Society
The vital ingredient to a happy Christmas is happy children'
By Mark Hughes (China Daily)
Updated: 2009-12-25 08:10
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It's icily cold. It gets dark early. There is no shortage of Santa images, seasonal decorations and piped festive music. There's even the occasional whiff of mulled wine in some bars.
So if it looks, sounds, feels and tastes like Christmas, I guess it must be Christmas - my very first one in Beijing.
But something is missing.
It's not that I've yet to see carol singers trudging the streets and frightening residents into donating to worthy causes in return for ending their out-of-tune entreaties.
It's not even that there are no enticing, colorfully wrapped presents under a fragrant pine in my living room, or a fire to light and gaze at mistily over a warm glass of Scotch as church bells peal in the distance.
For me, irreligious as I am, the most important ingredient of Christmas, the spice that makes cuisine soar to gastronomic heights, is children. Mine, sadly, are not with me this year for the first time in their tender lives. The feverish excitement that runs through their little bodies as they await the arrival of Santa Claus bearing gifts is always a joy to behold.
The sparkle in their eyes as they tear open the wrapping paper puts diamonds to shame. The relish with which they pull crackers and squeal over the dire jokes therein while donning silly paper hats arouses deep, paternalistic feelings of contentment. The wonder on their faces as they drink in the satisfying sight of brandy burning on a Christmas pudding is intoxicating.
Then there are the after-dinner games of Monopoly, Cluedo or Mousetrap, the James Bond movie on TV, the surfeit of chocolates, satsumas, nuts and dates in the shared and cozy warmth of a family home, the streets uncommonly quiet and the senses dulled by a glass or two of fizz.
This year I shall be attending parties and meeting and greeting friends old and new with as much yuletide cheer as I can muster. Glasses will be raised and the ghosts of Christmases Past and Christmases To Come will no doubt haunt odd moments of introspection.
But this year, the ghost of Christmas Present is the most daunting. My youngsters are just as excited as in previous years but, separated by a chasm of some 8,000 kilometers, it is not quite so infectious. The vicarious joy is diluted. The toasts sound hollow.
Yes, there are many trappings of Christmas to be found in Beijing but they feel disassembled, lacking the essential element that brings true merriment. My first Christmas in Beijing is as enticing as a flute of flat vintage Champagne.
