Christmas in Beijing

Happy holidays!


I am celebrating my first Christmas in Beijing. Christmas is celebrated in China basically the same as it is in most other Asian countries. It is a holiday geared toward purchasing gifts and collecting wishes, and giving them to the people you care about. Yet no one really pushes hard to take time off from work for this holiday, unlike, for example, Tomb-Sweeping Day. I guess that's because Christmas is the first in a chain of heavier holiday revelry that includes Spring Festival and Chinese New Year, which arrive in quick succession during the next six weeks.


If you are dreaming of a white Christmas in Beijing, don't bother waking up. The only flakes falling around the city are from the clouds of dust and sand that blow-in from the northwest. The Gobi Desert is only a few hundred miles from Beijing, and Christmas is the start of a cold and very dry winter season. Any amount of rain or snow would clear the air and ground of all the dirt. I'm just dreaming of a clean Christmas at this point.


But I like Christmas in China for its honesty. The holiday spirit is top-heavy on merchandising. It is marked with decorative displays borrowed from the West, mostly Christmas trees. Not real trees, but strings of lights and tinsel covering a towering cone-shaped frame set-up in front of a multi-level shopping mall. I especially like it when the light-draped tinsel frame disguises, say, an ugly heating & cooling unit. On occasion, you may see a Santa's North Pole workshop display inside the mall, but it's usually lost amid the wide variety of kiosks and counters selling ladies' cosmetics and high-heeled leather boots.


Christmas music sets the mood for the holiday, just like in the West. Except you rarely hear Christmas carols with a faith-based theme, like "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear," or "We Three Kings." Instead, it's the favorites with broad-based appeal, including "Frosty the Snowman", "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer", and "We Wish You A Merry Christmas." Pop music classics are also widely heard, with a clear preference for Wham's "Last Christmas" and other Euro-centric holiday hits. For whatever reason, one popular version of "Jingle Bells" carries the banal beat from the Macarena ("...jing-le bells, jing-le bells, heyyyyy maca-rena!" Are you kidding me?). What I'd give to hear Springsteen's "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town", or Elvis' "Blue Christmas." I'd even accept Hall & Oates' cheesy 80s version of Bobby Helms' "Jingle Bell Rock."

Tom & Jerry Italian Pizza Snack Sticks

No, I am not going to review these vile-looking "Italian Pizza" snack sticks. I happened to see these in the impulse-buying section at the East side Wal-Mart, right next to the flashlight batteries and Durex Condoms, and it reminded me how I am amazed at the popularity of Tom & Jerry in China. The outrageously-violent Hanna-Barbera cat vs. mouse cartoon series plays constantly on Chinese television, on-screen aboard Air China passenger jets, and you can purchase a wide variety of items for children and adults adorned with their image.


So, why Tom & Jerry? Why not Bugs Bunny? Mickey Mouse? Space Ghost? I am told it is because Tom & Jerry needs no translation into Mandarin. There's no dialogue, just action. It was a cheap and easy way to fill airtime when such shows became available to Chinese television several years ago. I hear that now there is an effort to pull T & J off of Chinese TV in favor of locally-produced animated fare. Maybe the violent content is considered too unhealthy. But I'm willing to bet the nutritional content of the pizza sticks is probably worse.

Survival Chinese

French language is popular because it has a rhythm and poetic flow that makes you want to learn it. That's not the case with Chinese. The Chinese seem to have gone out of their way to make their language so difficult that you would rather eat limburger cheese. Therefore, there are many good books out there to help foreigners figure it out. This is not one of them.

"Survival Chinese" takes false advertising to a new level by delivering the exact opposite of what the book's title implies. It does so by ignoring the tones in Mandarin, sounds which change the meaning of virtually every word that's spoken. Nowhere in "Survival Chinese" do you see tones marked above any word. In fact, the author mentions tones only once, writing, "...different people pronounce them differently, so there is some tolerance; plus the context in which words are used helps make the meaning clear."

WRONG! In fact, there is ZERO tolerance for not using the correct tones in Mandarin. If you say something to a Chinese person using the wrong tone(s), not only will there be confusion, he/she will be PISSED OFF. And then it doesn't matter what context you're using. It's the difference between receiving a hug ("bao") and getting a plastic bag ("bao"). See what I mean? It's just that simple.

Guilin

Stepping outside of Beijing for a moment to visit Guilin. Guilin is a city in the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, west of Hong Kong, and it is flat-out the most beautiful place in China. The best scenery, the nicest people, the most charming women, you name it, Guilin's got it.

