The days between the years

(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).

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So that our Christmas Eve doesn’t get lost in everyday Chinese life, we have registered for a buffet dinner at the posh Bell Tower Hotel. The restaurant manager assigns us a nice table by the window. For 168 yuan (€23.57) per person, we can eat and drink as much as we want. That also means wine and beer. However, it’s a dry Chinese wine that doesn’t exactly knock your socks off and the beer is rather insulting for a Franconian. But never mind. We certainly don’t want to complain about this, as we are blessed to be able to lead such a wonderful traveling life and to have the money to dine in such a rich ambience.

Although our Christmas story has nothing to do with China, the sacred festival is now celebrated here in earnest. However, it was completely different to what we had imagined. The city center of Xi’an is festive like a German, or rather an American metropolis, and the restaurant here is decorated for Christmas. As soon as we have settled down on the comfortable chairs, the Chinese Santa Claus comes to our table and takes a beautiful rag doll out of his red sack. With a broad grin, he hands us one of each. Unfortunately, we don’t understand his Christmas sayings, but the laughter on both sides is very hearty. Then we can reach into the bag a second time. This time, each of us receives an apple. The Chinese believe that giving each other an elaborately wrapped apple is part of the Christian Christmas tradition. “Pingguo” is the Chinese word for apple and Christmas Eve is known as “Pinganye”. The word “Ping’anguo” means Christmas apple. The Chinese have thus created their own custom through the unanimity of their words and are firmly convinced that the origin of apple-giving is a Christian custom. We thank Santa Claus with a laugh.

“Let’s go and get something from the buffet,” I say hotly, because our breakfast was the last thing we ate. While we choose something, the song Jingel Bells trickles out of the loudspeakers. “At last, European food again”, I say happily, striding past the extensive buffet, but soon realize that it’s not the best idea to expect good local cuisine in this country. “Tanja laughs good-humoredly. “We should have gone back to the Chinese restaurant,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. After 30 minutes, Jingel Bells is repeated for the 25th time. Before I go completely mad, I ask the restaurant manager if she has a more varied repertoire. “Where you”, (I did) she says, which is why White Christmas is on a continuous loop from this point on.

As we leave the Holte to walk back to where we are staying, the streets are packed with tens of thousands of people. It’s like an oversized folk festival. All the stores are colorfully illuminated, Christmas trees twinkle, large balloons float overhead as Santa Claus, the music banging out of various stores mixes with the music salad, musicians sit on the floor and strum their guitars. The people are boisterous, taking photos of each other, and in keeping with the motto of preferring shrillness to contemplation, some of them are adorned with the craziest masks, just like on Halloween. The festival of festivals is a mixture of European and American Christmas, a mixture of carnival and German beer festival, during which people consume without stopping. To ensure that the crowds do not get completely out of control, a massive police force is on guard in the streets. As we turn into our small, poorly lit alleyway, the haunting suddenly stops. Infected by the euphoria of the joyfully celebrating people and yet a little confused, we enter our youth hostel.

“Do you want to celebrate with us?” asks Cindy, one of the girls at reception. “We all sit on the roof terrace and have fun,” she invites us. To be polite, we mingle with the company. Although it’s a bit like a child’s birthday party, we balance cookies on our foreheads, compete to blow up balloons, etc., we have an unforgettable, very funny Christmas.

The last day of December is not celebrated here. The Chinese have their traditional New Year or Spring Festival, which begins on a new moon between January 21 and February 21. The year 2016 begins after February 8. Nevertheless, Cindy invites us to eat jiǎozi (stuffed dumplings) in the conservatory on the roof terrace. Together with other travelers from South America, South Africa, England, Malaysia, Hong Kong and China, we stuff the minced meat mixture into small dumplings, which the chef then cooks. Afterwards we sit together and listen to stories from all over the world…

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