Red lanterns were everywhere on the first day of Spring Festival.

I thought I’d give a brief update about my trip from the last few days. Spring Festival can be a hectic time to travel, and train tickets are occasionally hard to come by. My plans had been to get out to Haerbin (in the very north of China) during the break. The northeast of China, much like the northeast United States, has a really large and concentrated population, and when they all attempt to buy return tickets to their individual hometowns tickets become nearly impossible to get. Such was the case with my attempt to get to Haerbin. Instead, as you’ve no doubt seen from the pictures posted here, I stayed here in Ji’nan for most of my break, but not without a brief interruption/vacation to Beijing.

Going to Beijing is nice because it’s relatively close and inexpensive to get to from Ji’nan. There’s also a lot to see and do there, so on any given trip you can go and have a new experience. That’s what this trip was all about: seeing new things. I went with another friend who had tried to get to Haerbin and ended up in the same boat that I did. He’s made multiple trips up to the big city as well, and between us we’d seen most of the “must see” tourist sites: the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, the Summer Palace, the Olympic Stadium, the Temple of Heaven, etc. This time, we thought we’d see something new.

Beijing is a city with an obviously long history, as all of the buildings which speak of its imperial past will attest to. Many of its best historical sites, however, are as grand and large scale as the Forbidden City. These small landmarks are much more subtle and are easily lost in the shadow of the city’s central axis. Take for instance the old city walls built in the Ming Dynasty. They’re practically in ruins now after being mostly torn down in the 1960s, but what’s left of them is truly amazing. They’re enormous, and in an age before skyscrapers and high rises the guard towers must have seemed incredibly intimidating. The entire center of the city was ringed by the wall, and each gatehouse had an accompanying temple or shrine alongside it. Supposedly, had it stayed intact, it would have formed the longest ring of ancient wall in the country (longer than even Xi’an, whose walls are similarly amazing and are left almost entirely whole).

There’s not too much left of the walls now: most of what remains is contained within a small park on the south end of the central part of the city. The park is devoted to the preservation of the wall, and its history. When we arrived at the park near what used to be Chongwen Gate, known primarily for its beautiful gatehouse temple to the God of Literature (or at least I think that’s what the  sign said…) we walked alongside the ruins, and scaled a still intact/partially restored section with a gatehouse. The inside had been converted into an art gallery, yet another instance of China learning to fuse ancient and contemporary culture together and preserve its heritage while moving forward as well.

Another highlight of the trip was getting to see Beijing in the winter. Most of my previous experience with the city had come during the month of June (with another brief foray in December). Thus, I saw much of the city during the warmest part of the year. Seeing the city in the cold is another story entirely. Take for instance the lakes near the center of Beijing, which were once pleasure gardens used by the Emperor in the nearby Forbidden City. In summer, the parks at Hou Hai are a good place to go for a drink by the lake. There are lots of cafes and bars which ring this large lake in the middle of Beijing’s hutong system, and when it’s warm outside dining or drinking there is a pleasant experience. In February, Hou Hai could not be any more different. Both it, and its neighbor Bei Hai Park (which also features a large lake), were frozen solid (and I mean solid… the ice was well over a foot thick). In the summer, Hou Hai is a place for riding around in paddle boats. In the winter, Hou Hai becomes an impromptu ice-rink as residents of Beijing poured out onto the ice. For some, venturing out into the middle of Hou Hai seemed to a be practical matter: crossing the ice on the lake was faster than going around it. However lots of people seemed to be out for just having a good time. Many residents were sliding by using ski poles to push deck chairs, mothers and fathers pulled their children on improvised sleds of all sorts, and some merely glided around on their own two feet, no need for ice skates. It was great fun. We, of course, could not resist jumping out onto the ice ourselves and joining in.

