It doesn’t feel at all like Christmas
The first Christmas song I heard in China was Jingle Bells. It was stuffed awkwardly into the middle of a dance mix blasted throughout campus the first week of September that cut in and out as school officials belted out muffled orders to the just-arrived freshmen.
Now I hear Christmas songs everywhere: On buses, in malls, played far too loud from speakers in front of Pizza Hut at HePing Square. The cute-but-underpaid girls behind the cash registers at McDonald’s all have Santa hats, and the fat man’s face is on every store window, whether they sell Christmas kitsch or not.
I’m not much for this holiday back home. It’s just plain overwhelming. And that was true even before 2003, when I spent the month of December earning extra cash by working at a mall department store, selling gift cards, kids’ clothes and, for one day, ladies’ fragrance. It was there I learned that Christmas makes middle-aged women want to eat their children.
I also found out that Christmas is not, actually, a holiday made in America, or anywhere in the West, for that matter. On closer examination of one of those little stuffed bears in military fatigues–the ones that say “Support the Troops” or make some other cash grab at nationalism–I noticed that the flag on its hat was missing a few stars. About 34 short, if I recall correctly. On the back: “Made in China.” Just like everything else. I figure Santa’s workshop is down south somewhere, unless it’s moved to Vietnam. That’d be a smart move.
But for all the trappings of Christmas here, I have to keep reminding myself that the actual holiday is on Monday. Even with the snow, this place feels about as festive as finals week, which probably has something to do with the finals I’ll be giving next week. Or it could be that China managed to import all the worst aspects of this holiday and left out the good stuff.
One thing hasn’t yet crossed the Pacific, which I’ll be glad to be without. Stick this under your weirdly neutered holiday tree:
Let’s hope nobody at Fox News reads this China Daily story. (Holiday cheer goes to J. in the Granite Studio for the link, and for a great post.)
It’s times like this we’d all do well to remember the words of young Bartholomew: “Aren’t we forgetting the true meaning of Christmas? You know, the birth of Santa.”
Want a really cynical view? Read about Xmas in Turkey from my friend James.
(Update: Immediately after writing this post, I was accosted on campus by the girl pictured above-right, trying to sell me a Santa hat and an apple wrapped in cellophane for 6 RMB. I met the Chinese Santa today over at a private language school in town and had to get a picture. He was a good sport.)
December 22nd, 2006 at 11:45 am
The most hilarious (< --sarcasm) thing about this whole Christmas thing, is that foreign teachers don't get the day off, and yet you can find Chinese-dressed Santas standing in for hostesses at hip restaurants, and lights strung about certain neighborhoods like fancy hood ornaments.
I think I’ve been lucky, because my school for the most part, is 99% foreigners, which means that during Christmas, they are all gone anyways. I’ll be using this newfound time (I am realizing how newly found it truly is whenever I speak to my friends who are teachers) to attend Christ Mass at the local catholic church on Sunday.
December 23rd, 2006 at 12:19 am
I was actually supposed to give a final on Christmas day, but I seem to have wriggled out of it. Looks like instead I’ll be on a bus to Shenyang (more on that later). Oh, tis the season.