It's a bit late, but here it is: the inevitable description of my holidays.
A very good decision I had made, a very good decision. I had decided to stay away from my family and have my own Christmas. Every year I have the hardest time to find friends, who are free on Christmas. They are all with their families. It seems to me there is an unwritten law. "You cannot celebrate Christmas without your family." So either you go to your parents or you create your own family. Most of my friends are neither married nor parents themselves, so they have to spend Christmas with their parents. It's the law.
Being a rebel and a family-meeting-loather, I ignore this law. As a teenager I was always wondering about those hip young people in the daily soaps. They behaved like they didn't have parents. They never called or visited them and they never talked about them either. Of course, they spent Christmas (and Thanksgiving, since it's mostly American soaps) together with their friends. So if invented people can, I may just as well spent Christmas away from my family, too. So I did, like last year, only better. I had a very good time. Here it comes.
Christmas Eve was spent at my godmother's with her husband, her son and two friends. We went to a protestant church, where my godmother played the flute and I fell asleep during the (very long and very bad) sermon. The music was great though. Then we headed back to their place and ate a very delicious meal, one I had never eaten for Christmas. A variety of cheese and bread. It was great and very unusual for me, since usually a lot of meat and other high-calorie food is served. Then we headed all out in different directions for our "own" services (as in where my godmother didn't play the flute). I went to a catholic church, where I enjoyed the sermon very much, while the woman sitting next to me fell asleep repeatedly. After the service I gave the priest a little package of self-made sweets as a Christmas present. He was very, very surprised. Nobody, he told me, had ever done this before. Giving him a present after the Christmas-service, that is. I was a bit appalled that this man in his late fourties never received any gift from his parish for Christmas, but also very glad, because apparently I had made his day. He was smiling all over and almost hugging the little chocolate package. People, give your priests some small presents on Christmas! They make an effort for you, so you can give something back. Apart from just showing up, you know.
Christmas Day I went to my BestFriend's house and visited him and his family. We had a lot to eat and talked a lot about everything. A lot about him, though, as his family felt obliged to tell me all about his childhood. All the embarrassing stories. If my family would have done this to me, I would have thrown a fit or (more likely since I hate throwing fits) left the room not to be seen again this evening. But he took it all very relaxed. But then again, there was a difference how they did it. They talked with him about his childhood instead of just talking past him.
St. Stephan's Day I spent with very dear, but very weird friends of mine. We had a frugal meal, talked about men and my not-so-recent breakup and watched a movie together. Now I can recommend "Rembrandt" from 1936. A sad, but interesting movie indeed.
During those days full of talking with friends it dawned to me, what's the big difference between a Christmas with my family and a Christmas with my friends. It's the talking. We talked about various topics. Music, origami, people we had met, politics, art... It was never boring. Whenever one topic was finished, someone came up with a new one. It dawned to me that my family never talks with me like that. They interrogate. "How are your studies?" "When will you finish your studies?" "Do you have a boyfriend?" "In which field will you work later?" "How are your studies structured?" Never mind that I answered all these questions last year already. And in the year before. My answers never really change, it must be quite boring to listen to them. But my family always talks to me like this. Other topics don't exist. If I bring up another one, they aren't interested. I don't know why. It can't be interesting to ask me the same stuff every year and listen to the same answers...
Anyway, it was refreshing not to have this shite. Yay for good friends!
The days between Christmas and New Year's Eve were actually supposed to be holidays, too, but I had to work. A lot. So it was only two days before New Year's Eve that I finally escaped and met my mother for a little holiday around New Year's Eve in northern Bavaria.
There I gave her a selfmade cookbook, since she fell sick and has to stick to a certain diet. Being herself, she was overwhelmed and whined to me on the phone she would have to starve now as so many things are forbidden. So I wrote her a cookbook. To finish it on time, I had to even write on the train for 3 hours. Luckily I had a long trip... sadly I sat for three fucking hours next to two (2!) stinking people! Ugh! Icky! Anyway, she was very happy to receive such a personal gift. Made all the work worthwhile. And a lot of work it was indeed. I bought an empty book, crafted a nice cover and filled it with recipes. By hand. That hurt, I can tell you. I spent like 40 hours on it, writing with a pencil. Even now I still have a little dent in my index finger. Someone should give me a medal for being a great daughter. Just sayin'.
The holiday itself was also very nice. We didn't kill each other and this alone marks it as a success. But aside from that we just had a very good time. We got a tour through the small town, led by a reenact-nightguard. The nightguard was just a stand-in for the "real" nightguard and he was very shy. It was cute. He had the hardest time to look at all of the group and speak loudly. It was fucking cold, but these two hours were the only hours of our whole time in Bavaria when it didn't rain. Cuz of the rain on all other times, we spent most of our time inside and ate a lot of very good food. I was convinced I had gained weight, but when I had finally worked up the courage to step on a scale at home it told me I hadn't. In fact I had lost weight! How is that even possible? Life is weird.
I came back home a week ago and am unbelievingly busy and hating it. In less than a month, there will be tests and I spend my time studying and procrastinating. And going to work at my dull job. Ranting about my job will follow soon!