We didn’t have a China Town where I came from. It wasn’t big enough. I remember there was a Chinese family who ran a laundry, and I remember my mother telling me a horrific tale of another Chinese family who were trapped in a house fire when she was a girl. I never got over that one. Real horror always got to me at every age; I suppose it’s why I’m generally unmoved by horror films.
So now it’s the Year of the Horse. I was thinking back to previous Years of the Horse and remembered that 2002 was a bad one, 1990 was a good one. I’m hoping there’s a pendulum effect in place. So…
Xin Nian Kuai Le to all Chinese people, or at least the nice ones.
Or, Gong Hei Fard Choy, if you happen to be my old friend Chan San-Mei.