Eve of Christmas Eve

'tis the eve of the Eve before Christmas Day. For some reason, this year does not feel so special. I listen to Christmas songs on the radio, I've put up decorations with friends, I've even bought lots of food and drinks in preparation for a big feast with friends later this evening... And the snow that has stayed away till today finally fell, making it a real White Christmas...

But I don't feel the Christmas spirit. I feel blasé , uninspired, not really moved by the festivities (though the Nutcracker helped a bit to boost the feeling inside me...). It feels as if this holiday season came soon quickly, too quickly, and I do not even realise it. What have I been up to this December that Christmas just crept up on me? Traveling, working on finishing my thesis, and caught up by worries of my mother's ailing condition, agitated by fears of slowly losing my good/best friend, my ex...

I know, Christmas is a time for counting your blessing, for being thankful of all the people in your life, for having hope and dreams and wishes... And I am truly blessed in many ways, in more ways I care to remind myself of, in more ways I really actually notice living from day to day...

But this year, it just feels so dull (so far... It could all change in the coming days...). Is it because this year I completely did not spend any time or effort writing dozens of cards for friends and family around the world? Or is it because I just am so tired to get caught up buying and giving gifts?

Christmas... aside from the commercial aspects, aside from the religious roots, it's a wonderfully warm and magical season of the year. But I'm not feeling it at all this year...

Nutcracker

I was lured into dressing up for the evening. So I excitedly put on my suit, a nice tailor made shirt and a classy tie to go with it, thinking we're all going out to a fancy restaurant.

Making sure I was ontime, because my friend said the table would only be kept for us for fifteen minutes, I left home a bit early and arrived with minutes to spare. Once in a while, especially at this very special period of the year, it's ok to "splash out" and splurge. Even though I was a bit taken aback by how much the dinner would cost so I still went. Besides, I've not really "celebrated" since handing in my thesis.

My friends arrived, and my ex handed us all a piece of paper. I was puzzled... Weren't we going to dinner? I didn't eat much for lunch thinking there'd be a fancy feast at night. Instead in my hand was a ticket to see Casse-Noissete (the Nutcracker)...

I was a bit dazed, a bit surprised to have been deceived into thinking and preparing for  something, but it turned out to be something else. I guess it's only fair that I play tricks and try to pull off big surprises on my ex, so he's "paying me back" with an unexpected surprise of his own. Funny thing was, some time ago I  actually asked if he wanted to go with me to watch the ballet, but he was non committal. And I wanted to surprise him by just buying him a ticket to go together, and  were I not in a hurry today, I would have probably got the ticket...

The performance was beautiful, simply magical. As a child, I listened to the Nutcracker story over and over again. The picture  book I read and re-read till the pages were torn at the sides. I can still picture the tin soldier and the ballerina, how they waltzed and danced late into the night...

Later on, for a period of time during my university years, I would get lost in the tsaikovsky's grand compositions whenever I rode the tube. I know the music through and through, and it has been forever it feels since I last saw the performance live on stage.

The costumes were bright and colourful, the decor warming and fairy-tale like. I was soon pulled in, and like a friend said, reliving the dreams and fantasies of a little child who could dance and play with soldiers and ballerinas. The music, the dance, the swift, agile movements and steps. I was absorbed by the performance, touched by that magical, magical spirit of Christmas I have found ao lacking this year...

Home again...

I pulled away from Strasbourg as the day began to dawn. Slight drizzle followed by rain, greeted with sunshine as the train snaked through frost-biten hills and mist-veiled valleys.

Two weeks already. To think then I was so looking forward to taking a break from life and work, so looking forward to see my friend(s) and baby Aslan. Hard to believe that that time has already gone by, and a new year has just begun.

I entered their home to be greeted by a beautifully decorated Christmas, dazzling with lights, and spreading the house with the scenet of fresh pine. Yesterday as I took off the decorations, the needles have browned and some have fallen, as the tree looked a little tired, from the almost constant feasting, laughters, and wonderful memories now captured in my mind, and fleetingly snapshotted with my camera.

