TRAVEL. EAST ASIA. CULTURE.
Reflections on Chinese New Year in Guangdong
A day that has lived long in the memory.
January 31st, 2014. One of the best days of my life.
Fresh from a 35-hour sleeper train from icy Harbin to the sticky, but closer-to-home Guangzhou, I joined my friend and his family to celebrate the upcoming Spring Festival — Chinese New Year. The Year of the Snake would soon be over, and the Year of the Horse would be upon us.
I knew this was going to be a unique experience for me. To be honest, it had to be, as I was so tired from the journey that I felt like I could sleep all the way until the next one. But who could blame me? The excitement on the train was palpable. Almost every single person I met was on their way, from one place or another, to spend the festive period with their families. They were mostly men, of course, taking a few rare days off from work in the city to be with their families. Students, too. And whoever I met had two things in common: they wanted to play cards and take photos.
But, even after the furore of the journey, bringing in the New Year was far more special than I could ever have expected. And this story will show you why.
The further we got from Guangzhou, the more rugged the terrain became. There we were: me, my friend, and a few others, all crammed into a car, our bags and various market produce clattering away in the boot. Everyone was eager to make conversation. And I wanted to, too. But considering I could hardly keep my eyes open, I wasn’t much company. I think they understood.
My eyes would open intermittently, and when they did, I noticed how lucid the air was — a far cry from what I had seen over the past 48 hours. No smog. None of the high-rise ‘ghost towns’ that I had seen so many of during my journey. Just the peaceful, agricultural countryside of Guangdong province.
It was only when the village was in sight — at the end of a long, single-track road — that I began to spark back into life. This collection of humble, sometimes run-down buildings was where we would eat, drink and laugh in the New Year.
After we parked up, my friend took me to meet his immediate family and drop our things off. We had a lot to do, he said. First, though, we needed to fuel up with tea and moon cakes, and I needed to get to know my hosts.
My friend wasn’t lying when he warned me about our hectic schedule. The next few hours were spent visiting a spiritual site (roughly half an hour’s walk from the village), preparing food for the night’s festivities, and checking in on my friend’s long line of relatives. He took great pride in immersing me in family life. And I took great pride in learning about it.
During our walkabout, I quickly noticed that almost every humble and austere building seemed to belong to a friend or family member. So relaxed was the general atmosphere that we could wander into front doors unannounced. But there would always be tea on the go. And the anticipation was brewing for the night ahead.
What came next was the best meal of my life. Pork, chicken, fish, mushrooms, soup, dumplings, vegetables, and of course rice — all prepared that very day. When the food was served, I and the seven other ‘young ones’ on my table hardly spoke. Heads down. We just ate. To a fly on the wall, it must have looked like we were in some competition. But if I cannot comprehend the magnitude and delight of that meal even today — then I don’t expect a fly would have had much of a chance.
Before the feast was over, I started being invited to share toasts of the lethal ‘baijiu’ (Chinese rice wine), as well as receiving decorative envelopes with a small amount of ‘lucky’ money. Of course, many of my friend’s relatives had not interacted with a ‘Westerner’ before, let alone celebrated Spring festival with one. So, in short, it got to the point where I was washing down the food as quickly as I ate it. I started to grow doubtful that I would make it to midnight.
But despite that, I never once felt out of my comfort zone. Admittedly, a belly full of baijiu did affect my state of mind. But it wouldn’t have made a difference. For the whole time since my arrival, I was around people that could do nothing but share their culture with pride and warmth.
The drinking, the eating, went on, and on, and on — but so did I — until it was time to bring in the New Year with more toasts, games, and firecrackers.
So when I think about the travel memories I cherish the most, why does this day rise to the surface?
Well, I was a foreign guest, the like that many of the 50 or so people crammed into the room had never properly encountered before. But I was made to feel at home. I quickly realised that I was surrounded by a collection of human beings with deep, embedded values of family, hospitality, and respect. And that couldn’t be more applicable to my time in China as a whole.
When I think about this, it reminds me that it is the people I have met that I appreciate the most when thinking about my travels. It also reminds me to think twice when forming a judgement based on the actions of a repressive regime. The realities on the ground tend to paint an entirely different picture.
So far, there have been otherworldly sights, magical moments, unexpected discoveries. But there is something special about not just witnessing but feeling a part of another way of life — the traditions, every day — even the mundane.
And it is people that make this possible.
Take a look at my other stories on the World Traveler’s Blog:
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