Beijing Boyce

The most impressive sight in Beijing is not The Great Wall, Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven or even watching Agent Red Wolf consume half a week’s salary in Mojitos in one evening. It was the fireworks on Chinese New Year’s Eve. From sunset to 1 AM, the skyline was awash with color and sound. My apartment’s view extends from Yabao Lu to Palm Springs and at no time were fewer than three fireworks displays were going off. Getting maximum enjoyment, though, took preparation. First, it meant cleaning my picture window by hanging out into the sky 18 floors up and scrubbing the glass with three socks tied around a mop handle. Next, I dragged the sofa in front of that window. Finally, I poured a glass of the finest Chinese Cognac I could find. Then, and only then, was I prepared for the pops, bangs and whistles mixing with the murmur of distant explosions and the rat-tat-tat of firecrackers. Slithering spinning whistlers, harsh double splintering starbursts, big color bombs whose launches sounded like two-ton tennis cans opening. It all reached an apex at midnight with more than 30 displays simultaneously going off. My team at Kangbao (”Land of Fortune”) apartments saved their best for last with rockets exploding outside my window and sending fragments hurtling against the glass. What a blast!

(From Beijing Boyce X, first emailed on February 10, 2006)