Many of you have asked how we would celebrate Christmas in a formerly Buddhist-Confucian, currently atheistic country. For a while, we weren't sure ourselves, and considered just ignoring it. However, our Chinese friends made sure that was impossible. For Chinese yuppies, celebrating Christmas is a very fashionable, rather cosmopolitan source of amusement, and celebrating it with real westerners gets you bonus points. I will spare you a complete list of of the Christmas parties we have attended and focus on one 30-hour period.

Act I: On the First Day of Christmas Miss Pi Ying Gave to Me...

The waiban is always looking for a reason to take us out to dinner because they also get a terrific meal out of it. With great excitement, they told us our Christmas celebrations would begin on December 23 at the revolving restaurant on top of the King World Hotel. "A four-start hotel!" Miss Pi pointed out. In my experience, the quality of the food at those places rarely equals the drama of the view, and although we were curious about what promised to be an even better panorama of the city than we had from the 16th floor of the People's Second Red Cross Hospital, food is of even greater interest. As we exited the elevator on the 23rd floor of the hotel, we saw the sign: Brasil Charcuterie. "Isn't Brazil famous for all its beef?" I whispered to John as Miss Pi directed the complete rearrangement of our table for an even better view. We tried not to reveal our disappointment.

"Deborah, you will sit next to Vice President Zhang because you can speak Chinese with her," Miss Pi announced. So much for a relaxing dinner! Vice President Zhang had just returned from a trip to the United States, and I must say that while I was not as engaging a dinner companion as I would have been in English, I did manage to question her about her experiences in the U.S. *and* understand her answers. You may be interested to know that she thinks a great deal of America's crime problem lies in the fact that our policeman are too fat to energetically chase criminals. During the dinner, Vice President Zhang, who spoke very clear and standard Mandarin, would periodically shriek, "Neehow! Neehow! Mama Hoohooo!" mimicking the few badly mangled words of Chinese spoken to her in the United States. I tried to not imagine the imitation she could do of my own attempts at Chinese conversation.

As it happens, the food at this Brazilian restaurant appeared to be a Chinese buffet with the addition of many kinds of grilled meat. We North American teachers were the only foreigners present, except for one western guy dressed up as a South American gaucho who came around offering grilled meat. We resisted the temptation to strike up a conversation with him.

Later that night, Miss Pi phoned to discuss plans for the Christmas Eve party the following night. Two weeks earlier, I had invited the entire English Department and waiban to a Christmas Eve party in our 550 square foot apartment. I realized that this would be a tight fit, but the Chinese word for an excellent social atmosphere ("renao") is literally, "hot noisy," and I figured that's what we would have. However, when I invited the waiban, Miss Pi was aghast. "You cannot possibly do that!" she exclaimed. "Your apartment is too...is too...is too narrow!" So, instead, the waiban rented the karaoke hall in the college's hotel and foot the bill for what became known as "Deborah's Christmas party." Now, the night before the event, Miss Pi proposed, "How about you are the master-of-ceremonies for the foreign performances, I will announce the Chinese performances, and then you are in charge?"

"Okay," I said, "but what am I in charge of?"

"Oh, whatever you do on Christmas. We want to do exactly what you would normally do on Christmas."

"Miss Pi, that is impossible."

Miss Pi is not easily daunted. "We want you celebrate just as you would in the United States so you will feel very happy."

"Miss Pi, on Christmas Eve we decorate our Christmas tree and go to church. Christmas in China cannot possibly be like Christmas in the United States, and it doesn't have to be. We will have a wonderful time, and none of us will ever forget this Christmas, but it cannot be like Christmas at home. What is important is that it not be an ordinary day." (As if such a thing even existed here.)

She was crestfallen, but finally insisted that I just tell all the Chinese guests about how we celebrate Christmas. For a while, I considered buying up all the candles in Bailongsi and re-creating the "Silent Night" candle-lighting ritual of the Arlington Street Church, but frankly, as you will see, we had not one free moment on Christmas Eve.

ACT II: Over the River and Through the Woods

Christmas Eve dawned foggy and cold. Of course, cold is relative--it was above 40F, but I could hardly blame Allegra for insisting, "We can't have a picnic in this weather!" I suspected regardless of what "we" thought, "they" could and would persist with the picnic plans. My own reservations had more to do with attending a morning social event in which caffeine would not play a central role.

