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Life in China New Year New World
Life in China New Year New World | New Year New World |
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 Twelve years is a long time. It is a full 12 years since the last Year of the Dog.
So it was no surprise to see central Beijing resemble Baghdad on the eve of the
Spring Festival after the government lifted a dozen-year long ban on firecrackers.
By all accounts the ban had received little support from Beijingers and visitors alike. As we plugged our ears in a hutong leading down to the frozen lake of Hou Hai, to the north of the centre, suffering the occasional blow to the head from empty cartridges, we admitted that safety was an issue. These feelings were magnified by the sight of fireworks shooting across the road, creating an illuminated arch inches above the passing cars, and skidding onto the lake towards other revellers. It would never be allowed in London. Organised displays, complaining neighbours and countless firework safety adverts abound at the start of November. So I guess this is the appeal to a westerner of a New Years Eve in Beijing. Ears pounding, we sought refuge in a taxi and raced onto the main road swerving boxes of dynamite. Firecrackers exploded either side of the main freeway in a scene taken from the cheesiest Hollywood car chase – ten bazookas are never enough to stop the fleeing vehicle. As Londoners, we are used to dragons dancing through Soho’s Chinatown to welcome the Chinese New Year. We had expected elaborate public celebrations in Beijing but people were perplexed by this idea. The eve of the New Year is an occasion for reunion, when family and friends exchange gifts, have dinner at home and then let off a few pounds of explosives. To us, it is like Christmas Day with more noise and without religion. The sonic madness has continued all week. While the streets remain miraculously congestion-free throughout the Spring Festival and the sky rediscovers its blue identity thanks to reduced pollution, the noise either side of dusk is deafening. Fireworks combust inches away from floor 14 of high-rise apartment blocks and my working day is set to the soundtrack of the blitz. And at midnight - silence. Even the most ardent of pyromaniacs adhere to government regulations. Chris O’Brien Having almost sated his penchant for a four-legged gamble, Chris traded London life as a horse racing journalist for Beijing life as a “Foreign expert”. The phrases “One-China policy” and “the creation of a harmonious society” have become etched in his vocabulary through working for the state-run Xinhua News Agency and he has quickly accepted that being 6ft 4in tall is not particularly normal in China. |
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