A Christmas to Remember

For better or worse, my Christmas of 2005 will never leave my memory. Considering that this was the first Christmas I spent away from home, I am overwhelmingly grateful for the people that included me in their family celebrations. There were, however, a few bumps in the road that I would much rather forget.

As the series of events spanned what was more like a long weekend, I will begin this tale with Thursday evening. That night, I was invited to a concert that brought me a little bit closer to home. The Mississippi Gospel Choir was on tour here in Spain, and on Thursday, they made a stop in Reus. I enjoyed myself, and apparently the crowd did too, even though I don’t think they could understand all that was being sung. Though I was with a group that speaks fairly good English, I still was doing a fair amount of interpreting, but it was a nice change of tides for once.

Friday night was relaxing. As there were only two students left in the residence hall at that time, the small group of us had dinner together and talked about the traditions of Christmas in Spain, which are varied. The Spanish people are familiar with Santa Claus (Papa Noel), but it is only in the last year or two that he has been celebrated here, and many families still do not celebrate this northern European and American tradition. One of the girls who is from Catalonia explained that instead, “Tió” is the special gift-giver on Christmas. Tió is, in fact, a log with a face painted on it. It is placed under a blanket on Christmas Eve, and if children leave food for it, they receive a present in the morning. This custom is only found in Catalonia, however, as the other girl, who is from the northern Basque region, said that on Christmas Eve, they celebrate with candle-lit processions through the mountains. What is customary in all of Spain, however, is the celebration of Three Kings Day on January 6th. In accordance with the three kings bringing gifts to Jesus, this day is the celebrated gift-giving day throughout Spain. Thus, the holiday season spans the course of the two weeks between Christmas and Three Kings Day.

The two girls left for their respective homes on Saturday morning, and since then, I have had the residence hall to myself. I’ve managed to stay busy, so it has not been a lonely time. Saturday night, for Christmas Eve, I was invited to have dinner with Maria and her family. Maria is a secretary at IRTA, and she takes me to work every morning, as we live very close to one another. Dinner was late, as is typical, and it spanned the course of a couple hours or more. After dinner, the family had an “invisible friend” gift exchange. Each family member had drawn the name of another, bought a gift for that person, and then drafted a letter giving hints as to who was their invisible friend. Maria was very sweet and even picked something out for me. She drafted a letter, which I had to read out loud, and in it said that, among other things, she wanted to get me something practical and easy to carry with me on my journeys. Having seen my presentation at IRTA a few days earlier, she saw my snowy pictures of New York, and thus gave me a small, red thermos to carry hot drinks. I was touched by her thoughtfulness.

I did not leave the celebration with Maria’s family until about 3:00am, and then I was up early Christmas Day to catch the 9:00am train to Barcelona, as Núria had invited me to spend the day with her family. When I arrived, we went straight to the port, as there is an annual swim on Christmas Day, and her sister always participates. I had considered doing it myself, but I’m glad I didn’t, as most of the swimmers were of far better caliber than I. Instead, Núria, her other sister, and I sat on the edge of the deck and watched. Before the race began, a man that worked for the Frigo ice cream company – the sponsor of the event – came over and gave us bright red hats and scarves to wear because we were in line with the TV cameras. As it was a little chilly, we accepted the hats and scarves and laughed about the circumstance. Ironically, the theme of the event was “Espíritu del verano” (Spirit of summer), so I figure the next time I find myself in Ithaca, I should wear the bright red apparel and remember the chilly – though by no means frigid – temperatures of Barcelona, knowing that by comparison, perhaps it did feel like summer there. When we returned to their house, we had another huge meal, and I tried snails for the first time. I found that they basically just taste like shellfish. After, we played some board games, and then I went to mass and Núria’s family prepared to go to the theater. This is where circumstances made an about-face.

Mass was nice, though perhaps anticlimactic. It was very brief – only 40 minutes – and it wasn’t quite as celebrated as I am accustomed to for Christmas masses with large crowds, processions, and music. I left the church and made my way to the train station to catch the last train of the night back to Reus. (Now, if that isn’t foreshadowing, I don’t know how I could suggest more obviously what would come to pass.) The city streets of Barcelona were busy, as I’ve been told they always are, but it was a little bit of a surprise given the day. And as I walked up las Ramblas toward the station, a couple stopped me to ask the location of a certain plaza. It’s funny because whether I’m in New York City, Barcelona, or even smaller towns, I am often asked for directions. I suppose I either look like a nice person to ask or I look like I know where I’m going, so either way, I consider it a complement.