I never thought much of Christmas, other than that it was a commercialised hype hijacked to make people buy and buy. And I never can understand why people can get so excited about a new year, or how some can get so crazy to attack passerbys on the streets with fireworks, or even set cars, if not themselves, on fire. But once again, I was taken into a home, and my friends showed me the spirit of sharing and caring that makes this season of lights, Gluhwein, carols and tasty home-cooked delights worth all the while.

And Strasbourg is such a romantic place, such a magical town decked with lights and tinsles, as if the entire (old) city were one big Christmas tale brought to real life. The bitter cold in those few days, and even a shower of snow, covered the land in a chilling white, but somehow gave it a warm, homely feel.

Now, back home, back to the rain and windy climate of the Low Lands. Tomorrow, work awaits, and schedules, and deadlines, and appointments too. But that is tomorrow, another time and another place.

Now, the pictures and short little clips will be able to relive the moments and memories of the weeks gone past.

Stille Nacht, Sainte nuit...

Normally, I am not religious. And I would certainly not call myself Christian.

But on a day when people are suddenly so pleasant to one another and when peace and hope seems to reign everywhere, if only for a day, or a fleeting moment, I attend mass with the masses. Haulicinents loose their effect on me fast, and for many others even faster.

The night was dark, bitter and shrouded in mist, and not a person was in sight on the streets of Strasbourg. It seemed like all the lovely lights and decorations were for me to enjoy, as I walked the almost half-an-hour journey towards Cathedrale de Notre Dame. The trams have long since stopped, as people hurried home earlier to enjoy the warmth of celebrations and loved ones however they can. After a (ful)filling dinner of goose pate, freshly-made tomato-garlic soup, rat-atouille, roasted duck and little pancakes with my friend and my godson, Aslan, I needed the long walk to the Cathedrale to walk off the calories.

As soon as I walked out the door, I could feel the cold hug my face. Thankfully, just yesterday I had bought a cosy hat at the Christmas market from a Quebequois who told me he happens to study at the very university I am hoping to go to, hopefully, soon. Or perhaps there are no coincidences, especially on Christmas Eve.

Il est ne, le divin enfant
Jouez, hautbois, resonnez, musettes!
Il est ne, le divin enfant
Chantons tous son avenement!

It is good to remind yourself the meaning of Christmas. And it is even better to realise that behind the lure of capitalist consumerism, beyond the shining wrapping paper and ribbons, and away from the hordes of stressed shoppers, that I have unfortunately also become part of at times, there is a deeper reason why this season is so specially seen and celebrated around the world (or at least a large portion of it). Indeed, if you were to sum up the two-hour ceremony praising the Lord, exhalting the sacrifice of He who died for our sins, and emphasising the chastity of the Virgin Mary, it is that peace, brotherhood and love for one another is what binds us around the world, in a world that is too often torn by conflict, hatred and divided between 'you' and 'me'. Temporarily, in the hall of Strasbourg Cathedrale, and in the depths of many churches, chapels and cathedrales the world over, people are united, for one day in a year, in prayer. Temporarily, people forget all the colours, the races and religions, and reach out to their neighbours, as the priest told us to shake the hands of our neighbours and wish them well.

O du froliche, o du selige,
genadevrubgebde Weihnachtszeit!

I stood in the crowd, as the Archbishop of Strasbourg waved his staff and preached to his flock below. Unique to its history and location, this is perhaps the only place where hymns are sung in two of the local languages, German and French.

Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht... Tout s'endort au dehors.
Nur das traute, hochheilige Paar, holder Knube im lokkigen Haar,
Au ciel l'astre luit, Au ciel, l'astre luit...