Experiences like these made returning to Beijing an entirely new and exciting experience. There’s plenty more to say about it, and more will come (including pictures later). Meanwhile, back in Ji’nan, New Year related celebration continues. Tonight there were, again, fireworks all over the city. I’m told that this will continue on until Lantern Festival, somewhere around the 1st of March. Expect more pictures from Spring Festival in Ji’nan (as well as updates from Nanjing and Hangzhou which still need to be posted) to come soon (maybe after classes this weekend… cross your fingers). Until then, stay tuned!

Spring Festival is a time for celebration. The past two days have seen an abundance of joyous celebration throughout Ji’nan. Often this holiday spirit flows right out into the streets, and soars into the skies alongside the brilliant fireworks. It’s an exciting time to be out and about. Here’s a look at the countdown to the New Year from yesterday (today’s pictures will be a separate entry). Enjoy!

Daytime fireworks bring colorful smoke near Ji'nan's "Korea Town"

Preparing to set off Chinese firecrackers.

The sound and the fury of firecrackers on Spring Festival.

The photos below speak for themselves, I think. No need for captions here.

Snapshots from the big finale of the night, at the stroke of midnight:

We encountered lots of people out in the streets ringing in the Year of the Tiger. Nearly all of them were out lighting fireworks of their own. Everyone was incredibly warm and welcoming. When we told them that it was our first Spring Festival celebration, they seemed extra excited to share a little bit of the holiday with us. The people pictured below are a good example, striking up a conversation with us after I asked them to take a picture:

These people were kind enough to let me photograph them while they celebrated near downtown.

As the photo shows: Chinese sparklers have a little more output than their American cousins.

We could resist the idea of setting off our own fireworks, and celebrating in a hands on way. Here are the results:

Our small, but plenty powerful haul of fireworks.

Taking the proper safety precautions is necessary: Read the instructions... even when they're entirely in Chinese.

A fountain of light: our opening number.

The grand finale: A BIG box which let off 25 separate high flying fireworks that burst into flower and star patterns in the sky. Purchased for only about $3.00 (US).

Of course, there’s lots of Spring Festival revelry that takes place during the day. Today, I went out towards downtown, and took in that part of the celebration as well. Those pictures will come in a separate entry later. Tomorrow, I’m heading for a holiday trip to Beijing, and will return on Thursday, so maybe they’ll go up then. Until that time, stay tuned– there’s more to come! Happy New Year (and I suppose Happy Valentines Day, too!).

Like any good holiday, Spring Festival has its fair share of hype. This is a look at the decorations, and preparations that led up to the New Year’s festivities opening yesterday:

The character 福, or "fú" which means "good luck" or "fortune" is often hung on doors during New Year. It's often hung upside down because, 福倒了 "fú dǎo le" or "luck is upside down," sounds like 福到了，“fú dào le” or "luck has arrived." Everyone thoroughly confused? Good.

A New Year's sign at the entrance gate to my neighborhood.

Lanterns hung by the entrance gate to the neighborhood where I live. These are a common sight during Spring Festival.

Lanterns for sale a stall near my school.

This lantern features fish, which are also associated with luck and the New Year.

Because it's the year of the tiger, there are lots of cutesy little tiger souvenirs, like this one, for sale.

Yet another sign bearing a large "fú."

How can you really get into the holiday spirit without some holiday spirits? Boxes of 白酒 "báijiǔ" on prominent display.

New Year Hangings

Preparing for the city's major New Year celebrations at the Blue Thing.

On New Year's Day, this place would be packed full.

Dragons, yet another traditional Spring Festival motif.

Like many "spring" holidays, Spring Festival features lots of images about the return of flowers and plants. These red trees are no exception.

These "leaves" all bear different characters like "prosperity," "luck," or "happiness."

Store displays around here often feature the current year's zodiac animal. This year there are lots of cartoon tigers all over China.

An enormous floral lantern outside one of Ji'nan's downtown hotels.

New Year in the shadow of the Sofitel, Ji'nan's premier downtown hotel.

Public parks have been putting up large New Year's displays as well. This is the entrance to the park at Baotu Springs, right across from Ji'nan's main square.

The side entrance to Baotu Springs

A large decorative "vase" featuring tigers near the entrance to Baotu Springs.

