My Most Unforgettable Festival

Yan Ping, 34, manager, Beijing Antique Carpets Shop

I will never forget the eve of Spring Festival when I was a little girl. My mother was very good at sewing. I'd been longing for Spring Festival as I knew I'd get new clothes.

But every year, my relatives came to ask my mother to make their kids new clothes. This year was not an exception. My mother's sewing machine was fully booked for other people's work.

My mother decided to save me and my brother's clothes till last. For a whole day one day before Spring Festival, I stood by that sewing machine. My mother did not raise her head.

I waited and I waited. At four o'clock in the afternoon, she started working on our last relative's work. I got really worried. I urged my mother again and again.

Finally at seven, it was our turn. My mother brought out two squares of material. One was white lilies on a blue background. The other was green, with yellow winter jasmines. I was relieved. In two hours, she had made a coat and a pair of trousers. I felt my mother was really great. I fell asleep with my new clothes.

But my mother started making a wool coat for my younger brother. She couldn't stop because by tradition, she was supposed to finish any sewing work before midnight.

My younger brother's outfit turned out to be her best work ever. I had many more new clothes as time went by, but I will never forget that night, when my mother worked so hard to make us so happy.

Feng Jianhua, 34, manager, Beijing Teahouse

My most unforgettable Spring Festival was in 1996 when my adoptive father and adoptive mother both died, but if you don't mind I won't dwell on that.

I expect this upcoming festival to be my best. Last month, I was invited to speak at a seminar on the new century, attended by three generations of Chinese people at Haidian. I met a 108-year-old granny. The passage of time and the power of life really struck me. I realized I will personally witness the coming of a new era.

I regard Spring Festival as the real new year. I have been working hard in past years on the preservation of old Beijing customs and culture. They were destroyed and buried in past years, especially during the Cultural Revolution. Now it is our responsibility to rediscover our roots, record them and pass them down to the next generation. The first thing I will do is organize a lecture on Beijing folk culture. I will organize other activities to go with it. I will try my best. Spring Festival is doubtless my best chance.

Duan Xuling, 42, Manager of Beijing Xiaridong Trading Company

My most unforgettable Spring Festival was in 1998, when I traveled with my husband to the South. We went with a tour group to Zhouzhuang, Tongli and Suzhou. This was my first trip south during Spring Festival.

We set off on the evening of the first day of Spring Festival from Beijing. There I found lush green trees and large bodies of water all around the small town of Zhouzhuang. People dressed in traditional costume, and we saw many carrying baskets of flowers to a local temple. As people passed each other on a small bridge, it looked like a bridge of flowers.

The town was filled with a festive air. The next day, it started to drizzle. We wandered narrow alleyways. Spring couplets and red lanterns hung on every home's gates. I was very, very impressed.

This year, I will travel to Zhoushan Islands to visit my relatives there. I am really looking forward to it.

Zhao Dechun, 48, photographer with Beijing Xuanwu Culture and Relics Bureau

My festivals of recent years have all been spent at temple fairs around the city.

I grew up in the old hutongs (alleyways) of Beijing. When I was young, I enjoyed the firework smoke and smells that suffused the air. For me, this is what makes Spring Festival Spring Festival. But now we can't do it in the city anymore.

I found temple fairs a great opportunity to display the best folk arts. From there I can see the real joy from people's hearts.

As a photographer, I have the responsibility to record this. I find other peoples' joy is infectious. Through my photos, I want others to feel it too.

I haven't sat down and shared a proper Spring Festival dinner with my family since 1986, but I have no regrets. Temple fairs are the place to be.

Hou Yuying, 50, accountant

My father worked as an architect in the army, so my family led a well-to-do life. Almost every festival eve, we ate jiaozi and other delicious food.

However, in 1966, I had my most humble festive meal. It was at the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, when the ultra-left ideological trend reached its climax. The movement had called on the Chinese people to do away the "four olds", namely the old ideas, old customs, old culture and old habits. Under these circumstances, every household had to change their traditional way of celebrating the new year.

My father bought home two woto (corn bread) made of coarsely ground corn from the canteen of his work unit, which we hardly had eaten. We had a silent and dull time, no firecrackers, no jiaozi and no pleasure.

As most spring festivals are full of joy, the one in 1966 even now remains fresh in my memory.

Sun Jiali, 23, office worker in British Council

I spent my most unforgettable Spring Festival in Saibei skiing resort, Chonglixian County, Hebei in 1998. It was the first time I celebrated Spring Festival with my friends instead of family members, the first time I saw such grand snow scenery, the first time I skied, and the first time I had countless falls.

The snow was knee-deep, 40 centimeters (16 inches) deep, according to locals. When I stuck on my big heavy ski boots, I could hardly move my feet. Even worse, when I stepped on the 1.5-meter skis, I couldn't even walk. The funniest thing was that my friends and I had a common understanding: Once you started skiing, it was impossible to stop unless you fell down or bumped into another person and fell down together! We also had a big snow fight. I got soaked of course. On festival eve, many people set off firecrackers, which is forbidden in urban districts. It was very exciting, the most pleasant Spring Festival I have ever had.

Bai Jihua, 52, engineer, Beijing Railway Construction Company

I enjoyed Spring Festival very much when I was very very young, mainly as I could eat meat. I could buy red lanterns. I could set off fireworks.

My "toilet incident" strikes me as creating the most unforgettable festival memory.

Setting off fireworks was one of the most important activities for all us kids. One year, my brothers bought some er ti jiao, double-bang firecrackers, and they were having great fun in our courtyard.

