Chinese New Year and Valentine’s Day are ongoing and it amuses me how the world goes a little bonky and red this time of year.

Chinese people are not shopping. They are playing vast amounts of mahjong, getting confuzzled over family time, and eating copious amounts of pineapple in tart form. I see indian men putting on red polo shirts on balconies, neighbours playing chinese new year songs on the saxophone. Trufax. Every new year is the same for me, shwaste myself on wine and pork at reunion dinner to avoid falling asleep. And spend the next day chugging expressos while surrounded by 50 indonesian people whom I don’t really know, meeting cousins I didn’t know I had.

It entertained me slightly seeing little tweets chirp away at the intense amount of money and boredom being collectively collected. The giant Singaporean gathering of repeated activities and obligatory slimy face smooches. How every sentence ends with “huat”.

…gong xi fa cai! huat ah!
…happy new year, may you be prosperous, huathuathuat!
…how are you huat?!
…have you seen my earrings, HUAT AH!!?!?!?

Something new this year though: Prada angpaos. WTF? In the shape of their leather products no less. It’s like a wallet, but… with money inside cos it’s like… a red packet… you know!?!?

But as usual there was the array of pork and PORKFAT to keep my happy. I unwittingly spouted my love for cubed fat to a family member, only to be greeted with confusion and dismay. Come on! CUBED MEAT YO. The more Zimmern you watch, the more you’d understand the need to knaw on pig’s ears and fatty skin pieces.

And of course, I was greeted with a wonderful bout of what little Hello Kitty there has.

It’s also about (…) listening to that lady spout philosophical stuff about the drizzling of the plum sauce on the lo hei… TOGETHER!

As I try to encapsulate the new year with images of charred meat and red packets, I wonder, what is it that I’m blogging about in the first place. Right, a reminder that this is a sort of new year. We chinese people are lucky, if we fail at resolutions for the ang moh new year, we have another one to veil the failures and start over again, in the span of 2 months. And well, even with all the tried customs and intensely unintense celebrations, I have to admit to being a softy. I mean, it’s siansation stuff like this that gives Singapore an identity. It’s not only about chicken rice and chilli crab. It’s also about cubed meat fat and listening to that lady spout philosophical stuff about the drizzling of the plum sauce on the lo hei… TOGETHER!