After weeks of building anticipation, the day has arrived: Spring Festival has begun tonight! Welcome to the Year of the Tiger! I’ve just returned home from being out in downtown Ji’nan, seeing some of the celebration. Not that the celebration has by any means ended: It’s now quite late (after 1:30AM) and out my window, I can still hear the sounds of revelry– firecrackers, carhorns, happy voices, etc. . I’ve taken literally hundreds of photos from this afternoon onwards, and I will post them VERY soon, I promise. However my camera batteries are dead, and are currently recharging, so it’ll have to wait for tomorrow. I did, however, want to share some moments from tonight before I forget them. It has been quite a night.

The West has any number of significant holidays. None of them, however, are really equivalent to Spring Festival. On paper, one would say that Spring Festival is China’s Christmas. And as a definition of function, I suppose that would be correct. Both are the major gift-giving holiday of the year. Both have an extensive shopping season. From a commercial standpoint, it makes sense to equate the two. In practice, however, the two couldn’t seem more different. It’s hard to explain exactly what Spring Festival is. Of course, it’s a New Year’s celebration, and in that sense, there are elements that resonate with western New Year’s Eve: staying up until midnight to welcome in the coming year, traditions which center around getting a new start with a clean slate (the west has resolutions for the new year; China has a complete sweeping out of the house to literally start the year out clean).

But Spring Festival is more than just New Year’s Eve with a Chinese twist. There’s a strong family element here, too. Everyone goes home. My Chinese language teacher, Hao Nan told me that she and her mother would be  working very hard throughout today to prepare for the HUGE meal they would be having with her entire extended family (does this sound familiar to anyone who has climbed out of bed at some early hour to put a Thanksgiving turkey in the oven? I would think so). Tonight, almost everyone seemed to be gathering with family. Restaurants posted notices that they were closed so that the owners could go home (either within Ji’nan, or back to their hometowns in other places); After the holiday, the signs announced, the stores would reopen. So, like Thanksgiving in the US, this is a time for loved ones to come together.

All of these elements blend together to create an enormous event. The excitement surrounding today was palpable, and immediately upon walking outside it was noticeable. Shortly after 2PM I started making my way towards downtown to take in some of the festival atmosphere during the daylight. The streets were remarkably empty… and yet, there was an electricity everywhere. Something was getting ready to happen.  That something mostly manifested itself in the occasional setting off of fireworks. Even during the daylight fireworks had begun. In the streets, people were getting a head start on welcoming in the New Year by setting off Chinese firecrackers or (in one case) throwing Cherry bombs into a little pond, and watching the cascading water from the ensuing blasts. Near Ji’nan’s “Korea Town” section (basically just one large underground market), I witnessed daylight fireworks which launched plumes of colored smoke (red, yellow, teal, purple, green, etc.), before bursting into light in the middle of the air and raining confetti down on the street. I had never seen anything quite like this before, and I couldn’t help but be amazed by how unique and beautiful I thought they were.

By 6:00PM, some of my friends and I had converged on the square to meet up for the night. Our timing was perfect. At about that time, as dark was beginning to fall all around the city, the celebration began. Suddenly, fireworks started to appear in the sky. They were at first sporadic, and spaced out. A loud boom would cause us all to jerk our heads in all directions, searching for the source of the commotion, only to be turned around moments later by the rapid fire rattle of firecrackers. At first, we stood in the center of the largely empty square, wildly flashing our cameras, wheeling about in all directions, trying to catch whatever brief glimpse of pyrotechnics we were able to. Gradually the explosions intensified. By 7:00, the slow trickle of explosions had grown to a constant din. Bursts of light now came at random intervals from all directions. I’m going to have a hard time describing how these looked without pictures, but I’ll try. Even though we couldn’t get up close to these, they were remarkable from a distance: big, bright balls of red, green, and yellow light. Some burst out into spiral disks. Some spun like windmills. Others bloomed like flowers, bursting out sideways and pink like the open petals of waterlilies. Some sparkled and crackled as they burst. Other merely expanded to larger and larger orbs of spectacularly colored light.

