chinese new year is a special time. store owners close up shop for an entire week and hundreds of millions of people embark on the journey home that sometimes takes several days. there is nothing like it… walking out on the usually unbearably crowded streets and finding them deserted. then out of nowhere, the silence is cracked by the sound of exploding firecrackers coming from all directions. it’s absolutely surreal.

on new year’s eve, audrey and i embarked on the 9-hour train ride to zhengzhou, the capital of henan, to spend a traditional holiday with kat’s family. and what an unforgettable experience it was… you don’t know hospitality until you’ve been hosted by a chinese family. your every need is taken care of from the moment you arrive at the train station, and it is truly a fact that chinese culture is centered around the dinner table. we were essentially force-fed all kinds of delicious food and new year’s candy from the time we woke up until the time we slept. days were spent coming and going to different relatives’ homes to exchange gifts and eat, eat, eat. audrey and i were treated like family to the point where it was almost embarrassing, even having to accept gifts and hong bao from people we had just met.  i was blown away by their kindness and generosity. the bond of a chinese family is truly remarkable. kat, your family is just lovely :)

morning after; the remnants of firecrackers litter the ground

making jiao zi (dumplings) is a new year’s eve tradition. here, kat’s grandma is teaching audrey and me how to wrap them properly. i loved this moment of multi-generational bonding as we sat around the table with kat’s mom and grandma :) by the end, audrey and i were dumpling wrapping machines!! we could open up our own shop, i’m not even kidding. we made hundreds.

kat’s grandma also made homemade red bean bao zi… so good.

visiting the relatives on new year’s day

kat’s little cousin was the. CUTEST. ever.

the feng family <3

up next: day trip to kaifeng and shaolin temple… a preview:

my dad and i sat waiting on a gray mesh bench, under the steel and glass mammoth that is beijing capital airport. it was an empty night.

“we didn’t take any pictures together on this trip,” my dad said.
“i know.” i pulled out my camera and snapped a self portrait of us–him looking young and dignified in his argyle sweater and me with messy hair and pink fuzzy earmuffs.

there wasn’t anything left to say. we walked to the security gate and i hugged him goodbye.

“love you, daddy.”
“love you.”

i stood watching as he turned back three times to wave, and then continued to wave as he descended down the escalator out of sight.

i picked up my things and shuffled towards to the train station. i felt fairly ridiculous but i let myself cry anyway. at 24 this was far from my first time away from home, but that day in particular, i was feeling the full weight of being separated from loved ones. and yet struggling still, to express how i feel to the ones who matter the most.

days before, a family friend from my home church passed away in a tragic accident. we weren’t particularly close but the impact of his life could be felt deeply throughout my community of family and friends.  seven thousand miles away i was still receiving the waves of that. a confused mixture of grief, sympathy, regret, appreciation. absence. silence.

life continues. but some days i’m just staring out the window and start to cry for no apparent reason. until his last days justin lived his life with purpose, without holding back. it absolutely terrifies me that i couldn’t say the same for myself. i want to love without abandon, but there’s always that voice in the back of my head that says but you have to be careful. because you could get hurt. because you have to live with your choices.

and so what? at the end of it all, which is the sadder thing?

love, i’m at your mercy.

my floor to ceiling windows were my favorite thing about my apartment. that, and living in a high-rise with a lovely view.

saturday mornings were spent with a cup of tea and a lounge chair pulled up to the window. i would stare down at the taxis driving back and forth and the ant-sized people walking about, and feel an incredible calm being hundreds of feet above them. i was away from schedules and appointments and things that needed to be done. it was my moment to be still.

and even more, i loved the nights. i would turn out all the lights and pull the curtains wide open and let the light pour in from the buildings across the street. on nights i couldn’t sleep, i’d stare at the flickering amber and blue squares and wonder what was happening in them. young chinese families or single foreign businessmen, i debated. were they happy? in love? searching for something? maybe they watched so much tv because they were lonely. maybe they were just bored.

i know they watched a ton of tv because one night i stared really hard to see what i could make out. tv, tv, tv. some at their computers by the window, like me. a woman watering plants and a couple having a somewhat physical fight. that was frightening. and one guy was standing at his window too, seemingly doing nothing but staring. i felt an odd camaraderie with him.

i went back to bed and drifted in and out of sleep, watching the lights disappear one by one as the hours passed. a handful of them would always remain, though. i suppose that way, i never really had to feel alone.

i’ll miss that.

the whole ride home in the motorcycle rickshaw taxi i wonder to myself how much it’s going to be. 5 or 10? i want to avoid getting ripped off so i don’t ask, but instead pull out all i have, a 20, hoping for change.

he pulls to a stop and helps me open the door. i hand him the bill. “有零钱吗?” he nods wordlessly and gives me a 10, 5, and 1.  i stare at the money for more than a few seconds, feeling a sudden rush of emotion. simultaneously stupid and guilty and grateful and helpless. he looks back at me curiously, not smiling, but kindly. i want to offer him the change but something stops me in that split second. i don’t know. this is awkward. will it offend him?

before i work up the courage to say something, he hops back on his bike and he’s gone.  the paper in my hands is worth nothing compared to the weight in my heart right now.

4 kuai. for waiting in line, for standing in the cold, for being away from home at 11:30pm, for putting his life in danger in that death trap bike of his, for helping me in and out of the taxi, for 20 minutes of his time. for 4 kuai. and i nearly resented him for it.

on my walk home my eyes sting from dust and tears. it’s so unfair. and i don’t even know the first thing about it.

i hate myself sometimes.