As pretty as the lights and decorations are in town, I kind of like these decorations by nature, all taken on a walk in my village.
It can be hard to be an expat at Christmas, even after so many years. Some French traditions are nice–the relatively muted consumerism (it’s still there, but on a scale of 1 to 10, I give France a 7 vs. the U.S.’s 11), the Christmas markets with their quaint chalets and elegant snacks (champagne and oysters), the way everything shuts down between Christmas and New Year so people can have time off with their families.
What do I miss? Baking Christmas cookies. We baked many thousands of them last year and the year before (during which my handheld mixer died and I made a zillion batches by hand because: fridge full of butter and eggs). This year? Meh. Christmas cookies are not a thing in France. Friends here were flummoxed by the boxes of cookies we delivered, almost to the point of being embarrassed: “But we don’t exchange gifts!” “It isn’t a ‘gift’–it’s cookies.”
Anyway, we ate too much dough during the process and worked too hard at Pilates since then, so, not this year. Maybe next year.
A teeny tiny part of me misses the cold and snow. Just an itsy bitsy bit. Not much. An hour would do. (It’s 62 Fahrenheit as I write this.) The way the cold pinches your nostrils and stings your cheeks. The scrunching crunch of footsteps on snow. The clean smell. The absolute hush that envelopes the world when new snow falls.
I miss Christmas carols. Sure, Christmas music plays in some shops, but groups of carolers going house to house doesn’t seem to be a thing. It’s the singing part that’s fun, noses in the air and mouths open like Charlie Brown and the Peanuts gang (a must-watch!). Belting. Glo-oooo-o-oooo-oooo-oria!
Most of all, I miss my family. After a rough 2015, we didn’t get to travel back this year. Decorations are nice, but family is what Christmas is all about.