Unlike on the 4th of July in the US, there isn’t any large, centralized, city-sponsored display (at least not in Ji’nan). Rather, every neighborhood, every family has their own stash of fireworks which they set off on New Year’s Eve. Earlier in the day, I had asked a guard near the Big Blue Thing where the best place in the city to view fireworks was. He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t really know,” he said, “I’m not sure that there is one.” I now understood the guard’s answer: Where was the best place to view the fireworks? Everywhere. Wherever there are people.

The fireworks would grow more and more steady throughout the night. We broke from the action and parted ways briefly to eat dinner (my friend Dave and I went to a “Buddhist” Restuarant which specializes in vegetarian food, to eat some traditional New Year staples… mainly dumplings). On the way, we decided that to fully participate in welcoming in the New Year, we would have to buy some of our own fireworks, and fortunately stumbled upon a stand just outside the restaurant. Stomachs full of food, and arms full of fireworks, we made our way to a nearby park. As far as I can tell, there is no restriction on setting off fireworks in public places in China. Or at least not on the eve of Spring Festival. We found a clearing in the park, and set up shop, going about the serious business of deciding which fireworks to light first and which to save for the finale.  Finally, at around 9:00, we got down to business and let them fly. It was much fun to watch as they shot up from the ground and burst in the air, and I’m glad to think that we got to add our own part to this celebration.

As the hour neared 10:oo, and there seemed to be a lull in the action as families took to their homes to enjoy meals, celebrate inside, and watch the annual gala on Chinese TV (think Chinese style-Dick Clark’s New Year’s Eve Program), we decided to go have a drink, warm up, and wait for midnight, at which point we were told by some who had some more experience in China, things would really get going. I found this hard to believe. After all, we had just been seeing fireworks coming from every corner of the city. How could it get more lively? I had no idea what was to come. We decided at 11:45 to go back out and see what was going on. Our timing was perfect, and we emerged just as the fireworks reached a frenzied peak.

I have never lived in an active warzone. I imagine it must be something like midnight on Lunar New Year in China. As we walked outside, the noise was deafening. The light was blinding. The firecrackers and fireworks were everywhere now. They came from all directions. On every street corner people lit firecrackers, and twirled sparklers as in the sky fireworks lit up everything into an incredible, colorful blaze. Burst of light shot out from rooftops, from in between buildings, from sidewalks, from alleyways, from above, from the side, from everywhere. These fireworks were noticeably taller, bigger and brighter than before. I suppose I should not be surprised at the elaborate nature of Chinese fireworks. After all, China invented gunpowder, and so naturally, they’ve had quite a lot of experience crafting light and explosion into works of beauty. These fireworks, however, were exceptionally beautiful. They exploded in bursts of gold and blue and were shaped like chrysanthemums. They crackled with gold and white, like the fluff of a dandelion. They streaked out from a brilliant white in the center to red and green at the ends, which seemed at some times to resemble poinsettias. They were simply amazing.

After all of this, I headed home, where I am now. I’ll try to post some pictures soon. I hope that they are even slightly representative of what I’ve seen tonight. Tomorrow will bring more celebration. There’s a big pavillion set up in the square. I intend to go check it out. I’ll report more on it tomorrow. For now let me wish all of you a happy New Year, and say, as many Chinese friends have to me recently: 心想事成! (May your wishes come true!)

It's holiday season: A Spring Festival store display near Jing An Temple in Shanghai.

Tonight, the countdown to the new year began here in Jinan. Most of you who are reading this are undoubtably under the impression that the new year began over a month ago. You would be right. Unless you lived in China. January 1 may mark the start of a new calendar year, but the Lunar New Year, or Spring Festival (chūnjié 春节) as it’s more commonly known over here, is the only new year which seems to matter much over here (in fact, one of my Chinese co-workers even jokingly referred to Spring Festival as the “real New Year,” which I guess I can’t really argue with given that from a Chinese view, it’s true). Chinese celebrations of the start of Western New Year’s are fairly low key. Though we saw many people celebrating the start of the New Year in January by going out to dinner, or having a small get together with friends, the reveling all seemed pretty small scale. I won’t say that we were alone in ringing in 2010, but it felt like it meant more to my foreign friends and I than it did to most of the other people we encountered that night.

