Nothing Says "Merry Christmas" like a Dead Fish in a Jar

When I lived in Hong Kong our work there related to removing as many workers as possible from a designated market. Seeing as there isn't exactly a worker's shortage in China we had to find a place to move all these people into ourselves.

We heard tell of a group of fishermen who had turned their former livelihoods into a tourist concept. Because of tax laws in Hong Kong and the fact that their tour location was out on the ocean they hardly had to pay taxes. It seemed pretty ideal, and as foreigners we were pretty well situated to evaluate whether this would likely become successful or a larger market which we could put our market sector into.

A large flat floating dock formed a "town square" and fishing boats were parked continuously along the perimeter.

What fascinated me most about this place was the gift shop, and what fascinated me most about the gift shop was a rack of small bird-like objects with a slick plastic coating on the outside which hung from fishing line and a key chain loop. They had small googly eyes and a straw hat glued on to them. The small beaks on them made them look nothing short of alien but obviously somebody had found them endearing to dress them and market them like this.

Picking one up I shook it. It made a bizarre rattling noise but seemed to have a significant amount of internal structure to it. Why would somebody put so much internal structure into a cheap little keychain? It could have been solid with a single plastic mold around the outside and it would have held up just fine.

"What is this?" I asked. The translator who we had access to (since this was during work hours) turned to one of the shop owners.

"They are keychains," the translator reported, "They are made from sun-dried baby puffer fish."

I thought about Americans and what those who feel a need to compulsively buy things out of gift shops expect out of gift shops. These were not shot glasses with "I love ex-fishermen" on them nor T-shirts not coffee mugs printed with the same.

They also could not pass as some traditional art form which makes white tourists feel culturally aware and superior by the fact that it hangs prominently on their living room wall at home where passers by might politely ask about it.

Visitor who has come over for dinner: oh, what is that?
Smug host: that's a hand-made Incan blanket from our trip through South America. Its made out of real Alpaca wool and dyed with natural pigments just like the native persons there have done for thousands of years.

Alternative scenario
Smug host: that's a key chain from Hong Kong. Its made of a dead baby fish and coated in plastic, just like former fishermen of Hong Kong have been doing since the invention of the plastic googly-eyes to glue on the front.

I just didn't see it going over quite as well.

It was then that I realized I simply had to have one. What would be more hilarious than to show it off with the same air of arrogance only to watch the people who cared about petty things like that recoil in horror? And it would only cost me about a dollar fifty American? Sounds like a deal to me!

So I bought it and I brought it back to my apartment and placed it in an empty nutella glass. I put the jar with the dead fish in it on the table and stared at it for a bit. The initial amusement of it had worn off and so I left it there and turned my attention to my computer. There I spotted an IM window open previously with PJ.

Every year there are people who you care about but who you don't know what to give them for Christmas. You want to give them something, but you can't think of anything they need or want within a socially acceptable price range. PJ was one of those people that year for me. My solution to this is every year I choose one of these people and give them a small cardboard box filled with small cheap items which they find amusing, and whose sum total equates about to one present. Christmas had already passed but I was scheduled to see PJ in March so I had told him I was bringing his present then. PJ's box had been previously filled with strips of LEDs, a few small parts I had scavenged which were perfect for making robots with, and other misc junk which I knew he would love.

Then I turned to the fish. Even better than me acting proud of this as my own possession, how much more infinitely hilarious would it be if I passed this off as a valuable gift?

I'm not the most rational and logical person I'll admit, but PJ seems to have an abnormally low general opinion of my common sense. Unfounded or founded, it is an awful lot of fun to mess with him using that fact. Opening the IM window again I decided this was a great time for continuing this tradition.

Pika: I got you a souvenir
Pika: hopefully they won't find it in customs, I think they would be upset with me
PJ: What have you done now?

I choose to leave the situation there for the time being and not discuss it further.

In March I brought PJ his Christmas present. He eyed the box carefully, obviously remembering the customs comment.

"Come on," I coaxed, "open it."

He opened it and found the Nutella jar directly on top of his other presents. "Huh," he asked intrigued, shaking the jar slightly, "What is this?"

"Its a dead fish in a jar!"

PJ nearly dropped the jar but instead placed it to one side.

"Come on!" I said, "Nothing says 'Merry Christmas' like a dead fish in a jar!"

"You know," PJ laughed, "I guess its true."