A beautiful combination of languages and culture, united in song and music, and a symbol of how faith and soothing voices know no barriers. The old, the young, a crying baby next to an annoyed devout Christian deep in prayer and the restless little boy who seemed to have been dragged to Midnight Mass, we all huddled together with curious tourists and flashing cameras in the great big hall of one of Europe's most impressive cathedrals.

I stood there, awed by the sheer size of the structure, surrounded by massive red Alsatian limestone pillars and by hymns that I hummed along to at times. Now and then, I could pick up the odd words and sentences from the priest's sermon to decipher what was being said, as the crowd occassionally answered in unison with a low echoing 'Amen'. It was hard to imagine that there I was, standing in the hallowed bowls of gigantic tribute to Catholicism that took countless manpower and resources as well as more than 4 centuries to complete. In a darkened corner of the Cathedral, where the Nativity scene is recreated with wooden puppets and a bed of hay, one is ironically reminded that Christ the devine and graceful Child was born in a humble stable alongside sheep and donkeys. The cathedral bells rang, and the organs sang, the children prayed, and the crowd was blessed, as wooden baskets were passed around, chiming. Amen.

Gloria in excelsis Deo,
Gloria in excelsis Deo!

I lit a candle, and made a wish. A simple wusg ne that I make every year, and one that will most likely be made every year to come.

May there be peace on Earth...
May all beings be free from all hatred and suffering.

Leaving home

Two o'clock in the morning. Just came home from a dinner reunion of friends from university. We enjoyed a lovely dinner, and cherished each other's company next to a warm open fire. Outside, the land froze.

It sudden became very cold, the cold of a winter before talk of global warming began. The kind of cold that clears your lungs as you breathe in deeply, because it is so fresh and so very fragile. So cold that the dense fog condensed on barren branches of giant trees and turned them into frost coated towers that glisten under the yellow hue of the street lights. Grass put on a white wintry layer, as shrubs and bushes wrapped themselves with white tinsels.

Christmas is just around the corner, and the new year is waiting to be ushered in. After work tomorrow, I will be taking the long seven hours train journey, leaving home to go see my family in France. Leaving this house I live in with my brother, who is supposed to be the closest family I have for thousands for kilometers, but with whom I have no contact or communication at all. Needing to go somewhere else where I feel warmth and love, where I feel warmed and loved.

It's sad, in a way... that I can't enjoy the holiday season in my own home, and that I feel like escaping this place whenever I have the chance. But I feel rewarded and grateful, that I have friends and a baby boy who will be happy to see and receive me. Christmas, this season of gratitute and of love and care is magical see through the eyes of a young one.

Someday at christmas men won't be boys
Playing with bombs like kids play with toys
One warm december our hearts will see
A world where men are free

Someday at christmas there'll be no wars
When we have learned what christmas is for
When we have found what life's really worth
There'll be peace on earth

Someday all our dreams will come to be
Someday in a world where men are free
Maybe not in time for you and me
But someday at christmastime

Someday at christmas we'll see a man
No hungry children, no empty hand
One happy morning people will share
Our world where people care

Someday at christmas there'll be no tears
All men are equal and no men have fears
One shinning moment my heart ran away
From our world today

Someday all our dreams will come to be
Someday in a world where men are free
Maybe not in time for you and me
But someday at christmastime

Someday at christmas man will not fail
Take hope because your love will prevail
Someday a new world that we can start
With hope in every heart

Someday all our dreams will come to be
Someday in a world where men are free
Maybe not in time for you and me
But someday at christmastime
Someday at christmastime

One day... someday.

Strasbourg: Ville de Lumiere

Here are some wonderful pictures of Strasbourg at night. Enjoy!

Strasbourg Noël 2006 V
Strasbourg Noël 2006 IV
Strasbourg Noël 2006 III
Strasbourg Noël 2006 II
Strasbourg Noël 2006

Christmas in Strasbourg

I nearly tripped over a big present placed by my bedroom door when I woke up two days ago. I didn’t open it. Why give me a present when you don’t even have the decency to treat me, let alone speak to me, like a normal human being throughout the year? Is this one present supposed to make all those bad vibes, all the mess and temperaments go all away? I closed the door of my house behind me. The air was fresh, cold, and free.

