Zai Jian

Days in China: 168

Movies watched: 53 (yes, we know it’s pathetic)

Books read: 6

Cities visited: 8

Things accomplished: Still under review

I really can’t believe it’s time to say zai jian to China. I feel like I finally found my bearings here and the rug is being ripped out from under me. Not that I’m unhappy about being down here on this metaphorical floor, though. By all means, go ahead. Rip away. It means I get see my family and friends, and, just as importantly, be back in the land of the free and the home of the brave, where pedestrians have the right of way and spitting in public isn’t culturally acceptable.

I was Skyping with my friend Mary Stewart the other day, and she said to me, “Hal, I’m so proud of you. Aren’t you proud of yourself?” I guess I hadn’t really thought about it that way. Being in China was never something to “accomplish”, per se, but something I was just…doing. It reminds me of when I graduated last May, and everyone kept saying how proud they were of me. I kind of felt like, “Well, yeah, what did you expect? Of course I was going to graduate from college.” I guess I just never considered either of the two something to be proud of. But, since the 2k10 version of Hallie is going to be kinder to herself, I should probably start giving myself more proverbial pats on the back.

And now that I think about it, I am pretty proud of myself. Because, in all honesty, this was hard. Six months is the longest amount of time I’ve ever been away from my family, and that means a lot coming from a 23-year-old who still sleeps with her baby blanket. [Did I really just admit that?] China itself was a difficult hurdle to jump, too. I’m still feeling reverberations from the initial culture shock on August 23, 2009.

When I came here, I had all of these grand plans to “find myself” and have an “aha! moment” (Oooh, I can’t wait to watch Oprah!) about what I’m supposed to do with my life. There’s a saying that goes, “When man makes plans, God laughs.” He must be having a good giggle right about now, because all of my clichéd post-grad dreams did not come true. But I did learn a lot and grow as a person. I promise this post isn’t about to turn into one big public therapy session, but here are some of the things I would consider to be small accomplishments of sorts:

• Forgive me, but I am not the most patient of people. Wrangling nuggets all day has tested what little patience I do possess in ways I could never imagine. Fittingly, I’ve definitely gained a drop or two since I’ve been here. I’m still working on this one, though. Lawd help my future chillins. I am also now keenly aware that I am not cut out to be a real life teacher, an idea I had toyed with during my pre-China life crisis. Hey, it’s just as important to figure out what you’re not supposed to do.

• You know that favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time? They go with everything, give you a few extra inches and are walkable enough to withstand a night on 6th Street? Wear those puppies enough and you’ll start forgetting why you loved them in the first place because you’ll be so sick of looking at them. Well, by the time I graduated, I never wanted to write again. That’s what four years as a journalism major will do to a person. But, keeping this blog has reignited my love of writing and made me realize that I enjoy it most when I get to write about what I want to write about. Imagine that.

• The absolute last place on earth I wanted to move to after college was Houston. Now, it’s the only place I want to be. Funny how that happens. I had somehow convinced myself that moving back to your hometown is a copout, a sentiment that I no longer subscribe to. In fact, I think it takes a certain kind of gumption to successfully forge a brand new life in a place where you can so easily fall into an old routine. And after six months of being a needle in a Chinese haystack, I can’t wait to be surrounded by familiar people and places. For now, at least…

• Whenever I told people I was coming here, most of them responded with sweet smiles trying to mask the wtf? that was dying to come out. But one friend said to me, “Wow. That’s brave.” At the time, I couldn’t let myself think about my China adventure in those terms or else I would have had a panic attack. Buffin and I decided to come here on the whimest of whims, a choice that was essentially made in a 30-second phone call. If I had known how many times I would have to put on my brave face over the course of the next six months, I may not have come at all. I’m so glad I did. Brave? Why, yes I am.

