There is a monster in my living room. It is our Christmas tree.
Remi picked it out this year.
This makes the seventh Christmas that we have bought our tree from the Mountain Man of the Ardeche. Yes, we have our faults but we are ridiculously loyal. It seems the very least we can do for his efforts of filling up his rusted white van full of sapins de Noêl in the middle of the night and making the five hour drive so as to arrive in time for our Wednesday market. He never disappoints, neither the man nor his trees. His face is as craggy as the mountain that he comes from and is nearly covered with hair, his teeth have been worn down to daggers. But he was so pleased to see us again! He clapped his hands together and smiled. It always feels so good to be remembered, doesn’t it?
And his trees! Well, this year Remi had suggested, wisely, that we get a smaller tree as we have less space in this new apartment so we headed over to the “small” section, a bargain at only 30€ a pop. I ran to get cash while Remi selected carefully. After promises of “à l’année prochaine” and a wave, we carried it home between us. With Ben trotting at our side, I felt very much the little family out of a JCrew ad, something I highly doubt I will ever feel again.
Imagine my surprise when we brought the tree into the apartment and it fit under the ceiling with barely an inch to spare. Wasn’t this supposed to be a smaller tree? And then we opened it up and it is as skinny as a Czech supermodel. “I like it,” Remi said, clearly proud of his choice, “it is different, very Zen.” Different it most certainly is but that is also why I call it a monster. It is, poor thing, quite simply the Charlie Brown Christmas Tree…on steroids.
*For the following little epilogue, for those you that are wanting to stay in the fairy dust land of the holiday season, please feel free to skip it. I won’t blame you in the least. Ditto if you are simply too busy!*
And while vaguely on the subject of cultural differences, I had a conversation this morning while I was out on my morning walk with Ben that was odd on so many levels that it is worth repeating. I was in a great mood, the sky was blazing blue and I had my camera out, ready to take some photos. A man stopped to compliment me on Ben but I quickly realized that he had confused him with a dog that is similar in appearance but actually belongs to the Roma or Gypsy camp outside of town. This dog is very sweet and makes the rounds to the shops for attention and scraps. I said that it is surprising that he is so docile and well-trained. The man puffed up his chest and said, “Not all Gypsies are dirty you know. Where are you from?” When I replied that I was American (curious to see where this was going) he responded, “Well, that is the difference between your society and mine. Here in France we do not make such gross assumptions about people as you Americans do, where black is black and white is white.” Now, I knew that I should have stopped this exchange right away by explaining that I am not in the habit of confusing people with their dogs but I couldn’t help myself. “Excuse me, but how can you say such a thing when France remains an incredibly racist country? We are in a region where nearly 30% of the population votes for the FN (the Front National Party) which wants to sweep all of the immigrants out of the country…” I paused, stupefied and also because I realized that I was raising my voice. “This is not about racism!” he yelled, now also angry. “You see? A good conversation turned ugly,” I said with a shrug as I turned my back and continued down the street. For the record, I don’t have a problem with the Gypsies but their dogs are often aggressive as they are trained to guard the camps. Sheesh. Why is it, after so many years of living in France that it still makes me so very angry when someone makes a gross generalization about the United States? Every single time I hear “you Americans” my skin crawls. My country is so huge and holds such a wide range of religions and cultures, styles and modus operandi. Please don’t put us in a box, that is unless you are willing to wrap it up with a big bow to put it under my Monster Tree.
Oh Penelope, really? Thank you so much! You know, as gorgeous as our last place was, we feel so much more comfortable here.
And if you say so, then it is time for the Zen tree! I can't even imagine how you could have found a skinny tree in the States. :O
Wishing you and yours (and yes that includes the ducks) a very Happy Holidays!
I love your tree! I bought the same size and shape! A tall and skinny "zen cedar tree!" Mine is alive; so we can plant it in the garden. I think Christmas trees are very chic when they are tall and skinny!
And you have done an absolutely fabulous job on this apartment!
It is gorgeous, warm and cozy!
