Kielbasa Eve

I spent most of the day on Christmas Eve cleaning and organizing the house for my mom. Since she was still recovering from surgery and recently retired, things are a bit in flux and so I wanted to make sure the house was ready and comfortable for Christmas day. My little sister had already gotten the tree and most of the decorations up, so my main job was... well, everything else. As the day waned on, I ran to yet another grocery store for even more final last minute necessities, and was at long last able to take a shower when my other sister arrived from work. Brother, sister-in-law, and baby nephew were en route from NYC, but of course Christmas Eve traffic was treacherous at best. Even so, we were all able to meet up on time and head to our annual Christmas Eve events.

Since as long as I can remember, Christmas Eve was always devoted to my father's side of the family. My parents have been divorced for over 20 years now, but even before their separation that was always the tradition. Christmas Eve with my father's family, Christmas Day with my mother's. Christmas morning was either at the house or split between the two, since my father and mother have always lived in the same city, more often than not only a street away from each other. At any rate, Christmas Eve has always been a magical time for me. As a child it was the beginning of the excitement, not yet marred by the deflation felt after presents are opened and you realize the holiday is almost over. My grandmother, and then my aunt after (both amazing women who have since passed on) frankly showered us with presents, and the food has remained delectable over the years. I only have two cousins on that side of the family, so the gathering is quite small compared to others, but we have always gotten along really well. My cousins are basically the exact opposite of me and my siblings. They studied math, computers, sciences, always remaining relatively rational and calm around the dinner table. My madcap little group, on the other hand, all studied theatre, art, music, and the like, never ceasing in our statements nor in our constant need to steal center stage. The reason why this creates such a peaceful exchange is that our cousins are more than happy to laugh in amusement when observing our endless shenanigans, while we sit in awe of their ability to be so grounded, gracious, and good. And of course, the centerpiece to it all. The glue that binds, the hinge that connects, the common cause of joy and beauty: kielbasa.

Per usual, when we walked into our relatives' house, we were greeted with the scents and smells of sumptuous Christmas fare, right along with the hello's and how are you's from the relatives themselves. We made our rounds to the two cousins, their significant others, their father, our other uncle, and my father and stepmother. Once that was over, the youngest of our clan proceeded to steal the stage and pretty much never give it back for the rest of the night. I was, however, given a very early place of honor when my cousin gave me a pink crown with the words "Kielbasa Queen" emblazoned on the front in silver glitter. Clearly they know me very well. Nephew was supposed to be the proud wearer of the blue king crown, but it was mainly passed around to various folk throughout the evening. I, on the other hand, wore mine proudly and distinctly the whole night through.

The traditional antics ensued, beginning with healthy servings of egg nog that my cousin is oh so talented at concocting. She also gave handsome nephew an ingenious toy called a surprise ball. It has many layers of streamer-like material which produce small trinkets as each layer is unraveled. This was the perfect distraction for young lad, as he was quite taken with the mountain of presents lingering under the tree. For dinner, we had endless supplies including but not limited to ham and potatoes, brussels sprouts, caramelized onions, and kielbasa kielbasa kielbasa. I had very little need for anything other than kielbasa and a nice glass of wine, but knew I had to mix it up at least a little.

After dinner it was present time, and none of us were disappointed. I realized before heading home, when talking to various students and French friends about their holiday traditions, that I am not only lucky but rather spoiled. No matter how old we get, we leave each and every Christmas function with a pirate's booty full of treats. The little one was in his element via gifts, sister was lounging in her Yule Log sweater, cousins were throwing wrapping paper around, and all was general merriment. Throughout most of the night, baby was also heading up a grand expedition to other rooms in the house. He had found some electric candles in the windows and was systematically inviting each and every memory of the household to accompany him on his journey to find a "spooky old turtle." Every once and a while, some duo would come pouncing into the living room in hot pursuit of their adventure.

