a lot of fun on Christmas

When the staff at my hotel in Xi'an realized I spoke decent Chinese, they were thrilled. The hotel Christmas party was coming up, and they were hoping I could help them out by making some introductions and playing MC for the mostly English speaking crowd. The idea was that my English was better than theirs, so they could tell me what to do and then I could go ahead and translate into reasonably normal English. I told them I'd think about it, but what else did I have to do?

Chinese people can make a big deal out of parties sometimes. The owner of the hotel, dubbed Jim Beam years ago by customers with a sense of humor, is a fairly young Chinese guy with that hyper energy we normally associate with too much coffee. I doubt his thing is coffee since it hasn't caught on so much yet in Xi'an, but maybe he drank enough green tea to match the caffeine levels of the triple shot grande mochas chugged daily by those energetic Americans.

When the night of the party arrived (Christmas Day) Jim was rushing around making last minute preparations. As I walked into the restaraunt I was handed a santa hat and a little party horn that you can blow into to make the most annoying sound in the world. This guy wanted to make us westerners feel like we had a home away from home, and it was a really nice thing for Jim to do. The problem was, he didn't have a great idea about what our christmas expectations were. For myself, it sucked being away from home but figured I'd make the best of it by sitting at the "party" and chatting with other people who could relate to spending Christmas away from home. I wasn't looking for a party party. Lacking this piece of information, Jim had his mind set on some Chinese style merrymaking: a grand introduction followed by a toast, silly party games, followed by song and dance performed by the guests, most of whom didn't even know each other and who were ourselves coming from different countries and cultures in the west. I forsaw a flop if these were his standards, but felt bad bursting his bubble when he had such high hopes.

The first reminder that I was in China, and this wasn't a typical Christmas party, came right after I'd gotten my hat and sat down. A couple of the staff who I'd chatted with the day before came over to talk. They'd all gone out to buy festive gear for the party. On one head I saw a santa hat matching my own, but on the other was something I didn't recognize. "What's that?" I asked, and he pulled the mask down over his face. It was a wrinkly zombie-ape mask, framed by brown fur, plastic mouth frozen in a snarl and Frankenstien stitches protruding from the forhead. I choked back a laugh and told him it was an interesting choice in Christmas gear, and asked him if he'd heard of Halloween. He looked worried and told me "When we went out to buy stuff today, I thought this was a lot of fun. Isn't that what Christmas is all about?" I couldn't argue so I just shrugged and said it wasn't traditional but I didn't think anyone would mind.

Once enough guests were assembled, maybe 20 of us chatting around the small tables in the hotel restaraunt room, Jim Beam called me up front to explain his plan. I would introduce the staff, say a few words, and make a toast to Christmas. The festivities would then be kicked off by a game. "What kind of game?" I asked. He explained. "It's a contest. We get four people up front and give them each a bottle of beer. Whoever finishes first wins." It was my second time that night choking back a laugh. We were going to kick off the Christmas party with a beer chugging contest. After the contest, Jim said he was hoping to get volunteers to perform songs and dances. He asked if I'd be first.

I decided that this was a hilarious idea, but wasn't willing to be Jim's guinea pig. I faithfully relayed Christmas wishes to the guests. The chugging was a hit. Winner: Joe, representing America against the likes of an Albanian college girl who cheated and Jim Beam himself, who in the heat of the moment didn't even start drinking. At the speed of a seasoned Hawaiian bartender, Joe was certainly ready for some stiffer competition. I felt like a winner myself for not participating when Joe complained about his stomach all night. For those of you who don't know, a Chinese bottle of brew is at least two of our American longnecks.

Since I wasn't going to submit myself to Jim's crazy performance idea, I just announced an open mike and was about to sit down, but Jim wasn't done. He cracked a bottle of his namesake, treating everyone to a glass of Jim and coke. Only then was I allowed to sit down and enjoy a nice Christmas evening with Joe and a few new friends (the Viking had already caught his train).