• In the mad preparation for China, there were so many things to look forward to. I couldn’t wait to climb The Great Wall and see the Pudong skyline, or meet interesting people and learn about a different culture. But something that didn’t even cross my mind at the time has turned out to be the best thing about coming to China – becoming closer to Buffin. You know how they say soldiers form a special bond after going through a war together? Well, honey, there may not be any bullets whizzing past my head but there have been days when China has felt like a battlefield, and no one but Buffin will ever understand what it’s been like. Living in a cramped apartment in a foreign country that tests our sanity on a daily basis could have been a recipe for disaster, but it’s only made us better friends. I am so thankful, grateful, blessed and all of those good words to have Buffin in my life. I will always look back on our adventure together and smile.

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My Uncle Hal sent me this quote that he said made him think of me:

"Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt"

("They change their sky but not their soul who cross the ocean")

At 11:06 p.m. on February 6, I’ll be back on Texan soil. Same me, just a little brighter and shinier. I can’t wait to see each and every one of you. Sending big hugs and kisses from The Far East. I’ll follow shortly.

A’i (Love),

Hallie

I ♥ HK

After nearly six months in the PRC, three days in Hong Kong was a blissful vacation from bad manners, incessant cigarette smoke, cold weather, questionable food and toxic pollution. Hong Kong is China at its best, a happy medium of Eastern and Western cultures. If I ever get the urge to move back to Asia, this is the only place that would cut it.

Buffin and I were able to jumpstart the re-Westernization process during our trip, but were a little frightened by how unfamiliar some things seemed. No pushing and shoving on the metro? Huh? Sniff, sniff. So this is what fresh air smells like? Wait. Where are all the crazy people yelling in Chinese? But the most glaring reminder that I’ve been in China too long came when we were eating lunch at a café in downtown HK and I got minor whiplash from ogling any semi-attractive white man that walked by. I can’t decide if I’m more concerned for myself or for the entire male population of Houston come February 6.

Buffin and I headed south for our last Chinese adventure after our final day of teaching (yippee!) on Sunday. We arrived at the Chungking Mansion (a massive building filled with budget hostels) and it was sketchy, to put it mildly. But, our hostel, The Maple Leaf, was clean and the manager was super friendly. We dropped off our bags in our shoebox of a room and set out to explore the city.

Buffin and I ranked our list of to-dos and decided to head to the Victoria Peak Tram to get a bird’s eye look at HK. Once we reached the top, we had an amazing 360° view of both Kowloon and Hong Kong Island. The skyline isn’t as trippy as Shanghai’s, but it has some amazing architecture nonetheless. For the majority of the early afternoon, we wandered around Hong Kong Island, soaking up our surroundings and crossing things off the list. St. John’s Cathedral? Check. Observation floor inside the Bank of China Tower? Check. One neighborhood we came across, called SoHo, was filled with cute boutiques and cafes, all with a dash of British flair. Right up my alley.

Back on the Kowloon side of the harbor, Buff and I popped into The Peninsula for afternoon tea, a must-do activity in Hong Kong. We indulged in decadent double chocolate truffle cake and sipped chrysanthemum tea, all the while surrounded by Chopard, Rolex, Cartier, Louis Vuitton and a host of other luxury stores all located in the lobby. It was a really unique experience, albeit touristy.

After rambling through Kowloon Park to kill some time (which turned out to be a happy case of serendipity when the sun set beautifully over the rose garden), we headed to the Avenue of Stars, the Chinese equivalent of the Hollywood Walk of Fame. We only recognized a handful of names (Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Chow Yun Fat and Jet Li), but it was a great place to grab a seat to watch the Symphony of Light, a nightly light and laser show across the harbor, which was set to music – very cheesetastic.

The next morning, we took a ferry over to Macau, which is half Portuguese in the way that HK is half British. We started out in the Largo de Senado, which had the air of a town’s square and was especially charming with its black-and-white mosaic pathways. Wandering through the winding, cobblestone roads, we made our way toward the Ruins of St. Paul’s Church. Only the façade is left of the once grandiose house of worship; several fires destroyed the rest. The singular wall seems almost like a piece of abstract art, standing there all alone.

