“But Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there, not even poverty, nor sudden money, nor the moonlight, nor right and wrong nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight.”

E. Hemingway.
"París era una fiesta"

Friday, 10 December 2010

In "inglich", for Marco

The festive spirit changes everything. Even food changes. That what until yesterday was a simple jam is now a Christmas's jam, and the same happens with chocolate, turkeys, wine…

The dates, hazelnuts and chestnuts, normally relegated to a corner of the supermarkets, are now presented as something gloriously and unequivocally related to San Nicholas- who is the owner of the party, doubt not, for this pandemonium of commercials, lights and Visa cards has so litte to do with the birth of Jesus as a Chinese agronomist with a Tropicana dancer.

And I remember the christmas purchases I used to do with my grandparents, a quarter of century ago -at the ”expensive” market of which only the corner remains today-. We chose viands and vegetables, spices, a turkey, chickens,  condensed milk to make puddings of. Then my dad bought rum, beer and Russian wine and once, just before the world as we knew it went to hell, he came from Santiago de Cuba with a whole box of Californian apples, red and wonderful, that made our day.

There were no labels, nobody made an effort in telling us that we had chosen the best food to make a party. In fact, around the whole city you could count on your fingers the houses from which it came out laughter and carols along with the scent of roasted pig. Our enthusiasm was simple and real, it was joy and gratefulness over the fact of being able to buy all that food and to have friends and family to share it with.

My joy over Christmas is waiting for some of that humbleness to come back. I prefer to praise the carpenter’s son.

Nota a los hispano-anglo parlantes: Sean caritativos  a la hora de juzgar mi gramática inglesa, por el amor de Dios. Esto es un muy pobre intento de traducción para un buen amigo, nada más.

Nota número dos: Se acepta de todo corazón cualquier tipo de corrección que contribuya a hacer el relato más claro y mejor. Gracias.


¡Habla, pueblo de Aura!