New Year and New Information

Year of the Horse:

On Friday, 31 January 2014, the Year of the Horse whinnied, snorted, and galloped into the calendar.  This sign (along with the Dog and the Tiger) seeks a true lover and strongly pursues humanitarian causes. Idealistic and impulsive, the Horse follows the beat of its own drum. Defiant against injustice, those born under this sign wilt without large amounts of physical affection and loyal support for causes. Horses are productive, enthusiastic, independent, engaging, dynamic and honorable. They can also be rash, rebellious, quarrelsome, hot-headed, reckless, anxious, moody, disagreeable, and stubborn. Horses are loyal, they can be very protective when lied to (thank you Wikipedia--a source I would never use except on my blog--for the information about the Year of the Horse).

At Kunming International Academy, our Mandarin teachers always teach Chun Jie ("Spring Festival" or Chinese lunar New Year) cultural information via a number of artistic endeavors.  This year, the advanced classes learned the traditional character for horse--馬, mǎ.  One of my former Chinese teachers always expressed to me that the traditional characters display more depth than many of the modern, simplified characters, like 马, mǎ.  One can see that the simplified character comes from the traditional character, and more importantly, one can see from the representation of the traditional character below that the the original character is meant to look somewhat like a horse, complete with mane, four legs, and long, bushy tail.

Méihuā (梅花), or plum blossom, is a traditional Chun Jie "flower."   In Kunming, the plum trees, peach trees ("of heavenly wisdom" for Kung Fu Panda fans), and pear trees blossom during the Spring Festival time period.  From what I have been told, even in the cold, northern regions of China, the plum blossoms provide the only color during the cold, grey and white days of winter, hinting at the spring to come.  Plum trees are very hardy, and their méihuā are supposed to remind the Chinese people to be similarly strong and courageous in the face of hardship.

Lánhuā (兰花), or orchids are another Chun Jie flower.  These flowers represent simple beauty and symbolize moderation.  The orchid was once thought only fit for the emperor, but has, because of its simplicity and its temperate nature--likes dry but not hot soil; thrives in soil that is damp but not soggy; and loves the sun but not the heat of summer--become a flower of the people.  At Chun Jie, lánhuā can be found for sale at nearly every vegetable and flower market and are even sold on the street corners here in Kunming.  I saw numerous people on the train transporting orchids to give as Spring Festival gifts.

Much like in the States, many traditions in China are regional.  One can hardly say that certain traditions in China are always uniquely Chinese. Even within a province like Yunnan, which has fifty-plus minority people groups, some traditions are special to individual "tribes."  This year, I learned a new tradition of some Miao minority people (also known as Hmong in neighboring Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia).  At the uphill end of Suli's tiny village, a Miao family had recently given birth to a new child.  Because many faith systems in Southeast Asia believe that spirits particularly like to "steal" children, many traditions revolve around the protection of these newborns.  In this case, this minority family stuck two large leaves in the grating covering the window to the child's room, believing that the waving of the two leaves in the local winds would scare away any would-be, child-snatching spirits.

Another traditional Chun Jie activity is the pre-dinner lighting of the firecrackers.  On the eve of the New Year, families gather to eat a feast, celebrating the impending start of the coming year.  However, before the family can eat, a string of firecrackers is lit by the eldest male relative.  Now, "eldest" takes on a slightly different meaning when applied to my wife's family.  Because Suli's father has passed away, the "eldest" male is the husband of the eldest daughter in Suli's family (she has no brothers).  Therefore, since both of Suli's sisters are older than her, both sisters' husbands are considered older than me, even though I do have seniority of age over all in the family, except Suli's mother.  That said, neither of my brother-in-laws was present for the feast, so I received the privilege of lighting this years firecrackers.  Traditionally, the firecrackers were lit to scare away Nian, the New Year monster, and other spirits that might curse the family and household.  Certainly, there are people who still hold to these beliefs, but more often than not, it is children, like those surrounding me in the video, that simply enjoy the excitement of biānpào (鞭炮).

Oswin loves his fireworks (kind of like his dad).  So when a distant (the uncle of my sister-in-law's husband) invited Oswin to join him to buy some bottle-rockets and Roman candles, how could we say no.  Oswin hopped onto the relatives motorbike and only returned when he had more packaged gunpowder than he knew what do with.  Here he is, squatting down with a handful of whistling rockets.  Each night during our stay in HeKou, we would go out and shoot some rockets and candles, along with the handful of other small children in Suli's tiny village.  We lit up the dark street for about twenty or thirty minutes, and then we walked back to the house, a bit blinded by the sparks and explosions.

Naturally, we did not allow Oswin to simply play with the fireworks on his own.  In the video below, Suli provide a tutorial on how to properly play with bottle rockets.  The key point is to run after lighting the projectile.  This is actually the second how-to video.  In the first video, the rocket tipped over and shot into the roof of the house you can see just across the street  with the motorbike in front of it.  Oswin learned so much from us during this trip:  we will be lucky if he does not become seriously maimed during subsequent Chun Jie celebrations.

