Christmas Season In Zürich

This is exactly how I remember my childhood before Christmas. Including the organ music, played in church interspersed by the priest preaching in high-german the retelling of the story of Maria and Josef. I could swear I heard the exact same mass as we hear here in the beginning. I remember those then bedazzling lighted stars and symbolic Christmas tree light displays. I remember the magical, festive, red Märli-Tram that took us kids for a ride among pretty angels in white frocks we can only get a glimpse off here.

I remember crowded Jelmoli, the huge department store with the running stairs that brought us up to the second and third floor, to a humongous selection of toys, eventually Barbies too. I remember those nets that conveniently carried our purchases before the pretty plastic kind replaced them. I remember the crowds, more so even inside the Trams than the department stores. Scarry at times for a small kid squeezed among adults.

I remember the Salvation Army singers collecting coins on Bahnhof Strasse. Never liked them, not then or now. What is missing is the guy selling roasted Maroni (chestnuts) right nearby. A small bag full in one's hand spread delicious warmth on a cold winter day.

There are people, lots of them in heavy coats, with women wearing woolen shawls and hats. People offering their opinions only when asked and put on the spot. One pretty woman confesses that she is not in the mood at all for Christmas as she is going through a very difficult time, while the other pretty woman complains the decorations not being to her taste and the third about the weather failing to bring on the mood for her. Meanwhile, one guy does not mind the artificiality of the Christmas decor but welcomes being taken out of the daily humdrum, but the other guy reminds us that Christmas should have not be about shopping but should have a focus on the birth of the Savior. All of their answers given in great sincerity upon a bit of reflection. All of the people are so Swiss in their appearance, their attitude and I could not even say exactly why.

I remember the smoke-filled restaurants with the waitresses dressed in black wearing a money belt from which they gave us back change when we payed our bill of course always in cash and added a then common 15% tip for their service. Those often elderly waitresses were then called Fräulein (Misses, a rather disrespectful to grown women term that since has long been abandoned.)

I remember the popular music of those times too. And I remember those streets with their businesses, many still going strong more than half a century later. Modissa was a women's clothing store my Mom cleaned for a while in the early morning hours. It's also a store we got some of our dresses and sweaters from. Bally was the store for our shoes and boots, always.

Unggi, my uncle not by blood, worked at the main post office near the main train station and took me to where those packages were processed right before or after his retirement. Packages were always so carefully packaged and tightened with ropes many times over for safety.

Yep, I started my life in those times and times they are changing, some, but some things do stay the same.

Meeting Rattler

Christmas eve, out walking my pups, with camera in hand hunting for pics at sunset, an ominous layer of thick white clouds on the horizon looked promising. At this inopportune moment, a Hispanic guy in a turquoise jacket approached us. Dogs make for great openers. He was polite enough to ask for my permission to pet my pups. They loved the attention, of course. The guy gushed how dogs know people. We talked a bit. I noticed an elaborate tattoo covering his throat. They call him Rattler, likening him to a rattlesnake he confided. Said he is 44 years old, getting up there. Girlfriend threw him out, so he was prowling the streets, on Christmas eve. I inquired about his family. He lost his Dad early and his Mom a bit later to Leukemia. I suggested he go back to his girlfriend and apologize. Never. He would never ever submit.

Incredulous sounding, he kept repeating that his look-alike brother was the one that just got killed right near the plaza. Said his brother got shot just like a dog. I had read the recent headlines. Rattler kept on ranting about street-justice. If cops will not do it, he will. I suggested a 12-step meeting. Yep, he knew about them, had to attend them by order. He then declared his love for Jesus but continued to lament the loss of his brother. In parting, I begged him to talk to his higher power. He had turned already to accost another female pedestrian.  I returned home with pictures only in my mind, none in my camera.

Christmas Decor Española-Style in the Land of Enchantment

Mister Romero's antique Chevy Pick-up Truck

on my street, in my 'hood, in the City Different

decorated by his wife Cynthia

the way it is done for the Christmas parade 

in Española, New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment.

Sweet surprise of Swiss chocolate Christmas decor,

the kind we would hang on our Christmas tree,

a real tree with real candles

that on occasions would catch fire

so a bucket of water was always on hand.

Christmas In May!

My universe thinks it is Christmas! I just brought home a glass vase filled with fresh, deep red roses found abandoned at a nearby parking lot (a suitor's unwelcome advances?) Unthinkable to discard such beauty. Within these last 24 hours, I was gifted, out of the blue, with a neighbor's somewhat bulky treasures he desperately wanted to re-home so as to create space for his new acquisitions. He brought me an almost new single black futon base with a white cotton futon, down duvet with two matching sheets and  pillow covers, all in very good condition. This bedding had not been used in 10 years and only rarely before by occasional yoga students of his that would stay over for an intensive.

