Chinese New Year Part 2: Wandering in Wuyishan

On my first day in Wuyishan, the grey clouds hanging in the air kept me from hiking the mountain trails. Instead, I spent the day wandering around the town at the foot of the mountain, strolling through the gardens and side streets. Just beneath the mountain, a river ran not as strong as it once had. I found a path that led down to the river, through several small gardens spotted with plastic litter and wilting vegetables.

As I stood watching the visibly dirty river flow by, three children climbed down the trail. "Hello!" the young girl said. She looked about seven or eight, flanked by two slightly younger children. "Where are you from?" I smiled "I am from the United States." I said slowly. The three children looked at each other and smiled, saying things I could not understand in Chinese. They continued asking me questions about myself in admirable staccato English, often giggling or "ahhhhh"-ing at my responses. We walked back up the trail together. They introduced me to their mother and grandmother who had been waiting by the street. We talked until the children ran out of words to say. Before we could say goodbye, a box of firecrackers started sparking across the street. I watched as a young boy, not much older than my new friends, ran from the lit box in delight. He had lit the fuse and was now scurrying to the safety of his family to watch in wonder. As the box sparked and popped, a car drove passed, inching around the sparks without hesitation.

I continued walking around the town and soon found fields scattered with small garden plots, some under covered material while others made use of empty space anywhere it was available. Having spent my graduate research working on food and water security, I am always drawn to witness various agricultural methods in action. Although many of the irrigation structures were broken or littered with commercial debris, the efficiency of the gardens themselves provide hints as to how such a massive population has managed to feed itself. (In addition, of course, to 99-year land leases in several African countries.)

As I wandered around the streets, strewn with red crepe paper, I felt something like the last human being after some sort of festive apocalypse. Everything, from the decorations to the vehicles, was coated with a layer of dust and ash.

All of the sudden, a man, probably in his thirties, shouted "Happy New Year!" from the steps of his home. "Happy New Year!" I replied. "Come in! Have some tea with us!" he said. The home was open in the front. From where I stood I could see around the corner to a family table where eight or nine adults sat having laughing and drinking tea. I went inside and was introduced to each person in turn. The family served me tea and offered me small oranges and water chestnuts to eat. I was captivated. This was the first time I had seen a tea service in China. I spoke with the members of the family who spoke English until we ran out of words. I thanked my gracious hosts and they sent me away with three bags of tea that their family had grown.

Walking home, I passed a large tea field. I couldn't help but reflect on the circles and contradictions of the holiday. From the peaceful streets interupted only with the fiercest sounds of sudden firecrackers, to the celebratory familial tea services, from leaves grown fresh in family fields, coated with dust and ash.

Finding my way back to the hostel proved challenging and I finally stopped to ask for help at a very nice hotel that I wandered into almost on accident. The manager of this posh hotel, with its open front and glass walls, walked with me until we were somehow back on winding streets, crisscrossing meandering chickens, smoking piles of red ash, and many motorbikes, all as her high heels clicked against the broken pavement. She chatted with most of the people we walked by and the town took on a cozier feel, even if I couldn't quite reconcile the aesthetic disconnect between this glamorous woman and the shacks lining the streets. She walked me to the corner of the street that our hostel was on. I thanked her for her time and said goodbye. I could hear her clicking back down the street as we parted ways.

Just outside our hostel was a restaurant floating on a small lake. The hostel owner recommended this place and we decided to check it out.

It was something of an upscale hot-pot restaurant and it was the first time I had been to such a place in China. We picked out an assortment of seafood and vegetables, then made our way to our table.

Hot-pot is a self-prepared meal, where each table is provided a pot of boiling broth and trays of pre-selected ingredients. You load the pot with ingredients as you wish and wait for them to cook. Unfortunately, we seemed to wait quite a while to even get our ingredients. We couldn't help but notice that we seemed to be the only ones doing so. Two tables near us had been sat, served, and reordered more food before we were brought a single tray. The tray that did arrive did not contain everything we asked for. In China, it is common for meals to be served in pieces. We assumed the rest would follow. When we had nearly finished with our pot and nothing else had arrived, we began to get concerned. We tracked down the woman we had ordered with to ask about the rest of our food. We waited a bit more. We had to inquire several more times before our food finally arrived. We gave up on the condiments we had also been requesting since the beginning of the meal and began snagging them off of nearby tables - including a table of six that had sat after us and had left the restaurant before we had received all of our food. The food was very good - but not at all worth the hassle of getting it to the table.

When we returned to the hostel, our host invited us to a celebratory tea service - and a few beers - after they finished their dinner. We rested for a bit and caught a firework show from the rooftop.

I was quite tired from the day - but the invitation was too kind to pass up. We spent several hours laughing, drinking and listening to Chinese ballads.

When I finally excused myself, I knew I was going to sleep well - despite the firecrackers that continued to snap and pop outside.