Hearing Julie Andrews yodel about a lonely goatherd has the power to throw many Americans into a daylong chorus.  For a semi-homesick American in China, hearing Julie go at it may have a perplexing effect:  a) it may halt said American and demand his attention, b) said American may join Julie in a chorus or two in excitement (or maybe just think about joining her), c) it may slightly magnify said American's homesickness, or d) it may affect said American in all the ways above.  But any American in China should know that the most widespread holiday in China is the traditional celebration of the new Lunar Year.  And, any smart American would deduce—from our friend Julie Andrews, the countless goat banners, and goat-related television commercials—that on February the first, the new year of the goat will be welcomed by Chinese around the world.  I won't be so bold as to call myself a smart American (primarily because I knew the new year would be a goat before I arrived), but I have noticed all these things.

I've noticed how crowded shopping malls in major cities are becoming; I've noticed the streets gradually bustling over because of the vacation week to come (the first week after New Year's day is the restful Spring Festival); I've noticed publicity for commercial centers go up all over Shenyang in the guise of traditional decorations; and all it takes is a pair of eyes to notice that, for all their differences, China and America are more similar than most Americans would guess.

Rachel Rollins, my friend who invited me to come to China in order to teach English, and I have been staying with a local couple in Shenyang since January seventeenth.  Since then we've seen a great deal to remind us of home, and plenty to write home about:  I saw a dragon in a shopping mall recently; but I also saw a fat, mythical, Jolly man in every mall in Orlando a month ago.  I raised a mock-traditional Chinese lantern on the porch of our Chinese family's apartment last night (and noticed that most neighboring porches had similar lanterns); but back home I dismantled an artificial pine tree with ropes of light bulbs just like almost all my neighbors.  I've been pinned by bodies to a sweater counter within the past week more times that I'd like to count (a tradition on the eve of the Chinese New Year is to wear a new sweater and shoes to help bring good luck for the year), however, a few weeks ago I waited in mobs at department stores a few days before Christmas praying that another cashier would open up.

But something's different here.  There is something more.  Something inexplicable and irresistible, some subtle force with a sly gravity is pulling us into the lively times here more than Christmas time does in the US.  Chinese New Year is the most festive time in this country just as Christmas time is in the States, but with an exotic flare for our American eyes.  Even though there are obvious parallels between both hemispheres during this time of year, that foreign flavor is getting to our heads. 

Somehow, seeing a mythical serpent in the shopping mall is almost heart pounding, while seeing a tubby, old man is not.  Hanging a fake lantern (with electrical cords dangling and GE-bulb burning) makes me want to take a picture, while unloading faux foliage is a chore.  And finding my way blocked while buying a sweater (my God, a sweater!) is more laughable than maddening.  We’re being absorbed.  We’re sharing in the good nature that the Chinese have been enjoying for years. 
 
Times like these make me happy with my impulsive decision to leave Florida State University for a year and move to China, where dragons welcome swarms of shoppers to buy sweaters, where a homesick American can listen to Julie Andrews "yodel-ay-hee-hoo" while strolling through the inflatable red lanterns and gates, where we often leave the natives pleasantly surprised at our cheerful calls of "guo nian hao!" ("Happy new year"), and where a couple of young foreigners can experience the unending hospitality of a very old world.

Feb,2003

Previous edition: Jan,2003