Then we stopped by Fort Monte, which sits on a hill adjacent to St. Paul’s. Even though our Lonely Planet guidebook desperately wanted us to visit the Macau Museum at the top of the old military fort, we resisted. One more museum and I think I will vomit from history overload. Following a quick bite at a tapas restaurant, we made our way from “old” Macau to the bright lights of the casinos, stopping in both The Grand Lisboa and The Wynn for good measure. With grey skies closing in on us, we decided it was best to head back to Hong Kong.

A short ferry ride later, we were back on HK Island. We took The Mid-Levels Escalator (the longest in the world!) from Central back to my favorite area of Hong Kong, SoHo, for dinner at an adorable little restaurant called Life. The all-organic, mainly vegetarian menu fit the bill. Fresh hummus, warm pita bread, pesto pizza and the best sauvignon blanc I’ve ever tasted (we wrote down the name – I hope we can track it down in The States). A place like that would make a killing in Montrose.

On our last morning in Hong Kong we attempted to have dim sum for brunch, but the restaurant hadn’t opened yet and we were famished. Buff and I ended up back in the same enclave of cafes where I had to physically stop myself from staring at men on our first day in town. Luckily, Hong Kong seemed to have worked its magic on me because I could now behave like a normal human being. I think that means I’m officially ready to be released back into the Western world. America, here I come.

China: The Top 25

Now that my days in China are numbered (ahem, 11 to be exact) I’m starting to realize all of the things I’m going to miss about this place. I’ve spent a fair amount of time bitching about everything I hate over here, so it’s only right that I conclude my Shanghainese adventure with a list of things that were actually, well, quite pleasant. Enjoyable, even.

1. My precious, precious students (all 700+ of them), whom I’ll miss most of all
2. Having a purpose
3. The amazing travel opportunities
4. Being consistently pushed out of my comfort zone (even though, at the time, I don’t necessarily like it)
5. Sandwiches, bread and muffins from Western grocery store extraordinaire, City Shop
6. The power of the USD over the RMB
7. The ability to simply walk around the corner to grab something at the market
8. New friends: Josh, Becky, Helen, Elliot, Paige, Emily, Becca, Ashley, Betsy and Liz
9. Experiencing something new every single day
10. Scallion pancakes and roasted sweet potatoes
11. The “waste management” (aka trash) lady for our apartment complex. She smiles the biggest smiles whenever she sees us and always says ni hao.
12. Little voices screaming, “Hallie laoshi! Hallie laoshi!” (laoshi = teacher)
13. Cooking dinner with Buffin like the old married couple that we’ve morphed into
14. Watching movies in the bebe twin bed with Buffin
15. Talking smack to the workout video while shredding with Buffin
16. Being able to convince myself that I don’t have to be a grownup just yet because “this isn’t the real world anyway”
17. Daily text messages from Buffin about something crazy she’s just witnessed
18. Laughing with Buffin about all of the silly inside jokes we’ve formed over here to keep ourselves entertained
19. Ok, let’s just say everything about living with Buffin
20. Having a routine
21. The old man (who I’ve named Benjamin Button because he looks like a little boy) at the Shaanxi metro stop who’s always waiting at the top of the escalator to blow kisses at me. That sounds really pervy, but it’s sweet, I swear.
22. Our Chinese co-workers: Touba, Jacqui, Lily, Cissy, Angela and even Stephanie.
23. The fabric market
24. Our favorite Western restaurant, Element Fresh. They really need to open a franchise in the States.
25. Learning more about myself, for better or for worse

Ice Ice Baby

I feel the same way about our trip to Harbin last weekend as I do about my experience with Lasik eye surgery. I am so grateful that I did it, but if I had known beforehand what I was getting myself into (Harbin: mind-numbing, heart-stopping cold; Lasik: trapped in a Xanax-induced stupor with scalpels flying at my eye), there’s no way in hell I would’ve gone through with it.

I’m nothing if not overdramatic, I’ll admit it, but when I say that our 36 hours in Harbin were by far the coldest of my entire life, I’m really not exaggerating. Touba, our waiban, grew up in Harbin, and when she heard Josh, Becky, Buffin and I were going for the Ice Festival, these were her only words for me: “If you have snot coming out of your nose, it will freeze.” She wasn’t speaking metaphorically.

