methinks

Christmas in China

This Thanksgiving I experienced the same feelings the Pilgrims must have felt on their historic day. There was a long period of nervous planning - what to eat, where to get it, how to cook it - that gave fruit to a joyous, delicious feast of thanks. Not only did the food fill my stomach with satisfaction, but if filled my heart with pride. I knew that every morsel of succulent chicken (no turkey in Duyun), every fork-full of creamy mashed potatoes and gravy, was the result of David's and my labors. (True, the farmer who raised the chicken and the butcher who cleaned it did have a small role, but it wasn't food until we got hold of it. The same argument can be made for the instant mashed potatoes and gravy my grandma mailed me. Let's not split hairs.)

This Christmas, however, I experienced the same feelings those first Pilgrims would have felt if they had walked five-hundred yards into the woods and found there had been a Cracker Barrel there all along. That is to say, our little Thanksgiving 'feast' seemed but a poorly planned picnic compared to the Christmas bonanza the foreigners of Duyun prepared.

It seems that in addition to their day jobs, the foreigners here are also master chefs. Everyone except David and myself, of course. There were exotic salads, creamy vegetables, fresh breads, home made candies, and more deserts than I can begin to remember (all of them perfect). The most unbelievable dish of the evening, however, was the 20lb turkey flown in from America. It was just like at home. David and I only added mashed potatoes and gravy to the menu. They were more than edible but far from delectable. (The potatoes were from scratch this time, but we did a test run two days before Christmas to make sure they were within our skill level. It's a good thing we did, too, because our first batch ended up with crunchy, uncooked cubes of potatoes in them.)

The location was as picturesque as the food was delicious. Tim and Debbie, twelve year residents of Duyun, have within the past year or so moved into a charming new, two-story apartment. Perhaps it is my American bias, but their apartment seemed more like a home than any house I've visited in China. Pictures on the walls, books on the shelves, climate control in every room. It was refreshing to see a living room without a monster karaoke system and floors covered in wood instead of tile. It was relaxing to recline on a tasteful, cloth couch instead of a teal, pleather monstrosity. And it just occurred to me, but this was the first holiday gathering I've been to in China whose atmosphere wasn't defined by the clickity-click of majiang tiles. But like always the most memorable aspect of the holiday was the company.

There are too many foreigners (i.e. non-Chinese) here for me to justly describe them all (14 of them), so I will just generalize by saying they are as genuine and kind hearted a group of people as one could hope to spend Christmas with. Other than my family, I can think of no one else with whom I would have had a more memorable Christmas. Not only did we have stimulating conversation on topics ranging from cattle ranches to teaching methods, we got to bond over a game of 'pick up the box with your teeth'. I dare you to try it. Put a small paper bag or cereal-bar box on the ground and, with only your feet touching the floor, bend over and pick it up with your teeth. Remember, hands and knees can't touch the floor. Make the bag shorter and shorter until only the 10 year old girls in the room can get it. This game is an ice-breaker to say the least.

But even with the food, the house, and the lovely company, it still wasn't Christmas at home. The food was unfamiliar; no ham, no brown-n-sever dinner rolls, no canned green beans and cherry pie. The home was the wrong home; no cars gridlocked on the driveway, no stockings by the chimney, no chimney. And the company was only that; it wasn't family. No one else ever is.

The evening ended with handshakes and I made my way though the settling night to my own apartment. I had papers to grade and four hours of class to teach the next day. There were no Christmas lights, no carolers, no bell-ringers or Scrooges. It was just another Chinese night. I'll be glad to spend Christmas at home again.