The 15 Days of New Year

You’re going where for the Chinese New Year? No, no no no no. We’ve warned newbies before about the perils of traveling in China during the mass migrations . And we’re not going to rain on your lion dance with tales of pesky touts and the 5 am door-slamming contests at hotels China-wide. The reason we’re advising you to stay put is the reason you think you want to travel. If it’s authentic cross-cultural experience you seek, Chinese New Year is the one time of year you can find it in your own living room.

Unlike a Western New Year’s celebration, a few hours’ debauch followed by a day’s recovery, Chinese New Year observations last a full fifteen days. As an amateur Sinophile may guess, each day has its prescribed activities, none arduous, all intended to increase your luck quotient for the lunar year. It’s all about home and hearth, friends and family, so rip up that sleeper-bus ticket to Guizhou and do some real celebrating.

New Year’s Eve

Decorations are in order: no trees or other symbols of lost Saturnalia, but some door hangings to propitiate The God of Doors, and to scare off the man-eating Nian-lion, which is inexplicably scared of the color red. Thus the bright red squares with lucky gold-font calligraphy plastered to every Chinese domestic entrance.

Three pm will mark the ideal time to make offerings at your family altar; those without can at least tie up a hundred coins with red thread and place them somewhere prominent to symbolize longevity.

If you’ve no family to sit around the traditional hot pot with on New Year’s Eve, casually mention the fact to any kind-faced Chinese acquaintance. It isn’t hard to garner an invitation as the lucky laowai. Just be sure to bring red envelopes with folding money inside for kids, and not to eat too much – it’s customary to stay up all night to welcome the New Year and ensure no lasting troubles in the months ahead. The firecrackers should help keep you awake.

New Year’s Day

Did those firecrackers keep you up? Well, they’re going to be the main theme of the day, as families everywhere fling open their doors, pick a lucky money direction, and begin at least a few hundred RMBs’ worth of cacophony.

You’re not likely to see any truly professional displays of fireworks, so stay inside and eat seeds, watching variety shows between large meals. Between all the friends and family visiting each other, you won’t need to say much other than “Gong xi fa cai!” (Hope you make a bundle!)

Follow the crowds to the lion dancing (more cleansing of those ever-present evil spirits), flower displays, and Chinese opera. No matter how crowded or chaotic your environment, this is an especially bad day to scowl, yell, or swear – the primary taboo of New Year’s among a host of others.

The Second Day: Wives’ Day

This is a day for praying to the ancestors, and any god or gods one worships. The God of Land traditionally gets an extra-helping of reverence on the second day. Also customary are bowls of gold-ingot shaped dumplings – representations of money never get passé.

The most-significant tradition of the second day is to take the wife to go see her parents. It’s essential to bring her family fruit and presents, and to sit down to a huge lunch. Don’t worry – they want you out of there by 3pm, and they’ll also send you on your way with sugar cane and chickens. Score!

The Third Day: Mouse Weddings

After three days of gorging, the Chinese usually keep food intake nice and light today. If you want something more substantial than congee, fruit, or the ever-present seeds, say you’re going out to see the fireworks and sneak off to McDonald’s.

Any dogs encountered on the third day must be treated like Beverly Hills poodles rather than junkyard mutts. The God of Anger, a red dog, reigns on this day; only kindness towards his earthly representatives can forestall his wrath.

A much more sensible baloney myth – this is the day mice get married. Therefore, lights get turned off early so that vermin have trouble finding their way to the nuptials and subsequent breeding. The darkness leaves no choice but to turn in early after three nights’ revelry.

The Fourth Day: Stove Reports

Today the God of all Stoves flies up to spread his kitchen gossip to the heavens. He returns in the afternoon, when yet another massive meal must be consumed, and, regrettably to all but the very young and the mentally deficient, more fireworks must be set off to welcome him back.

The Fifth Day: Keeping Mammon Happy

Look on the bright side – at least the Chinese don’t make any pretensions about not worshipping money, like the rest of us. Today businesses re-open, after consulting the almanac for an auspicious hour, of course. It’s a time for currying favor with the God of Wealth, who used to demand animal sacrifices, but today settles for some choice cuts of pork and chicken.

He likes fireworks, too, but authorities are getting more stringent about firecrackers in commercial venues. Before you run to the nearest market for some peace and quiet, know that innovative merchants like to play looped recordings of firecrackers exploding. Ear plugs are available at finer Watsons.

The Sixth Day: Pigs and Clean Water

A Song Dynasty monk was so talented at bringing drought-ending deluges and other watery miracles that he gets a New Year’s day to himself. This is the day for washing and cleaning. Husbands are advised to do their best couch-coma routines.

Did we say the Clean Water monk gets the sixth day to himself? Whoops. This is also the God of Pigs day, ironically enough .Shovel out your manure pit, outhouse, or wherever you effete urbanites do your business. Reward with yourself with a stroll to see the Chinese opera and acrobatics traditionally performed on this day.

The Seventh Day: Human Day

“And on the seventh day, She created man.” Huh? That’s no Bible verse; it’s Genesis redux. Apparently a snake goddess created all living creatures, and didn’t get around to fashioning homo sapiens until the seventh day. You may know that Chinese usually don’t bother with individual birthdays and all become a year older with the New Year. You probably didn’t know that this is the official day. Have a bowl of long-life noodles and try to feel special. No wonder Chuck E Cheese never took off here.

The Eighth Day: The Party’s Over

This is traditionally the day when the festivities stop and people return to their labors. All festivity foods should be finished up, including booze. So if you’re ever going to drink on the job and raise a little hell, today’s the day. After all, it’s also the King of Hell‘s birthday.

The Ninth Day: Day of the Jade Emperor

Just because you’re not on vacation doesn’t mean you can stop giving the divinities their due. Today is the Jade Emperor’s birthday. He lives in the 33^rd heaven and reigns over the other 32, but is no freemason, interestingly enough. He is a vegetarian, however, so no meat today. To do the birthday feast right, you need three bowls of noodles, three cups of green tea, five servings of fruit and six of vegetables. Sounds like the Jade Emperor built the food pyramid.

Firecrackers are customary from sunrise to sunset. Repeat the sixth commandment as needed.

The Tenth Day: Leftovers Day

Just when you thought the Jade Emperor advocated health and sensible portions. Today all leftovers from the Green One’s birthday feast must be finished, to the last crumb. It’s important to polish off all the remains of the fruit baskets and candy dishes, too. Hopefully you have some tots around to take care of those horrid little wrapped sweets of unidentifiable origin.

The Eleventh through Fourteenth Days: Meh

No special food or god-greasing requirements through these five days. But don’t think that gets you a break from the firecrackers. They sell Xanax over the counter here, by the way.

The Fifteenth Day: Hit the Lights

So thousands of years ago, a divine bird descended to earth and alighted in a humble village, whereupon pragmatic villagers killed it for a heavenly snack. the God of Heaven was wroth, and determined to set the village ablaze on the fifteenth day lunar day. Sensing danger, one venerable villager advised everyone to hang lanterns and carry them through the street on the appointed night. Dropping down to wreak vengeance, the God of Heaven’s myopic thugs saw all the lanterns and assumed the place was already in flames.

Today, you probably won’t see glowing processions, but you will see red lanterns everywhere. And you know what you’ll hear. Try to suppress your spiteful glee as you read reports of digits lost to the God of Firecrackers, the one Chinese divinity still worshipped with blind, seemingly deaf devotion.