I think the blame lies with my mother, who raised us on Christmases chock full of hot chocolates stirred with candy canes, hand-written notes from Santa and family expeditions to Christmas tree farms to seek out the perfect tree to cut down, haul home and lavish with the love of years of handmade decorations. As soon as the Thanksgiving leftovers were neatly tucked into Tupperware, the Christmas boxes were hauled out from the garage, supplying us with enough holiday music, movies and decorations to last the whole season. And although the magic of Santa has long faded, Christmas has become even more fun as I've grown. It's now an occasion that reunites us, and in fact, I fly back to the States this Thursday for my first homecoming since last Christmas. In the meantime, I've been getting into the Christmas spirit on the weekends, when I blast Nat King Cole and the Carpenters through my laptop and bake (cookies, cranberry bread, you name it).
While I'm looking forward to finally being "home," it has been fun to see Europe deck its halls and to explore how other nations "do" the holiday. I don't think many Americans realize how many of the Christmas things we take for granted are really limited to our own country, for example: Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer (my tutoring children stared at me blankly the other day when I mentioned him), candy canes (or peppermint in general), stockings (here they will often do wooden shoes, or just gifts), pumpkin pie, Christmas cookies (here they eat a jelly roll cake known as a bûche de noël, or yule log), and gingerbread men and houses (here they do literal ginger bread; a dense brick of a thing with nuts and raisins).
I'll fill you in with more details of the French noël tomorrow, but first, here's the Danish approach to a god jul (merry Christmas) and the last installment of my Copenhagen photos.
Danish portrayals of Santa often include him carrying a jolly looking pig. At first it struck me as random, if rather cute, and then my inner pessimist kicked in and I realized what Sinister ol' St. Nick had in mind for that pig. A quick chat with a Dane confirmed my suspicions: little Wilbur was headed for the main platter at Christmas dinner (and with a garnish already in mouth, no less!):






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