Chinese New Year – Clara Hsu

Waiting

People streamed into Chinatown in the early morning. They stood in line at the street fair for freebies, bought “bargains”, threw little pops on the ground that supposedly resembled the spark of a firecracker. Mysterious smoke billowed from the sidewalks. Gun powder smell was everywhere. Tangerine peel littered the streets.

“It’s Chinese New Year!” a tourist shouted.

Well, New Year was two weeks ago. The parade this evening marked the end of the celebration. By four o’clock, most of the streets in Chinatown were barricaded. The crowd stood along Kearny Street. They had prepared to spend the day waiting for the spectacle.

Snacking, texting, taking pictures of each other to pass the time. Excitement. Entertainment. Exoticism. Bruce Lee and Salvador Dali were born on the year of the Dragon. I waited for an opening and dashed across the street, headed home.

Photo from Asian Week.

The First Red Envelope

For children, Chinese New Year means receiving money in red envelopes. All I had to utter was “Gung Hay Fat Choy” and the elders would gladly hand one over. I used to collect many on the first day when my family and I visited our relatives, and felt rich and happy.

On our way to the airport this morning I said Happy New Year to the shuttle driver, who was Chinese. He corrected me that the New Year was not today (Sunday) but tomorrow. We conversed in Cantonese, reminiscing about the festivities, the food, and the excitement that led to the first day.

“It’s different here,” he sighed. “People don’t celebrate so much.”

When we arrived at the terminal I handed him a red envelope.

“Thank you,” he laughed, waving it in the air, “my first one!”

Last Meal of the Year

The Imperial Seafood Restaurant on Balboa Street was filled with customers tonight. Not the intimate twosomes or threesomes, but families: the baby, the young, the middle-aged, the old, the unborn, etc.. Seated at big round tables, they ordered stir-fried lobsters, Dungeness crabs, orange colored steamed prawns, jade-green vegetables, fried squabs, steamed fish, and so on.

An old man got up from his table and patted his stomach. “I feel better now,” he turned to me, smiling.

“That’s good because it’s freezing outside.” I said.

“Waiting for a table?”

“No, take out. My father’s too old to get out.”

“How old?”

“Ninety-one.”

“Oh he’s a baby! It’s better to eat here. Good atmosphere.”

This was probably the most important meal for Chinese families, coming together to celebrate the end of the year. After waiting for nearly half an hour my take-out finally appeared.

At home, my father was pleased with the “three-stuffed jewels”, roast pork, greens and turnip cakes.

Chinatown, 7pm

Stockton tunnel — Stockton Street tunnel

It was early evening, and Stockton Street had already retired. A handful of pedestrians, a few cars cruised down the street. The garbage truck double parked just before the tunnel. Two workers sat on the steps of the Chinese school building peeling oranges. A heap of rind between them. This laziness did not befit Chinatown, when just a couple of hours ago it was bustling with shoppers and students.

People may have gone home early to prepare for the Chinese New Year, which comes early this year, on January 23. The other day I went to the hairdresser and all the chairs were occupied! Everyone wanted a hair cut before the New Year.

In the balmy evening I strolled leisurely down. At the other end of the tunnel was Union Square. The lights were still festive there, but the mood had also changed.

photo by Joseph Szymanski

Another Holiday?

A string of holidays and birthdays since Thanksgiving and by this time of the year (which is only the beginning) I’ve had enough of celebration. Still, Chinese New Year is the next one up. Sefu Dino dropped by Clarion today with his two hefty students. He reminded me of lion dance, fire crackers, colorful flags and truckload of spears and sticks.

“We’re getting ready to make the rounds,” which means lion dancing for the businesses in Chinatown. It’s a tradition to bring luck and prosperity to the businesses and in turn receive money. It is the season for the martial arts studios to raise funds, much like the Nutcrackers production for the ballet companies. When my children were young they had a green lion outfit and went around with Sefu Dino. Afterward, the entire studio would go for a feast at a local restaurant.

“Cook!” He winked at me before quick walking up Sacramento Street. I wished I have half his energy.