In China, everyone's family. So by conventional wisdom, the universal facts about family–that you must spend Christmas with them, that they will ask too much of you and that they are a little crazy–are just as true here as they are in America.
In this case, my family was the Chinese staff of the English-language expat magazine I write for in Tianjin. The crazy favor? I spent Christmas Eve at a boat-shaped hotel that featured a stage show of "China's most famous transvestites," a Santa who couldn't pronounce the merry part of merry Christmas and a new best friend who outed himself to me over the first course.
It all started in a conversation with my friend Victoria. Originally from Colorado, Victoria spent the last two Christmas' in China because the schedules of English teachers don't allow you a vacation before the New Year. This year she was spending Christmas with her new husband, LY and his Chinese family.
How you feel at Christmas is all in how you spend it, Victoria told me over drinks while we listened to a Filipino cover band.
Speaking like an old China hand, Victoria told me, "Do something weird, something totally Chinese, because if you try to do something familiar, you're just going to realize how unfamiliar this place is during a time when it's the last thing you need."
So when Fiona Gu, my Chinese editor at JIN magazine assumed I had no plans for the biggest day on the Christian calendar and assigned me this dinner, Victoria's advice made me take the ticket.
It started off strange and got downright cooky.
The hotel is a gigantic boat on land. Reality is difficult to determine when you're surrounded by people half dressed in sailor suits, half dressed like Santa's little elves.
I was the only foreigner in a room of about 2,000 people. Naturally this made me as much of a photo opportunity as Santa. When I did in fact catch Santa, a 22-year old beanpole of a boy, he asked me for pronunciation lessons. He was pronouncing merry with a Russian accent. "Veddy Kreesmahs!"
When the stage show started, it was like worshiping at the church of the Las Vegas strip. Long-legged women festooned with meter-long peacock feathers and golden capes were modeling on the stage's catwalk. "The men behind us said they're famous transvestites," Lee, my Chinese coworker, told me. China is traditionally conservative and unaccepting of gay or alternative lifestyles so I couldn't help but think the women's show was a Christmas miracle for opening and reform.
What really took the Christmas cane was a conversation with another guest during which he revealed he was homosexual. Because of the gravity of this matter, I do not make light of someone else's life. However, it's an example of a common situation for foreigners. Some Chinese people find refuge in foreigners with whom they feel they can confess weighty feelings that are too taboo to discuss with family or friends. So for 45 minutes, I heard my new best friend's confession with an unbiased judiciousness that would make Father Christmas proud.
China is one big family, unpredictable, demanding, cooky and endearing. On the train ride home, Lee leaned over and handed me a small bag. "I know this is a big holiday for you, so I got you something little."
Inside was a black, sequence, plastic gardenia hair clip. It's popular here to have costume jewelry-like accessories and Lee's gift definitely fell in this category. I was genuinely moved by his kindness, and I kept thinking I would look like a member of the family with this gaudy hair piece!
Besides, what's Christmas without a gift you wish you could return?