The frozen forest floor and creeks rolled by, and trees were sprinkled with fine powders of white. The train chugged through the mountains, sometimes slow, sometimes speeding along passed quaint little villages and valleys in the picturesque landscape of northern Europe, toward Strasbourg, toward my home for the next few days.

It wasn’t a smooth journey to start with. When transferring in Brussels, someone took my a piece of my luggage ‘without asking’. A few days ago a friend of mine got robbed of everything in Belgium too, and I had promised myself to be more careful. But alas! It was the biggest and most beautiful one, all wrapped up and shining in green paper, with colourful butterflies and ribbons. Inside was a toy for baby Sunny, a play-mat the baby can lie on and exercise his hands and fingers on the rattling puppets and balls that are suspended in mid-air. I was upset for a few moments, wondering what bad things are coming my way. Once I settled into my seat, my mind settled too. Maybe I deserved this bad karma, for the way I reacted to the good-intentions of my brother earlier in the morning. Besides, someone, somewhere will be happy…

It’s been more than six months since I was last here. And how baby Sunny has grown! Before he couldn’t even sit up, and his neck wasn’t stiff enough to support his head. The moment I entered, his mum greeted me with Sunny in her arms. He was a little bedazzled, perhaps shocked to feel the cold cheeks of this stranger who had just walked through the door, and entered his world. Yet soon, as I held him in my arms, in his eyes was a look as if he knows me, as if he remembers. Those two months before, and after, his birth were worth it. Later I heard from his mum that whenever strangers hold him, Sunny would start crying and kicking. But in my arms he was quiet, still… and warmed me.

I’ve been playing and lying around him a lot in the past few days, admiring him, teasing him, adoring him, while reconnecting with his mum. He likes to flap his arms around, to feel and put anything and everything into his mouth. Somehow he has this fascination with my watch, and it tickles whenever he’s little hands and little fingers latch and fumble around my wrist. He likes to poke, to scratch and grab. “Aslon… Aslon…”, you call, and he answers by turning to look at you, with deep innocent eyes. He can’t walk yet, but if you hold him by the arms, he can just about stand. His legs would kick and try to stand up straight, before his wobbly knees send his chubby little body jiggling and wriggling in a baby dance.

He can already babble, gargle, and giggle. When you pull faces at him, he smiles and laughs and sometimes even rewards you with a show of support by clapping his hands and feet together. His laugh can melt your heart, make you smile and forget the troubles of the world. An adorable little being, full of life, full of love, and so much more. Sometimes he’d clamber onto my chest, flap around a bit, stare into my eyes, and mumble before falling asleep. I’d close eyes too, close my arms around him, and dream. The soft, warm feel of his breathing so very soothing.

My friend has had it rough in the last few months, having to juggle studies with a baby, but despite the dark rings around her eyes from the lack of sleep, I’m glad she and Sunny have managed to do so well, together. She kept on thanking me, saying how she and Sunny couldn’t have made it without me. But I just smile, and blush. I did what I could, and nothing more.

Christmas day we went to a friends place for lunch. There was so much food, and wonderful wine, and tonnes of chocolates and local delicacies to be had. A decorated tree stood in the corner, its base brimming with gifts. Two little boxes, and an oil painting, were for me. My friend had done a beautiful portrait of my sweet cat. Carefully I opened one of the little boxes, to reveal a sleeping angel, its face tranquil, serene and peaceful.

“That’s you, Dave. You’re our angel.” I smiled and blushed, and felt my insides swell with indescribable feelings. For a moment it was as if I could feel the tears, too, swell.

The next box came as an even bigger surprise. Under soft, satin cloth was a glistening expensive watch. Speechless, I was, and wondered what I ever did to deserve such a precious gift, and so much more from my friend.

