A New Year's Promise

I made a point to go home this weekend and spend it with my family to celebrate the New Year. I was in Spain last year and, much to my dismay, I missed it. When I called home to say hello to everyone and wish them well, I found that the entire family, save me, had all just gone out for dim sum and were just spending the afternoon at some festival with lots of general fun being had. The cell phone got passed around to everyone, and hearing how much of a good time they were all having together brought immediate tears to my eyes. It was that day that I felt any homesickness at all during my entire six-month absence.

The weekend wasn't anything particularly spectacular like last year - we went out for a couple meals, ran some errands, lazed around the house reorganizing photos, ate a lot of New Year treats. I didn't really do anything other than enjoy my family's company and that in itself was entirely fabulous. As I grow up, and with the increasing amount of time that I spend away from home, I realize more and more how important my family is to me, how much I really do cherish their presence in my life. This is a far, far cry from my feelings for them just a handful of years ago. I used to think of us as nothing more than a group of strangers who lived under the same roof. And though I still complain about them sometimes, I really do miss my parents and want to call them, I look forward to going home, I get excited when my brother emails me. And it feels very nice.

Spending time at home also means that I get to reconnect with a part of myself that lies fairly dormant while I'm at school in the Loo. The Asian part. I instantly start to speak in Cantonese, I crave the foods I grew up with, I want to go to the over-crowded Pacific Mall, to the smelly, yucky Chinese grocery stores because, even though they still gross me out a little bit, they feel very familiar and comforting.

There were a couple articles in the local paper over the weekend that spoke of the New Year and how difficult it is for Asian newcomers to celebrate like they do back home. People have to work on day of Chinese New Year and don't get to spend as much time with their families. There isn't enough time to prepare the special foods for the big family dinners. Lucky pockets aren't as common as they used to be. Traditional lion dances and firecrackers are hard to find. Despite the fact that I live in an area where the population is over one-third Asian, suburban life doesn't really lead to the kind of community atmosphere needed for a celebration like the Lunar New Year. I was lucky enough to grow up and spend New Years in Toronto for the first years of my life and I still remember standing on the crowded sidewalks of Chinatown feeling the drum and cymbal beats pound through my body, watching the lion dancers skillfully climb up the sides of buildings to get a lucky pocket, rip a head of lettuce to shreds and scatter it through the crowd.

I don't see that stuff anymore. And I can't imagine that children in the suburbs see it either. I went to a Chinese New Year festival a few weekends ago in the Loo and it was just... blah. There was no music, no noise, just expensive food and the hawking of kitschy Asian wares. But it was the only thing I could find. I want to go back to Chinatown in Toronto for New Years. I want to be in China, or in Vietnam with my relatives. I don't want to forget what it can be like.

That's the other thing the article in the paper mentioned, the thing I've been struggling with for a number of years now - am I going to know anything about my culture when I'm an adult? I can't read or write Chinese. I can only speak it, and it's colloquial and mispronounced at best. I don't know how to make any traditional Chinese dishes. Am I going to buy New Year cakes from the grocery stores like most people do now? Will I even shop at Chinese grocery stores? Will I take my kids to the temple? I said to my mum that I wanted her to teach me how to make New Year cakes. I want to cook like her. I want to be able to lay out the spread to honour and pray to my ancestors. I said to my mum that I wanted to go to the temple this year (we did go and the incense has never smelled sweeter). I've been looking into Chinese language classes lately. I will speak to my kids in Cantonese and take them to Chinese school. They will go to the temple and light incense and ring the big bell three times.

I promise I won't forget.
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