A German holiday

Christmas as a child was one of the most exciting moments of the year. My one request was that the Christmas tree should be up and shining in the living room starting on my birthday, which is in early November. I knew that as soon as my birthday passed, Christmas was around the corner. I had mastered the art of secretly opening gifts, knowing which types of wrapping paper would tear and which kind of Scotch tape would give way easily. I love the Christmas cartoons and specials they had on TV, my ever so favorites were How the Grinch Stole Christmas and A Charlie Brown Christmas with Snoopy and the gang. I would sit at the foot of my parents’ bed, in my best red and green checkered smocking dress, white socks and shiny black shoes, impatiently waiting for the festivities to start. I would sneak out and peek at the tables and chairs being laid, then scurry off to the kitchen to eat my favorite of all favorites, bacon-wrapped banana. They would be searing-hot from the deep-frying and you’d have to cautiously blow and chew at the same time. The eight-track and minus-one was laid out and one by one family members trickled in the door, hugs and kisses were shared, the weather was balmy, a light breeze made the capiz-shell lights hanging from the palm trees tinkle, the lechon was laid out along with the paella, bacalao, roast turkey, lasagna, callos and all other Zubiri family favorite food items... Ah, yes, this was Christmas.

One of my favorite books was this very retro hand-me-down from my sister. Or perhaps it was a library book that was never returned. Christmas Around The World, it was called. It was filled with different stories about the customs and traditions that were practiced in celebration of Jesus’ birth. The illustrations were colorful and happy, people seemed to be wearing clothing from the 1960s — perfect hair, big smiles, laughing and having fun as they went about their Christmasy affairs. The chapter on the Philippines struck me as they said that Filipino children put out their wooden bakyas to be filled with candy at night. This puzzled me because it was something I never did. Heck, I didn’t even have a pair of bakyas.

The most captivating chapter was “Christmas in Germany.” Beautiful snow-covered brick houses, with warm, inviting chimneys and candles glimmering in the windows. Pictures of exciting Christmas markets where people were being served something hot and steamy in a mug. Children bundled up like colorful marshmallows, sporting rosy cheeks and flaxen hair. Santa Claus wore green and he was called St. Nicholas. The drawings depicted the Christmas tree — “O Tannenbaum, how lovely are your branches” — as being cut down and carried in by a little cartoon German father, set up by the children with apples and tinsel, then lit with real candles. Everyone gathered round and sang Christmas carols. So very picturesque. The epitome of Christmas.

Simply divine: The fresh caught and self-smoked salmon of the kind plumber Photos taken with a Canon Ixus

This year I spent Christmas with my boyfriend’s lovely family in Lower-Saxony, somewhere in the countryside of northern Germany. Not wanting to be deceived, I came expecting nothing, but truly hoping for snow. I was looking forward to sporting my furry boots and my seven pairs of gloves that had been in storage for close to two years. To my delight it was snowing, everything was white, icy-cold and to my surprise, up close, snowflakes really do look like snowflakes! I observed a lingering, perfectly symmetrical star melt slowly on my down jacket, amazed at the beauty of nature. Christmas traditions in Germany are so heartfelt and touching. The family comes together on the evening of the 24th to sing Christmas carols while watching a shimmering, candlelit tree. Children are not even allowed to see the tree until the evening itself. My boyfriend’s mother told me, “The Christmas tree is not decoration, it is truly a symbol of family and Christmas itself.” All the lights are shut off and each candle is lit one by one.

After the solemn carols, we gathered for dinner, a simple dinner of boiled sausages and potato salad. This is to remind people of those who have nothing to eat and also, back in the day, the cooks and servants of wealthier families had Christmas Eve off to celebrate for themselves. Boiled sausages and potato salad was something that was easy to cook and everyone could enjoy. That afternoon, the plumber that came to help Jonathan’s mother brought a beautiful present: a salmon that he had caught and smoked himself. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted something so divine and truly impressive — the thoughtful gesture, the quality of the wild salmon, the rustic smokiness. My German, close to nil, has left me with my favorite way to communicate: through food. I made dainty pumpernickel canapés, sliced the salmon and added a mushroom risotto to their traditional fare. Dinner was cozy and instead of dessert, presents were opened one by one, each person respecting the joy of giving, sharing with everyone what they had received and their gratitude. It was so refreshingly different and meaningful than the usual chaotic paper-tearing and ribbon-slashing. Mental note: bring this tradition to my family. We all went to church after dinner, solemn and beautiful. The church was candlelit and the voices angelic. It was a true moment, despite being lost in translation, that I felt the real meaning of Christmas.

SA frugal noche buena: Sausages and potato salad

The next day is when the feasting begins. Uncle Christian made an impeccably roasted duck. His sauce was delicious, made from pan drippings and spices. We had red cabbage and Brussels sprouts, and again my contribution of sautéed potatoes with melted tilsiter. Nicky, one of the cousins, had lovingly hollowed out apples, stuffed them with almonds and other delights, baked them slowly in the oven and served a nice vanilla crème anglaise. As I watched and understood only snippets of strange German words, I saw the happy faces of a close family, brought closer together by this joyous celebration. I couldn’t help but miss my family as well, as we are very close to each other and I kept thinking to myself that next year I would try to make Christmas a little more special by stealing a few of these wonderful German traditions. I would also try to roast a duck.

In the hustle and bustle of the infamous Manila “ber” months, we tend to forget what Christmas is all about. It’s not about parties, decorations, gifts or feasts, but about remembering our roots, being close to our family, reminding ourselves to count our blessings and to think of those who have less than us and how we can help. It is nearing the New Year and I thought I should try to have a little bit of Christmas every day. Whatever spiritual beliefs we all may have, these values are universal. And in my book, so is a delicious roast duck.

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You can contact me at Stephanie_zubiri@yahoo.fr.