Cher/Dear Ami(e)/Friend,
It is Christmas morning, le matin de Noël in France, and all is quiet and doux. The title to "Silent Night" in French is "Douce Nuit" which is a little bit confounding, isn't it? But the literal translation to "soft" or "sweet" is apt for this kind of morning, with the quiet of sleeping family all around. Doux/douce (feminine) also means sweet, mellow, pleasant.
Last Christmas we were in the French countryside visiting family. Mist was rising over the fields and drifting into the woods surrounding the house. There was mistletoe hanging in the living room...and from the branches of most of the trees around us. See those balls? Those are mistletoe.
This year we are back home in Iowa, my favorite place to be for the holidays, and yet, home with the other family is also a favorite place to be. To indulge my nostalgia, I'll share a few favorite things about Christmas in France.
Cafés. There is every reason to be downtown and shopping in the days leading up to the big day, thus every reason to stop at a café at least once a day. In the small town we return to, it is really difficult to walk past the outdoor tables without being hailed over for a round of bisous and an obligatory expresso or hot cocoa (both tiny-sized, so you can accumulate drink stops without a problem.)
The bookstore. I am certain I have over-waxed poetic about this papeterie a thousand times already, but the shop known as Lacoste is a pearl of beauty in a world of cold commerce. Here all the books ever written mingle with art supplies, journals, cards, stationary, planners, pens, and pencil cases made of supple leather. The only thing driving me back out into the rest of the world is entirely too many other people in the shop, or my mother-in-law waiting for me to finish perusing books.
Family. You are welcome, very welcome, and you will be fed. The expression wined and dined in France is not for a business acquaintance or anyone you wish to impress. It is a way of life, it is what happens when one visits good friends...or returns home.
Churches. There is still a messe de minuit or midnight mass. Just as in the US, many more people flock to services than normally attend the rest of the year, so the cold churches are warmer than usual, a plus. Those beautiful pillars holding up the high ceilings make terrible viewpoints if you get parked behind one for an hour for those who did not listen to mama's warnings about arriving early. "Mais non, it is not a problem, there will be plenty of room." The light show on the ancient church wall was a surprise welcome last year. This is the church where every family baptism, first communion, wedding, and funeral has happened for generations. My husband's grandmother had an apartment looking out on the church square.
Visiting. Friends, the beach, or Spain...this will wait for a later post, in a few days.
Today, I hope Hanukkah or Solstice was good for you, that Santa brings you everything you wished for, that Kwanzaa is a blast tomorrow.
One more favorite thing about Christmas in France:
Greetings. No one says "Joyeux Noël". The expression most used, and not just in recent times, is "Bonnes Fêtes de Fin d'Année!" Translation: Happy End of the Year Celebrations (oui, plural!). I do not know it was necessarily invented in a spirit of inclusiveness. I believe it was coined in a spirit of expansiveness, for the many joys and celebrations of the season, a reminder that this is a special time, a time to remember, grieve, rejoice, reflect, dream, and promise.
Douce journée...I made that one up. Bonne fêtes.
May whatever holidays you celebrate this season be merry, peaceful, and marvelous!
Bien à vous,
Angela et Thierry
