Whether we celebrate the holidays or not, or how we celebrate them, is greatly influenced by our cultural and ethnic background, religious beliefs, etc. We have asked a few Pacific Rim and South Asian writers and illustrators to share with us a snapshot of holidays past. From full-blown Christmas trees to a turkey meal that gets outstaged by a Vietnamese one, there is a range of experiences...

My Most Memorable Christmas Gift, by author/illustrator Grace Lin.
(adapted from the upcoming book Year of the Dog.)

Chinese people don't usually give gifts; they give lucky red envelopes of money. Mom said it was much more practical that way. But I told her for Christmas, we were supposed to get presents.

"But it's the same as if I give you money," Mom would argue, "What's the difference? I buy it for you or you buy it for yourself."

I just shook my head.

"Okay," Mom said, "What do you want for Christmas?" <read more>

Feliz Navidad , by illustrator Luis Garay.

Christmas to me is much more meaningful when spent in my native country, with my family and extended family.

Nicaragua is for the most part a catholic country and the celebration of Christmas is a very important part of our culture. Through centuries Nicaraguans have made of Christmas a very special celebration, full of tradition... <read more>

If It Weren't For My Mom's Cooking..., by illustrator LeUyen Pham.

My mother is an amazing cook -- the best Vietnamese food in the world! I know everyone says that about their mother, but in mom's case, it's true. Her one exception, however, is that she can't cook Western-style food for the life of her.

Until the age of 16, I thought spaghetti sauce was always made with fish sauce added. When it comes to cooking turkey, my mother can only cook it with her special combination of fish sauce marinade, and even then it's a bit dry. One holiday, I had a friend over for the meal who only ate fish. My mother prepared a special menu just for that one person, including her delicious sweet catfish, her sour fish soup, and a vegetarian stir fry that was to die for. While the rest of us ate our sad American meal of turkey slabs and lumpy mashed potatoes, my friend dined in a culinary nirvana of delicious Vietnamese courses. In the end, he had to share with the rest of us, and the poor turkey got left out for the dog...

Festivals From the Fringe , by writer Mitali Perkins.

We were one of the first Bengali immigrant families to settle in the San Francisco Bay Area. On puja days, we'd drive for miles to share a feast in a high school gym somewhere that was festooned with Indian decorations and smelled like a strange combination of sweaty socks and turmeric, coriander, cinnamon, and garlic. I didn't know the other Bengali kids as we only saw each other once or twice a year and none of us really wanted to be there... <read more>

Posted December 2005