The karst limestone cliffs and mountains give the area its unique scenic character. Plus, it's got a sub-tropical climate, so it could be mistaken for Hawai'i if there was a beach anywhere nearby.

Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region is closer in proximity to Thailand and Vietnam than Beijing, and home to many minority groups. It's one place in China where the people truly appreciate their culture year-round.

Wang Lao Ji (Herbal Tea)

China's most heavily-marketed tea-in-a-can is Wang Lao Ji. It ain't no sippin' tea, but to my surprise, it isn't a gack-choke-cough-it-up-and-spit-it-out tea, either. Almost every kind of tea in China has some kind of health-positive properties, and I'm told you must drink this tea to cure "overheating." Whatever that means.

At any rate, the stuff tastes like a heavier, sugary version of the old "Brisk" Lipton Ice Tea that was popularized several years ago by clay-animated versions of Mike Tyson ("Ooo! Dat's bwwwisk, baby!") in TV commercials. In fact, the sugar content is so high that it's not surprising to see "licorice" listed among the ingredients. If it was caffeinated, I would mix it with vodka so I could watch martial arts movies and stay awake all night.

Bimbo Bread

When is a loaf of bread not a loaf of bread? When it's only a half-loaf of bread! In a classic demonstration of product supply and demand in Beijing, you can get many varieties of bread, as long as it's a half-a-loaf. That is because the vast majority of Chinese have no use for a full loaf of bread.

It's clear too, that it gets lonely on the shelf for Bimbo bread, even if it is a half-a-loaf. The date on the package is almost always 2-3 days past expiration, so let the buyer beware. Peking Man probably did not live by bread alone, but some poor western foreigners still do.

Paper Currency

Once you accept the difference in texture of Chinese paper bills, the next thing to overcome is the denomination, namely the 100 RMB currency (upper left).

The 100 is the only thing which ATMs spit out, and they're used as widely as the US 20. Still, it is hard to get accustomed to carrying dozens of bills with the number "100" in your pocket. 100s are also counterfeited, so you need to watch out for fakes.

You also find 20s, 10s, and 5s, each of which has Chairman Mao pictured on the front. Different illustrations are featured on the back, including the fierce cats pictured on the other side of the 1o. The 1s come in a variety of looks, and the Wu Jiao 5 spot is actually like 50 cents. Taxi drivers do not think it's funny when you mistake the RMB 5 with the Wu Jiao 5. Not at all.

Media Center Hotel

I've lived in this country for almost a year, and the Media Center is still my favorite hotel in all of China. It is the main hotel for the celebrity guests who make appearances on China Central Television, right down the street. My Chinese employer arranged for me to stay at a room here for 30 days, right after I arrived from the U. S., and promised that everyone spoke English because it was a 4-star hotel. The service was great, the restaurant was fantastic, but the staffers knew about as much English as Rin Tin Tin. Watching the daily pickup basketball action outside my window behind the building almost made up for it.

I Have A Toaster

I have a toaster.

I know, this sounds like a very simple statement, but in Beijing, and in much of China, nothing is as simple as it seems.

I've lived in China's capital for 11 months, through the Spring Festival madness, through the earthquake terror, through the Olympics spectacular. I was almost kicked out my apartment once, crashed in taxis twice, stranded in airports, choked by the pollution, sickened by the food, revolted by local health care professionals, and disgusted by the lack of manners on the streets. But it is the adventure of a lifetime, and I would not trade the experience for all the tea in, well, you know.

And now, it's all good, because I have a toaster.

This is important, because you should not believe everything you read about the rush to get in on the Chinese market and the fast-growing Chinese economy. The fact of the matter is that 1.3 billion Chinese may not want what you're trying to sell them, and the vast majority of Chinese have no need for a toaster. But I do. It took Starbucks years to understand how to sell its product to the Chinese market. Dunkin' Donuts is still trying to figure it out. My morning needs are relatively simple, and highly attainable -- if I still lived in the United States. But China is China, and your morning here begins with one thing: tea.

I can guarantee that if I limited my morning diet to tea, I would still be asleep at noon -- the next day.

So I managed to find a Wal-Mart store, in the basement of a forbidding East side office building, and finally grabbed the only toaster on the shelf. This simple, yet mighty appliance will finally turn my life in China around, I just know it.

Now, if I can only find some butter.