While we were there, the high was 0° F and the low was -30° F, excluding the wind-chill factor. All we could do was bundle up as best we could and take frequent breaks (say, every 15 minutes?) inside. Consider this getup:

• Fleece headband
• Two hats
• Large scarf
• Set of long underwear
• Long-sleeved t-shirt
• Fleece jacket
• Down-filled ski jacket
• Jeans
• Two pairs of gloves
• Two pairs of wool socks
• Fleece boot liners
• Fugg boots (the faux Uggs that I snagged at the fake market)

And I was still cold. We only spent one full day in the city (thank God), but we managed to get a lot done with the time we had. We started off the day by strolling along the Daoliqu, a pedestrian-only block of shops and cafes. It was the first time in six months that I was able to walk down the street without being in a state of constant fear for my safety. By the time we made it to the banks of the Songhua River, we had already taken three indoor pit stops.

The Songhua, which was completely frozen solid, had a slew of winter activities to choose from – ice skating, dog sledding, horse-drawn carriage rides, tubing and ice slides. We opted for the carriage ride since it afforded at least a little bit of shelter. After a quick turn about the ice, we headed back to “shore.” I watched Little Women far too many times over the course of my childhood to have any desire to stand on a frozen lake for too long. At this point, our eyelashes had frozen together in little clumps, condensation from our breath had transformed into icy specks on our scarves and hats, and even a chunk of Buffin’s hair looked like mini icicles. Time for a lunch break.

We headed back down the Daoliqu to find Café Russia 1914, a suggested restaurant in our Lonely Planet guidebook. There is a pronounced Russian influence in Harbin (the two share a border), which can best be seen in local architecture and cuisine. Some of the obnoxious souvenir sellers even tried speaking to us in Russian at one point. Full from a lunch of piroshki (cabbage, potato and meat in a bun) and vodka, we headed back out onto the mean streets of Harbin.

Next up was the Church of St. Sophia, one of the best examples of Russian architecture in town. Amid the cookie-cutter, concrete-blockish Chinese buildings, its onion-shaped dome was easy to spot in the distance. After taking a few too many pictures and mentally adding Russia to my list of places to visit next, we made the trek back to the Daoliqu to take a break at a place that had caught our eye earlier in the day – UAS BUCKS COFFEE. What a glorious mangling of the concept of an American coffee shop.

We drank our coffees (which had a wee bit o’ Irish in them) and spent some time trying to warm our bodies in preparation for the big event of the day, The Ice Festival. But nothing could have really prepared me. It was, in a word, amazing. Brilliantly lit ice sculptures and buildings as far as the eye could see – ice slides, ice bridges, ice castles, ice walls. There were even built-to-scale versions of famous Chinese landmarks, like The Forbidden City. Personally, I liked the Sphinx and the Terracotta Warriors. It felt like we were in a psychedelic winter wonderland from some other dimension.

Our 15-minute tolerance for the cold had dwindled down to 5-10 minutes, tops, as the mercury fell. We took our breaks in the heated tents that “conveniently” dotted the festival. You had to spend at least 20 kuai/person on food or drink to enjoy the comforts of the tropical oasis, but it was well worth it. Best RMB I ever spent. Somehow, we managed to survive for a good two hours at the festival, but by the time we left I felt like a Hallie-sicle.

I’m not sure I could tell someone in good conscience that this was something they had to check off their bucket list. I would almost feel as though I were condemning someone to an icy jail sentence. Ok, ok. Now I may be getting a little overdramatic. Just a little. But, as I said before, I’m just lucky that I had no idea how miserably cold it would be, because I would have missed out on an amazing trip. If ignorance is bliss, then my bliss came in the form of a once-in-a-lifetime experience at the Harbin Ice Festival. Frozen eyelashes and all.

