Year of the Dog
Steven Mavros
The day I landed in Shanghai was the first day of the Year of the Ox. It was 1997, I was 20, and I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into. We were staying at dorms at East China Normal University and the whole campus had poured out onto the back streets. Everywhere I turned someone was lighting off fireworks, banging a loud drum, drinking a large bottle of Becks (the only choices in the whole country were Becks, Tsingtao and Tiger) and eating up a storm. Groups of people tucked into a dragon costume were wandering down the streets. Unlike in the west, this New Year celebration lasted for 2 weeks! Families came together, often bringing oranges for luck, and shared long noodles and the kids got little red envelopes filled with money.
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