Hello everyone and thank you so much, as always. I just came back from my evening walk with Ben which was delightfully less eventful than this morning albeit cold. I had been thinking about my discussion with my Mom on the phone earlier and she said yet again that I have the most interesting, intelligent people commenting on this blog. Voila la preuve! The proof!
Bruce, hallelujah! Let there be light indeed!
Judith, it is always so good to hear from you but please go take a nap and feel better as soon as you can. 😉
Oh no, Jane and Lance, not even a Christmas shrub? My Sister and I would often result to that if we were going away for the holidays but then again, if you are going to be with friends every single evening, WHO could complain? And yes, as always you said it perfectly. I have yet to pull out the "you wouldn't be here if it weren't for us" card and hope that I never have to (especially as the Americans did bomb Van Gogh's house here in Arles. Oops). And I am so very sorry that you are also under the gun of the right wing. I marched with Remi in Paris against the FN the last time around and will do so again if need be.
Anon, I completely agree–except maaaybe the Balinese. 🙂
Contessa, as always giving me good advice–I will definitely let it go!
Laura, thank you for your insight. The man I spoke with was not at all a Roma but a wealthy shop owner, I should have made that more clear. That is what especially blew me away! I actually have a good contact with one young woman that is Roma. We talk, I help her when I can and when I can't we still talk. It is an unusual world to me but so are we to them. Wishing you a lovely holiday season as well! I have always wanted to visit Santa Fe at this time of year.
Debra, as I said chez toi, YOU have the right idea! A potted tree that you borrow and then send home to grown. Perfect. Hugs to you too, friend.
I love your tree Heather and think it's perfect in all its tall, slenderness. I actualy prefer a Charlie Brown tree over the perfect trimmed ones there's something endearing about them.
As for the gentleman you passed words with his loss for not actually getting to know an American and her faithful dog!
Enjoy your gorgeous tree!
Hugs!
Debra
Wonderful tree. I like the fact it is not conventional and your decorations are perfect for it. Elegant and lovely!
As for your encounter with the Roma, I have studied and been interested in Gypsies for many years. I am certainly not an authority on their culture, but do know the dogs in their camps are for protection and to sound the alarm for approaching strangers. The book entitled "The Gypsies" by Jan Yoors (1967) refers to this several times, along with photographs.
You were not being assumptive in your observation. Such a basic, innocent comment should not have been met with hostility.
There are plenty of people that would judge him harshly, he just happened to over react to the wrong person. Have a wonderful Holiday Season! Look forward to your posts in 2012.
Laura in Santa Fe, NM
Monster Tree………..divine!Great story………as for that man let it go!We know better.Us Americans here or abroad we know how we are.His loss……….and how on earth could he mistake BEN for a roaming four legged mutt!
Your tree has an altitude issue!!! Love the independence of it! As an American I do not liked to be lumped into categories. We are the most generous, friendly and genuine people on the planet.
Hello Heather:
Your tree, and yes it is on the slim rather than the fat side, looks most elegant and fits the apartment beautifully with a rather regal presence. Indeed, seeing it has made us a little wistful as only today we made the decision not to have a tree this year. But this is really because we are with different friends for each day of the holiday and so, hardly at home, it really does not seem to have very much point.
Oh dear, how well we know these altercations which spring out of nothing and always leave one feeling somewhat shaken. In such situations the insult is usually aimed at our being foreigners, rather than at our country. But perhaps people think that America is a more direct, and thus a more effective, target. But you always have the satisfaction of knowing, Heather, that had it not been for America, then there would possibly be no modern day France as we know it. And pernicious right wing groups, in the ascendancy, then look no further than here.
I love the tree. It represents my scrooge-ish ambivalence to the holiday season. Were I to come home with one like that, however, I'd never hear the end of it.
But you've made it look beautiful in all its Twiggy-like splendor. Even a skinny tree deserves to be loved.
Happy Holidays!
What a great story/Blog post!!!
I love the tree.
One year, a few years ago, after my divorce (amicable after many many years) and I was living in a loft which housed my studio and art gallery all I had was one of those dorm-like palm trees; I decorated it.
It, too, was Charlie Brown-like, but all that mattered was the light. Let there be light.