on the eve of a Western holiday

(This is a few weeks old, but my holidays were busy too, so forgive the lag time.)

December 24, 2008. 8:15 am

It’s a strange feeling to wake up this morning and not to smell pies baking, not to feel overwhelmed with excitement for the holiday season, and especially to know that there is not a chance in hell of seeing snow on the ground or of sitting down to breakfast with my mother and grandma, to watch them pick at pieces of Italian sweet bread and gently bicker about whether Mom’s silver is polished enough.

Instead I woke up to hear sheep “mehh”ing and birds twittering, the 70-degree air just cool enough to remind me of the States, but still about 40 degrees warmer than what I expect it’s like at home today. A rooster is crowing, and when I get up to go outside, the ground will still be covered in sand, sand, sand, as far as the eye can see.

It’s more than strange to be displaced in a foreign culture during a holiday such as this. The only other time I’ve been out of America for Christmas was the winter of ’02, when I went to Greece [during my study abroad year in France]. It was chilly and raining, but there were still signs of the season around - blinking lights strung up in restaurants, ferries not running on the 25th. I remember that cold auberge in Corinth, and looking down at the lights on the peninsula with Jake and Andrew. And the welcoming warmth of the hostel in Athens, where I called home to talk to Mom and everyone, as they told me it had snowed so much already that morning that Uncle Dave had to come over and get them in his truck. It would just happen that way, that the first time I’m away from home on Christmas we get a real snow for the holiday.

But here, there are no twinkling lights. There are no malls to go to, playing Christmas music on repeat. It is not even cold. There are no evergreens growing in this climate, and 95% of the population doesn’t even have an oven, in which to bake cookies. How very very different.