Chengdon't

Chinese Singles’ Day    光根节 – Match-making in the middle kingdom

You could say that romantics in China are spoilt for choice.  Not only do young Chinese celebrate the western festival of romance that is Valentine’s Day, but the Chinese also have their own day traditionally devoted to love.  Qi Xi (七夕), or the seventh eve, is often referred to as Chinese Valentine’s Day, but is also known as the Seven Sisters Festival or the Festival of the Double Sevens.  It is celebrated on the seventh day of the seventh month in the Chinese lunar calendar (August 26th this year), and while the annual gift-buying frenzy synonymous with February the 14^th does not take place, there are many customs associated with this day of romance that lovers can partake in.

However, if the prospect of a second Valentine’s Day fills you with dread then November in China has just the thing.  For groups of young western (and increasingly large numbers of Chinese) singles, it has also become customary to organise a sort of “anti-Valentine’s” get-together on the day itself fourteenth, but here the Chinese go one better and have a dedicated singles’ day on November the eleventh.  Also known as bachelors’ day, in Chinese the day is called 光棍节 (guāng gùn jié or ‘single stick festival’).

The idea originated from the early 1990s, when college students in Nanjing first put forward the idea of choosing the day as a festival for single people and began organizing match-making parties on campus.  The date was chosen because the date “11/11″ consists of four 1’s, and first became a hit on university campuses in the area then spread throughout the whole country.

As it is no longer such a huge taboo for an adult to be single in Chinese society, singles’ day is seen as a chance for young people to shake off parental pressure to marry.  They go out to clubs and karaoke bars to have a good time or attend organised matchmaking events, and at these events ‘guang-guangs’ and ‘ming-mings’ (internet slang for single men and women respectively) are paired up in order of suitability through pre-prepared internet questionnaires to try and find their Mr. or Miss. Right.  Some universities hold masked balls to help Chinese singles overcome their initial shyness, and ‘blind date’ parties where singles are introduced through mutual friends are also quite common.

In Shanghai’s People’s Park a huge crowd of people gather every Sunday morning to search for love, but the difference here is that these are not generally single people themselves, but rather worried parents or grandparents who come along to try and speed up their errant offspring’s marital timeline.  The done thing appears to be to write your vital statistics on a piece of paper (age, height, weight, telephone number, place of employment and income), attach a photo and peg it to a line for other match-makers to investigate.  If you’re so inclined there’s even a foreigner section!

Other customs that have evolved around singles’ day include breakfasting on four youtiao (deep-fried dough sticks) which represent the four ones in 11.11 and one baozi (steamed stuffed bun) to symbolize the middle dot in the date.  This practice is supposed to bring the breakfaster good luck in their love life for the coming year.

With statistics showing that among Chinese in the 22-49 age bracket, males outnumber females by over 20 million, events organized on singles’ day are rising every year and will surely only continue to increase in number as millions of young, single Chinese go looking for love in an increasingly competitive and crowded marketplace.

All two my regular readers may remember from last year that the local shop in our compound was staffed by old Mr. He, who liked his Christmas decorations so much that he kept them up all year round and sported a Sichuanese accent so thick you needed a chainsaw to get through it. Sadly when our little store reopened after the Spring Festival break, it turned out that Mr. He had been gracefully retired by the powers that be and he was replaced by a friendly young couple from out of town, Xiao Feng and Xiao Ke.

Xiao Ke was already sporting the Chinese symbol of maternity that is the fetching blue dinner-lady’s tabard which all pregnant Chinese women seem to wear, partly to show off their status and partly to avoid being shoved over while ‘queuing’ for the bus.  Over the coming months she blossomed and grew until earlier this month she finally gave birth to a baby girl.  Naturally (well, naturally for me anyway) I asked Xiao Feng if she would be bringing the baby into the shop any time soon.  He looked at me as if I’d gone completely insane.

He patiently explained to me that if Xiao Ke left the house in the next month she would develop a condition I could roughly translate as ‘windy eyes’.  This mystified me at first, but with a little internet research I found that the windy eye condition is more commonly know as a ‘sitting month’ in other parts Asia.  During this month the new mother must stay in doors for at least thirty days, but this period of time can actually be as long as three months depending on how her mother-in-law (who acts as a kind of bodyguard during the pregnancy and the child’s early infancy) thinks she’s doing.

