I will not lie. When the Government announced that family gatherings should be kept to a minimum this Chinese New Year due to the Covid-19 pandemic, I heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

Don’t get me wrong — I have full sympathy for those whose long-held family traditions have been upended by the coronavirus. I also enjoyed listening to those I interviewed recount their fond memories on what they’ll miss this year.

But for me, the annual festivities have always been a huge source of stress. 

Having divorced parents who both remarried new partners may mean getting twice the hongbao money, but I also have twice the number of relatives to visit.

And it was never an option to opt out of the visitations. Any such suggestions were always met with scorn from my grandparents or parents who, understandably, felt it would be rude to be absent from the festive gatherings.

On a regular year, the marathon would start on the eve of Chinese New Year, where I have to attend two reunion dinners with my maternal and paternal side of the family.

I barely have enough time to stuff my face with my maternal grandmother’s signature ngoh hiang before I have to rush over to the second destination.

Then of course there is the non-stop home visiting on the first day of Chinese New Year.

With four homes to visit in the day, plus another three at night, and about 80 relatives to greet, there is no time to waste.

The daytime visitations are with my paternal side and my grandmother’s extended family. 

Given how big the family is, and how we see these relatives only once a year, my siblings and I would always need a two minute crash course in the car on the way to the next house to jog our memory on who exactly we are visiting.

It feels just like being plunged into the middle of a Game of Thrones episode. You need to pull up a glossary of characters and the family trees of the different houses on Wikipedia to follow the plot.

I’m sure the feeling is mutual — I’m often met with blank stares and awkward pauses from relatives figuring out what my name is, and who exactly am I. 

Knowing their cue, my parents will swiftly step in and remind the clueless relative that I am their kid.

Once we enter the house and do the usual round of greetings and hand shaking, the “kids” — a loose category that comprises young children to young adults in their mid-20s — will sit in the corner of the house while the older relatives gather around the dining table to catch up.

In the kids’ camp where I belong, there is a minute-long attempt at making small talk. 

But as soon as one person whips out his or her mobile phone, everyone’s heads progressively bow to look at the little screen that has become a universal social crutch.

Well meaning older relatives will try to restart the conversation by playing a game of matching the pairs — picking out common traits or hobbies (often outdated) that two among those in the “kids” group have. 

“Eh, Tessa come here, come here,” I would hear a relative beckon me over. “You know (insert distant cousin) also plays piano like you!”

Cue the awkward nodding and laughter as I see the feeling of dread and regret reflect back at me from the cousin I barely know standing opposite.

Can’t we just silently gorge ourselves with pineapple tarts while scrolling #OOTD photos on Instagram in peace?

GOTTA LOVE THOSE NOSY AUNTIES

But of course the worst part of Chinese New Year has to be the invasive and deeply personal questions that nosy aunties and uncles ask as a way of “catching up” with their younger relatives.

I know I’m not alone in despising what has become a universal staple of Chinese New Year festivities. 

Most notably, in 2016, a database of snide remarks overheard over the course of the holidays went viral on social media.

I remember scrolling through the list fondly during a dreaded visitation and feeling less alone in my misery.

Two that I can contribute include:

“You study English Literature, can do what ah?”

“Your boyfriend and you (have been) together for so long already right? Time to get married lah!”

This year, in the spirit of Covid-19, a local retailer is selling masks with the words “I do not have a girlfriend/boyfriend” printed on them in Chinese.

These masks have been received with universal cheer and amusement when I shared them with my friends and siblings.

Personally, the invasive questions, while mildly annoying, are still bearable.

What’s worse is hearing rude remarks about your appearance while you are minding your own business and snacking on your 178th piece of chilli bak kwa. 

This was exactly what happened to me a year ago when an uncle of mine shouted across the table full of relatives: “Tessa also looked like she got fatter what!”

He said this in response to another relative who pointed out that he had gotten chubbier since they last met. 

So, a chain of rude remarks occured, with me being collateral damage.

Needless to say, I am glad this will not happen again this year, given that I am still struggling to keep off the circuit breaker weight gain and don’t need extra comments from the peanut gallery.

FINALLY, A CNY OF PEACE

If only every Chinese New Year can be like this.

That was all I could think of on Saturday (Feb 13) night, after two days of muted but meaningful celebrations.

For the first time, I actually enjoyed Chinese New Year celebrations.

Because households could only have a cap of eight guests each day, both sides of my family decided to keep family gatherings to just our immediate family to adhere to the rules.

Instead of rushing from house to house, my family on my paternal side spent Friday at lunch together. There were just the six of us, catching up over good food and conversation. 

On Saturday, eight of us from the maternal side of my family headed to my sister’s new place to have dinner and say hello to her new rescued hamsters.

The rest of my extended family variously did the same — spending time with their own immediate family members as well.

To me, this is what Chinese New Year should really be about — spending quality time with family you cherish.

Of course there are things about the celebrations that I do miss — like the late night prata supper some of my cousins will get after a long first day of visitations.

But as I grow older, dedicated opportunities for family time like this Chinese New Year weekend have become more rare as my siblings start their own families and move out. 

And since I don’t live with my father and step-mother, I also cherish any free time I have to pop over and check in on them.

So rather than the hectic back and forth to make awkward small talk with relatives I barely know, I rather have this Chinese New Year where time with family is spent more purposefully. 

Of course my parents and grandparents can still visit their relatives and take their time catching up.

But instead of dragging me along, I can stay at home and catch up on sleep or Netflix.

Is that too much to ask?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Tessa Oh is a TODAY journalist who covers the health and education beats.