In the end, we all sat down to some delicious dessert, in my case a bit of whiskey in my coffee, and a satisfied feeling of family and feast. It was a magical start to my Christmas celebrations and I feel so grateful that we were all able to carry on with such traditions, even if only once a year. Leftovers of kielbasa granted a place of honor in my bag, we headed home so that Santa Clause could make his merry way.

Urban Suburban Transition

As the official work week began, I was easing comfortably into the rhythm of my vacation, slowly emerging from jetlag, but still very much consumed by the rain and cold. I spent my Monday morning lounging around the apartment sans family, enjoying Netflix on demand, and ordering Chinese food once more so I could relish in the joys of chicken and broccoli, Chinese American style. In the afternoon I made my way over to Williamsburg to get the keys from my old roommate who I would be crashing with for the evening. This would be my first experience with Uber, planting the seeds of my growing dislike, as the fare ended up exceeding the quote... Interesting... Regardless, I made it to the 'Burg, then headed off into Manhattan for the last minute Christmas shopping I had on agenda.

Following my submersion into the festive crowds winding their way through Union Square, I stopped to visit a friend and her newly born baby. This particular friend spent 6 months in Paris with her husband prior to my move last year, so we have always bonded over the Parisian life. Her new apartment and her new baby were beyond adorable and I greatly enjoyed sipping a glass of red wine as she showed me her new big girl lifestyle while still doing me the honor of making me feel like my life wasn't too bad either. It was a wonderful aperitif before meeting two of my best New York friends in Midtown East for last minute reservations at a fancy steak house. One of these ladies was my freshmen year of college roommate, the other one of my artistic besties in NYC. Both have roomed with at one point or another, and neither have yet disowned me via my generally ludicrous and highly emotional life turns. Since I had my heart set on a New York steak before I even landed in the U.S., I was delighted that these two were game for hitting up Del Frisco's, one of the most reputable and one of the few steakhouses I hadn't yet tasted over the years. Interestingly enough, despite its renown, it did not supersede some of my other faves, though the company was some of the best. We also had a pleasant treat on the way to the subway, randomly walking past the tree in Rockefeller Center and a Christmas lights display on the outside of Saks Fifth Avenue. Gotta love the spontaneity of urban life, especially during the holidays

After dinner, my Williamsburg friend and I returned to the hood for post-dinner drinks at one of her favorite local haunts, and in the morning I was treated to a sumptuous breakfast at another popular breakfast spot. Then it was off to Grand Central Station and suburban Connecticut! This was my second Uber experience, confirming my suspicions that you cannot assume your quote is ever accurate and when able, take a yellow or green or taxicab service that can't change their mind when omnipresent traffic or weather conditions do exactly what they always do... Exhale...

My first day in CT was yet another whirlwind, beginning with me taking the wheel from my mother who picked me up from the train despite being in recovery from surgery and squiring her around town en route home. I do not often drive so I have to admit my eyes weren't quite up to the challenge at first, but soon acclimated to their new, much more suburban surroundings. Upon arriving at the house, my two sisters and I had made plans to hit up the grocery store for all of the ingredients and supplies we would need for Christmas day. Then my second oldest sister and I accompanied my mother to dinner, where we all had some really tasty steak salads at one of those awesome restaurants where you get a buzzer that lights up while you wait. Love me some suburbia.

My father had already asked me to meet him at his local bar that evening, a place he patrons every tuesday night with one of his old buddies. Though he wouldn't admit it, I knew he just wanted to show off his beautiful blonde baby, since I've heard about the place for years but had yet to make an appearance. The best parts of the evening? #1) Being tapped on the shoulder by a young man who called me "Angikla" and not until he gave me his name did I realize he was the younger brother of a childhood friend of mine. He is 26 or so now, but since the last time I saw him was possibly when he was approximately 14, you can see how my mind was not only blown but thoroughly terrified. #2) My Dad getting into a political debate with his friend's son, moments after I had accused the same lad of living in a commune. #3) My father looking highly disappointed that I never made it to a second gin martini, though the first was the size of two... and yes, now you know where I inherited my drinking skills from. Circa 10pm and it was definitely time to get some sleep before the dawn of Christmas Eve!