This in turn got me thinking; in a country that must rank among the most superstitious in the world, were they any other seemingly random quirks that needed to be observed during the child-bearing period in the middle kingdom?  Here are a few collected from Chinese friends and colleagues in a completely random, unscientific survey:

• According to the laws of Chinese traditional medicine, pregnancy and childbirth are considered ‘hot’ conditions. To prevent complications and to avoid upsetting the balance of ‘hot and cold’ after giving birth the woman must avoid showering, washing her hair or exposing herself to potentially cold conditions such as open windows, drafts, air conditioning or doorways for the entire sitting month.

• Women who are with child should also try to always think happy thoughts so their babies will grow up being happy, and expectant mothers must avoid any praise about the unborn child during the pregnancy as this will attract the attention of evil spirits. They must not criticize others, or the baby will resemble the person they criticize.  It’s also a good idea to hang posters of cute babies around the house, as the constant sight of these perfect little specimens will mean that their children will also be pretty or handsome.

• In terms of food and general nutrition, it’s generally not a good idea to eat rabbit, as it’s believed in some parts of Sichuan that this will cause the baby to be overly hairy and/or come out albino.  Pregnant women should also avoid eating rooster, as this means the child will be born prematurely.

• For the birth itself, squatting is ideal position; if you lie down on your back the baby will have no energy to come out, and will thereafter be listless and lazy.

• 3 months before and after the child is born, the mother should not sit on a bench next to other pregnant women, as this will mean that she will not have enough milk to feed to the baby.

• One month after the child is born a special ceremony takes place where several objects are placed before the infant such as money, a book or a farm tool.  Whichever object the baby grasps first acts as an omen for the child’s future – perhaps they will make bundles of cash, study hard or work the fields?  The answer is all in the ritual!

So, congratulations to the proud parents, and plenty to ponder on as I wait for Xiao Ke to arrive at the shop with her new little bundle of joy.  No offence intended, but I hope she’s taken a shower before she gets here…

The legend of Chang’e – the bunny-girl in the moon

As those of you in China will probably be well aware from the enormous quantities of moon-cakes stacked from floor to ceiling in all supermarkets, mid-autumn festival is almost upon us.  Although a certain 60th anniversary has slightly overshadowed it this year, the ‘full-moon’ festival will still be celebrated up and down the middle kingdom in various different ways, including the eating of ‘moon cakes’ and the worshipping of the moon god ‘Chang’e.  The tale of Chang’e and her husband Houyi is an ancient eastern classic, and like most other Chinese fairytales there are many versions.  One of the most commonly told is as follows:

Chang’e was a beautiful young girl working up in heaven where immortals and other good folk lived, ruled over by the all-powerful Jade Emperor. One day, she accidentally broke a precious porcelain jar. Angered, the Jade Emperor banished her to live on earth, and Chang’e was transformed into the daughter of a poor farming family. When she was 18, she met a young hunter from another village called Houyi, and they became lovers.

One day, a strange phenomenon occurred – 10 suns arose in the sky instead of one, scorching the planet and everyone on it.  Houyi, an expert archer, stepped forward to try and save the earth.  He successfully shot down nine of the suns, becoming an instant hero and eventually becoming a King and marrying Chang’e.  However, King Houyi grew to become a tyrant.  Seeking immortality, he ordered an elixir be created to prolong his life. This elixir was in the form of a single pill given to him by the Earth Mother of the West, who warned him that to gain immortality he should only take half the pill.

King Houyi stored the pill in a case, and one day Chang’e happened to come across this mysterious box.  Much like Pandora in Greek mythology she opened it, and (depending on the version) deliberately or accidentally swallowed the pill. This angered King Houyi, who went after his wife. Trying to flee she jumped out a window at the top of palace, and because of the pill’s effects instead of falling she floated into the sky and all the way to the moon.  Although Chang’e was lonely on the moon, she did have a rabbit to keep her company, who according to legend spends all of eternity mixing the elixir of eternal youth.

On mid-autumn festival day (this year falling on the 3^rd of October), an altar is set up in the open air facing the moon to worship the beauty of Chang’e, and most Chinese eat Moon Cakes to celebrate.  Moon Cakes symbolize the full moon, and are intrinsically linked with the mid-autumn festival and Chang’e.  Traditional moon cakes have an imprint on top consisting of the Chinese characters for “longevity” or “harmony” as well as the name of the bakery and the cake filling.

