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…
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Lights 2!
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.
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…
Oh! Christmas tree!
Finally, it is starting to feel like Christmas here! It is cuttingly cold outside but warm and cozy in. The fireplace is working overtime and we boosted our already considerable candle budget. Even though I can’t admit that I find them terribly attractive, I bought a Poinsettia for traditions sake. And yes, after take two, the tree is decorated. A glass or two of red with my favorite holiday music bumped up a touch on the loud side (this being the ONLY time of year when it is even remotely permitted to sing along to anything by Mariah Carey) and it was done. Perhaps because of my more somber mood this year, I wanted to just keep it as simple as possible with a palette of silver and cream. That means that the carved wooden animal ornaments bought on safari in Kenya are still sleeping in their box as is the painted blue moon from Bali. All the better to rediscover them next year. Isn’t it wonderful how attached we get to our ornaments over time? I think that my sister still has the half-eaten rice crispy treat that we stuck on her tree oh so long ago…
All of the leftover bulbs found their home in the stone fountain in the hall stairway along with a few extra branches from the tree.