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Mooncakes and McDonald’s
Harvest Moon in Asia means Mooncake Festival (Chung Chiu) time. I decided to spend the evening in Singapore’s Chinatown, just to see what a Chinese “Festival of the Moon” was like.
Singapore doesn’t have a big celebration of this traditional Chinese event. Not like Taiwan, where they take a three-day Holiday. I heard it’s because of the time it takes to recover from the Gao Liang hangovers. It’s a tradition for the kids to go out and eat their weight in mooncakes during Chung Chiu, because they don’t have Halloween and so they don’t get an annual candy/sugar fix that way. (See? You don’t need to use that old “some little starving kid in China” song anymore to get your children to eat their candy. Now you can talk about the Halloween-challenged, and how they have to suffer with Mooncake Festival.)
The adults, however, follow the traditions of the great Chinese poet Li Bai.
That probably takes some explaining. In a nutshell, the Festival of the Moon has a lot to do with Li Bai (701-762 AD), also known as Li Po or Li Taibai. He was a learned Confucian gentleman, thought to be a genius, and considered by many in Asia to be the finest poet ever in China (or co-equal with Du Fu, a contemporary; and no, he’s not the inventor of tofu). He traveled extensively, drank excessively, composed poetry extemporaneously, and became a good friend of the Emperor at one point. A drinking buddy, in fact. One autumn evening, when Li Bai found himself without the expected companionship of the Emperor, but with a bottle of Gao Liang handy, he proceeded to get so drunk he composed and sang an ode to the full moon. He tried to get the moon to come down from the sky, just for one evening, and drink and carouse with him and his shadow; that way there would be three, the perfect number for a drinking party. Legend says that the poem was so beautiful that the moon complied.
Many years later, Li Bai died by drowning after a long and eventful life. Learned Chinese still debate whether his death was an accident (caused by alcohol, a poem to the moon’s reflection on the river, and standing up in a boat) or whether it was suicide. In any case, his poems still haunt China, and his influence on the Festival remains strong.
So of course one must have a bit of Gao Liang, to remember dear ol’ departed Li Bai.
I didn’t see any drunken debauchery on my tour of Chinatown, however; more’s the pity. Chung Chiu was a very understated affair, except at the McDonald’s in Chinatown Point.
That place was mad-crazy-packed with kids. I went in, just to see if maybe there was a rock star in there or something. Nope, just the usual Big Macs and fries, and an extensive collection of Happy Meal cartons. I was amused to learn that McDonald’s in Singapore will deliver to your apartment, 24 hours a day. Just call the number and add $2 Sing to your tab, and you’ve got it! So if you get a monster “two all beef patties” craving at 3 AM, you’ll be okay.
I noticed one other droll item: The Napkin Nazi. Napkins are strictly rationed at the restaurant. I thought at first it was fear that they would run out that caused the controlling behavior. I asked a patron, and they said it had to do with fines and fees for littering and waste disposal. (More on fines later.) Indeed, there was one person who policed up unused napkins, and made sure you disposed of everything properly. And woe be unto you if you asked for a second napkin! Safer to use your neighbor’s shirt when they’re not looking.
That was enough amusement for me. I left the cool confines of the crowded Mickey D’s and wandered back out into the steamy heat. I tried to get a taxi, but things were just too busy in Chinatown for that to happen. I settled for walking the 3/4 mile back to the Holiday Inn, and called it a night…
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