This legend is deeply etched into the hearts and minds of the Chinese, and China’s first moon probe was named Chang’e 1 in honour of the goddess.  However, the story of Chang’e is not just limited to Chinese space travel; before America’s first moon landing in 1969, this conversation between the shuttle Apollo’s mission control in Houston and astronaut Michael Collins on board the ship took place:

Houston: “Among the headlines concerning Apollo this morning there’s one asking that you watch for a lovely girl with a big rabbit. An ancient legend says a beautiful Chinese girl called Chang-o has been living there for 4000 years. It seems she was banished to the moon because she stole the pill for immortality from her husband. You might also look for her companion, a large Chinese rabbit.  The name of the rabbit is not recorded”.

Collins: “Okay, we’ll keep a close eye for the bunny girl”.

The ancient art of Chinese ear cleaning

“Twaaaaaaaang!  Twaaaaaaaang!  The metallic clanging that you find reverberating around any touristic area in Sichuan worth its salt is not the sound of blacksmiths, cleaners or toy makers hard at work, but is actually the sound of ‘ear doctors’ who make a living clearing the canals of strangers, and advertise their services with a quick flick of the large metal tongs that form part of their formidable looking ear-cleaning kit.

To the outside world, the ancient art of ear-cleaning appears intrusive, even a little aggressive, and few foreign tourists are brave enough to give this most ‘Sichuan’ of pastimes a whirl.  However, there are those who feel that in the scheme of things ear-cleaning has got a raw deal, and that it is one of those ‘lost in translation’ activities that given time and experience people learn to love – an acquired taste, as it were.

Even the translation of its name is a little misleading, as most customers who regularly consult with the ear doctors don’t seem overly fussed about their aural hygiene.  Ear-scraping makes it sound even worse, but judging by the look of peaceful serenity on the faces of those undergoing treatment from the doctors, ‘ear massage’ seems to be the best way to describe it and many residents here, both foreign and Chinese, extol the relaxing, almost addictive qualities of a good ear massage.

Many of the ear-cleaners in the city are rural migrants, who have come to Chengdu since the government relaxed their previously strict controls on places of residence in the 1980s.  On a recent outing to Jin Li Street I met Mr Li, who has been working for 7 years in Chengdu’s parks and public spaces.  Since training under a master in his native town of Nanchong in North East Sichuan, he has been able to pull in around 2000rmb a month from his profession and, in one particularly memorable sitting, pull a large bug from a customer’s inner ear.

Having done so much reading and research on the subject, there was only one option left to me, and I decided to make the ultimate journalistic sacrifice and took the plunge.  The first 30 seconds were a combination of mild anxiety and discomfort, especially when Mr. Li produced his goose-down tickling brush, but after that this feeling were replaced by an odd, calming sensation and an overwhelming desire to fall asleep.  Although slightly disconcerting at first, it did seem to work as a method of relaxation, and one I’d definitely try again.

Sadly the once prevalent ear doctors who roved the streets of Chengdu searching for business are now largely confined to parks, teahouses or tourist areas, partially due to the city’s crackdown on hawkers in the early part of this decade.  However, in ‘old-new’ ancient towns around the city like Huanglongxi or Luodai, other cities in Sichuan Province, or even in the more outlying counties of Chengdu you can find any number of ear doctors clanging to their hearts content, keeping their customer’s ears spotless and the art of ear cleaning alive!

There is an old saying in the middle kingdom that, “China has the best teahouses in the world and Chengdu has the best teahouses in China.”  It is a well-deserved reputation, not only because of the numerous teahouses dotted around the city, but also because drinking tea has evolved to become a quintessential part of the daily lives of Chengdu locals.  For many residents here, tea is much more than mere leaves and water – it is a way of life and is ingrained into the very fabric of the city.

For Chengdu locals, it is very important to have the proper atmosphere to enjoy their tea, and for many the best place to do this is a teahouse.  The design and layout of teahouses varies from simple and rustic to opulence that even the ancient emperors of China would have been happy with, and each local has his or her favorite teahouse to frequent, but why are Chengdu’s teahouses so popular with visitors to the city?

