The Power of the Holiday Spirit

By the end of November I went to visit my brother and his family in one of my favorite Polish cities, Gdansk. Every time I stop by this vibrant port town, with its meticulously reconstructed old town, tall gothic cathedrals, and quaint streets lined up with shimmering amber boutiques, I notice something new. This time I noticed new seasonal tea.

It was black tea, served in a big, glass cup, with chunks of lemon and a twig of rosemary. The tea I ordered came with a tiny jar of honey and raspberry coulis. Quite a lot of fuss about just tea, I thought at first. A lot of extra work, I sympathised with the poeple who work there. And, rosemary, really? But then I tasted my tea. The raspberries and honey brought me back to my grandparents' garden. And the rosemary smelled just like a Christmas tree.

If you had read my holiday posts from the previous years, you might be aware of my ambivalent approach to holiday traditions. But the tea I had in Gdansk this winter made me think. Maybe all those holiday enhancements are not as redundant as I thought. Maybe the Christmas tea was not too much fuss. It couldn’t be too much fuss, if I was still thinking about it, writing about it, and recreating it at home every time I made tea.

People go to great lengths to create the holiday spirit. If you live in the US, you might engage in decorating your yard with the American classics, like Rudolf the reindeer, or Frosty the snowman, and wrap you house with as many Christmas lights as your electrical system can handle. If you live in Poland, you will be involved in a lot of cooking and baking. In Switzerland, you might put together an inventive Advent calendar and plan at least one visit to a local Christmas market, which have suddenly appeared out of nowhere in a place you would never imagine an enchanting wooden village of gingerbread houses.

The other day, when I visited our local Holiday Market with my family, I couldn't believe what an undertaking it must have been for the city. Who thought of all those features, like fire pits, when warm clothes would do, a forest of Christmas trees, when a few would be enough, or reusable mugs, when serving mulled wine in disposable cups would have been way easier on the organizers? But nothing beats the bear puppet theaters, scattered around Bern, with bears baking holiday cookies, bears- circus performers, or bears making presents for little bears. Not being crafty by any means, I find the intricacy of every scene mind boggling.

A cynic in me wants to call it a very successfully executed marketing plan with purely commercial motives. A minimalist in me wants to label it excessive and wasteful. But at the same time, I can’t deny the magical power of all those snazzy and over the top holiday accents and symbols. Every time I see a Swedish gnome (Tomten?) in a shop window, I feel warm and fuzzy and want to smile.

And that’s how, despite my minimalistic tendencies and no knack for interior design, I set out on my very basic holiday decorating journey. I must admit though that I didn't succeed at making a wreath, but when my boys brought home a giant Christmas tree, which I thought was very impractical, but which they loved, I didn’t say a word. Actually, I liked it. I even wrapped it myself with sixteen meters of Christmas lights. The warm lights made our living room so much more welcoming and festive.

Hope you enjoy your December preparations, celebrations, and gatherings.

Happy Holidays!