A (bi)cultural Christmas Countdown.

The earlier mentioned sneaking passage of time marked by the debut of the festive season only became more apparent as the month of December passed by. Indeed, the countdown to Christmas was not so much a stealthy advancement than a hurtling sprint to the finish line. And alas it is 3 days until Christmas, and I am writing this from the decidedly more English climes of Solihull!

After being greeted by the paparazzi (aka my brother and his instructions to capture the moment) at Birmingham Arrivals, I returned to the essentials of a sejour chez les Grace - a proper cup of tea, my cat (who seems to have forgotten I live here) and my dressing gown. Parfait. Thus installed, I finally have time to take stock of the last few weeks, the run-up to Christmas, version Alsacienne. 
The highlights were as follows: 

Les marchés de Noel. Alsace is definitely not short of its wooden huts, twinkling lights and festive atmosphere. Not to mention more mulled wine (or a discovered delicious apple-juice alternative) and bredele and mannele than the entire population of the region could consume. At Christmas Alsatians take even more of an opportunity than normal to bake, and eat. With gingerbread, christmas brioche, and christmas biscuits being just the tip of the (climatically relevant) iceberg, safe to say even Santa and his nine reindeer wouldn't go without.  

I would say my favourite market was in Ribeavillé, a petite version brimming with a charm augmented by the cobbled streets, surrounding snow-covered vineyards and quaint coloured houses. In line with the village’s history, it also took a mediaeval theme, making it stand out from the usual commercial affair. Lively music and costumed-dances made this Christmas market even more of a novelty.

“Weihnacht aus den zillertal” – Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more linguistically confused, I went to a Christmas concert not in French, Alsatian, or even German! It was actually an Austrian group named “Da zillertaller und die Geigerin” singing in a local dialect that must have confused even tri-lingual in the room. Safe to say I did not understand the lyrics, but this did not detract from the mellow folk style and accompanying harp and violin that made it an interesting but thoroughly enjoyable spin on your usual Christmas carol affair! And at the end I was treated to a brief moment of comprehension with the ending note delivered in German. Even if I couldn’t join in, I at least recognised the rousing chorus of “Stille Nacht”.

“Romeo and Juliet” - à la Française. My last evening in Alsace was spent watching another interesting spin on something familiar and traditional, a French interpretation of one of my Shakespearean favourites! Initially hesitant about seeing something so familiar inevitably reworked to a considerable extent, I am pleased to say that The Filature at Mulhouse did not let me down with their banlieue- setting, balanced and coherent mix of original script and contemporary dialogue and stylised performance complete with dancers and acrobats.

My only complaint would be that they tried a little to hard to elevate the tension with harsh lighting and loud sound effects, which at moments left me feeling uncomfortable and perhaps detracted from the drama found in the dialogue itself. But alas, I’m not a theatre critic. And they held our attention for 3 hours without an interval, so hats off to them!

Other less cultural highlights included a house-move that left me once more finding the perfect way to hang my bunting and the perfect wall for my post-card collection, a slightly stressful school trip to Strasbourg which resulted in some interesting history for me but also considerable time spent searching for mischievous run-away pupils, and a Christmas nativity performed not just by adorable pre-school children, but French ones at that.

Thus flew by the countdown to Christmas, with the journey luckily not so rapid as to leave me without some (crucial) lessons in how Alsace does Christmas…

1. Mincemeat is not to be found in French supermarkets. A disappointing discovery when hit by the impulse to do some Christmas baking.

2. Children open their presents on Christmas Eve. This completely destroys the giddy Christmas Eve excitement and 5am wake up, non?

3. No-one knows the names of Santa’s Reindeer. It’s not fair that Rudolph gets all the glory.

Such vital lessons left me even more excited to be deposited on familiar territory in time for some English festivity. After a month of activity I am content to indulge in some Christmas-spiced taking-it-easy.

Someone pass me a mince pie. 

Much-much, oh, ever so much-much thanks.

“Don't grumble! Don't stew! Some critters are much-much,
Oh, ever so much-much
So muchly much-much more unlucky than you!” (Dr Seuss, “Did I ever tell you how lucky you are”)

Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever! (Psalm 107)

It has come to my attention that I am a grumbling critter. Having always enjoyed having an excuse for a good moan, it is since being in France that my tutting, sighing, whingeing behaviour has been taken to a new extreme; with the most recent cause of complaint being of course the snow (and his friend the bitter cold). Also up there on the list has been boredom derived from too little work, swapped occasionally for the fatigue derived from doing too much, with the irony of this showing how easily I find a source of complaint.

On Thursday evening I volunteered at a Christmas party hosted by a local organisation that provides temporary accommodation for asylum seekers. The 13 families currently living at the centre enjoyed a meal, dancing and presents for the children. The joy they derived from simple food, warmth, company, and a convivial atmosphere makes me question my discontented attitude. Compared to the sort of some, my perceived woes are trivial. And standing next to my reasons for joy, I think its time to stop stewing and start giving thanks.

Things I am thankful for today …

1. My new lodgings are pupil-free, with sufficient light…. not to mention right at the top of a Chateau.

2. I have a home on this earth that is not going anywhere, and its 5 days and counting until two weeks in its comfort.

3. I can receive emails that mean I am up to date with all the crucial day-to-day details.

4. I have made new friends, with people I never would have even envisaged meeting.

5. I have a handful of motivated pupils that, with an enthusiastic “good morning” in the corridor make the battle against apathy a little easier.

7.  I get to indulge my geeky pleasure of learning new words on a daily basis.

I could go on, and I think I still have some way to go before my cup is half full. The good news is that my number 8 – that I am in receipt of the love that endures – does not change with season, country, or even when I fail and have a good moan. This grumbling critter is still loved. For that I am thankful.