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Tuning into Christmas

A dose of calm amidst the frenzy? Or have things started to settle down? Here in France, the snow has paralysed the North, leaving Paris and its airports in disarray. I truly feel for those that are waiting and hoping for their loved ones to join them. Time to get a bit weepy while singing “I’ll be home for Christmas” after having tucked into a bit too much of the Grand Marnier. In Arles, we have been spared but the sky is a solid sheet of steel and letting in as little light. If we are lucky, things might shift just enough so that we get to see the stars on Christmas Eve on our way to the midnight mass…
The last bit of bustle in our house is of course, food-oriented. The buche has been ordered–oh my do the French take the idea of a “Christmas Log” to a whole new level. And there will certainly be none of the famous Provençal Thirteen Desserts at our table as we are going for a rather richer option than dried fruits and nuts. We have again this year put all ideas of being reasonable aside and are going for what we love, “The Three Chocolates”. Is this supposed to be an illusion to the the three wise men? Entirely possible. The description roughly translates as: chocolate biscuit, creamy mousse that is a half bitter, half sweet with a bit of “ivory” (elegantly said) with a profiterole icing. And though we are only two this year, we ordered a portion for four. You never know who may turn up at the door. 
The butcher shop, Mere-grand, is reserved only for special occasions but as this is one, I plucked up my best dog voice and somehow managed to get a drooling Ben to “stay” outside the door, an act which made a pair of elderly ladies giggle with delight. The owner put in a quick phone call to his distributor and managed to locate a small pheasant that we will pick up tomorrow so that it can sit for a day before being cooked. Remi will make his own sausage and chopped liver stuffing. I asked for chestnuts as a side dish and it seems like we will be starting with escargot. All of this is for Christmas Eve, which takes precedence over the 25th here in importance. It is a day for family and yes, as I have mentioned, I am missing the rest of mine though I am well aware how blessed I am to have Remi and Ben. 
A little gift for those of you who love holiday music but feel that you are going to pull your hair out if your hear George Michael sob “Last Christmas” one more time. Turn into Christmas Lounge radio by Soma FM either on iTunes or on their website to enjoy such laid back tunes as Julie London swinging “I’ve got my love to keep me warm” or Peggy Lee whispering a very behind the beat “Jingle Bells”. You’ll thank me that you did.

Daily dose of Christmas

Tired of the twinkly lights yet? Really? A few more then as I gather up the goods for a post on our outing(s) to the oh so lovely town of Uzes…

Five more days until Christmas!!! Heading into the annual “Will the gifts arrive?” mode (a challenge when you are an ocean away from the rest of your family) and am really wishing that my Mom and Sister were here to share all of this with us. Remi is starting to warm up his cooking chops (though how he could ever top last year I’ll never know, it was madness! Insane!) with a rabbit that he cooked in champagne yesterday for three hours. Trust me, you forget the bunny references.

Sadly, I have another bit of random news. The impossible has happened–I found a cheese that actually is too stinky, horrifically so, for me to eat. Now, you could see how casual I was about the rabbit so give me a bit of credit! But munster is NOT the same thing as muenster. I knew this and should have paid attention when my trusted cheese lady tried to warn me “you know that it smells really bad, right?” but did I listen? No. It is going to take me a bit of time to get over it but with a little help from my super chef of a honey, I will try…

Lights 2!

Lucky you! Because my sister asked, here are even more (blurry) photos of the lovely Christmas lights around Arles, taken just this evening. I went for a walk by myself and realized that it had been so long since I had done so. A stroll, alone, without Ben or Remi nor purpose. It does me good from time to time to see my town as our many tourists do, especially at this time of year when it shines so brightly, literally and figuratively.
Today is one of the few Sundays a year when stores are open. France’s labor laws still honor things like a day off, a day of rest. I can’t help but think of my Mom who is working so hard this week as is my Sister. So for all of you that are exhausted in the States (or here in France as well), know that there is someone wishing you well, saying hang in there a few more days–Christmas is less than a week away!
There were truly a surprising number of people out, lots of families and holding of little hands. I followed the crowd up the rue Hotel de Ville and was delighted to find what had drawn them–another showing of  Groupe F’s projection on the Town Hall minus the fireworks. I had forgotten how haunting the cello music was and how lovely the “journey” up the Rhone, following a Tinkerbellish spark until we arrived at the very Town Hall that the film was being shown on. As before, polite applause followed this effect. It was especially fun to have arrived in the middle of the projection as an onlooker, so that I could just make out the expressions of those watching it in the spidery light on those of all ages, all sizes. Only the Grinch doesn’t love this time of year in these parts and families of all religious preferences are welcome. Here we speak of “les fêtes” or the holidays, more than Christmas though the celebrations for that very special day are wonderful too. With a Communist mayor and a large population with North African roots that are Muslim such an open attitude keeps Arles in balance.