Not so with the Spring Festival season, which began tonight, as part of a celebration called Little Spring Festival (xiǎonián, 小年). This is the day which begins the greater “New Year Season.” Every action taken to night begins a period of building excitement for the coming of the Year of the Tiger (which is incidentally the same sign as my birth year). For instance, I’m told that tonight you’re supposed to sweep out your house to clear away the dust and dirt of the old year. You’re also supposed to eat dumplings for reasons that are less apparent to me. Families have begun to hang New Years couplets on their door frames to invite good luck in the coming year (we’ve got to get ourselves some of these, actually as we’re about the only apartment in our building without any on our door).

The holiday spirit is certainly in the air. The big day itself won’t come for about another week (February 13), but the countdown has begun. This would be comparable to the Advent season for the church calendar in western cultures, except it has none of the somber characteristics. Preparation for the New Year has been more or less under way since Christmas (the transition is more or less seamless, as you can run one big gift-giving commercial holiday into another… even though Christmas isn’t a HUGE holiday over here, it’s marketable enough that Spring Festival can emerge from it as a consumer holiday). According to Wikipedia, the annual movement of people in an attempt to get home for the holiday season in China (called Chunyun, 春运, quite literally “Spring Festival Transportation”) is the largest migration in the world (one article for the Independent in London claimed that the migration encompassed, in total, 2 billion people). Understandably, our plans to travel to Haerbin, (a city in the north know for it’s Ice Festival) over the holiday have been compromised a bit by this fact (we’re still not sure what we’re going to do instead).

The shift into high gear for the New Year season has been noticeable. Everything seems to have adopted a red and gold New Year’s trim, from the advertisements on billboards, to the doors of peoples houses, and the decor at McDonald’s. Stores are putting up HUGE advertisements and displays around their entrances, and running all kinds of crazy sales to get people to buy some last minute New Year’s gifts. Street vendors with carts full of New Year’s items (paper lanterns, couplets, fireworks, incense, red enevelopes) have sprung up in lots of places around the city, including just down the street from my apartment. Dumpling restaurants are becoming considerably more packed as people clamor to eat traditional holiday food. Even sales of báijiǔ (白酒), a strong, and decidedly unpleasant Chinese spirit made from distilled sorghum, seemed to have increased or at least to more prominent displays at the front of grocery stores in anticipation of New Year revelry.

Tonight, as I walked in the streets on the way to dinner after work, Ji’nan was buzzing. Everywhere, people were setting off LOUD firecrackers. Every few minutes, fireworks would burst into the sky from somewhere just up ahead. People in Quancheng square were lighting the traditional paper lanterns that float skyward, raised by hot air, into the night. After a retreat during colder weather, lots of kite flyers were back out for the holiday, and what seemed like a larger than unusual number of food vendors lined the streets near the square. At the dumpling restaurant, every table was packed, and the din of noisy conversation reached a dull roar. The interior was steamy, so much so that it fogged up the windows. When we arrived we were told there were no tables available without a wait, and there would be no dumplings available for at least half an hour. As we rode back on the bus towards hone after dinner, I noticed lots of apartments with newly hung and lit latnerns, and many which had hung Christmas lights on the trees for the event. The effect is pervasive, inescapable: the holidays have arrived in full force.

Naturally, the assumption among most Chinese people we meet is that we’ll go home for the holiday. Like many Chinese holidays, Spring Festival is, after all, centered around being with your family. I explain that I simply can’t because of time and money constraints, which people understand. There does, however, seem to be a hint of sympathy extended when I admit that my own loved ones will be far away for this most important season. It’s strange, but the wistfulness I felt at Christmas and Thanksgiving about being away from home is somewhat compounded by this. Even though this event is completely foreign to me, in the midst of this out pouring of celebration and togetherness, my thoughts often turn to my own home. I hope that those of you who are reading this, regardless or where you are, find yourself in good health and in good company. 新年快乐! (Xīnnián kuàilè! or  ”Happy New Year!)

