Kristmas in Korea

Apparently I'm really into alliteration lately, judging by recent posts. But enough about grammar. Let's move on to the crux of why you came; hearing me complain. Or possibly revelling in the glory of my staggeringly prodigious tale-telling. Or, more likely, I've just guilted you into being here. We all know if you really love me, you read my blog. And you prove your love by commenting. That's love in the cyber world.

As the Christmas season, now officially passed, but milked by stores and holiday lovers alike for some time to come, progressed here in Korea, I was filled with the suspicion that something had changed from recent years here. My first Christmas in Korea (well, my first season, as I was incidentally in Thailand for Christmas day), there was little evidence of anything hearkening to Christmas. Carefully hidden were the cards, decorations, and songs; seeking them out was like being a detective, sniffing out the dropped clues here and there. Many schools gave little or no holidays for Christmas (though Kevin's school still does that...).

This year, however, has been different. Lights were strung on a number of trees, walls, and buildings. Fake, smiling Santas were set in front of stores. Salvation Army volunteers stood outside stores ringing bells. Loud Christmas music was blared from mall speakers, while vendors hawked all manner of cheesy Christmas decorations. Save for the exceptionally warm weather (think: mid to upper fifties), it almost felt like home.

I even bought Christmas decorations, including a pitifully small fake tree from the dollar store. It made me think of how much I miss real Christmas trees, the family tradition of picking one up from a Christmas tree farm in the week following Thanksgiving. It's such a family adventure: taking turns cutting it down, loading it onto a truck, watching as they wrap it tightly, strapping it to the car. On the drive home, you pass other families who similarly have their trees comically strapped to the top of their cars, hands sneaking out windows to grab the tree limbs and prevent it from blowing off. Once home, the ornaments are pulled out, from the expensive, delicate ones to the memory-invoking ones that we made as children. Then we attack the house. I miss our creche, a white porcelain manger scene given by my grandma to her four children. We always laugh about Joseph's broken hand when my brother, in his very lengthy clumsy stage, dropped him and he shattered. My mom wraps real pine branches around the railing leading to upstairs, then wraps white Christmas lights around them. She finishes it with velvet red bows and poinsettia flowers. It's so beautiful at home. My step dad usually attacks the outside, throwing up white Christmas lights in all the trees. When it snows, they shine through at night and the whole tree looks like it's glowing. I love Christmas. Instead I have a fake tree and colored lights that I thought were white.

Given that Korea cannot in any way compare to the spirit of Christmas at home, although they are embracing the commercialized idea of Christmas quite well, I cannot hold them to a high standard. Regarding Christmas itself, though, it was better than I could have imagined. Having no family here to speak of, I spent the entirety of both Christmas eve and Christmas day with my surrogate family: friends here in Korea.

On Christmas eve, we went to our friends house for a sleepover party. It was so relaxing, wrapped in memories of how Christmas is celebrated at home. Well, if the Christmas ham is exchanged for Domino's pizza. At midnight, I went for a walk on the beach with some people there, including Sacha, Liz, and Annie. Sacha and I stayed up talking; we didn't get to sleep until about four in the morning. All this and up early the next day for stockings and breakfast!
On Christmas evening, I went to Richard's house for a real, amazing Christmas dinner. Harold had his guitar, Ana had her wig, and Sook received a monkey game from Richard for Secret Santa. The combination made for an excellent evening.

And so I bid farewell to Christmas, seriously satisfied by my exploits. This was my first Christmas in Korea, and I must admit it was excellent. Now, as I walk past SFUNZ, eyeing the remaining decorations, Santa catches my eye. This jolly man dutifully retains his post, continuing his watch of young consumers, smiling benignly and waving slowly. This is truly the Christmas season. After all, we all know that you can't have more of the Christmas spirit than a big, waving, plastic Santa.