The Gregorian calendar reached China with the Jesuits in 1582, but it was not until 1912 that the country adapted to it and started celebrating New Year’s on January 1. In 1949 the communist leader Mao forbid the celebration of the traditional Chinese New Year in mainland China. Forty-five years later the tradition was reinstituted.
This year, I celebrated Chinese New Year’s Eve like most families in China: with a family dinner. My friend Collin invited another friend and me to join his parents and sister, who were flying in from London for this tradition.
At 7:00 p.m. I arrived at Collin’s home, where I was offered slippers to change into so I could walk through the house. He welcomed me into the living room where there was a typical candy box; it was filled with nuts, seeds, chocolate, mango candy, and a milk-based candy called White Rabbit. While we waited for Collin’s sister and father to get back from the airport, we enjoyed some sweet sugar cane juice his mother prepared earlier that day by boiling sugar cane, tomato, and water.
We sat down for our meal in front a bowl of white rice, a soup bowl, a small plate, chopsticks, and silverware, which we only used to peel off the shrimp shell. There were only six of us, but we sat in front of 10 plates of food. Some of the dishes included Westernized oyster soup (prepared with tomatoes and heavier than usual), drunken chicken, and shrimp with rice noodles. I learned that Chinese meals usually combine multiple meats (in this case, five) into the same meal, and each person eats from every plate. Usually in Venezuelan or American celebrations we prepare one kind of meat (i.e. turkey) accompanied by different sides.
I was the first to put down my chopsticks after the great meal, but I could not refuse trying the dessert. We had tang yuan, glutinous rice balls filled with black sesame in this case, immersed in warm, homemade almond milk. Before I left, Collin’s father handed me a red packet. Red packets are envelopes containing lucky money, given to friends and family on special occasions. To express my gratitude, I recited the phrase I practiced since I was invited to the dinner: Kung Hei Fat Choi! (A New Year’s wish of luck and wealth).
Unlike in America, no fireworks marked the beginning of a new year that night. In China, New Year's Week is the only time you will see most shops closed in Hong Kong. Residents take this time off to spend with their family and to visit the temples where they pray to the gods. I spent the first day of the Year of the Fire Rooster chasing some luck. I went to three out of the 12 places suggested by the city’s website, including the spot for those born in the Year of the Rat (like me). This year, my destinations were the Flower Market and Bird Garden in Mong Kok. I was advised to go as a way to boost my romantic power. Later that night I attended an evening parade where hundreds of families (mostly kids and parents except for some foreigners) stood in the streets of Tsim Sha Tsui to watch the decorated floats pass by.
Finally, the 20-minute fireworks show was scheduled for Sunday at 8:00 p.m. People bordered the Victoria Harbor from both sides (Kowloon and Hong Kong Island) waiting for the light display. Unfortunately for those hiking up to a good view or those residing in some of the city’s skyscrapers, the night was foggy and the powerful lights did not shine through the clouds. Finding myself in this situation, I resorted to watching the show live from my phone.
Chinese New Year is a great time to be in Hong Kong and definitely worth checking out—especially if you have the opportunity to share the celebration with a native family who graciously welcomes you into their home.