What I remember about Christmas

You can't get away from it. Once Halloween is over, the Christmas decorations come out and there are bright lights, red Santas, and pretty little reindeer all over the place.
Looking back over the years, I can see that Christmas and the way I experienced it, have changed. It is part of growing up and getting older, part of the kids leaving the nest and having Christmas celebrations of their own. Nothing stays still in life.
I have very fond memories of walking to Midnight Mass underneath a sky full of stars; of our cats following us half way down the road;  of hearing the choir and especially one local tenor singing "Silent Night". That song is synonymous with Christmas for me ever since. When I was in Austria several years ago, staying near Salzburg, I visited the Silent Night chapel in Oberndorf where the hymn was originally performed.
I can still taste the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding (especially the Yorkshire pudding) which was our Christmas dinner - my mother did not eat any kind of fowl, so turkey was out. We never minded. In fact to this day, I will opt for Yorkshire pudding if it is on the menu. And we had good old-fashioned trifle for dessert, eating our Christmas pudding on the day after.
Later, living in Germany, traditions were slightly different. For one thing, the Germans start celebrations on the first Sunday in Advent. The first of four candles on the Adventskranz or Advent wreath are lighted and the first plate of homemade cookies is put on the table. The children's excitement grows with each Sunday as the second and third candles are lit and then it is only a few days until the fourth and final candle completes the symbol for the four weeks of Advent and Christmas has arrived.
Nowadays, I watch my grandchildren getting all excited. Every town and village has a Christmas market. I love the aroma of mulled wine and spicy hot orange juice mixed with cinnamon and ginger from the stalls selling cookies and the smell of grilled hot dogs and schnitzel.
In Germany, the Christmas tree is not put up until Christmas Eve and then the presents are piled underneath and handed out after supper that evening. Midnight services are very popular and all the churches are usually packed. 
I'll be in Germany next week and will visit at least one Christmas market and eat Bratwurst, that tasty hot German sausage, oh and I will definitely have a Gluehwein or two! Happy Advent everyone!

Carnival in Germany

I think it is a shame that Ireland is not into carnival. We celebrate St. Patrick's Day with parades and  drowning the shamrock. We celebrate winning at International Rugby, Football (in season) and Horse Racing. Cheltenham is coming up and already there is a fever in the air at the prospect of spending a few days away and maybe, just maybe, having the winner of the Gold Cup. Yes, I'll be putting some money on and watching it on television. My point is, we are good at celebrating and holding parades so I wonder why carnival never caught on either in Ireland or England. All we end up doing is eating pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. Sounds a bit tame in comparison, doesn't it?
When I lived in Germany I was amazed when someone explained about "Fasching" which is their word for carnival. I would never have thought that the somewhat stiff and formal Germans would indulge in such frivolities. They do, and they really let themselves go. The carnival season starts at 11 minutes past 11 on the morning of the 11th day of the 11th month, that's 11 a.m. on November 11th in case you're lost. A king and queen of carnival is chosen for each town and village and they attend all the balls and other events which are held.  They dress up with crowns and sumptious gear, too. My neighbours took it very seriously and had a different costume for each of the balls they went to.
The last three days before Ash Wednesday, when Lent begins, are the wildest part. In the town where I lived there was a parade on Rose Monday (Rosenmontag) which ended in the storming of the town hall. We had a real cannon which shot confetti into the air and onto the balcony of the town hall until the mayor came out with his staff and "surrendered". We all then rushed inside where food and music and drinks were provided. Everyone danced. My children loved it.
I would like to attend the carnival in Venice with its masked balls but I have a sneaking suspicion that although very elegant, it wouldn't be half the fun. Now, the mardi gras in New Orleans or a trip to Rio where no one sleeps for the three days before Ash Wednesday (or so I'm told) would be certainly unforgettable - in more ways than one.
Failing that, I might try to be in Germany or Austria come to that, which also celebrates carnival, for next year's season. To my readers in Germany a big : Helau!

Fly-away

I am currently reading:  Almost English by Charlotte Mendelson and enjoying it very much. 

Last week I was in Germany to visit my daughter and grandchildren.  It always fascinates me that a two-hour flight means a total change of culture.  The things which bother everyone at home are not even mentioned.  Jane Austen remarks on this in her novel Persuasion when her heroine goes to visit her sister in a nearby village and is amazed at the difference in interests and concerns.

Something else had changed, too.  For my return flight I went to Terminal One at Frankfurt airport as I was flying Lufthansa.  Everything is now being automated at this terminal and I must say I didn't like it.  You now get your boarding card from a machine - well I don't have a problem with that - but then you weigh in your luggage yourself including affixing the baggage tag to it.  Security is followed by automatic passport control where your passport is scanned, you walk into a small space and wait for the green light which opens the door to let you through.  I felt like I was in a cow pen. Surely part of flying was that nice smiling ground hostess who took your suitcase, called your attention to your departure gate and wished you a good journey?  Having to do it all myself made me think I had been co-opted onto the staff and there was a chance I'd be asked to do some tasks before take-off - maybe steer the plane down the runway or something of that nature.

I guess I'm old-fashioned but I don't approve of a world where so much money is saved on staff and you are expected to do everything yourself as if the privilege of using the company just can't be compensated by paying for your purchases.  And it gets rid of jobs big time.  But the companies still expect people to have money to spend on their services.  This has never made sense to me.

