Far and away, a good time to smile

Beijing, for good reason, is celebrated as an international city. The people, cultures, food, music and ambience present a splendid mix of all the best the world has to offer.

But when the holidays arrive, a melancholy attribute of the international city becomes apparent: Most of us who live here — from the Chinese residents to the expats, from the Surinamese student at the University of International Business and Economics to the Tibetan vendor hawking wares on the street — are, in one way or another, migrants.

A good number of us live here out of necessity.

In my case, a withering US journalism sector made meaningful jobs scarce. So I packed my things when a great offer beckoned and I said goodbye, departing so quickly that I didn’t have the chance to ponder how much I was leaving behind.

For many of us, there’s at least a tinge of tragedy in our being here, perhaps some secret we bear that sent us half a world away or more.

This doesn’t always show in our eyes, on our face or in our demeanor.

As migrants, we generally long, especially during the holidays, for someplace else and for loved ones who, though far away, are always in heart and mind.

The sad fact is that, during holidays that are meant to be joyful, many of us experience heartache.

This desire to be with loved ones is a force so strong it can defy natural law.

When I was a greenhorn journalist, a seasoned editor named Dee Wescott, a wise soul indeed, pointed out an uncanny truth: Around Christmas, one of the West’s most beloved holidays, the number of obituary notices in our local newspaper would plummet.

“Watch,” Dee said, “as soon as the holidays are over, the numbers will jump.” And so they did. The feeblest of people can cling to life, despite the odds, for one last chance to be with family members, which speaks loudly of the power of love.

Unfortunately, especially for migrants, the loneliness of the holidays can be compounded, in a cold climate like Beijing, by a phenomenon of winter doldrums known as “hibernation blues” — the tendency in winter to withdraw, to eat more, to sleep longer. It’s an instinctive depression that cannot be denied.

So as we revel at this time of year, we should bear in mind that the person beside us on the subway, or passing us on the street, or serving us at our favorite restaurant, probably has loved ones, maybe even children, who are far beyond reach when we are celebrating family and friends.

However, we can, simply through kindness, lift their spirits.

After all, while nothing unites migrants as much as homesickness, there’s also nothing that cuts through the winter dreariness quite like an understanding smile.

And even in this city of 21 million souls, a smile is almost always returned.