Chinese New Year

Although in China for over 2 and half years now, last week was my first chance to properly spend Chinese New Year. Using my miserly 6 days holiday, I went back to a friend's hometown, Baoji. It's the second largest city in the province, and an hour away on the fast train. Or if you're a 'true' local like me, you'll take the super cheap and super crowded slow train. Millions of people travel for twenty or thirty hours with no seat during this time of year, so I certainly wasn't complaining about my seated two and a half hour journey.

When I got off the train to be met by my friend (who was, in keeping with what is apparently another Chinese tradition, late) I was briefed on the correct ways to address the family members. This is a delicate area of etqiuette. I should address the mother as 'ai yi' (aunt) and the father as 'shushu' (uncle). This is both polite and personal. Calling family members by their names would be extremely rude, and the older they are the ruder it would be. Although I knew all this before and was prepped going up the stairs to the flat, it's easier said than done. I feel uncomfortable calling people things other than names (or possibly amusing insults). I was told on opening the door to say 'aiyi, shuhu, nihao' (hello). All I managed was a weak 'nihao', thus committing a faux pas.

That evening we watched the short TV programme I made in 2007 . When I tell people about it, one of the first comments is 'how much money did they give you for it'? My answer that I did it for the fun of it and only got 200yuan was met by the mother in the usual way - bafflement, almost disapproval. A Chinese person thinks anyone who doesn't take every opportunity to make money is either unlucky or stupid.

Baoji is the second city of this province, home to about a million people, most of whom are actually descendants of people who came here from outside the province. My friend's paternal grandparents came here from North East China to work, and the maternal grandparents came from central Henan province, where they were escaping from a flood caused by the deliberate breaking of a dam by Chang Kaishek during the Civil War in the 1940s. Like most people in Baoji, they don't speak the local language of the province. To be unkind, Baoji is, like many Chinese cities, noticeable for it's sameness. But it has much better air than Xian, and the mountains surrounding it provide a welcome reminder of nature.

The father used to work in the electrical equipment factory, and as such the three of them live in the 'family living area', row after row of six storey flats provided for the families of the factory employees. Most employees would retire at 50, and so he runs a small place where people play mahjong. In fact, 20 years ago I would not be allowed into this area, as half of the city was closed to foreigners.

Their family is like that of millions of others. The father has two sisters and a brother, the mother has four sisters and a brother. With the only child policy, the family photo of the mother's side was noticeable for its lack of young faces. The parents grew up at the back end of the Cultural Revolution, and never enjoyed the relative wealth and openness which their kids do. They speak frankly and without airs. Like most Chinese men, the father liked to impart words of wisdom about Chinese history and culture to me. If I had 1 yuan for everytime someone told me how many years old Chinese culture is (answer: 5000), I'd be a rich man (and would not have to make TV programmes for a living anymore). I can also drink baojiu, Chinese alchoholic spirit a bit like vodka, which went down well.

The second day, we went round the corner to the house of the paternal grandparents. Visiting relatives is one of the main New Years activities, with the others being making and eating dumplings, buying clothes, setting off fireworks, sleeping and watching TV. I made the same mistake again of not addressing them in the correct way (although I did splutter out a weak 'nainai' (grandmother) at some point). The food was like the food for the entire 5 days - superb.

The next day we went round again for making and eating dumplings and watching TV. The dumplings were delicious and plentiful. Most of her relatives had absolutely no idea how I could eat something as disgusting as bread, and how I manage to get enough sustenance without rice and mantou (steamed buns) was equally perplexing. With the constant urging of various uncles and aunts to eat more throughout the holiday, I've definitely put on some pounds.

On the evening of New Years, we went outside to 'fang pao', set off firecrackers. We had some exceptionally loud ones. All they did was emit an enormous bang and leave red stuff everywhere. But good fun. The point is too frighten away bad spirits. I imagine the cats were also frightened away. For similar reasons, actually, you're not meant to throw out the rubbish on New Years Eve in case you throw out the good spirits (and possibly some unused fireworks). Some of the neighbours had gone all out and bought loads of 'proper' fireworks, which made for a very spectular and noisy night. The blatent disregard for safety was extrmely refreshing. My over-riding impression was how much it sounded like war, with booms of various intensity heard all around. The fireworks go on for 15 days, by which time I imagine all spirits and timid creatures will have been thoroughly dispensed of.

The highlight for me, though, had to be the next day, when we went to an uncle's house to see the relatives of the other side of the family. After lunch and TV watching, I was taken to the unmissable Titanium Factory. The whole complex employs 20,000 people, and consititutes a small town on its own, known simply as '71'. The relatives work there, and as such live 'onsite' in the family living area. It is the largest titanium factory in China, I was told proudly, and given its location right in the mountains, probaly the most inaccessible of all of China's titanium factories. It was moved here in the 1960s by Chairman Mao as part of his attempt to protect the key industries from possible war.

We piled into the back of a black Volkswagen Santana (with Snoopy steering wheel) to drive the short distance to the factory itself. It consists of different buildings, connected by a single road. They've had 30 years to move it, but maybe the scenic location is too much of a draw. Inside was a mixture of titianium in various forms, crumbling old machinery and brand new Italian and Germany equipment. The mountainous setting was a nice change from the city. In fact, if I had kept walking south through the mountains, I would have made it into panda country and Sichuan.

Which is probably where all those evil sprits went.