Nearly every day, we would walk into the hills surrounding Suli's hometown and check out what the landscape has to offer.  The primary purpose of the hills encircling Xiao He Kou Si Dui is to cultivate rubber trees, from which the local people harvest the rubber sap for a local company that distills the sap into useable rubber.  Where the hills are too steep to terrace for the rubber trees, many locals also grow banana trees, selling the produce for a second income.  The banana season always falls during Chun Jie, so the trees surrounding the village can be seen with blue plastic bags hanging in them.  These bags protect the bananas from possible cooler temperatures, and also help the fruit ripen.

Often, in China, because of rather relaxed copyright and trademark laws, one can find certain products that attempt to ride on the coat-tails of more well established brands.  I have even seen a Chinese bottled water that uses the same color scheme and font as a more successful Chinese bottled water, hoping to entice drinkers that might not otherwise drink their product.  One day, as we were walking through the hills behind Suli's village, we came across this "Do e" banana box that looks strangely reminiscent of a "Dole" box.  While the Chinese do sell some Dole products here, it is not a common brand.  However, it is still a well known brand, and this company is obviously trying to benefit from looking like Dole.

Wherever the boys go, people swarm to take their pictures.  We have just kind of gotten used to it.  Well, the City of HeKou was no different.  On one day during our sojourn at Suli's village, we drove the forty-five minutes to an hour trip from the village into the actual city of HeKou, which sits along one bank of the Hong He (he is Mandarin for 'river'), facing Vietnam on the opposite bank.  When Suli and her mother sought out information about a river tour, the boys and I snapped some shots beneath a tree near the boat tour service.  As I situated Oswin and August for the pictures, a mass of Chinese people came to watch and take pictures of their own. Xiang Lan, Suli's second older sister also wanted some photos, so when she was snapping some pictures with her cellphone, I tried to get some shots showing the people admiring the boys.  The photo below shows only a small portion of the entire group starring at the wee ones.  Notice the woman in the foreground who has her cellphone in hand.  Also, the cellphone in the bottom left of the photo is actually my Xiang Lan's.  During Chun Jie, many people from Kunming travel to a variety of tourist destinations in other parts of Yunnan, such as HeKou.  Many of the people starring at Oswin and August were actually from places other than HeKou.  Suli's mother was so proud:  after we took the photos, she got to carry August on her back, and so many Chinese women were asking her, "Is this your grandson?"  With a giant smile, she replied, "Yes."

The very narrow, one-lane paved road that winds through Suli's village eventually turns to dirt, at the same time the village runs out of houses.  Not far past this, the dirt road turns into more of a single lane, up which people on motorcycles drive to the next village, deeper in the hills.  Many of our daily hikes began by walking up this dirt road/trail.  As part of the Chun Jie celebration, the house is cleaned and everyone in the house is supposed to shower.  The children, traditionally, receive a new set of clothing.  In the photo below, Oswin sports his New Year outfit, as we--Suli, Xiang Lan, and Jean Bannen (a fellow teacher at Kunming International Academy and a Wisconsin friend of my mother) can be seen ahead of Oswin--take a Chun Jie stroll into the hills.  While Suli and I both debated the wisdom of allowing Oswin to wear his nice white dress shirt on our hike, he surprised us by keeping it relatively clean.

About an hour up the road from Suli's hometown, the next village sits nestled among more banana trees and rubber trees.  The dirt road that takes one to this village is referred to a "back" road because the surrounding hills hide it from view by the border of Vietnam.  After the U.S. was expelled from Vietnam (after the French were expelled from Vietnam), the Vietnamese government then turned its sights on rid its borders of the Chinese influence that had come to assist the fledgling communist state in its independence from Western influence.  This led to tension between HoChiMinh and Beijing, causing a brief period of conflict along the common border.  For this reason, the Chinese built reinforced concrete tunnels in the hills near the border and constructed roads that lie out of the line of sight with the Vietnamese border.  The tunnels served as protection and as tactical military sites, and the roads allowed the Chinese people and military to access delicate areas without been in danger of being fired upon.  This "back" road actually crosses over the creek that meanders through Suli's village.  In this photo, you can see a set of waterfalls (upper and lower right) tumbling out of the hills.  you can also just make out the roofs of some of the village buildings just over the top of the banana tree leaves in the foreground.  While this village is certainly primitive, electricity is provided (lines at the top of the photo), and even Suli's village has one home that could boast wireless internet capabilities.  It is not uncommon to see small satellite dishes propped on the roofs of some houses, allowing the owners to receive television stations.  These places are remote, but they still feel the direct influence of our modern society.

This is how our Year of the Horse began:  very slow, very relaxed.  While many expatriates in China have experienced what they refer to as "the village," very few have really ventured into the "hidden" areas of China.  As is the case in any country, both the metropolitan areas and the rural areas constitute China; neither place is somehow more or less a representation of the Middle Kingdom's culture.  Having grown up in a rather small town myself and having spent much time in my grandparents' village in western Nebraska, every time I get to hanout in Suli's village simply brings back memories of my own childhood, but it does so from a different cultural perspective.  I love the slow life.  It allows me more time to reflect on the previous year.  So Happy New Year, and I look forward to celebrating again next year.

Sorry about the red background.  While the primary reason for it stemmed from some mix up in the settings, it does serve the purpose of the post:  red is the color of celebration, including festivals like Chun Jie.