It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

I find it somewhat difficult to imagine that Christmas is swiftly approaching. I happen to have a countdown on my desktop, more so as a reminder of time until travel plans, and it reads 24 days left to go. I felt a strange urge to put up my 3 euro-garage-sale-Christmas tree upon my return home from class today, and realized halfway through the process that I must have been in line with the stars; I had forgotten it, but somehow December 1st made itself apparent to my senses. As I sit here listening to Christmas music streaming live from across the globe, I feel warmed by that nostalgia that can only be found in the month of December. My tree is glistening with a bizarre, yet wonderfully charming collection of antique glass ornaments paired with homemade creations and recent plastic additions.
I felt unexpectedly jovial as I assemble its clumsy color-coded limbs, remember the affectionately named "ghetto Christmas tree" of Damen Avenue. I still remember dragging it out to the trash after Christmas one year, and it seemed to be comically resurrected in my new found wonder.  I had to chuckle as I shoved extra branches between boughs, filling in the holes in my Charlie Brown tree, perfectly set to the station skipping from The Chipmunks Christmas Song to Satchmo reading The Night Before Christmas to some artist's new version of Melikalikimaka. At some point I heard a song about "The House on Christmas Street," which I would have normally detested for it being a clear reminder of the extreme commercialist contradictions of the holiday, it made for a good laugh to remember that house with far too many lights that shocks and thrills you all at the same time.

They have been steadily assembling Christmas decorations around Lorgues for weeks, and each time I walk home at night, I am filled with anticipation to see them all aglow.  I have been told that there are very special traditions in Provence during this time of decking the halls. In the true spirit of France, food is an art form; thirteen desserts must be present, each with a special significance. Christmas markets, as to be expected, are an essential part of the holiday celebration spreading across Europe, and I already have plans to indulge in some heart-and-soul warming mulled wine.


The most interesting tradition for me will be the celebration of the Santons [Santouns in Provençal]. It is essentially the manger scene, but imagine it with representations of every member of provincial society present. I am not only talking about the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker, but also the fisherman, the water bearer, the miller, the old couple, and even a tambourine-man (check out Provence Christmas Traditions and for those of you with familiar with french: Les Santons).