“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 Precious J+B surprised us with Christmas presents wrapped in the pages of a severely outdated US Weekly (B shares our affinity for trashy gossip rags) and adorned with the last remaining vestiges of B’s Ice Queen costume from Paige and Emily’s Tacky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.
No comments:
Post a Comment