I looked on. "What's the big deal? I can do that myself," I thought.

I got a firecracker from my brother. I held it in my hand and lit it. "Bang!" Suddenly I became very frightened, and my hand began to shiver.

Without a second thought, I threw the firecracker to the ground and ran away. My brother was afraid that it could hurt somebody, as it was facing a crowd on the ground. He quickly ran over, and turned the rocket in another direction. Before he could run back, we heard a loud bang as the rocket exploded in the toilet. My hands and legs still shivering. From then on, I never set off a firecracker by myself again.

Gu Rongchun, 35, businessman

For Spring Festival 1988, I was 1,000 miles away in Guangzhou.

In the summer of 1987, I was sent by Lingnan Hotel to do a one-year cooking internship at Guangdong Dongfang Hotel. I got 7-square-meter room to live in. The paint on the walls had already peeled off. The room had one ceiling lamp, shining down on a crude 20-year-old table.

On the eve of Spring Festival, the hotel organized a dinner party for all the employees. I was not familiar with anybody. I hid in a corner and couldn't eat any food.

I left very early. I went out, only to find I had nowhere to go. I had only 20 yuan. I was sick of my small room. I went to a small restaurant. I bought a box of biscuits for two yuan. I ordered one-yuan peanuts and a bottle of Zhujiang local beer at two yuan.

I couldn't stop missing my home. What were my family doing now? I couldn't call them as that would only make me feel even worse. Besides, I was too poor to afford it.

There was only me and myself in the restaurant. Finally at 8 or 9, the owner got impatient. He said he had to go home to have Spring Festival dinner at home.

I went out. I had to go back to my room. I sat at the table, not knowing what to do. I thought of many things. I felt so lonely. I felt so sad. The images of my families, my friends came clearly to my mind. I wished I could be with them. Even people with whom I had had quarrels and fights suddenly seemed so close.

I fell asleep at the table. Suddenly, I was awoken by the firecrackers at midnight. I wrote a poem: "The joyful Spring Festival came, but I was like a Buddha lonely. Last year, I was at home with family, how I could beat the sadness this year."

After the poem, I felt much better. I started to write letters to my families and my friends. At 3, I went out on the street, picked some fireworks remains off the ground and set them off. I had a sound sleep, and went to work at 8.

Ma Hui, 50, government clerk

I will never forget the festival of '69, when I was 20. For the first time, I had left my parents and spent this family festival with a group of strangers in Yan'an County, 2,000 kilometers from Beijing.

At that time, millions of urban youngsters answered the call of Chairman Mao to "eat bitterness" and do farmwork with peasants. Yan'an was the most famous revolutionary base of Chinese Communism. I went with my classmates, full of energy and enthusiasm.

On the eve, my classmates and Iwere invited by the local peasants to their homes. Candid and hospitable, they provided us with delicious snacks the best they could conjure up, including dates, peanuts and popcorn. In the late '60s, living standards in the countryside were pretty low. The peasants usually ate humble food, corn and vegetables. Only at festivals, could people have chance to eat a little meat. That evening, the family cooked all the meat they had for us. They knew I didn't like eating fatty meat, and so they selected lean meat in the dishes for me. I was deeply moved by this gesture.

I also tried the rice wine and deep-fried pie, a local home-made sweet and sour food. The smell still lingers in my memory today. Meanwhile, I will never forget the affection and care local peasants showed for our urban youth.

Kong Hui, 28, teacher, Beijing Printing Institute

In 1991, I went back to my hometown at Xiangcheng County for winter vocation. On the Spring Festival Eve, I went to see my friends. I came home very late, about 11.

On my way back in a very dark street, suddenly I saw a white shadow in front of lying on the ground me. I was very afraid. I thought it was ghost. Slowly I walked up. It was a person in white dress. manI touched his nose. He still had breath.

I shouted "Help! Here is a dying man!" "Help! Here is a dying man!" I could see nobody around me.

Minutes later I heard a sound of a motorcycle. Then driver The driver came over over. But when he saw the man, he screamed out and ran away. Another car passed by. It didn't stop.

I didn't know what to do. I had to propped him up and walked along the street. Finally I had to carry him to walk on. Slowly. I still didn't know where I wanted to take him to go.

Slowly he became he regained conciousness. sHe asked "Who are you?" I asked "Who are you?" He told me We asked the same question, back and forth. Finally he told me he lived in a nearby village. He is a rich businessman, and just came back from a business trip. Several hooligans found him rich and robbed him that night. rich and robbed him that night.

He pointed the way to his home. I helped him back. When we arrived, we found that there was nobody at home. He told me his wife's home, and asked me to look for her in the villagers' home.

I knocked on the doors with knocked on the doors with light, and finally I found her helping a family steaming bread. I told her what happened.Muslim manWe ran back to their home.

The couple were very grateful, and they kept asking me who I amand they kept asking me who I was. Finally I told them I study in Zhengzhou University. They cooked mutton and mutton soupwas ing. But I hated mutton very much. I couldn't refuse them. I had couldn't refuse them. I had one sip of the soup. I wanted to vomit. I told them I had to go home.

But they wouldn't let me go. They put in a comfortable bed I lied in bed, only waited to leave the earliest possible next morning. I heard the cockcrow, and left by myself.

The Muslim couple finally I just couldn't bear the smell. found who I was when they went to my university. They told the story to my teacher, and I got a "People's Prize" for what I did.

But, I could never bear to see mutton any moreor eat .Blood on his face, and he didn't move at Blood on his face, and he lied still. me for meI watched the man drank several bowls of soup.