Fifteen days, Chinese New Year has came and past. It was far too short, not that I could really notice it this time.
I suspect that I had never really thought about it. Sure, people had asked me how I would celebrate my Chinese New Year, but it just never went in. I've got a story for this, however, proving that change does not necessarily mean worse. I had a fantastic Chinese New Year's eve, but this post isn't about that, and I will move on.
However, I miss the decorations. I miss the atmosphere. I miss seeing my relatives. I also miss having a weeks holidays -not that we had even a single day's holiday here.
So this is where I went. It wasn't the best, or even much exciting, but I got some photos. That should count.
They stamped a 'foo' character on our hands after we showed our tickets before we went in. The weird thing is, my mum observed from some of the photos I had uploaded, that it was black in colour. Not the most auspicious colour to the chinese.
There was a huge crowd, and performances on the stage in front. We saw many children sitting on their father's backs, which I had never done before when I was small enough to do so and it made me wish that I had had a chance to feel the feeling of half balancing in the air, almost afraid, but also knowing that your dad wouldn't let you fall.
One of the performances.
The mask changing man. He could change the mask he had on in a blink of an eye.
Right after this performance, one friend of mine told us, 'See, I can make Amy change faces too!' and he swiped his hand in front of my other friend, Amy's, face. Which startled her. And made her expression change from one of indifference to disconcert.
The little superhero.