The Holiday Season Abroad

Christmas. I would bet my grandma's cooking that not a single exchange student has appreciated their home culture and family as much as they do on Christmas. Yes, make merry, exchange students, because 'tis the season afterall! That's right. It is this time of the year again. It doesn't disappear. It is just that this holiday season, you're thousands of miles away from your family, and you've been thrown into another one that is supposed to welcome you as their own. All you want is a freaking homemade peanut butter-chocolate chip cookie, but peanut butter is unheard of and nobody has ever seen a chocolate chip. What is a helpless foreigner to do?!

Thousands of exchange students around the world are scrambling to send packages home, buy presents for their 3 or more host families, and learn about the country's customs so as not to make fools of themselves. They are slowly losing their hair and wondering why they put themselves in this freaking situation in the first place. Well let me tell you, because I swear that I am now an expert. Christmas abroad could best be described as a jumbled up mixture of emotions, expectations, and homesickness. Suddenly, reality is more apparent than it has been in the past however many months: you're in a new, strange, and foreign land, and during this comfortable, festive time of the year, you will not be anywhere within your comfort zone.

I was in Recife, Brazil. It was December 17th, and I hadn´t yet heard a Christmas jingle, carol, or even an absent mindedly hummed tune. Something about this situation sat funny. I felt like the world around me was a mental creation; I felt like Brazil was a figment of my
imagination, a country that couldn´t possibly exist in what I have always known
as the real world! Until this point in my life, I had not been able to comprehend a December without holiday festivities. And I swear to you...There. Was. Nothing.

Nada.

Not a single Christmas tune. Those obnoxious, overplayed, holiday jingles, the hot chocolate, the hustle bustle of America as the date approaches nearer and nearer...

No.

Nothing.

I was hot and sticky, my funds were running low, and in the heat of the Brazilian summer, this was more overwhelming than what I had prepared for. I was desperate. I had been waiting for about a month, in the hopes that somebody would flick a switch, and Brazil would celebrate the holiday season, not just Christmas day. I gulped back lonely tears and headed out on a quest for something that would bring me an ounce, just a lonely ounce, of comfort.

Seating myself at a small livraria (bookstore) with a café, I desperately clutched the menu and frantically scanned it for something that resembled home.

Aha! There it was! Chocolate quente. It must be the same thing! I was finally going to have a taste of Wisconsin culture! Hell, I hadn't even known that Wisconsin had culture, but if this was it, I was more than willing to accept! I waved the waitress over, practically jumping out of my seat. She took my order and I silently contemplated the delicious sensations my mouth would soon experience.

Out she came. Hang on a second...something was terribly wrong. She was carrying an espresso glass. There was a spoon in it. The spoon was smaller than my pinkie. As the beverage approached me, I couldn't smell the chocolate, the cinnamon, the holiday season. No, there was definitely not a holiday season smell. This smelled like...ice cream? That couldn't be right.

She set the glass down on my table. There was a dark fluid inside. I played with the texture with my spoon. The substance was runny, thick, and very dark. It was then that I realized what had just cost me 4 reais. Chocolate quente. Hot chocolate. Literally, a bar of crappy Brazilian chocolate that had been melted into a syrup.

I swallowed a few scoop fulls, grabbed my things, and left. Survival mode kicked in. I told myself to look on the bright side...christmas dinner would be in a few days. Yes, I was dreading it. But maybe I would be pleasantly surprised. No, there was no Christmas morning gift opening, no family prayer or christmas tree decorating. But maybe I would get to experience a new food, or go to the huge party at the airport that everybody had been talking about.

Yes, Christmas arrived, and I was able to do both of those things.

There was no Christmas ham. No, I didn't go to church. But I did go to a raging party at the airport, where I met male dancers that were painted green, in santa hats, and dressed in space suits. And I did walk up to the dinner table on Christmas Eve to see an entire fish (head, tail and all) staring back at me and bidding me to taste some of its Christmas spirit.

The point of the matter is, you can't expect your host country to treat the holiday just like you do at home. When worst comes to worst, make the best out of your experience by accepting the new obstacles and laughing about this strange country where you find yourself living. Give your host families a chance...after all, they probably think it's strange that you wear flip flops everywhere and take pictures of graffiti. Actually, they're probably just sick of you taking pictures. Cultures differe from state to state, region to region, and country to country. Cherish the fact that you're still in your host country, because the bitter truth is that it doesn't last forever. After all...give it a few months, and you'll laugh about it. Guaranteed.