Beijing Winters

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.