From Across the World

This last Thursday, I spent Thanksgiving for the first time away from home. Instead, I went to my cousin’s place in New Territories with my aunt and uncle. This was actually my first major holiday away from home, and I was surprised at the sheer awareness of this event in Hong Kong.

Everyone back home is told that the day is to celebrate thanks for when the Indians taught the Pilgrims about North American agriculture (and then the Pilgrims proceeded to take the land). This is celebrated with a big feast, though it is uncertain if there really was such a feast in Massachusetts, less that it was in November. In short, it’s the thought and the people that count, not the historical significance.

And I spent my holiday with family, just not immediate family. My cousins are all much older than me (a fact that often makes everyone forget that we’re in the same generation). So I spent the holidays with my cousin and his family along with my aunt and uncle. Back in California, one of my other cousins came down with her family from the north side to the south side to spend Thanksgiving with my family.

With the time difference, we ate in Hong Kong first, and my family back home ate some twelve hours after (though sixteen hours is the time difference). I guess I don’t hang out with this family over here, because things were a little odd.

So I’ve only met this cousin a handful of times, with my contact with him having been limited since he hasn’t lived in California for quite a long time and, well, I haven’t lived outside of California until some three months ago.

On the other hand, I’ve met my aunt and uncle quite a few times. This summer, I saw them twice—once in France, and once in Northern California. So they probably think I feel pretty comfortable around them—and I do, just that’s not a reason to let down your decorum. And so when the food came out and everyone started digging in, I waited patiently. There are always leftovers at Thanksgiving, and I understand that you don’t want to act so hungry as to be rude nor so full as to show dislike for the food in front of you. I was just waiting for the clashing cutlery to subside, when my uncle told me that I wouldn’t be served here and I would have to serve myself—which I was planning on doing, just after everyone who seemed so hungry got what they wanted first.

Misjudging my actions and then commenting on them in such a face-threatening matter I thought was a faux pas, but then again, I guess I’m just not like him and don’t hold the same exact ideas of politeness. That’s not to say that people don’t come from all different walks of life (culturally speaking) in my family. I guess my uncle just thought that I came from the same as him.

The next morning, I called my family back home. I told them I would call at 7:00 p.m. their time, which would make it 11:00 a.m. Hong Kong time. So from 9:00 to 11:00, I practiced the piano, relearning Christian Sinding’s “Rustle of Spring” and starting on Claude Debussy’s “Clair de Lune.”

When the time came, I called with my breakfast in hand (bought from outside the medical library). They were surprised I didn’t call earlier, and though I did tell them 7:00 pm., they expected me at 5:00. After that little hiccup though, it was good to see my family again. I’d video chatted with them often enough, but it was still good to see everybody.

Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.