I arrived at the train station about 35 minutes before my train was supposed to arrive. I waited, thinking about what a nice holiday it had been, but I looked forward to getting back to my bed, as it had been a long couple of days. Soon, it was 9:30pm, 5 minutes passed the time of my train. I thought it a little strange, as usually the trains are on time. I waited more, as there were others on the platform waiting for trains, and I asked them if they had seen the train to Reus – just in case I had missed it – and they had not. At about five minutes until 10:00, I decided to go up to the ticket window and ask. The man there was not very nice. I asked him if the train from Reus had arrived, and he looked at me funny. I pulled out my schedule, which does in fact list exceptions to the usual schedule but lists none for Christmas Day, and he told me there were no trains to Reus that night. I felt helpless. I tried calling Núria, but it was too late; they had already left for the theater. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to take the subway back to the stop nearest their apartment and wait. Thankfully, I was able to find my way to their apartment. It was 10:30 at this point, and their show was only beginning. I knew it would be a long wait for me, especially long given how tired I was. And yes, I was a little scared. I thought about calling home to help pass the time, but my phone card had expired, and it was probably best that I didn’t call, as my parents would have only worried. Instead, I sat outside in the plaza across from their door. I wanted to stay there so that I would see when they arrived, but it grew awfully cold, and the sore throat I’d felt the night before – which I dismissed as merely the result of the second-hand smoke I was breathing – came on stronger in the cold air. I finally decided I needed to move to get the blood flowing, as it was down near freezing at this point. I passed a bank and saw a homeless person sleeping on the bench in the ATM enclosure. I didn’t think that looked half-bad at that point, but he had taken the only available bench. I kept walking, and at one point, a man that could not maintain a straight course started making kissing noises at me. I felt like slugging him, but my hands were too cold to withdraw from my pockets. Once back on a main street, I noticed a fancy hotel. I figured, “What the heck, I’ll give it a try,” and I went in and sat in there lobby. I picked up some tourist pamphlets, acted like I belonged there, and ignored the security guard that meandered back and forth. I sat there for about an hour, warming up and feeling more secure with my surroundings, but at about 12:45am, he approached me and asked if I was staying there at the hotel. I answered truthfully, with an innocent ignorance, and then was asked to leave. So, back in the cold, I made my way back to Núria’s apartment, and when I arrived, I was thankful to see the lights on in their apartment. I called up, and they received me. They had arrived only 5 minutes before, so the timing was perfect. I was very thankful for the warm, safe place to pass the night.

When I woke the next morning, my cold had taken hold. Núria was also not feeling well, so Davíd walked me to the train station. After some hassle with redeeming my ticket and more cancelled trains, I finally was on a train to Reus. As I sat there, I thought about something my mom always used to say, which was “If that’s the worst thing that ever happens to you, you’re pretty well off,” and I tried to convince myself that the events of the previous night could have been a lot worse. When I returned to Reus, I had another engagement. Clara, the woman that runs the residence hall, had invited me to her house for lunch, and though I was tired and not feeling well, I didn’t want to belittle her invitation. (By the way, the 26th is another holiday in Catalonia.) It was another big meal, and I had another “first,” as I tried caviar for the first time. Clara’s son was also there, and the three of us conversed as we ate. At one point, I asked if either of them had been to the U.S., and they both replied in the negative. The son said that since smoking is prohibited on planes, he couldn’t travel anywhere that would require him to give up his cigarettes for such a duration. Then, he started to rant and rave about the new law that will take effect on the 1st, requiring smoking and non-smoking sections in public places, and though I had plenty of arguments in support of their new law, given my place, I decided not to criticize the son of the woman that was hosting me. Gerard left after the meal, and Clara and I continued talking. That afternoon, Clara and I talked more than we had talked throughout the length of my two month stay. But what began as fairly docile conversation soon turned heavy when she asked me my opinion about the war in Iraq. What followed was a two hour debate on political, social, and economic perspectives. Clara is very opinionated and dare I say a bit radical on some issues, which I won’t go into here, so I basically just maintained my usual, diplomatic stance. In the end, I was tired, as I don’t generally talk politics with anyone but my father, so to talk them for two hours – in Spanish no less – was a completely new experience for me.

After our debate, we sat on the couch and watched a live broadcast of a Christmas choir concert in Barcelona. I was starting to not feel well, so it was nice to “veg-out” and lose myself in the music. But, soon, 8:30pm rolled around, and there was a choir concert in town at which I told some people from work I would see them. I ventured out into the cold, now feeling quite a bit worse. When I got to the church, all the seats were filled, so I stood in the back. I listened to a couple songs, but when the room started to spin, I decided it was best to go to bed. When I got back to the residence hall, I dealt with my fever and a bout of food poisoning, and from here on out, I have decided, I’m not going to be as liberal about trying new foods. The cold, well, I just hope that with rest it passes soon.