Enough of my ranting for today.  On the brighter side, I may have my Irish driving licence next week.  I now have all the papers for it so the application should go smoothly.  It means a trip to the city so I can combine it with some (more) Christmas shopping.  Lovely thought.

Everything stops for tea

Irish Public Expenditure and Reform Minister Brendan Howlin has said that he has resolved many an important economic issue with his colleague Finance Minister Michael Noonan over a cup of tea according to an article in http://www.TheJournal.ie today.   Henry Fielding wrote "love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea".  He had a point.

A cup of tea was the "cure all" when I was growing up in Ireland.  If you had a headache, a cup of tea would fix it, if your stomach was upset, a cup of tea was recommended.  I can't remember if any of these remedies actually worked.  I suspect that the comfort of having a cup of this hot aromatic liquid improved my spirits rather than dispelling any discomfort I might have been feeling.

The Irish and the British are notorious for their addiction to tea.  Our continental neighbours do not share this passion.  In Germany, for example, where I lived for many years, tea is taken black and weak, and no self-respecting German would have a mug of tea at his or her elbow all day long.  Coffee is the preferred drink, especially in the office, but only until around four o'clock in the afternoon because if taken after that time it will keep you awake, they tell you. The Italians like to drink espresso on their way to work and they may or may not have a sticky bun or croissant to go with it.  I was in St.Mark's Square in Venice once on a weekday and was amazed at all the people in business attire who lined the counters sipping coffee and reading the daily newspaper before heading off to their place of work.  But maybe you need a good strong espresso of a morning if you have to get around by boat.

Meeting someone for a coffee is pretty much international, though. This could be because tea-making has something of a ritual about it and if you order tea in a restaurant you may not get exactly what you want.  Coffee on the other hand does not require more than a percolator or a dash of hot water on powder if you're not fussy.  Yes, there are many varieties these days - cafe creme, latte, cappuccino, espresso to name but a few but they are all something special mostly to be enjoyed in a coffee bar.  There are no tea bars interestingly enough, but in good quality hotels you have a choice of several different kinds of tea, admittedly in teabags.

There are people who still use loose tea because it gives a better flavour.  But even in our hurried world of instant gratification where we use the less messy teabags, there are differences between brands of tea and tea drinkers stick to their preferred brand.  A few gourmets only take the Darjeeling or Earl Grey variety. Most of us tea-drinkers though like our tea either "weak", "not too strong", or "strong" and we are not always sure where it comes from. 

Tea  appears to have first been used in China in about the 3rd century and later in Japan.  Interestingly although we think tea drinking an original British and Irish habit, tea was not introduced to Britain until the 1650's when Catherine of Braganza (who was Portuguese) married Charles II and, missing  the Portuguese tea-drinking culture, started the custom.  At that time tea was distributed through the coffee houses which were popular then.   Another surprise is that tea-growing in India was a British initiative to break the Chinese monopoly.

So when we put the kettle on, we are part of a long chain of culture.  We are also continuing a very valuable ritual.  There's nothing quite as relaxing as sitting down to share a cup of tea. Cheers!

Strange Bedfellows

'Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows' Shakespeare once wrote and I'm inclined to agree with him, only I'd change the word 'misery' to 'travel'. 

Last week I travelled to Germany to see my daughter and her family and had a wonderful time.  Dare I mention that the weather was glorious? At 26C a lot of the locals were complaining about the sudden heat as it had gone from around 8C to the aforementioned 26C within five days.  Now in rain-laden Ireland, that would be a cause for rejoicing because we'd know that this was better than it gets!  But I didn't intend writing this blog about the weather.

Whenever I travel anywhere by plane, I am always amused - and sometimes irritated - by all those fellow travellers with tons of hand luggage who fill up the overhead lockers before you can say "jet lag".  It wouldn't even be so bad if they didn't get on the plane before you and stand in the aisle stuffing their bags into the lockers while you wait until they are finished, ignoring the passengers behind you who are breathing heavily down the back of your neck and no doubt blaming you for the hold up.  And then when you finally get to move on in search of your seat another body pops up to block your progress, takes down a bag and starts to rummage through it.  I mean, seriously, couldn't you check that you'd removed magazines and stuff you need on the flight from your bag before you jammed it into the overhead locker?

And then there's the 'snoozer' for want of a better word, the traveller who decides to use their seat as a recliner and bounce around on it, making you draw back instinctively and sit bolt upright. Maybe they miss lounging on the terrace at home.  Whatever the reason, it doesn't give you much room in the Economy class.  And of course, there's the passenger who manages to dig his/her knees into your back - but here they are entitled to my compassion and understanding because there is really not much leg room if you are tall.

Being a neurotic traveller (see my blog of last week lol) I always choose an aisle seat so that I can get out in a hurry if anything should go wrong.  No one has ever had a problem with this up until now, everyone being happy to sit in a window seat and philosophical  if they get the middle one.  However, on this last trip a passenger arriving late onto the plane wanted to shush me into the window seat (which was his) without as much as a "would you mind?".  I couldn't tell if this was chivalry, a determination not to disturb me, or a macho masterful attempt to get the seat he preferred.  I refused, of course.  I'm not a neurotic traveller for nothing.  There was a frosty atmosphere between us for the flight and we both refrained from dumping our magazines and stuff on the unoccupied middle seat, treating it as a demilitarized zone like the 38 parallel in Korea.  I'd just like to add that he had two pieces of hand luggage.  'Nuff said.