Oranges, Sunshine, and Culture

In my endeavour to organize my garage yesterday I came across approximately 20lbs of oranges.  Huh?  Exactly.  I was wondering the same thing.  How in the world could I be completely oblivious to 20lbs of oranges in the garage?  It was like being on an Easter egg hunt.  Oh, look, another orange, in another bag, way over in the other corner.  Since I was finding them all over the place, I grabbed an apple box and started to put them into it.  And, yes, by the time I was done, the box was full.

So, where did they all come from, you ask?  My mother in law.  She's 94.  She has a lot of respect due her.  Everyone who visits, wait for it, takes oranges to her.  In Chinese culture it is very important to take gifts as a sign of respect to the person you are visiting.  Oranges are symbols of good luck, good health, and prosperity.

When you visit, and are taking gifts, they have to be in certain number groupings.  If you take four of something, it is very bad luck and shows ill intent to the person you are gifting.  The number four in Cantonese translates very closely to the word death.  So if you give four of something, you are wishing death to the person you have just gifted.  Not a good thing.  Eight is a good number because it can sound very much like the word prosperity.  If you take eight of something, it's good for you and the person you are gifting it to.

When the person you are giving the gift to is 94, and your grandmother, it's got to be good.  You cannot just give one or two or three, so the next number up is five, or any other other number after that.  My mother in law gets at least five oranges every time a grandchild visits her.  That is a lot of oranges.  About twenty pounds worth, hiding around my garage.  And the reason for this, she cannot possibly eat them all, so she saves them and gives them to us.  Problem is, I had no idea.  It's a good thing it's been cold outside, otherwise they'd be rotting.

So what in the world am I going to do with TWENTY POUNDS OF ORANGES?  My husband's bright idea was to make orange juice.  So I did.   It was great.  There I was this morning, cutting, and squeezing oranges on the little plastic juicer thing we have.  Took me 30 minutes to get one cup of orange juice.   And of course, the kids each want a turn.  All kinds of fun in the Chow house at 7:30am.  But, ya know, it was the best orange juice ever!  It was like drinking a cup of sunshine on a rainy day.  I'm thinking it's probably because my Chinese nieces and nephews have been tutored in the fine art of selecting oranges.  It's an important task, picking just the right ones.  And there are all kinds of rules to follow in doing so.  If it's not done right, grandma will know.  The skin, the give when you press your fingers in to it, the colour, the smell, size.  I could go on.  Suffice it say, I am really thankful that they've been taught so well.

When I say it was like drinking a cup of sunshine, it's hard to explain.  It was sweet and tangy.  The perfect temperature.  It just hit all the right taste buds for this incredible flavour explosion.  Probably sounds completely idiotic, but it was the best cup of orange juice I have ever had.  And I was the one who made it.  I momentarily forgot it was raining.  All rational thought ceased to exist.  Like I was transported to some lovely, warm, sandy beach, umbrella drink, kind of location.  Please may I stay?

And so, today, I am grateful for my overflowing cup of fresh squeezed orange juice.  For tomorrow morning, I'll start squeezing those oranges tonight.