Merry Christmas
Eek! I let the days slip by and Christmas has gone and past (though the living room is still filled with new toys and the tree is still up) and I forgot a merry Christmas wish to all, So, Happy Christmas to all out there to friends, families, readers and travelers, at home with their families, or backpacking through the wild lands.
I celebrated my first Christmas at 19, up in a tiny mountain house in the Greek village of Viros, so my take on the holiday is a mixture of Greek and ex-pat English. The Greeks don’t celebrate it like the Brits and Americans, their main holiday is Easter, but I remember each year going into the tiny hole in the wall card shops (only two people could fit in them at a time- three was impossibly cramped) and purchasing my kronya polla (Good year) cards to send to family and friends far away. The ex-pats on the island would gather at each other’s houses, drink far too much, as usual, a game of charades, mince pies, a roast dinner- everything roasted- the meat, the potatoes and the veg! and a rum soaked Christmas pudding, flambeed by the daring to round off the evening. No one was left out at Christmas- even the people no one liked found a seat at someone’s house.
Christmas eve the Anglican vicar would pack the house for midnight services and inevitably sometime in that 48 hours around Christmas the ground would quake and the walls would shake. There was always an earthquake on Corfu during Christmas.
The day after Christmas is Boxing day for the Brits- Canadians to, but to this day I haven’t a clue whether it means packing up the Christmas stuff or a fighting match, but it was another excuse to gather with friends, eat the Christmas leftovers and drink too much (yet again).
My Sister, Sandy gave me my first look at Christmas in the States. She lived near Pittsburgh and had a tree so big that it barely fit in the house. There were lots of presents and egg nog with crown royale.
However, I will never forget sitting at Pelton’s on the beach in Palolem, Goa, drinking beer and seeing an Indian dressed as Santa trudge with his friends through the white sands to our palm frond beach restaurant to serenade us with Feliz Navidad. Surreal- as India always will be.
Now I have Christmas thrust upon my shoulders. It is my turn to dazzle little eyes with glowing lights and sparkling ornaments, to ignite their imaginations with the sounds of sleigh bells and tales of a Jolly man in red. It is my turn to soak the Christmas pudding- uh, or not. Merry Christmas!