Furthermore, I became the happy recipient of a Le Creuset Dutch Oven (or melting pot) those red enamel, heavy kinda pots from which my dear European friend would produce the most delicious casseroles. Gratins made from potatoes and fennel smothered in a rich sauce of cream, cheese, and likely white wine. I have wondered for a while about coming up with a heart healthier version of the above. Now I have no more excuses with my almost new, only lightly used Creuset. The experimenting will have to begin. I had been entertaining the idea of cooking another whole chicken like I did for the Occupiers last winter, it was such a hit with them and so much fun for me - and my pups. Mind you, I have been a vegetarian cook ever since I left my parent's home as a teen,  since decades. While I have been eating occasional white meat I avoided having to look at, touch, or mess with raw meat. That was until I brought my first dog, my Isabella-girl home. Dogs are not vegetarian, I got a bit more used to the idea, the looks and the smells and the handling of meat since. Gifted with two more fairly large, high-quality pans for grilling or baking fish or meat may mean I will have to invite company to help polish of such quantities of food, although my pups are doing a pretty good job by themselves.

Last, but not least an earthen ware carafe now graces my outdoor living room area. There always seems to be a shortage of water containers so this is a welcome addition to my household utensils.




Now with so much goodness coming my way, I wonder if I should consider this man that called to inquire about my VW van a good omen? He inquired if I might have an interest in selling my beloved "Schneggehuus". Of course, he has no idea how attached I am to the darn thing, the money guzzling contraption that has served me as a second, to boot mobile home for extended periods at a time. There isn't a more comfortable vehicle to travel in then a VW vanagon, except maybe an RV. But the van is nimble has a great turning ratio, good traction, can get up in speed and will make life easy and enjoyable on any road. 

If I sell, I am afraid I will never ever drive again. I will not be able to afford another vehicle, most certainly not another VW vanagon. But I really can not afford the fixing, much less the maintenance of that monster. Not even 3000 miles on the new/old engine after 3 attempts  of replacement were followed by two explosions for no discernible reasons. The mechanic's estimate was $800, no doubt the costs would have run higher than, 1 1/2 years ago, but most certainly now. Well, I will sit with it a bit longer, contemplate all my options while I try to entertain the idea that no matter the decision, I will be o.k. since my universe believes in Christmas during the month of May.

2 days later all items found a new spot, but in the process I discovered that the bottom drawer of my stove can actually be pulled out. This had never ever occurred to me. So what I found must have been a quarter century old dust balls! I am comforted by the knowledge that my German mother had a very similar experience when moving out of a home she had occupied for 40 years. She too discovered places she did not know existed and this despite her germanic love of cleanliness. The roses still look pretty, except for the center one that I brought to the memorial of one of our community leaders.

Christmas

I could not bear leaving my pups behind, leaving them home alone, when I know how much they like to be out and about, so I took them along on what is our local tradition, a walk up Canyon Road, lit up pretty in the traditional way with faralitos, tiny tea candles placed on dirt in brown paper lunch bags. Those little lights line the streets, the walls and the roofs and make for a festive atmosphere. Small bonfires attract crowds that once inebriated enough will burst in to Christmas songs and merriment.

With an early start before dark, I encountered no Christmas carolers, none, but did come upon three drummers banging out a Samba rhythm to the disbelief of a roaming, ever growing crowd.  They left a wide comfortable trail behind that was easy to follow for my pups, my little guy in ever more danger of getting stepped upon, of which he stayed blissfully unawares.

We did see some vibrant passionate art work by a Canadian woman painter, a delight. Some art galleries chose to stay open for the occasion and offered welcome relief from a fairly cold night. (It made me long for a Russian fur hat, coat and muff. I used to own a silvery fur coat I had bought second hand and then had a hat and muff made for me by my dear friend.) We did taste some sweets and cider. Some folks stopped to say hi, some hugged even though they were strangers and many smiled and more wanted to say hi to the four-legged ones. Sorry, I got no photos to share from our walk. A camera would have been way too much to use in that crowd with my furry companions on lead and challenging road conditions. The photos included I took very recently with Christmas in mind.)

Merry Christmas!

 Frohe Weihnachten!

Joyeux Noel!

Relief, the holidays are over!

Red Chili Pepper Christmas Decor can come down.

Sweet Little Jesus