Hopefully, I’ll be able to get some more and better pictures of New Year celebrations as they unfold. Meanwhile, stay tuned. The holidays are upon us, and there’ll be much, much more to say as the day itself draws near.

Part 3 in my re-cap of the past few month’s travels: My return to Xi’an.

Family Reunion China style: Caroline and I meet up in Xi'an.

The first leg of my travels with my sister’s college class took me back to Xi’an, where I was to meet them. Having been there over the National Day break in October, there was something that felt quite familiar about heading back out west. After all,  Xi’an has been one of my favorite cities in China thus far (granted, my experience here is very limited). I was looking forward to getting back to some familiar sights: getting to spend some time walking (and eating) in Xi’an’s Muslim Quarter (home of probably the best street food I’ve eaten in China), getting to see the terracotta warriors again with Caroline, (who would be seeing them for the first time), and staying a night or two in the incredibly pleasant Seven Sages hostel where some friends stayed during our October visit.

Caroline gets up close and personal with the terracotta warriors

Returning to the terracotta warriors: Like visiting old friends?

All of the familiar stuff was indeed a lot of fun, and I enjoyed getting a second chance at a lot of things (especially food). The terracotta warriors were especially nice to see without the insanity of a large crowd coming for National Day weekend (this time I felt that I could take much longer to really look at them). However, it was a seriesof new experiences that really made Xi’an good this time around. A few vignettes:

Shadow Puppets and a Dumpling Feast

Shadow puppets: A uniquely beautiful and ancient Chinese art.

For almost 1,ooo years, Xi’an was the capital of Imperial China. It was also the last stop on the eastern end of the legendary silk road. Not surprisingly, Xi’an was and still is a center of culture and art. During the Tang Dynasty (c. 700-950 A.D.) the city was home to poets of the imperial court, many of whom enjoy a legendary reputation in China today. The Shaanxi Province History Museum is jam-packed full of pottery, brozne work, sculpture and jade which are a testament to the city’s artistic legacy. Perhaps the most unique art form to come from Xi’an, however, is the art of shadow puppetry. On our first night in Xi’an we were treated to a shadow play performed by a local troupe. They performed two short plays: the first a comedic exchange between lovers, and the second the story of The Monkey King (a character featured in famous Chinese epic novel, Journey to the West) and how he guarded a caravan bringing sacred Buddhist sutras from India against malevolent spirits lurking in the treacherous mountain passes. I had seen shadow puppets depicted in film, or in pictures, but I’d never gotten to see them in person. I was not disappointed: the show was one of the highlights of my return to Xi’an.

The Monkey King, in puppet form.

Shadow puppets

Made from translucent leather, brightly colored, surprisingly graceful, and wildly imaginative, these puppets are distinctly Chinese, and watching them is a mesmerizing kind of experience. Indeed something about them seems almost surreal, or otherworldly. Perhaps it’s the dark, or their shadowy translucence which makes them almost glow, or their separation from the audience behind a veil. Regardless, they’re amazing to watch as they sing and dance (one even blew real smoke from it’s puppet tobacco pipe). After the show I got to peek behind the curtain and take and even try out the puppets for myself, which was fun, despite the fact that it’s incredibly hard to get them to do anything interesting.

"Pay no attention to the men (and women) behind the curtain": our performers, revealed.

Trying puppetry out for myself... it's incredibly difficult to do gracefully.