Suzhou or Bust

Buffin, Helen, Elliot and I had been planning a trip to nearby canal town Suzhou for months, but the timing never quite worked out. Buff and I had to postpone it once when my uncle came to visit. Later, Elliot cancelled because he had to make up classes after an H1N1 epidemic rocked his town. Then, Helen, not to be outdone, spent all her money on cashmere sweaters. We finally settled on January 2nd. Buffin and I knew that if something went awry this go round, we probably wouldn’t make it to Suzhou at all. Our remaining weekends in China were quickly booking up. So, it was Suzhou or bust.

And it was very nearly a bust. We bought train tickets for 8:01 a.m. [China, do you enjoy not making any sense?] that Saturday and severely miscalculated how long it would take to get to the station by metro. I’m sure stopping at Mister Donut for coffee and cake-masquerading-as-breakfast-food didn’t help. We pulled up to the Shanghai Railway Station at 7:55. I felt like one of the McCallister cousins in my very own “Run, Run Rudolph” moment a la Home Alone. I don’t suggest you try sprinting like your life depends on it after downing a cup of coffee on an empty stomach. Amazingly enough, we made it – and without a moment to spare. Almost as soon as we hurtled our bodies onto the train, the doors closed.

Forty-five minutes later, we de-boarded that God-forsaken train and put the morning’s near catastrophe behind us. It was time to think happier thoughts, like meeting up with Helen and Elliot, who we hadn’t seen in over two months. After a round of hugs and a quick catch-up session, we headed into our first stop, The Garden of The Master of The Nets. Suzhou is known for its gardens, and this was supposed to be one of the best. Tough critics as we tend to be, we were seriously underwhelmed by what it had to offer, but that’s probably because it was the dead of winter and the garden wasn’t in its tip-top spring shape. Bummer.

I was determined to take a boat ride along the main canal, but after wandering through a very “local” (read: ghetto) part of town and coming up empty handed, we gave up on that venture. But the attempt wasn’t completely in vain since we scored some of Suzhou’s famous pastries on a random side street somewhere along the way.

Next up: The Twin Pagodas. Now, Buffin and I have adopted a phrase when it comes to pagodas: “If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” And, normally, that would hold true. But The Twin Pagodas were a horse of a different color – literally. Unlike the traditional pagodas we’d seen in Beijing, Hangzhou and Xi’an, these identical towers were painted pink and yellow. I don’t know why, but it made them a hell of a lot more interesting. Plus we found a stone horse statue on the premises that was practically begging for a photo shoot, and Lord knows I love a good photo shoot.

Afterward, we paid a visit to the Kunqu Opera House and Museum. I’ve gotten used to being the only white people around, but in this instance we were the only people there at all. They had some beautiful costumes and impressive props on display, but I know next to nothing about opera, let alone Chinese opera. It was a nice enough experience, but nothing to write home about (but apparently I am anyway, sorry?). Let me put it this way – the Chinese will charge you to use a public restroom, but this place was free.

Elliot, determined to take advantage of our female shopping prowess, asked that we help him buy souvenirs. Renowned for its silk, Suzhou isn’t a bad place to do just that. We stopped at a scarf shop and probably got a little ripped off, but Elliot came away with a gift for his sister. All’s well that ends well. Lunch was a quick stop at a dumpling chain restaurant (let’s all take a moment to appreciate the fact that our fast food is hamburgers and french fries) and for dessert we grabbed ice cream at KFC (their soft serve is amazing).

Helen and Elliot wanted to go to the Silk Museum next, but since Buffin and I had already been to one in Hangzhou we patiently waited outside while they scurried through. The daylight hours were quickly dwindling, but, luckily, we had just one more item to cross off our list – The Humble Administrator’s Garden, the largest and most impressive in all of Suzhou. Like pagodas, Chinese gardens start looking the same after a while, but this one really stood out. For starters, at nearly 13 acres, it was ginormous compared to others we’ve seen. It also had very detailed architecture throughout and a bonsai garden in the back. If you’re ever in Suzhou, this one’s a can’t-miss.

