Late Friday afternoon, Small New Year’s Eve (as opposed to Big New Year’s Eve, Saturday night), I went down to the old part of town, the Yu Garden area near the Temple of the City God, to check out the decorations and see what was happening.
As evening descended, tigers emerged in the shadows, but not many people. Maybe because it was so cold here.
Firecrackers went off randomly, as if they were practicing, just getting warmed up. Too cold, I ate some dumplings and went home.
Saturday morning, my husband and I went out shopping for dinner. Almost everything was closed, or closing fast. The 24-7 foot massage place in the lane — padlocked. A few shops selling pajamas and blankets were still going, but even over in the wet market where we go for vegetables, stalls were covered over in rough blankets. The fruit vendor was open, but annoyed us by trying to charge double the usual price for oranges, so we took a taxi elsewhere where our favorite fruit lady was — surprise! when were we going to catch on? — shut up tight. Likewise, two bakeries. I decided to bake bread myself.
We paused to walk through our old lane and admired the chalk artistry of the man who makes announcements on the local blackboard. 
For all my countless hours memorizing Chinese characters, all I could make out was something about safety in the neighborhood.
As we worked our way home, street sweepers were out gathering up the leaves that we noticed we could hear rustling for the first time — it was that quiet.
Late in the afternoon, the sporadic firecrackers picked up their pace as the long slow crescendo began. During dinner, we could see colorful bursts through our skylight. Occasional rat-a-tat-tats in the lane nearly made my drop my food. Here and there, car alarms began to go off, collaborating with the artillery. When the city seemed to be spontaneously combusting, we went up to our top floor bedroom, to watch the fireworks from all sides of the house. The din was so continuous that it sounded like a downpour of rain, with thunder and fire bursting forth. For a while, we kept the balcony door open and shook our heads in amazement, until it got too cold and we closed it again.
At 11:45, hard to believe, there was an uptick in the intensity. Rockets blasted, zingers sailed through the air; dazzling fireworks bloomed from every direction; parked cars screeched; and it all echoed and rumbled back off the city’s tall buildings. already lit with zany stripes and glitter. There was nothing to do but stop trying to talk and just watch and listen. For hours. It was hardly calming when we simply fell asleep, dazzled. All the evil spirits that lurk in the world must surely have been banished.
By daybreak, it was quiet again. The only evidence of the previous night’s roar were the red paper remains that lay in the lane, dissolving in the rain that had returned.
The noise has been picking up again every night, but so far, it hasn’t been anything like Saturday night. Tonight the money god will make his appearance, so we’ll see. 
As Wang ayi says, at our age, it’s more important to wish for good health than for money.
Nonetheless, gong xi fa cai! And best wishes for good health in the Year of the Tiger!
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Whomp! Bam! Ack-ack-ack-ack-ack-ack-ack-ack-ack! Incoming! I knocked my camera on the floor! Whomp! Bam! pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop! Gosh, that must be just 10 feet away! Whomp! Bam! It’s exploding in sheets! Ok, I’ve got a pretty good idea now how we’re going to welcome the money god…
It’s suddenly summer here (84F, 29C), so all the trees will catch up soon. Meanwhile, directionally challenged as I am, I will take all the help I can get.
And yet they still provide the shade that makes it possible to amble down the street on a melting summer day — all the way to your next perch for another iced coffee.
In short, to relax just about any way that a body can think of.
Marx and Engels. A penny for your thoughts now, I’d like to say. What do you have to say about how it all turned out? At least the people’s parks are pretty nice.
Son Christopher and I sampled it on Friday, his last day in Shanghai before an early-Saturday flight to return to the States for college. Chewy and full of sharp flavor. Reminds me of Kentucky ham, he observed, recalling the specialty my husband used to have shipped from his hometown.
