Well, I will freely admit that I love these days leading up to Christmas. There is something about this season that feels so sweet to me, so full with simple, transient pleasures. The lights and decorations, the parties, people carrying bags of items soon to be adorned with wrapping paper, ribbons, other frufru. The fresh feel to the air, the slant and angle to the sunlight. The sense of anticipation as the days slip by, the swelling in the number of seasonal observations of whatever kind -- spiritual, religious, cultural (music, art, all that).
It's good, all of it. (Please try not to hate me for being into the sappy yuletide way.)
Yesterday evening: me, out to meet a Spanish friend. Strolling along la Calle de Alcalá, by la Plaza de la Cibeles, with its enormous fountain and the main post office building. Lights everywhere, the area looking grand and Christmassy. And the post office -- an extravagant building to begin with -- tall, white with turrents and banners. A beautiful, impressive edifice, made more so with all the seasonal lighting.
Call me naïve, but I like all that.
Two days back, the numbers were picked for the Christmas lottery, the biggest of the numerous Spanish lotteries, called la Gorda (the fat one). A lengthy, drawn-out, televised ceremony in which pairs of children pick numbers, calling them out in a repetitive chant. A long, long to-do, its pace slow and measured in a way that some might experience as monotonous, tiresome. But Spain is into it, and winners of the various sizeable prizes get their moment in the evening news and the front pages of the following day's newspapers -- hugging, kissing, brandishing winning tickets, popping open bottles of sparkling wine, shaking them vigorously to spray in every direction.
The big oneChristmas is a presence on local television not only through holiday programming, but also through the change in advertising, from the more normal ads for cars, premium television channels, mobile phone companies, prepared foods to a flood of ads for perfumes/colognes and, as Christmas has drawn closer, for sparkling wines. More ads for smelly lotions and bubbly than I even knew existed. Impressive, in a slightly unnerving way.
The crowds in the city center continue, out walking, shopping, pouring in and out of the Christmas Fair in la Plaza Mayor. And speaking of that Christmas Fair, someone told me recently that among the various figurines people buy there for the traditional manger scene -- an elaborate item that often even includes a small pool of water, a teeny pond or lake -- there is one of a person crouching, pants down around their ankles. I'm told some Madrileños buy this figurine and position it by the lake, as if it's, well, pooping in the water. It's some poorly-educated twit from Barcelona, they apparently say, using this traditional holiday scene as an opportunity to express a bit of the traditional Madrid-Barcelona rivalry. Or more than that, the rivalry between la Comunidad de Madrid and the autonomous province of Cataluña. A rivalry with a history of enmity, apparently still running deep for some folks.
I have yet to find confirmation of this, but then I've only asked one local so far, and she seemed as mystified as me at the whole idea.
The weather's turned nice and crisp -- daytime temperatures in the 30s, dipping below freezing at night -- with sunshine pouring down, strong and direct enough to make sitting on a bench in a plaza or a park a good way to pass some time. An extremely user-friendly version of the Christmas season.
The city seemed surprisingly busy this Christmas Eve morning, the Metro substantially more crowded than I remember it last year on the same day, lots of people about when I headed out early to the gym. Since then, things seem to be quieting as the city prepares to shut down this evening. Signs in the Metro advise that trains will stop running, all stations will close at 9:30. The streets will empty out, families will gather for the big midnight dinner. Tomorrow will bring another big dinner, gifts will be thrown about, and there it will be: Navidad, 2003.
I'm off to a dinner tonight, though not quite as hardcore -- starting at 10, ending in time for a decent night's sleep. It will be nice to walk through the quiet streets before and after the get-together, the night air crisp, Christmas lights shining all around.
And before then, I'll take care of my own version of holiday prep., maybe get to an early showing of a film before the theaters shut their doors for the evening.
However you spend this evening, whatever this time of the year means to you, be well.
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For last-minute shoppers seeking the thoughtful, considered guidance of a professional journalist, along with a fine suggestion or two for names of rock 'n' roll bands: Dave Barry's 2003 Holiday Gift Guide. Worth perusing not simply for the unnerving gift ideas, but also for the moving holiday story that starts it off.
rws 9:11 AM [+]