Somehow, we found ourselves repeating that morning’s mistake as we hurriedly hugged Helen and Elliot goodbye and made a mad dash for the train station. Really, you have to be quite talented to screw this up twice in one day. We cut it so close this time that Buffin didn’t even want to make a run for it. I’m glad with did, though, because God was once again on our side. The train was a good five minutes late, and that never happens here. The trains in China run like clockwork.

On the ride back into town, Buffin and I went through the day’s photos on our digital cameras, deciding what was our favorite part of the trip and laughing at some of the doozies we captured. And it hit me that this had been our last hoorah with Helen and Elliot. Even though H is coming to visit us one more time in Shanghai before we leave, we have officially closed the book on Hallie+Buffin+Helen+Elliot adventures across China. They were the very first friends we made over here, way back in August during orientation, and I think that’s something special in and of itself. But they’ve become even better friends over the past 6 months – experiencing National Day in Beijing together, making the trek to Shanghai to celebrate my birthday. I really can’t imagine my time in China without them, and I’m glad I don’t have to.

Auld Lang Syne

Should old acquaintance be forgot

And never brought to mind

Should old acquaintance be forgot

And days of auld lang syne*

I am writing to you from the future. It is already 2010 in China and, so far, it’s been a pretty good year. All ten and a half hours of it.

Last night Buffin and I went to dinner with Liz, Ashley, Betsy, Stephanie and Scott in Taikang Lu, a block of shikumen houses that has been remodeled into shops and restaurants. Afterward, we met up with Josh and Becky at Bulldog for a 100 kuai, all-you-can-drink fest. We rang in the New Year and were cabbing it home by 1:30. Post late-night popcorn snack and spontaneous dance party in Buff’s bedroom, I was fast asleep. Maybe not the kind of raucous New Year’s Eve one would expect from a twenty-something, but I feel like I’ve turned over a new leaf here in China – an old-lady-in-the-body-of-a-twenty-three-year-old kind of leaf. And I like it. I think you’ll be seeing more of her in 2010.

Now, I’ve never been a fan of New Year’s resolutions – too much pressure and guilt. So, these aren’t resolutions. No, they’re more like very loosely based goals.

1. Finally learn to drive stick. The fact that I can’t has been slowly killing my dad.
2. Try to stop correcting people’s grammar and general knowledge so often. I don’t think I’m making any new friends with this habit. Hey, I said I’d try...
3. Be a better sister, daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin and friend.
4. Find a job that is challenging and fulfilling. This one’s kind of important.
5. Learn to cook something other than a grilled cheese and cereal.
6. Start dancing again. I miss that part of myself.
7. Spend more time up in Hunt. I’m a happier person when I’m there.
8. Talk to God more and find a church where I feel like I belong.
9. Read more books. On the list: the Brontë sisters’ Jane Eyre + Wuthering Heights.
10. Stop being so hard on people, including myself – especially myself.

Here’s to a happy and healthy New Year!

*Does anyone understand this song? It has always confused me.

A Very Chinglish Christmas

“So, do they even celebrate Christmas over there?”

My family and friends back home repeatedly asked this question as the holiday season approached. The answer is yes. And no. In China, Christmas isn’t about the birth of Jesus. In fact, I’m beginning to doubt that many of them know he has anything to do with it at all. Something tells me that a little something called immaculate conception would blow their minds.

Instead of The Big Man Upstairs, Christmas in China revolves around The Big Man Up North, as in the North Pole – Santa Claus (or shèng dàn lǎo rén, which translates literally into fat, old man). When I relayed this information to my Dad, he grumbled, “Sounds like what a lot of people think Christmas is over here. Too much Santa, not enough Jesus.” I probably didn’t respond the way he wanted me to, which would’ve been something along the lines of, “Ba hum bug! You’re right. Children are so spoiled these days.” But hearing him say that only made me homesick because, geez, that is just so something my Dad would say.

