Back from Shanghai for Christmas

Paul and I celebrated the coziest Christmas this year. After a whirlwind of a two week trip in Shanghai, we want nothing but to stay home since our return midday of December 22nd, 2019.

We arrived in Shanghai late in the evening on the 11th. Harmoniously and cooperatively, four of us, Hui, Baolin, Paul and I, spent the following day in Jinqiao, Pudong, purchasing cell phones and opening bank accounts. Such a harmony and cooperation among us four pretty much laid down the tone for our entire stay, even though our group is known for its members' strong and diverse personalities. When night fell, we were invited to Hui-Qiu's home for a family dinner, where Paul became Yaya's most popular "Grandpa".

Early the next day, we continued aboard China Eastern Air for a 5-day trip to Sanya with a tour guided by Ctrip. The next three days were devoted to visiting The First Bay of the World (Yalong Bay), Wuzhizhou Island, Nanshan, and End of the Earth. The time out was hot and long, averaging from 8:30 am to 7:00 pm, but we were charmed by Sanya's gorgeous fine-sand beaches, palm trees, bountiful tropical fruits, many colorful Russian tourists, and local residents consisting chiefly of transplants from all parts of the country.

Back from Sanya until our departure from Shanghai, we became extremely busy with lunches and dinners offered by friends, aunts and cousin. They all but killed us with their kindness and generosity. At one point, I was telling myself that I ate so much rich food that I could easily fast for a week.

December 20th, the eve of the winter solstice, finally arrived. We waited outside our Holiday Inn Express at 7:20 am waiting for Didi (Chinese version of Uber) to join my little aunt and her husband for the rented van. Little did we know that neither Didi nor taxi drivers were interested in the short distance (or little profit) in a fare to the aunt's place. After cancelling Didi twice, we were apparently on its blacklist and rejected for any opportunity to order a ride for the day. In the end, we had to be picked up by our own group's van after Ying's intervention.

It was a crispy, clear morning, promising a good day. Twenty-two of us gathered at the Lexiang Cemetery. Four of them were my father's second cousins, while the rest were from the families on my mother's side, uncles, two aunts, us three siblings and spouses, and in-laws. Lulu and Emily represented the third generation. We burned silver money to warm the place for Mother's ashes, laid next to Father's. It was then sealed with a granite cover. Once the red candles were lit and flowers presented, people began to line up to pay respects. For 100 Chinese yuan, a waiting man solicited to us to retouch the faded red color of the words on the tombstone. Paul paid to let the man start to work.

We then visited the tombs of my grandparents a few rows back, and those of my grandmother's sister and her husband a few rows in front. We were somewhat comforted at the thought that my parents were in a good neighborhood with their elders around. Moreover, they were no longer suffering from pain or debilitating illnesses that took their lives sooner than their siblings.

We had two tables reserved in a restaurant for an early lunch. The mood was at once somber and grateful for a rare gathering to remember our parents and their bigger families. We were all very proud to be their children, grandchildren or great grandchildren. It started to rain that very afternoon and for the remainder of our stay. Every family member acknowledged that the narrow window of fine weather was a blessing from our parents and grandparents.

But rain did not dampen our enthusiasm to explore both the old and new Shanghai, shopping, sightseeing and going to dinner. If "Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life (Samuel Johnson);" so it is true if one is tired of Shanghai.