City crews here have been methodically working their way through the city in the weeks since my return, and I'm not referring to the traditional ripping apart and reassembling of streets, sidewalks, plazas, etc. I'm talking people in cherry-pickers, hanging big light displays -- the first tangible sign that Christmas is sneaking stealthily up, looming closer with every passing November day. At some point during the month's final calendar entries, the Mayor and a bunch of other mucky-mucks will get together one evening, blather out speeches, someone will press a switch, the entire city will suddenly be radiant with Christmas cheer.
I know some folks complain about Christmas and all the wackiness associated with it. But I'm not one of them. As unfashionable as those hardbitten, cynical types may consider it, I love Christmastime. The feel, the look. The lights, the decorations (in some cases, the tackier, the better). I just like it, always have. And I love Madrid at that time of the year. They don't have the seasonal kickoff of Thanksgiving/Black Friday in this part of the world -- they just crank up the lights and everyone starts shopping, running off to holiday fairs, going out to bars and restaurants with friends, family and groups from work. Just being around it makes me happy, simpleton that I am. Walking around the city at night in the middle of it all makes me smile, avenues, neighborhood streets and pedestrian ways hung with glowing displays.
Part of the tradition hereabouts: the city's largest department store chain-- with enormous stores dotted around the local landscape -- tosses up humongo creations of Christmas lights on its flagship store, at the very heart of Madrid's city center. Big, oversized, sometimes garish displays, the biggest, most complex of all being a huge installation that covers one side of the several-storey high building. An installation with moving parts and characters that sing, telling a story -- the sidestreet that side of the building fronts on overflows with crowds at performance times, parents bringing kids to watch, tourists gawking.
I passed the scene of this annual yuletide crime the other evening as work crews labored away, installing this year's mammoth, slightly surreal edition. Off to one side, the head of a dragon (I'd be willing to bet a bunch of shiny new euros that it turning out to be a singing dragon) waited to be lifted up into place.
I had to stop, I had to gawp. I had to drag out camera and act like clueless tourist. I did not have the discipline to resist.
Christmas. It's on the way.
España, te amo
rws 1:53 PM [+]
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