One of mine has to be when I received a dollhouse from Santa at the age of 6. The note taped to the top of the dollhouse was written in calligraphy and signed "Santa," and I was struck at how similar Santa's calligraphy was to my dad's, but I blissfully made no connection and took in the large, unpainted, unfurnished, Victorian dollhouse. Over the years, the dollhouse developed into an expensive hobby, as my mom and I collected furnishings and even wallpapered and wired it. Two of my grandmothers needlepointed miniature rugs, and a painter we knew pained a miniature portrait of me for the miniature living room. Oh, yeah, we were hardcore. Sadly, this work of art has been in storage for over 10 years, and it is my 2009 New Year's Resolution to get it the heck out of storage (in Georgia, no less!) and give it a home, hopefully a museum of some sort. But I digress.
above: not near as cool as the dollhouse i got
I have been lucky enough in my life to have spent Christmas in 5 different countries. When I was first studying in France, my parents joined me a few days before Christmas, and we all took the train from Paris to Munich to meet my brother, who was stationed at an Army base there. We spent the holidays in Germany and Austria, and it was freezing butt cold, but it was beautiful. I remember the Christmas market in Nuremberg, where we drank hot wine and enjoyed all the crafty, handmade decorations for sale and the many tasty treats. Germans know how to make cakes. I remember the Christmas Eve service we attended, where we could see our breath inside the stone church, and where we understood not a word of the entire service except for the singing of "Stille Nacht."
A few years later, I was back in France. At Christmastime, Paris dons her most beautiful festive lights and offers her most delicious holiday sweets. The French also know how to make cakes, incidentally. I was lonely that year without family but had the company of two American girlfriends, with whom I shared small gifts and ate myself into oblivion.
above: The French and their lights. Sheesh.
The following year found me at my mother's new, temporarily adopted country of Costa Rica. In this tropical Christmas, I could rewrite the Twelve Days of Christmas: 6 decorated banana trees, 5 three-toed sloths, 4 howler monkeys in the morning, 3 large snakes in the middle of the road, 2 queztal birds, and lava erupting from a live vol-caa-no! That was some visit, and some country.
Again, the following year, I would receive the gift of yet another international holiday: Christmas in Poland. Mr. P and I had started dating that year, and our Christmas would be my second time in his home country. Poland at Christmas time is a quiet, simple occasion, where food, family, and the church take center place (and possibly in that order), and gifts are simple. They celebrate for three days: Christmas Eve, Day, and the day after. They eat a vegetarian meal on the 24th, consisting of beet soup (barszcz) with uszka (little mushroom filled raviolis that go in the soup), and pierogis, usually stuffed with mushrooms and sauerkraut, or cheese and potato. Vodka, like meat, is not imbibed until the 25th (or midnight of the 24th, if one is impatient), and the first star spotted outside makes the presents appear under the tree. Our Santa is their Saint Nicholas, who makes an earlier appearance on Dec. 6 (possibly to focus on his larger job of delivering oodles of gifts to richer, fatter Westerners on the 25th). There is also a legend in Poland that animals can speak like people at midnight on the 24th. I didn't find this to be true, but perhaps I should have been more handy with the vodka.
Since those jet-setting days of my bohemian youth, I have largely spent Christmas in America, which is not a bad place to be, if I may say so myself. Each Christmas offers new surprises and adopts new traditions, but so far, no new countries at the holiday. This year, as we enjoy a new canine member of our family in our half-remodeled house, we will eat a Polish dinner, possibly skip church, and visit our families in different parts of the world via Skype.
Happy Chrismas to all, and to all a good night! (Yeah, that almost rhymed.)
