TheTraveler

 

Christmas in China
By Susan Stephenson

“Les, what’s all that noise?”

My husband was busy toasting his toes on an ancient two-bar radiator and determined to stay put.

“Dunno,” he answered helpfully.

Bodily comfort was no match for my curiosity. I went to the doorway of the temple-turned-restaurant.

“Les, come and look! It’s a man carrying a huge wooden cross and wearing a towel!”

“But it’s Christmas, not Easter.”

Bewildered, he joined me in the doorway. Together we stared at the cymbal-clashing, shouting, laughing throng which surrounded the cross, the man in the towel and the sword-wielding warriors accompanying him. A gaggle of small Chinese children ran riot through the crowd, obviously impressed with this exciting way of celebrating the Western Festival known as Christmas.

Welcome to our Christmas Eve, 2003. Far from our Australian home, we were taking a well-earned break in Yangshou, China. The Chinese people love any excuse to celebrate and many have enthusiastically adopted Western Yuletide customs such as sending cards and decorating with lights and tinsel. As we wandered along Xi Jie ( West St), the main tourist street in Yangshou, we were greeted by stallholders wearing Santa wigs and beards and Chinese faces smiling below flashing Christmas lights. Even our waitress at Le Votre restaurant had said, ”Merry Christmas, may I take your plates now?” But we still have no idea what the wooden cross was about. We finally decided they had the right book but the wrong chapter.

“Hello, orange?” called a voice. Bent almost to the ground under the weight of a toddler strapped to her back, a tiny, wrinkled Chinese lady smiled toothlessly up at us. She held a small basket of mandarin oranges up and repeated, ”Hello, orange?”

“I’m not an orange, I’m a human.” My husband’s woeful attempt at humour was greeted with more smiling and insistent mandarin waving.

“Ni hao. Wo jiao Susan.” (Hello. My name is Susan) I was determined my phrase-book Chinese would break through the communication barrier.

“Hello, orange!” She was frowning now and strangely seemed not to recognize my words for Chinese.  Her lips pursed and she menaced us with the basket. To my husband’s disgust, I gave in and bought two expensive mandarins. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

We continued along Xi Jie, delighting in the stalls filled to overflowing with t-shirts, silk scarves, trinkets, CDs, carvings, paintings and designer clothing. Itinerant salespeople offered us hot chestnuts, sugar cane and hot food. Tourists speaking many different languages darted in and out of shops trying to bargain with astute shopkeepers. A huge yellow moon cast its reflection into the river at the end of Xi Jie.

“Its nothing like Carols by Candlelight next to the ocean at Woolgoolga,” I told Les, feeling just a little bit homesick after six months away from home.

My husband is one of those men who always rises to the occasion. “Let’s have a nightcap,” he suggested.

And so it was we made our way to one of our favourite places in Yangshuo – Minnie Mao’s. Our friendly waitress brought a cast iron pot filled with glowing coals to warm our feet under the small wooden table. We knew this would make the Occupational Health and Safety gurus back in Australia have forty pink fits but it was just delightful. Two rums took care of warmth at our other extremities. We sat comfortably, reflecting on past Christmases, enjoying the difference in this one.

During the day, we had walked along the Yulong river to the village Jiou Xian with our guide, Ruby, from The Green Lotus. Stands of bamboo along the river were reflected in limpid pools and contributed to the incredible timeless tranquillity. Ducks swam close to us and water buffalo watched as we plodded through dry rice paddies. The beautiful limestone hills were slightly hazy in the distance, providing a magnificent backdrop for our photographs. Slight twinges and aches in our legs from those 6 hours hiking melted away with rum and warmth.

We were getting up to leave, when we noticed a tubby guy in a red suit and flowing white beard stroll past. Our giggling waitress followed him. He pulled her into a hug and bent his head. That’s when we realized some things about Christmas are the same the world over.

That’s when we saw Minnie kissing Santa Claus underneath a yellow moon in Yangshuo.

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