For me, it usually goes the same way every year: I purchase and wrap presents for family members, I go to bed early on Christmas Eve, and I sprint down the staircase in the morning to tear open the gifts Santa has left for me. I spend it the way most Americans do.
However, when I was 11 years old, I got a major change in Christmas scenery, as my dad and I spent the holidays in Vietnam. It was extremely different from all of the Christmases I had experienced in the past, spent with the rest of my family in the States. Not only was I awkward because I could not speak Vietnamese and towered over many people there, but I was also a spoiled little brat that expected many, many gifts on Christmas morning.
Being the annoying little girl I was, I also expected gifts on my birthday, which was the nineteenth of December. What did I get? I got a dinner with my family in Vietnam (otherwise known as people I did not know) and a hollowed-out melon that they put on my head just to be funny. They literally took a melon, removed the insides, and stuck it on my head, just for a laugh. I found no humor in that. Here I was, this prepubescent girl, arms crossed, thousands of miles from home, pouting that no one gave me any gifts. And come Christmas Eve, I knew I would not be receiving gifts either.
Christmas Eve finally came, and my family took me out to a plaza a couple of blocks from the hotel where we were staying. Canopies were lined up with colorful streamers hanging from their edges. The strong scent of food filled the air. People ran up and down the streets in celebration. Lights flashed everywhere as tourists snapped pictures. It felt like a carnival.
However, my eyes kept traveling towards the giant cathedral at the edge of the plaza. Its huge windows were lit and it towered over everything else in sight. People were pouring in and out of it for the midnight Christmas Mass. Noticing that my eyes were full of wonder looking at it, my dad apologized that he couldn’t let me venture to the cathedral, as there were too many people there and one man had already been trampled that night. Disappointed, but fascinated, I carried on enjoying all of the other excitement happening around me.
My dad had told me, about Christmas in Vietnam; “I remember kids running around wearing Santa Claus costumes and I thought it was interesting.” I now have that memory too, as I remember seeing young kids with red suits and white beards strapped to their faces all over the place. It seemed like an odd thing for children to do, as I had never seen kids dressed up in costume for this holiday. For Halloween, yes, but Christmas, definitely not. At one point, there were teens and young people running down the street dressed as elves and Santas, and one tossed me a little gift. I slowly opened the fancy bow and wrapping paper, and to my surprise there was a bar of soap. I looked down at it, and just started laughing. I found it humorous, in addition to being unique.
For me, celebrating the holidays in another country was an experience like no other. It would be cliché to just come out and say, “What I learned from this experience is that Christmas is not all about the gifts.” But that is not the only thing that I learned. I learned that the world is big. There are many cultures and people on this planet, and they all have different, unique ways of appreciating and celebrating the joyous holiday of Christmas.