Perhaps it is the special way of serving and drinking tea that attracts visitors from across China and around the globe to Chengdu’s teahouses.  After the guests have sat down, the waiters – locally known as ‘tea doctors’ – set the cups on the table and pour the water from behind the guests or from above their heads. When the cups are almost full, the tea doctor suddenly raises the teapot high above their head, still not spilling a drop.

One of the best parts of Chengdu’s teahouse culture is the sense of community, with young and old alike milling around and enjoying the atmosphere.  Many who regularly go are not thirsty – teahouses here serve numerous other social functions.  For some it is a place to meet – retired people pay the equivalent of around half a US dollar to go to the teahouse and sit there all day.  Others bring guests and eat melon or sunflower seeds while they chat.  Most of the city’s tea drinkers do not consider themselves connoisseurs, but come to relax, and are not bothered about the expensive brand-name teas.

Some of the more established teahouses also have theatrical performances, such as storytelling, crosstalk (Chinese comic dialogue) and Sichuan opera.  It’s the perfect place to meet new friends, and some teahouses also offer other services – people wandering through the crowds with handfuls of metal tools that they use to clean out patron’s ears, or cut their fingernails. It may look scary, but it all adds to the local teahouse experience!

Chengdu is one of the few remaining places in China where true teahouse culture still exists, and it is an experience that should not be missed – the only way to truly understand it is to try it yourself!  Until next time blogwatchers, good luck and good tasty – zaijian!

You could say that romantics in China are spoilt for choice.  Not only is there the traditional western celebration of St. Valentines Day coming up this month, but the Chinese also have a day devoted to love.  Qi Xi (七夕), or the seventh eve, is often referred to as Chinese Valentine’s Day, but also known as the Seven Sisters Festival, the Festival of the Double Sevens or the Magpie Festival.

The Qi Xi Festival is celebrated on the seventh day of the seventh month in the Chinese lunar calendar (August 26th this year), and while the annual gift frenzy synonymous with February the 14^th does not take place, there are many stories to tell and customs associated with this day of romance that lovers can partake in.

There are many versions of the ancient tale of Qi Xi, but the most popular sees the seven daughters of the Goddess of Heaven catching the eye of a Cowherd during one of their visits to earth. The daughters were bathing in a river and the Cowherd, Niu Lang, decided to have a bit of fun by hiding their clothes. It fell upon the prettiest daughter, Zhi Nu, (who happened to be the seventh born), to ask him to return their garments.

Since the Cowherd had seen Zhi Nu naked they had to marry, and the couple soon fell in love.  However, after a few years the Goddess of Heaven discovered her daughter’s absence, and furiously ordered her home.  The mother took pity on the couple though, and allowed them to be reunited once a year, and legend has it that on the seventh night of the seventh moon, magpies form a bridge with their wings for Zhi Nu to cross to meet her husband.  Apparently, this is also the reason why, on the day of Qi Xi, it is difficult to find any magpies in China!

On the day of the festival itself, lovers go to their local temples to pray for love and happiness.  Some singles also do the same thing to make them lucky in love for the year to come.  Traditionally on this day young girls demonstrate their skills in the domestic arts – especially melon carving – and make wishes for a good husband, and many also repeatedly wash their hair until it shines.

However, if the prospect of a second Valentine’s Day fills you with dread, then November in China has just the thing.  For groups of young western (and increasingly large numbers of Chinese) singles, it has also become customary to organise a sort of “anti-Valentine’s” get-together on the same day, but the Chinese go one better, and have a dedicated ‘singles day’ on November the eleventh.

The idea originated from the early 1990s, when college students in Nanjing first put forward the idea of choosing the day as a festival for single people.  The date was chosen because the date “11/11″ consists of four 1′s.  It first became a hit on university campuses, and then spread throughout the whole country.  As it is no longer such a massive taboo for an adult to be single in Chinese society, singles’ day is seen as a chance by young people to shake off parental pressure to marry and simply have a good time, and man go out to bars or karaoke, send text messages to their single friends and colleagues or sometimes organise matchmaking events…

So, however you decide to celebrate the upcoming festivals of romance this, make sure you have a good time, good luck and good tasty – zaijian!  (Ah.  Before I forget, photo of the week.  I’m sorry I missed it, I promise it’ll be back next week…)