Celebrating Chinese New Year in Chinatown

Tradition drives Chinese New Year.

Before the biggest Chinese holiday of the year, the world witnesses man's largest human migration as droves of workers squeeze into buses and trains to journey home. But during the holiday, the mainland shuts down. Shops and restaurants close, transportation goes quiet. But families take to the streets to set off thousands of firecrackers and exploding confetti in an ear-bending tradition that sounds more like mortar-fire than celebration.

The United States does not shut down. Most people here may not know when Chinese New Year falls or how people celebrate. In Chinatown, however, traditions are live and well. On my way to Mott Street I paused to listen to cymbals and drums coax a man--half in his yellow dragon costume--up a ladder to hang a cabbage.

In Mandarin, green cabbage is 白菜 (báicài). Similar in sound, 百财 (bǎicái) means one hundred years of luck and fortune. As I learned today, hanging the cabbage with a 红包(hóngbāo)--a red envelope of money--summons prosperity for the new year. 

Mott Street had disappeared under a snowfall dusting of pink by the time I arrived to meet my friend. People occupied the street, throwing pop-rockets and shooting cardboard cannons of confetti.

Like in the inflatable Bounce Houses with hollow, solid-colored balls, children sank down to the ground to scoop up handfuls of confetti and throw it into the air.

Afterward we walked the neighborhood, perused a few restaurant menus, and stopped at a local establishment with dead animals hanging upside-down in the window and yellow squid visibly soaking in Tupperware. To warm our hands we ordered Duck Noodle Soup, which came in giant bowls topped with Chinese spoons and plastic chopsticks. Droplets of oil visibly wobbled at the surface of the broth. The duck tasted hearty and flavorful, which came through in the soup. Yellow and scraggly, the noodles were cooked as if they were an Italian al dente pasta. Though stuffed and happy leaving the restaurant, I couldn't resist a Chinese milk tea on New Years.

We walked back to my apartment, hands warmed by the hot milk tea, sipping the tapioca bubbles through fat, colored straws. It's a tradition I could get used to rather quickly.