When things wound down, I left the hotel. First, I took a couple of santa hats, found a replica of a terracotta warrior, and snapped a picture to remind myself of a Christmas well spent in Xi'an, China. Then I called home, where thanks to the time difference the Christmas morning festivities were just wrapping up. I got to talk to everyone and hear about the traditions that had limped on in my absence: Christmas eve bonding time for the three (two) of us brothers, wrapping paper blocking the view of the tree in the morning for added suspence, and my personal favorite, the christmas breakfast, coffee cake and sausage muffins. It felt pretty good to hear that my stocking was up and waiting for me no matter where I was. With so much at home, Jim Beam, zombie masks, and beer chugging just can't compete. Next year, I'll be home for Christmas.

Joe and the Viking in Xi'an

Xi'an wasn't bad. The terracotta warriors were impressive, despite being encased in the we're-expecting-a-billion-tourists-a-day shell of knick knack shops, just like all famous Chinese places. My first night in town, I met Joe and Andreas, two other solo travelers. Joe is a lanky 37 year old bartender from Hawaii with a real free-and-easy, live-it-up outlook on life. After we parted ways, I would have an 'aha' moment. Joe looks exactly like David Carradine, the guy from "Kung Fu" and who also played Bill in "Kill Bill". Joe is the quintessential bartender with his laid back life philosophy and stock one-liners for every situation. The one-liners were so steeped in American pop culture that 80% of the time they went way over the heads of any Europeans present, not to mention the Chinese. Joe was unphased and kept them coming. I learned a couple of new dirty jokes.

Joe called Andreas "the Viking" because he pretty much was one. Andreas is a 28 year old dude from Sweden. He lays pipe in apartments for a living. His hair involves some of the most gnarly dreds I've ever laid eyes on. Andreas is built like a little teapot, short and stout, and huge tats were visible on rock-hard arms poking out the sleeves of his t-shirt. Joe and I were wearing coats, but I guess Vikings don't experience cold in the same way as the rest of us. Andreas was quiet most of the time, but he often had a little smile in one corner of his mouth, like he was thinking about something funny. Judging from his comments later in the evening, that something was probably either dog meat or pornography.

The three of us talked for a while in the restaraunt, then decided to hit the only club mentioned in our travel book, 1+1. Clubs can be fun, and this one would have been fun with the CET crew I'd gone out with a week before in Beijing. It was pretty lame with the three of us. The night was routine for a Chinese club: we stood around, we drank beer at 20 times the street price, we were offered better drinks by the plastered overweight chinese guy with his shirt pulled up and rolled under, exposing his belly and nipples (I'm sure they do this for reasons of comfort, needing ventilation). We accepted the drinks, danced with him a little as he implemented an old standby Chinese groove, the thumbs-up jerky tilt, and got out of there. Only Chinese guys can make white guys look cool on the dance floor.

As we exited, Joe and Andreas were hungry. We stopped at a street vendor and they had stir fried noodles, a big bowl for each of them which got good reviews. The Viking was still hungry. He explained that he'd never eaten dog meat, and felt that this was one of the must-do's in China. Since he couldn't speak Chinese, and I can, he saw an opportunity to eat the stuff without doing an embarrassing pantomime in a restaraunt that may or may not serve dog. The pantomime would go something like this: woof woof, pant pant, stick tongue out, "here fido, come boy!", eating motions. The pantomime would fail regardless of whether or not the restaraunt served dog, because in China dogs don't say 'woof-woof'. According to the Chinese, the sound is 'wang-wang'. Seriously.

I facilitated, and a generous helping of dog stew was prepared for and eaten by the Viking. As we were leaving, we noticed suspicious looking meat items being sold nearby, which indeed turned out to be the male organs of various animals. When I asked, I was told that only the pig and cow were on display, but they could get the chicken ones out of the back if I wanted. When I relayed this to the others, it was the beginning of non-stop references to pornogrophy by the Viking. He was pretty drunk. The juvenile references came out of nowhere, often in response to Joe's comments, and didn't make much sense. They triggered confused silences from Joe and I, which Joe would fill with a bartender-style courtesy laugh.

Joe: yeah, back at home, I spend a lot of hours at the bar. That's my job, I'm used to it.
Viking: you mean back at home you spend lots of hours watching porn?

Joe: hey, this place has a tv, do you think they'd let us put a dvd on?
Viking: yeah, a porn!

All of his happened on the evening of December 23rd. The next day, I knew two guys in all of Xi'an, and these were the guys who I spent most of Christmas Eve with. Nice guys, but not the usual suspects.