Have Yourself a Merry Little Mid-Autumn Festival

I've been spending a good deal of time with a really great Chinese student, named Andrew, who has been organizing most of our trips in and around China. Andrew is fluent in English, and he has been super-gracious in his willingness to spend a lot of time with a group of American students. Earlier this week, he and I went out to lunch, and during the course of conversation I casually shared with him my experience of a few evenings prior when I had a nice glass of wine at a nearby restaurant.

On Thursday, the eve of the Mid-Autumn Festival, I sent a text message to Andrew, wishing him and his family happy holiday. Andrew wrote back: “come out to my hometown of XiaoXian and enjoy mooncakes with my family!” He was completely serious – and how could I turn him down? Mooncakes are the traditional food of the holiday, a sort of thick cookie that can be found all over China this week, and I really wanted to meet Andrew's family.

(From Left to Right: Andrew's Brother, Me, Andrew)

That was 2:00. By 3:30 I was on a bus with a friend named Matt, bound for Xiaoxian on a 90 minute journey. Andrew and his brother met us at the bus station, his brother driving a car (certainly a rarity in China). They welcomed us into their home, walked us around the neighborhood, and brought us back to their home to meet their parents just in time for the holiday dinner. Andrew translated as only a professional could; after all, this is his major.

The Zhang family spared no expense on this dinner, no doubt because of the holiday, but surely also because they were entertaining foreign guests. Like most Chinese families, they eat off the table, drink out of bowls, and serve their food on common plates; I was thrilled to be able to share a meal with a family for the holiday. The food was incredible. From pork to beef to eggplant to watermelon to river crab, this was a feast of the finest sort. Andrew said his mother cooked a lot of meat, because she believes Americans primarily eat meat – and she was really worried about what food to buy for dinner. The family would not touch the food until either Matt or I had tasted it. And they would not let us say no to additional servings– the feast was meant to be eaten, and no matter how stuffed we were, we were to leave their home with more food in us than we had ever consumed in our lives. This had all been arranged with a mere 4 hours’ notice! After all this, the fancy gift boxes of mooncakes that Matt and I brought for the family seemed quite inadequate; in fact, they were.

Then, the kicker: Andrew's father had gone out and picked up a half case of Chinese red wine. 6 bottles, for six people. I was floored, and the 6 bottles should have been my first clue that they had not had wine before. He did not need to do this, I told Mr. Zhang, but like everything else, he said that he was thrilled to do it and would have none of my nonsense (and he would accept none of our incessant thanks). Andrew's father handed me the bottle to do the honors of opening it – and I felt awful. For the first time in my life I wished I had a swiss army knife. Momentarily confused, Mr. Zhang examined the bottle. As soon as he understood the situation, he bolted for the door. 10 minutes later, he came back, corkscrew in hand. We drank. I don't think they liked it. But they drank, and we all laughed.

You hear about these things all the time, about people going abroad and being treated with all the finest honors. But it isn’t until you experience it that you realize the true humility of it; you discover the humble honor of being welcomed into somebody's home, and you see the pride in their eyes as they show you the best time that they know how. You want to do something, you want to repay them, because your thanks are just insufficient. But there is nothing you can do, except to never stop saying thank you, and to never ever stop eating.

After dinner, they hurried us out the door to catch our 8:30 bus. They gave us food as we left, so that we could eat on the bus (yeah, right). We had only been there 4 hours. But they felt like family.

These are the times when any feeling other than gratitude is conceit, because there is no way that any common person should deserve such a feast. Those who know me know that I like nice things – I like nice cities and nice coffee shops; I'll go to fancy restaurants for dessert only, because I can't afford a full dinner there, but I want to go. But this tops them all. This was so fine, so magnificent, that it pushed beyond the limits of self-importance to a place of utter humility and inadequacy. Going to Andrew's house for dinner didn't make me feel important – it made me feel artificial. It made me feel shallow for going out and getting a glass of wine at a restaurant, particularly when I treat others. It made me realize the illusive qualities of the “finer things,” and it forced me to see the true virtue of selfless pride and honor in welcoming a friend into your home. Importantly, the whole experience made me want to make dinner for someone – not just going to a bakery to buy them nice mooncakes in fancy boxes.

So yeah, I'm learning something this semester. I'm learning how to eat a whole crab, and spit out the shell. I'm learning how to toast properly and show respect to others when we say cheers. I’m learning about mooncakes and foreign holidays. But most importantly, I'm confronting a sort of underlying self-aggrandizement and tendency towards the illusive "finer things;" On this trip, I'm challenging my perspectives on relationships. I have seen a truer meaning of honor, humility, and respect – and in some sense, I'm growing up. At least I think so...