Buffin and I did our best to celebrate the most wonderful time of the year as if we were back home. In an effort to make up for the lack of Christmas in our lives, we “splurged” on holiday décor in Old Town. You know how all of the Christmas crap you buy in America says “Made in China” on it? Well, we went straight to the source. Ornaments, snowflakes, bows, jingle bells – basically, Christmas had a few too many eggnogs and threw up in our kitchen. And, thanks to Buffin, I filled my iPod with all of the holiday music I’d been lacking so I could jam out on the metro. (Don’t ask me how a little Jewish girl got such a delightfully Christmas-stacked iTunes library).

On Christmas Eve, (after our church plans were foiled since the service was in Chinese, imagine that!) we met up with J+B for drinks at Cotton’s, an expat-y restaurant/bar in the French Concession. It was amazingly warm inside – we’ve learned that anywhere that caters to Westerners sucks it up and pays for central heating, which is why Starbucks has become our Mecca – and we grabbed a table by the fireplace. Aside from the obnoxious children who insisted on continually popping balloons by us (God, smite me down if I become one of those parents who brings their children to fancy establishments), we had a lovely evening sipping “adult” hot chocolates – the adult part being the cognac. Precious J+B surprised us with Christmas presents wrapped in the pages of a severely outdated US Weekly (B shares our affinity for trashy gossip rags) and adorned with the last remaining vestiges of B’s Ice Queen costume from Paige and Emily’s Tacky Christmas party the weekend before.

We woke up on Christmas morning and made pancakes and scrambled eggs for breakfast. Purchased for the equivalent of $12 USD, Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup never tasted so good. After opening the stockings that my sister had shipped to us (candy and scarves and makeup – oh my!), I got a chance to video Skype with the whole fam damily back in Houston, what I’d been looking forward to all week. Since it was still Christmas Eve in The States, everyone was over at my cousins’ house. The laptop was passed around the living room, and I got face time with every member of my extended family. I only got an eensie weensie bit teary-eyed, and considering that Christmas Eve at The Finnegans’ is my absolute favorite night of the entire year, I’m pretty shocked that I didn’t have a full-fledged meltdown.

Next, we snuggled up in the twin bed to watch Meet Me in St. Louis, one of my all-time favorite holiday movies. Judy Garland's rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” gets me every time. Luckily I had an entire box of Dots XL (thanks to Mariann’s stocking) to shovel in my mouth to stave off any Christmas melancholy. As per her usual routine, Buff fell asleep halfway through.

We had a late lunch at Element Fresh, our favorite Western restaurant, before going over to Liz’s apartment that evening. We brought mini PB+J sandwiches with an angel imprinted on them via cookie cutter (a.k.a. Holy Sammies) and cider, which we’d made with one of the Cider Beetles from our stockings. [Another one of my favorite Christmas traditions, Cider Beetles are these magical little doodads from the Houston sandwich shop, Picnic. It has everything in it you need to make cider (just add apple juice) – cinnamon, cloves, brown sugar, and a whole bunch of other stuff I can’t identify. Plus, all the ingredients are arranged in the shape of a little beetle. Too cute.]

It turns out that if you have a wall heater, a space heater, apartment lights, additional Christmas lights, a television and a DVD player on at the same time in a ghetto Chinese apartment, you will inevitably blow a fuse. Which we did. So while it was being repaired (the only positive thing about Christmas in China – nothing is closed and no one has the day off from work) we entertained ourselves by passing around a Cosmopolitan and reading aloud the “true” embarrassing stories with the help of the flashlight function on Buffin’s cell phone. It was a ridiculous sight to behold. A little pathetic, to be sure, but mainly just ridiculous. And, remaining true to the old cat ladies that we’ve morphed into, we were in bed by 10.

Truthfully, I feel like I took a year off from the entire holiday season. It’s like Thanksgiving and Christmas didn’t even happen. But, apparently, it will be waiting for me when I get home. I’ve been promised some Christmas shopping and my dad even offered to keep up the decorations, which I kindly declined. A Christmas tree in February screams “Fire hazard!” more than it says “Merry Christmas!” My sweet friends have offered to throw a “Christmas in July” party, which is probably more of an excuse to get drunk and pretend like we’re still in college than it is to celebrate Christmas with me, but, hey, I’ll take it.

So here’s to Christmas 2010. Looking forward to it.