Beijing Winters
by Armando Ortiz
Winter evenings in Beijing are frigid
Nights bring freezing winds
And though at noon the skies are clear and sunny
You don’t want to be outside for too long.
Red is everywhere during this time
And sticks with crab apples sealed fresh
Inside hardened caramel sugar abound
And seasonal preparation for the New Year begins
Bringing red pasted banners and signs on the sides of doors.
Though the eye is blind during these months
The flavors that season the soul are many.
Handmade noodles made to order are at hand
Which are served on steaming white bowls
Topped with thin slices of beef
And a fried egg on top for an extra 5 mao.
A stew of mutton innards quickly warms up the body
I don’t know if it still exists, but when I was there
One could feast on instant huoguo on a side street
Where I ate it on tiny chairs and miniature tables.
It’s also the time when one takes liberal servings
Of dumplings of all kinds; cabbage and pork
Pork and chives, mutton and onions and the veggie and egg kind.
It’s during the night that the dry steppe air of the north passes through the city
And which is further squeezed of its humidity by the centralized heating
With its miles of hot tubes, that connect to a network of pipes
That pumps hot oil and water from a coal furnace that keeps blocks and blocks of people warm
And with severely dry throats.
When those nights of lonesomeness get intertwined with nightmares
It’s as if one were being choked by the devil’s hand
And one awakens desperately reaching for water.
Winters in Beijing also bring into focus
The celebration of the longest night
Which I did once outside a pub, while eating
Grilled chicken wings and drinking Yanjing beer.
The celebration of the longest night and the birth of spring.
When preparations for Chunjie begin to appear.
People bundled up in layers and layers of thick cotton and synthetic wool
Prepare to go back to their hometowns,
And the long lines at the train station are common.
It’s the sign of optimism that we all have survived the terrible winter
And begin to celebrate by buying rolls and rolls of firecrackers and rockets
That for a week will light up the midnight sky, and all the ghosts
That are fast asleep will awaken and be sent back to where they belong,
And we triumphantly declare to spring to open herself and begin forth
The colors of life and the blossoms of spring.
Winters in Beijing are long,
But now they seem short and distant,
Like an old recurring dream that disappears with every waking moment.
The first snowfall that blanketed the school benches,
And topped the pine trees melt from the memory
As the changing jet stream shifts from Northwesterly to Southeasterly direction.
