So this is Christmas?

So many times we hear people having troubles coping with Christmas, because of lack of time to buy all the presents or because of sadness for the lost childhood happiness of this time of the year. Or perhaps because the whole world is upside down and things seem completely out of tune.

Imagine a huge Christmas tree in the main square of a town, when outside is 32 degrees and you are sweating every minute of the day, unless you are swimming in crystal clear water at 28 degrees with a bunch of clown fishes - and jelly fishes.

Imagine it is Christmas eve in a frontier town: 20.000 inhabitants and 50.000 snakes, bars close at 6, one restaurant remains exceptionally open until 9, there is no place to go before the midnight mass and you should probably not go anyway because it is highly recommended not to stay out in the streets at night. And you are sweating again.

Imagine it is 45 degrees Celsius now, in a splendidly red desert, there is a swimming pool with palm trees and a receptionist offering you some chocolate:
"oh, thanks, this is so sweet of you"
"no, it is Christmas".

Imagine Santa coming in many different forms: as a scarecrow carrying the just harvested hay or - rather obviously - on a surf board or on a SUV disguised as a reindeer with a red nose.

Imagine still to catch a plane around noon and have your Christmas lunch 10.000 mt high. And lunch is a frozen chicken sandwich. And imagine you finally land, it is 25 degrees (and you are complaining) and at last you can sit in a normal restaurant - the only one open in town - and order a typical - which you never ever had before - Christmas lunch: stuffed turkey and Christmas pudding.

Merry Christmas down under!

Christmas three - or four

So this is Christmas. And so it is gone.

Buying presents, visiting family, eating too much, getting a flu from one of the kids, maybe.
Same as one year ago, nothing like the years before, not sure about the next ones. Christmas in Rio next year?

I'll be gone soon. A Christmas tree too big to decorate will overstay me here.

1984

When I was a child, we used to make the Christmas tree every 8 December. We were dreaming of the day when we would have a real one and not the plastic one fitting our living room - and surviving us children's ability to raze anything within our reach.

When I was a child, you wanted to be a "Duran Duran" or a "Spandau Ballet" fan. I liked them both and then they sang together a beautiful Christmas song. In my childhood, also "We are the world" was a Christmas song. And the Gremlins were a bit scary.

Now Christmas is coming every year but at the same time it is like not coming back. Childhood, for better or for worse, will never come back. Waking up on Christmas day to open presents will not come back. Simon Le Bon and Tony Hadley will never sing together again. Parents will not come back again.

Yet, I see no reason for not making a Christmas tree every year by 8 December, and for not leaving its lights on to have them welcoming me back home in the evening. Perhaps, a good thing about childhood memories is that you can pick what you like and leave the rest in some forgotten corner of your new self.

And my 1984 Christmas can come back whenever I decide it. Here and now, for example :)