Not a Scrooge, Just Puzzled

This time last year I was unemployed in Glasgow but visiting Bristol for an Aussie Expat Christmas. It's officially Christmas today, but the family had our Christmas last weekend, so I'm doing not much at all at the moment; trying to clean out my inbox, grazing on leftovers, listening to birds squabbling on the fence.

The internet is full of Merry Christmases. They're everywhere, like an ant infestation. But without the itchiness. Disregarding my absence from the radar of late, I wonder if my lack of a similar well-wishing broadcast is noticed, is judged.

I never quite know how to position myself on Christmas. I mean, sure, it's everywhere, everywhere, and we've always acknowledged it. In a sort of, I don't know, Australian way? We're not Christian in any sense, we're not pagan, we don't adhere to any of the rituals from which Christmas stems. Santa Claus has not featured in many years. We don't put up a Christmas tree.

What we do is, get our small family together, have a fabulous meal, swap some presents, drink some beer and wine, and relax. That's all. I'd say the only real tradition we have is the salad. It's special. We all love it, and we only eat it once a year. (That said, this year may have started the tradition of the Christmas Fan, which stood in for the Christmas Tree. Assuming every Christmas is a hot day from here on in, which given the weather, isn't great odds.)

Wishing the greetings of the season feels oddly false to me. Perhaps because I'm too aware of the friends I have, who are many, for whom Christmas isn't an event participated in, and I know all to well that having to assert your autonomy when presented with so many good intentions is exhausting. Maybe I can't help but think of all the people for whom Christmas is something to dread, whether because of unrealisitic social expectations or family issues, and for whom yet another cheerful seasons greetings may possibly be the last straw. To be thankful without gloating; surely that does not require a public broadcast.

Maybe this just ties back into not wanting to add to the noise of the world. There are plenty of well-wishes out there to go around.

I like the mince pies. I really like giving presents. I like my family. I like days off. I like that salad. I probably even like you. But I don't think Christmas belongs to me.

Just wait til New Years. That's a calendar I may live by, but haven't chosen.

Goodwill and Effulgence

I'm not quite in my right mind at the moment; a somewhat blinding headache and broken sleep. We're sitting in a cozy lounge room in Bristol. A rare morning of sunshine is making the mouth-breathing condensed on the window a lovely pattern of luminous elm forest, and gilding the Christmas tree (the Christmas tree!) with silver and faux-warmth. The shag carpet is attached to our socks. There was champagne and croissants, now there is tea and chocolate money. Of the rending of wrapping paper only a few festive scraps give evidence. In the oven a piece of pig is turning into something civilised and delicious.

This is the Post-Christian Melbourne Ex-pats' Christmas Thing. We're not religious, yet Christmas nevertheless has meaning for us. Our families are on the other side of the world and so we've come together and yes, it is Christmas here.

I'm feeling particularly full of love for all. Everyone. Everything! But especially the varied and fascinating people in my life. My skype sessions with my family leave me so happy that my tribe is who and what it is. There are email exchanges with friends back home, friends here in Scotland, friends everywhere! Twitter and FB conversations. Drinks in cities that neither of us live in or call home! Friends who have opened their homes to me across the hemispheres! The world at this moment seems to be full of people who are so much more than just people! I want to name you all, but I am always concerned that someone may not wish to be named on a public blog, but, if I've met you on my travels you are on this list, if I yell at you in my life you are on this list, if you've done me any kindness or laughter you are on this list.

As the SBS man says, "The world is an amazing place." You're a part of the world so you must be amazing too. 

The Best of Gingers

Glasgow has imported the continental tradition of the Christmas Market. It started in St Enoch Square tonight. Small, but surprising in the quality and diversity of stalls on offer. Our particular discovery of hither unknown treasure is some amazingly incredible delicious non-alcoholic ginger wine, served piping hot and perfect. Two bottles of Papa's Mineral Company also make a variety of cordials, and I'll definitely be going back to pick up a bottle of the Winterberry Cordial, which sounds incredible. Glaswegians can pick up one bottle for £6 or two for £10. Very much recommended.

We also stumbled across "real fake snow!" which "feels cold! TOUCH ME!" which we did touch. And it felt wrong. So wrong. Rubbery and yet slimy without being viscous or sticky. Cold because it had sat on a shelf outside for hours. The sales rep offered to demonstrate the snow - how does one demonstrate snow? it just sits there being snowy, which it was already doing quite well - and pour a little from a vial into J's hand, slightly different consistency. He then added water, at which point the 'snow' IF IT REALLY IS SNOW got its hulk on and promptly tripled in volume, overflowing through J's fingers. The chemical reaction was enough to produce marked heat. "Non-toxic," they assured us. "Perfectly safe. It's some sort of polymer."

Look, to me it looked like exactly the sort of mysterious innocuous substance that turns up in an episode of Doctor Who and is ultimately some sinister mind-control body-morphing world-enslavement goop enabler. That's all I'm saying.

 To cap off a cold and wet stroll through the markets we returned to a small booth selling liquor-enhanced hot chocolates, and did I ever buy a massive thick goopy hot chocolate laced with Baileys, by golly.

 It threw me back to Prague where I spent the beginning of the year walking around without any particular goal other than to turn down as many curious little alleys as possible. There, the selling of hot alcoholic beverages in take-away cups was standard, and I loved it. It's no doubt a mark of my legal imprinting in Australia but walking around with a delicious hot drink that was deliciously spiked with delicious felt deliciously naughty. It also gave a lovely glow to the bitter cold, and kept my hands warm.

little lights, a little light

I went walking, and found a little galaxy. I took a slice of time and froze it into a visual representation, which I then converted into 0s and 1s, and now I am putting it here, for you.

Christmas Disturbia

Rothenburg ob der Tauber. Famous for its Weihnachtsmarkt, or Christmas markets for the non-Deutsch speaker. Also a very very ridiculous place. It's a complete medieval town, and dude, wtf. It's like walking around a gingerbread city, or a fairytale. It's like Sovereign Hill, ONLY IT IS REAL (little Victoria reference there).

They take Christmas seriously here, and today I went to the Christmas Museum, which is housed in a MASSIVE INSANE LABYRINTHINE MANDELBRÖT Christmas decoration store. I mean massive. I qot lost. Several times.

I stole a few fantastic photos, but unfortunately the connect at this hostel does not like uploading, so I'll restrict pictographs to only this.



HOW MANY EYES DO SNOWMEN NEED?!?!?!?!