14. Christmas

Christmas is actually not my favourite time of the year, quite the opposite, really. This journal is, however, not about me complaining about seeing less than 27 hours of the sun in a month, so I will talk about things I do enjoy about the holidays.

For those wondering about the picture, I received some fabulous gifts this year, including a pseudo-Macedonian flag with a note in Ancient Greek. - Yes, I am the sort of girl who thinks a Macedonian flag makes a fabulous gift. I am also lucky enough to have friends who know me all too well.

Another thing I like about Christmas is the fact the woods where my family flocks for the holidays really looks like some sort of alternate reality winter wonderland. There's always snow, and the sky and the forest is black in a way it never gets in the city, although people stubbornly fight against the darkness with candles and more candles, building little cottage fortresses of light. On Christmas Day, I went kick-sledding - kind of like those wheelie things elderly people have, only with blades. I didn't take photos, but here's a link: http://www.kicksled.com/ It's surprisingly much fun: I once managed to wreck a sled with my cousin gliding straight into a ditch. (Not that wrecking things is fun, just the speed.)

The place is a tiny village, or a suburb of a village, and you have to wave at everyone you pass regardless of whether you recognize them or not or risk weeks of speculation. ("She's stopped greeting us. Who does she think she is?") The area was built up from wasteland in the 40s and 50s by the workers of a factory in town who were given plots of land by the company. In theory, every family living there used to be collagues. There are new houses and new families, but it's still a fascinating huddle of artificially settled people. Those were the days before pink slips and temping: my grandfather worked in the factory for forty years and played chess with the "boys" from the factory well into his seventies. They settled down and stayed. It's always lovely to be a temporary visitor to something so permanent. I went for a long walk there last year, and felt almost guilty leaving my bootprints on the still snow.