In return, I gave her what little I could afford.

A hug.

And so this is Christmas...

And so this is Christmas

So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
A new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear ones
The old and the young

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The war is so long
And so happy Christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let's stop all the fight

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
A new one just begun
And so happy Christmas
We hope you have fun
The near and the dear ones
The old and the young

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear And so this is Christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
A new one just begun

(John Lennon)

Dear friends

So I wandered the cold, cold streets at night for a while. My breath blurred my vision as I walked aimelessly in the empty streets. Peering into windows, families were sitting at the dinner table, dining, bonding, sharing amid twinkling last and an open fire.

Feeling upset I called a friend, just to talk. Within the next minute, he told me to wait. He was coming to meet me. For him to get to where I was he had to travel almost an hour, yet he was willing to do so. Just for a chat, to share a drink, to make me feel and know I'm not alone.

Just for me. As we parted later in the night, as I watched him walk away, I felt myself smile and warm up inside. What did I do to deserve such a kind, selfless gesture? And in a few more hours another friend will receive me, take me in, give me the warmth and hugs I need over the Christmas period.

How wonderful it is to have friends... friends who come to you when you least expect it, when you most need them most.

Commercial Christmas

Almost twelve hours of deep, deep sleep later, I was fresher, livelier than before. The sun was shining, it was a new day.

A friend invited a bunch of us to go to her place for lunch. A nice little village close to Leiden, and for the first time ever I rode in a car which came with a diplomatic license and driver. Speed, honk, drive carelessly, and the moment people see the license plate they keep their distance. But being (self-proclaiming moral) international lawyers we knew not to abuse diplomatic immunities.

Turned out I was the only guy there. Well, it wasn't so bad, not when they were babbling about how and where to get a perm, what lotions to use, facials, back-scrubs and toe-nail painting. We did talk about other more normal things.... swinger clubs (which was apparently just around the corner in the middle of farmer country), mistresses, sugar-daddies, trios, drink and drugs. Funny.

One of them is about to give birth soon, so we talked about tips and exchanged experiences. To them I seemed like the 'perfect' guy... caring, kind, can cook and sensitive. When we somehow got onto the topic of star signs, the fact that I'm a Pisces made them swoon. "Oooh, Pisces are the most romatic guys".

I couldn't help but blush.

Well, Christmas shopping still had to be done, so afterwards we headed into town. For the next few hours wandered the streets prowling, with bank cards ready to swipe, and swipe again. To be honest, I don't like shopping, especially when you have to fight your way to the cashier with people hauling bigger bags than Santa Claus himself. But somehow Christmas has become a shopper's worst nightmare, and sacred heaven at the same time. Just look around you... where does it seem immune to the spread of that age-old Christmas spirit of commercialism and buying binges? Christmas carols that normally seemed so tranquil and so soothing had somehow morphed into the hypnotising songs of mercantilism conveying the subtle message of buy, buy, buy!

I got what I wanted for my mother-friend, her little baby, and some others. Beaten, tired, drained of money, I headed home, with full bags of goodies and gifts, yet emptily wondering whether Christmas meant much more.

And my doubt was, somehow, just answered by a beautiful, beautiful song...

Till I had you I didnt know
That I was missing out
Had to grow up and see the world
Through different shades of doubt
Give me one more chance to dream again
One more chance to feel again
Through your young heart
If only for one day let me try

I wanna see Christmas through your eyes
I want everything to be the way it used to be
Back to being a child again thinking the world was mine
I wanna see Christmas, Christmas through your eyes

I see the rain, you see the rainbow hiding in the clouds
Never afraid to let your love show
Wont you show me how
Wanna learn how to believe again
Find the innocence in me again
Through your young heart
Help me find a way, help me try

I wanna see Christmas through your eyes
I want everything to be the way it used to be
Back to being a child again thinking the world was kind
I wanna see Christmas, Christmas through your eyes