Unlike Christmas, whose shop ‘til you drop frenzy and out-of-control consumerism the Chinese have embraced as they would a long lost uncle bearing gifts, Thanksgiving is relatively unknown and uncelebrated here. Of the various holidays of the Holiday Season, this is the only one that is specifically American, unfamiliar not only to Chinese people but to many other non-Americans as well. For this reason, when I first came to Nanjing last year, I didn’t really think I'd be doing much on this day. However, after being informed that a local foreign restaurant was selling tickets for its annual Thanksgiving buffet, my plans changed. In truth, I wasn’t expecting much, but Swede & Kraut, owned appropriately enough by a Swede and a German, did in fact put out an impressive spread of food. Turkey, potatoes, carrots, green beans, gravy, thick pumpkin soup, breads, salads, desserts all were there on serving tables, adding to the flavor of the occasion. And to top it all off, much to my bemused amusement, there was even someone who backed up the line for a minute or two while leaning over the hot tray and picking around for just the right piece of white meat. I had had a good time, not beginning to feel a little strange until I had stopped eating and began to hear the foreign languages and accents coming from the diners around me and thought about the fact that this was my first Thanksgiving away from my family-way, way away from my family. Mentioning this to my friend and colleague from Houston, who had joined me that evening, he seemed to understand, maybe feeling a little of the same sensation. Having eaten our fill, we left shortly afterwards, satisfied with the meal-he to make a call home and I to doze off in front of the TV. I can’t say that I never would have foreseen being back at Swede & Kraut for Thanksgiving this year if I had considered it last year, it just never occurred to me to do so. Yet there I was this past Thursday evening, with a couple of dining companions that had not been with me the year before, standing with plates and silverware in our hands, waiting patiently as a fifty-something lady in front of us picked up each piece of dark meat in the tray to show and comment on to her husband…and then switched places with him so that he could give the offerings his own, closer examination. Finally getting our food, the three of us sat down to eat. One of my friends, a colleague from Iowa, compared notes with me on how we had each spent past Thanksgivings when back home. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly given the size and diversity of the United States, we found that there were quite a few differences. The other one, a Chinese student at our university curious about the day and its traditions, seemed to really enjoy the meal and the conversation. This made me glad. After all, what is Thanksgiving but a day to gather together with family and friends and enjoy: the food, the company, the conversation, whatever. Although I was again about as far away from my family’s celebration as I could be, and the closest that Swede & Kraut could come to it was a broad, if very tasty, approximation using the tangible, it was the people I was with, both this year and last, who brought everything a little closer to the mark using the intangible. Walking down Nan Xiucun towards the bus stop at Shanghai Lu, our Chinese friend sounded a little puzzled when he said that he could feel everything he’d just eaten settling heavily in his stomach. But it was an enjoyable sort of puzzled, as it should be. There were no beggars on that side street as we went. There usually are. If we had passed any, I would have happily given them some money.

For the past two weeks I have been unable to view The China Gate, nor has anyone else in Mainland China with non-proxy server Internet access. I had hoped against hope that it was some sort of a computer glitch, but eventually had to face the fact that my site was being blocked by what is sometimes called The Great Firewall of China. Internet censorship is a spectral policy, officially unacknowledged by the government and practiced, so it is commonly thought, to keep unwanted foreign information from being disseminated within the country. Some readers may be thinking that perhaps, if the government hasn’t acknowledged it, then the firewall might not really exist. You are entitled to your opinions. But I still can’t get into my site, nor can I get into ninety-nine percent of the other Blogger sites that I’ve tried viewing. Blogger, it turns out, is owned by Google which, from what I can gather from my limited online information, has visions of dollar signs dancing in its head over China but is undergoing a crisis of conscience regarding the PRC’s demands for access to the confidential information of its users. As this plays itself out, Blogger seems to have become some sort of example. Apparently blocked in China since at least 2002, it became available in October of 2005 only to be blocked again that December. This was its status when I set up The China Gate in January of 2006 while back in Boston, although I didn’t realize that there was a problem until I returned to Nanjing that February and couldn’t get in. Although I was able to post entries, I was unable to respond to comments and to see my finished work, two aspects of blogging that I find extremely fulfilling. Consequently, my blog suffered and eventually faded away. It wasn’t until September when, almost as an afterthought, I clicked on the site’s URL address and got in. Sometime between the spring and the fall some agreement must have been worked out between Google and the Chinese government and Blogger was put back online. I honestly didn’t care; I was just happy to have the chance to finally try out my idea in the way that I had envisioned it. And then, two weeks ago, it was blocked again. At first, I was angry, a far too common emotion for me lately, but as the days have passed, I have become more philosophical. I enjoyed the access while I had it and will try to go on with my entries now that I don’t. And maybe, someday soon, I’ll be able to get in again. But as my anger has turned to resignation, I have also tried to fit this in with China’s experience in the world and have been depressed by what I see. In telling some of my Chinese friends that my site was being blocked by the government, many of them thought that I was joking. Even after I’d made it clear that I wasn’t, they still couldn’t take what I’d said seriously, blaming the blockage on technical difficulties, or the fact that my server is based outside of China. And for each one that I spoke to who had no idea what I was talking about, most of them university students or graduates, I thought to myself that censorship does work. Here are some of China’s best and brightest. And they are oblivious. And am I any better? I am aware and because of this can already feel my enthusiasm waning. As history repeats itself, I feel even worse. Throughout China’s dealings with foreigners, it has taken an uncompromising, arrogant, xenophobic attitude, manifesting itself in any number of ways, whether it be in emissaries banging their heads off of the floor in front of the emperor’s empty throne, traders and missionaries being quarantined in Guanzhou, or a wall that can still be seen from outer space being built to keep people out. Nothing has changed. And judging by China’s tragic history with outsiders, I would have to say that this does not bode well for it.