In any case, at 9:30, a swarm of 35 bicyclists began slowly pedaling uphill, out of the city, into what felt like a dream. Bailongsi had not been bustling that morning, and it was apparent that the country folk were even more reluctant to leave their warm beds. We cycled past silent groves of eucalyptus trees, watching our breath merge with the fog. After a half hour of biking, horses outnumbered vehicles. By the time we reached a vast reservoir, the sun was emerging.

The southern side of this body of water was picturesque, but strangely, we continued on to the northern half which now, in the dry season, was just an arid basin. We parked our bikes at the edge of this expanse. Immediately, the students proposed playing mahjong. It turns out mahjong is forbidden in the college dorm so this was a welcome opportunity to play what must be China's favorite game. The students were incredulous that not one foreign expert knew how to play, but Laurence, the head of the English Department offered to teach us. I had some misgivings about this. Although Laurence's English is excellent, having observed his classes, I knew that he is clueless about even the most basic pedagogical concepts. Somehow, however, we not only learned to play, but learned to love the game. Students and passersby gathered around us and soon each foreign teacher had a designated Chinese advisor. I must tell you: mine was the best. If we had played for money, as is the custom, he would have made me a very rich woman.

We were so engrossed in playing that we lost track of time. While we played, the students rented grills and stools from small shops bordering the reservoir. They assembled these at the very bottom of the vast reservoir bed and called us to come down for lunch.

First, they gave us plastic cups of watery fermented rice. In case you might want to try this at home, here is the recipe: put cooked rice in water and let it sit, unrefrigerated, for three days until it is mildly alcoholic, revoltingly mushy, and unpleasant in taste. In fairness, the flavor was no worse than the apple wine I brewed with the most primitive technology in my own college dorm two decades ago.

Since grills typically yield meat, we had some trepidation about exactly what besides fermented rice we would be able to eat. But it turns out you can grill many more things than we Americans ever suspected--and not just tofu. Mushrooms, lettuce, and cabbage were brushed with oil and sprinkled with salt and dry bouillon mix. To my surprise, grilled cilantro and mint turn intriguingly crispy and flavorful. We ate for hours. At some point I looked at my watch and was shocked to see it was already 3:00. We continued eating, and then retired to the shade for a few more games of mahjong.

We returned home barely in time to bake oatmeal cookies (nine at a time in our toaster oven) for the karaoke Christmas party.

ACT III: Have Yourself a Karaoke Christmas

Upon entering the karaoke hall, we saw that besides the cookies and tangerines we had brought, there were already trays of peanuts, watermelon seeds, sunflower seeds, candy, and more tangerines. But it was immediately clear that the only available beverage was green tea. Evan and I agreed that singing karaoke without alcoholic support was out of the question. We promptly left to buy beer.

When we returned, Miss Pi was rehearsing "My Heart Will Go On" with considerable passion and skill. In fact, she was terrific. Had we not already known that Miss Pi's talents exceed those of mere mortals, we would have been way too intimidated to perform.

As it was, John and I managed to to sing "You Are My Sunshine" together, as well as a cappella solos of "Oh Susanna" (JG) and "Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'" (DLG). I also sang "We Wish You a Merry Christmas " with some of the teachers. I think it is fair to say that John and I can carry a tune and sing with gusto. While recording companies are not begging us to sign on, by American standards, our singing is not an embarrassment.

Once we heard the Chinese sing, we were grateful we had gone first, and certain that under no conditions we would we give any encores. Actually, no one asked. While it is true that nobody was as dazzling as Miss Pi, every single Chinese person who sang was really impressive. It's clear that these people practice; they don't just knock off a few stanzas in the kitchen while waiting for the rice to finish cooking. They sang a few English songs, many more Chinese ones, and a few pieces from traditional operas.

At some point, Miss Pi announced, "We will now have twenty minutes of disco," and disco fever descended. Like most Americans, we have not danced to disco in twenty or more years, but it is very fashionable among the Chinese these days, and once again, we were astonished. Who would have guessed that the extremely intellectual waiban staff were such hot dancers? Was that really Mrs. Liu shaking her hips like that? How could Miss Pi look so cool gyrating and *still* manage to check her watch to make sure 20 minutes weren't yet up? The fact that we could not introduce any new dance crazes from the U.S. was most disappointing. We may be prized for our ability to speak English, but we are clearly dolts on the Chinese party circuit.

Throughout that evening, people gave us Christmas cards and an occasional holiday trinket. For instance, we now have a 5-inch high Christmas tree with an equally miniature Santa. There were fervent expressions of warm wishes, pledges of international friendship, and outbursts of affection. As sappy as it sounds, we were really moved, and went to bed feeling very happy. I hope all of you enjoyed the holidays as much as we did.