I have a little circle of a walk, actually I have several but tonight I did the loop that usually takes me to Soulier, the bakery with the chatty sales girls and back along the rue de Republique, dotted with boutiques like L’Occitane and Christian Lacroix (an Arles native) past the Place du Forum to home.

Speaking of Mr. Lacroix, the city workers, being thrifty, brought out all of the magenta film gels to cover the street lights that he had ordered installed for the length of his incredible exhibition at the Musee Reattu last year. Why not? And why not several disco balls too? It is after all, les fêtes!

Lights!

Friday evening we went to the opening ceremony for the Droles de Noel (yep, drole as in funny) at the Place de la Republique here in Arles. You might have already gleaned that Christmas here is less about the mad rush of shopping than it is about slowing down, taking time to properly see out the end of the year. And I could definitely feel that collective sigh of relief at the festivities. We arrived early to get a good spot for our lovely friend Maya, a perennially sparkling eyed three year old who was accompanied by her grandparents. The delightful aroma of spiced hot wine wafted by occasionally to keep us warm, along with much mitten crunching and feet tapping until the lights dimmed and the music swelled.

It is just one of those quirky circumstances that makes our little town so interesting but Arles is home to the Groupe F, whose mind-blowing pyrotechnics have lit up the opening ceremonies of several Olympic games and many international celebrations. Luckily for us, they love their home town and share their artistry with us a few times a year. Truly, our Bastille Day celebration is not to be beat. The Droles de Noel was on a smaller scale than say, the ceremony celebrating the 120 years of the Eiffel Tower but still was delightful enough to leave little Maya gasping. My tired old camera (I curse you! I can’t wait until you are replaced at Christmas!) could NOT keep up, so I will sparingly share the many wobbly beyond meaning photos that I took. After jets of sparks and a symphony of flames, human literally lit up like Christmas trees and a glowing man made out of fire, the town hall was transformed into a giant “cadeaux”–a fitting symbol for the gift that Groupe F gave to us.

To get a far, far better idea of why this evening was special, take a peek at  Groupe F!

Nipping at your heels

The cold has come on in a way that I don’t think anyone foresaw. This morning the market was nearly empty with many of the sellers knowing that it was just not worth it to unpack their wares. Fortified by my mink-lined coat and Max Mara snood, I searched for my favorite stands in vain. No oysters for lunch today then, no 50 cent Christmas decorations either. Just a kilo of clementines, several scoops of walnuts (kept in a bowl by the door so that Remi can take a handful on his walks) and two perfectly rich slices of paté en croute sold to me by a wonderful man who actually called me “young lady”. I said that there was no need for him to exaggerate but was delighted. All around me, I could hear folks muttering to themselves–at best exhaling an extended brrr, at worst shouting out unprintable French swear words accompanied by shaking a fist at the sky. As the skin on my face started to freeze, I turned towards home, stepping gingerly over a tiny magenta fish left behind when the fishmonger packed up early.

The mistral wind, which usually clings to the Rhone, was running rampant. No alley, no matter how narrow, provided a respite. How lovely to find Ben wagging his tail at the front door and to pull the club chair up in front of the fire. Here I am happy to stay while listening to the wind whip through the chimney high, high above. Safe inside on a winter’s night.

Ah yes, except I still have to take the dog out, no matter how cold. So I snapped a few, um, “artistic” (aka blurry) photos to give a preview of the Christmas lights, lanterns and trees that the town has put up for the holiday season. Tomorrow is the opening ceremony of the official Christmas festival…to be continued…

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