Moving to a new place is difficult. But moving to a new place within a new
country and culture is equally difficult. The easiest tasks quickly become
confusing, and such a simple endeavour as buying groceries can have you
bewildered, standing outside of a barber shop, scratching your head wondering
where the market your friend told you about disappeared to. This transitional phase of constant
bemusement is how I ended up on Chinese New Year without any groceries. Wait; I did have a bottle of water. So go to the grocery store and get some
food! Wrong. Everything’s closed. So go to a restaurant! Wrong.
They’re all closed. See, I live
in a predominantly Chinese neighborhood and shops of all cut and cloth close
for the New Year. After all, it is the
biggest holiday of the year in Chinese culture: a combination of Thanksgiving
and Christmas.
Luckily, I had the help of many gracious new friends
in Singapore. An auntie at my school
invited me to her Reunion Dinner. Not
knowing what to expect, I took a quick poll to figure things out: Reunion Dinner
is a large fest held on New Year’s Eve, with most of the nucleic family
present. I felt awkward, but when in a
new place or culture, never turn down invitations. So this is how a found myself in a
Singaporean apartment watching in-laws gamble on Mah-jong and eating
steamboat!
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| Traditional Ang Bo Envelope |
Traditionally, Reunion dinner is held at the house
of the grandparents of the immediate family.
Needless to say, it was an intimate family affair, but I was immediately
made to feel comfortable by the presentation of Ang Bo and the constant offering of food. In Chinese culture, the eldest member of the
family presents guests with a small red packet of money, called Ang Bo.
It’s a superstitious affair. Multiples must be in two and must, at all
costs avoid containing the number four, a traditional character for death. You’d be a real uncouth villain to put $24 in
an Ang Bo, because then you’d be symbolically
telling that person you hope that during the upcoming year they will… starve to
death. But that’s neither here nor there. After the welcoming formalities, we ate. So yes, if you’ve been following along, I’ve
now been given food AND money. Awesome! Now, about that money…
Then, there were invitations to gamble. Mah-jong –google it – is too difficult to
explain let alone comprehend. As I tried
my best to avoid gambling – I once lost 50 000 KRW in a casino – my hosts
assured me we could instead play Singaporean blackjack. Twenty minutes later, I’m down twenty. And twenty after that, I’m up! Forget the game, what’s really interesting to
me is that apparently all of these people aren’t gamblers. As I look around, I see people with hawk like
eyes on the cards on the middle, and gruff paws protecting their personal
vault. They aren’t career sharks? Again they assure me that it is only a New
Year tradition.
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| By the time I left, I felt like this guy. |
The next day, still without sustenance in my
cupboard or coffee in my cup, my landlords treat me to home cooking; gingered
fish, mushroom and chicken, greens, and a bowl of steaming chicken odds and
ends. I wish I could tell you all the
proper names, but the only Cantonese I’ve picked up is Doe-Jae (thank you).
A Company dinner is generally a tame affair, making
conversation, eating, and maybe even drinking.
Much was the same as I went to my first affair with my new company. We all pitched in to clear the table. Coffee and tea are served; standard
right? Then, again come the cards. Transfixed, I observe as all my mild mannered
colleagues quickly degenerate into gamblers, money thrown here, money thrown
there. Minimum bets start at $1 but
stealthily climb to $2, to $3, finally to $5.
All in all, I had great food
ranging from Indian to Cantonese to Malay and I had the pleasure of great
company. There’s nothing more to ask
for. To everybody reading; have a happy
new year and an auspicious fortune!
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