Henri's - What happened to Santa?

What happened to Santa?

In my country, the holiday season is not only a holiday season - it is celebration of happiness, joy, food, and love. Food, yes, this is a big part of the holiday season; for this, ladies and gentlemen, you better forget your diet. In France, when we think Christmas, we also think feast. During the two Christmas and holiday seasons I’ve spent in the U.S., I have never encountered anything like I did at home. I often created surprise, wonder, and sometimes, even envy by describing my home traditions. Even though people were interested, they never really tried to understand or bothered to try to make me feel a little like home. Even after two years in the U.S. I still miss my traditional holiday season, and I am scared to have to live on memories for another couple of years.

The Christmas celebration is probably the greatest celebration of the year. Usually, at home, we started to plan the decorations and meals at least one month before Christmas eve. Usually the house was decorated by December 15, my brother’s birthday. I was really surprised to see that in the three families with whom I spent Christmas in the U.S., the indoor decorations were very light, whereas the outdoor were usually over the top and more like a competition between neighbors. In my family’s house, as far as I remember, the inside looked like a fairy tale coming to life. I remember decorations shining on each and every wall of the main floor, and of course the Christmas tree - a green glittered giant, full of colorful pendants and fluffy scarves. At its feet were the gifts, all those colorful boxes, each prettier than the next. As kids we were so convinced that it was Santa who was traveling from so far to bring us those marvelous rewards. I also remember my parents warning for the three of us, saying that if we do not behave, nothing will be waiting us on Christmas morning. Now that I am an adult, and I know that my parents were using this trick just to make sure we would be quieter. I worked with three different families since I arrived in the U.S.A. Two years ago I worked as an au pair, and as far as I remember, I do not think that any kids really believed in Santa. From what I can see, the old trick of “behave or no present” does not work. For me, the presents were something coming from the heart of my family and not from the wallet like I saw in my employers’ families. My last employer spent more than five hundred dollars on toys for one of their two children. After that I just had a question, what happened to Santa? What happened to my dear, lovely and precious Santa?

Fortunately, New Years Eve was a little better. But still, the nostalgia of the home costume was with me. New Years Eve was with family and dear friends. I remember the few last New Years Eve spent with my closest friends. We prepared the dinner, enjoyed the time spent together, and joked and laughed. Not my last New Years Eve, but the one just before that brought me pink hair. The friends with whom I was spending it decided to dye my hair without having me know the color until it was finished. As a kid, the celebration was with my family, enjoying a feast of marvelous and delicious food. Not as much as Christmas and the feast composed of sea food, poultry, fish, foie gras, and of course the traditional twelve desserts. For New Years we usually eat a lot lighter - it is more like sea food, poultry or fish, foie gras, and dessert. After the dinner that usually does not finish until midnight or even later, comes the wishes for health, success and prosperity. We go toward each other, exchange kisses, and exchange the wishes and the best feelings. The evening ends with the end of the dinner and jokes. My first New Years in the U.S. had a slight taste of home, I mean by this that the company was good, the food was great, but I would probably stop the comparison there. My second one here was just people drinking. Even before crossing over the New Year, half of the people, if not more, were drunk. Is it just me who did not react in the same way as the others because I come from somewhere else, or is it just that I did not have my place at this kind of party?

I think the celebration that is really lost for me is Epiphany, the time during which we “tirer les rois”. Unfortunately, this does not really translate into English very well. The best despription would be akin to “sorting the kings”, but even that does not explain this French tradition very well. Tirer les rois is an old tradition that started in the middle ages. This celebration, which consists of eating a special kind of pie on the first Sunday of the New Year, traditionally occurs in the taverns. The pie is filled with an almond-powder base, in which is hidden what we call a fève, which is a kind of bean. The custom was that the person who picked the piece of pie with the bean was supposed to buy a drink for all people present in the taverns. Nowadays, the bean has been replaced by a ceramic metallic figure in order to prevent people from swallowing it like before. Now those little pieces of art are the subject of interest of many collectors, who are ready to pay a lot of money for some of them. Tirer les rois is a common way to celebrate Epiphany. Traditionally, we cut the pie, cover it with a clove and make it turn at least seven times on itself. When all of this is done, the youngest person sitting at the tables goes under the table and without looking says the name of the person to whom the slice of pie should go. The person who found the fève is crowned king for the day. I remember as a kid, my parents used to burn a cork to draw mustaches on our face. It appears to me today that this tradition is nothing more than a dream.

I did not know that by coming to the country that I dreamed of since I was six years old, I would have to put aside some of my dearest times of the year. No one warned me about how much this worldwide custom, that is the holiday season, would differ between the new and old world. I sure miss the celebrations we have back in France, but the good thing is that it will allow me to enjoy them even more when I go back home. I will forever remember how much fun it was to decorate the house and prepare for those feasts. We were all dressed up and prepared to share this precious time with the ones we love and care about. In all the Christmas seasons that are precious to my heart, the one that I will remember maybe the most is the first one we spent in our new apartment after my parents divorced. It was my mother, sister and I. It was something small but so full of feelings. It was my sister and I who decorated the house for my mother, and we put all our heart on the task.