In a place where one of the most common greetings is: “Have you eaten yet?” it’s pretty safe to assume that food is a key pillar of the culture. In China, menus overflow with toothsome delights and mealtime is taken seriously.

But when I was in the southern city of Guangzhou last week renewing my visa and attending the annual session of Guangdong’s provincial parliament, I found myself wondering about the importance of one meal in particular: lunch.

The Chinese are credited with inventing many things, including gunpowder, the compass, paper and noodles. To that list, I would venture that one widespread practice could be added: the siesta, or “wu xiu” as it’s called in Mandarin.

Virtually every government office across the country, from Shanghai in the east to Kashgar out west near the border with Kyrgyzstan, shuts down for lunch from noon (or sometimes earlier) to 2 p.m. (or often later). Few even bother keeping a receptionist on hand to field calls. Many businesses - save restaurants - close down during the lunch hours, too.

In Guangzhou, I visited the local public security bureau’s entry-exit office, which issues visas and residence permits, five times in three days. On two days, I twiddled my thumbs during the midday break, impatiently waiting for 2 o’clock to roll around so I could deliver documents or pick up my passport.

One day, in a taxi en route to pick up my press badge for the provincial parliament session, I called the officer in charge to tell him I was on my way. It was 11:25 a.m. and I told him I was five minutes away. “You won’t make it,” he told me. His office closed at 11:30 a.m. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.” Fine, but were there any events to cover later in the day, I asked. “Yes. A press conference,” he said. Could I attend? “No,” he said. “Not without a badge.”

Left to twiddle my thumbs yet again, I started considering the mathematics of lunch in China.

Let’s assume that every office in China is open five days a week, 50 weeks a year - that’s 52 weeks minus a government mandated “golden week” holiday for Lunar New Year and one for National Day. That’s 250 work days a year. Subtract another five for other holidays and good measure, and we’re at 245 days.

Multiply that number by two, which is probably the average noon snooze, and you get 490 hours.

Divide 490 by eight, which we’ll assume (generously, perhaps) equals roughly the average number of hours in a day at the office in China.

Figured that way, the long, ubiquitous lunch break that Chinese enjoy consumes 61.25 work days a year.

I wonder if businesses and government departments around the country will be taking long breaks during the Olympics.

If they do, over the course of the 17-day event, 4.25 work days would be lost. All in the name of lunch. Have you eaten yet?
 

John Ruwitch is Reuters South China Correspondent. Picture of pork buns in a Beijing restaurant by David Gray.