Dinner after the show, a full-fledged dumpling banquet, proved to be just as artful. Xi’an has a multitude of famous dumpling restaurants, and in a city which is renowned as one of the best culinary cities in China, dumplings are amongst the city’s most famous cuisine. On this particular occasion, we were treated to a whole host of dumplings with fillings that ranged from meats (duck, shrimp and scallop, ground pork, etc.) to vegetarian dumplings of all varieties, to sweeter dessert-style dumplings filled with red-bean paste or peanut and sesame paste. More amazing still was the artistry with which they were made: the duck dumplings came wrapped in the shape of ducks, others looked like fish or flowers, while others still looked like crescents. Some were steamed, others boiled and further still some were lightly fried. In total there were probably at least 15 different types of dumplings, each with a distinct shape and filling. As a finale, the staff dimmed the lights and brought to each table a copper pot (which looked something like a hotpot), which was lit underneath, and contained a soup with tiny miniature dumplings. The purpose, I’m told was to see how many of these little things you could get in one scoop, which would fill a cup. The number of dumplings in the scoop indicates the recipients fortune, with some suggesting good luck and others suggesting inauspicious events lurking just around the corner. My result: One, very lucky, singular dumpling which suggested smooth sailing for the rest of the trip (not like winning the dumpling lottery, I know, but an accurate prediction nonetheless).

Food, art or both? Duck shaped, duck filled dumplings.

If this were some sort of culinary competition, they'd certainly win high marks for presentation.

Clearly this was not a run-of-the-mill meal.

The Cave Dwellings of Liaoyuan Village:

One of the highlights of my return to Xi’an was a trip to see the cave dwellings in Liaoyuan village just outside of the city. The soil around Xi’an is mostly loess, a kind of loosely compacted, soft, yellowish, dusty, wind-blown sediment which is really easily burrowed into. Not surprisingly, people in the area have historically taken advantage of this and have carved their homes straight into the sides of the hills themselves. Hardening the soil allows for a sturdy home, with the soil itself acting as a natural insulation. Because it retains heat so well, the homes are warm in winter, and because they’re underground, they’re cooler than being above ground in the summer.

Liaoyuan village: home to traditional cave dwellings.

This is the entrance to a cave home. They're simply dug straight into the sides of the hills.

The inside of a cave home. Pretty spartan.

This home seemed to have fallen into disuse.

Some of the nicer caves have been hooked up to electricity.

The spirit of the Chairman lives on in Liaoyuan: Mao propaganda in one of the homes.

Liaoyuan is so fascinating in part because of its authenticity. Our guide told us that most people in this community still work in the pomegranate fields nearby, just like their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and innumerable generations before them did. While we toured the houses, a woman who lived in the neighborhood insisted that we come visit her pig styes, and in doing so invited us to see the way that most Chinese people still earn their living, through hard work, either in agriculture or elsewhere. This is the real China, which means that unlike nearby Xi’an– which has a Starbucks, several McDonald’s, scores of western hotels, and even a Papa John’s Pizza– Liaoyuan remains mostly undeveloped, and mostly impoverished. Like many areas of rural China, Liaoyuan is also feeling the changes of rapid economic development. Youth in the community no longer want to live in the caves. Many no longer want to even live in Liaoyuan, preferring to move to Xi’an and try life in the big city.

The next time someone tells you that you're house is a pig stye, direct them to this photo.

The pigs were quite happy to see us.

Jumping up to say hello.

The local economy: A roadside pomegranate stand.

While I was there, Liaoyuan struck me as being very similar to Shaxi village in Yunnan, where I spent some time during my study abroad semester. Both are villages carrying out life in the traditional way that it has been carried out for centuries. Both are on the edge of communities with greater development and greater prosperity. Both have a rich cultural heritage that, should it be lost, we be a terrible shame. Both face struggles as they tow the line between tradition and development. It’s a story that gets repeated so often here: China must find a way to preserve its heritage while advancing into the future. It’s a difficult path to forge, and places like Shaxi and Liaoyuan are the ones that will feel this tension the most. It will be fascinating to see what the future brings here.

More updates will come soon. I’ll recap the rest of my trip, and preview the next couple of weeks. Spring Festival is coming up, and there’ll be plenty to say about that. Stay tuned…