Nostalgia and New

Since coming to France for the first time about three years ago, I generally crash with my brother and sister-in-law when I go home to the States for any length of time. One reason for this is because they are awesome, much more like good friends than just relatives (something that no, I will not admit to more than once a year ; ). Another reason being that I am rightfully obsessed with my nephew and love being able to spend as much time as possible with him when I can. A fair and rather lucky exchange for hosting me is that I am more than willing to babysit for an afternoon or evening at the very least so that the happy couple can frolic out into the city on their own for a bit. This time around allowed them the opportunity to have a fancy brunch and do some last minute Christmas shopping while Baby Boo and I settled in for an afternoon of fun. We played some games, watched a Christmas special, but most importantly spent some time drawing and coloring an almost life-sized Christmas tree... That is, life-sized if compared to the one featured in a Charlie Brown Christmas. After that we hit up the park for a while where wee man was his stunning self once again, walking up to perfect strangers while playing hide and go seek and asking if they knew where Auntie La was... Perfection. Since it was mostly freezing cold out, I cut our park adventure short but made up for it by buying him a cookie at a nearby bakery before returning home.

It turned into a family-oriented, stay-at-home day in the end, something I was rather grateful for when all was said and done because the jetlag was holding on strong, day two often wreaking havoc much more intensely than day one. I was scheduled to meet a couple of friends from my restaurant days, but after confusion with time and place, it just wouldn't have been possible without an hour and a half commute, something I couldn't deem reasonable in my hazy state. Instead, I hunkered down in the apartment, as some of my bro and sis-in-law's friends straggled in for movie watching and pizza. Because I couldn't wrap my brain around cheesy carbs that night, I ordered myself some Chinese soup, and stayed awake just long enough to see a new timeless family Christmas classic entitled AD/BC. It is ridiculous, it is a musical, and it is available here on youtube... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqygOjPNIoY... That is how much I love it. 

Needless to say, I was in bed by 10pm, slept until about 9am the next morning, and slowly made my way into eastern standard time. The next day, I accompanied the fam to the park, where my brother took baby nephew to play, and sissy-soo and I indulged in some well deserved manicures. I made it home in time to shower and rush into Manhattan, where I was going to see a kid's singing group that one of my best friends created. It was a true blast from the past, not just because I used to help out with the group in various ways, but also because the venue they sang at was a place I frequented in my younger more irresponsible days just post-college. The Bitter End down on Bleecker Street was my home away from home, as my roommates and I went almost weekly my first year living in NYC to stalk our guy friends' band. I have more than one memory of crashing at their apartment in the East Village after being out until 5am and switching shirts with my roommate in the morning so that I didn't have to wear exactly the same outfit to work two days in a row. Ah, the joys of youth.

My weekend ended on a wave of taste sensation, dining in one of my all time favorite restaurants in NYC. I met two of my good friends from Nespresso days for some decadent fondue at The Bourgeois Pig. Yes, I did say that I was intent on staying away from French cuisine and large amounts of standalone cheese, but honestly, this establishment transcends definition. It's a small little hidey hole of a place, decked out in gothic statues and plush red upholstery. They have half-price bottles of wine early in the week, and a wide variety of both entrée and dessert fondues. Unfortunately, they are in the middle of transitioning to a new location so that their menu was pretty limited, but it certainly didn't stop my friends and I from having a truly delicious repast and ending my night in nostalgic bliss.

Epic Lag of Jet

Now that I am finally returned to Paris from a 4 country jaunt over a 2 week span, I have a moment or three to breathe... and write about my adventures. I landed in NYC a couple of fridays ago, to kick off my holiday season visiting friends and family in the city I lived in for 10 years. Of course, the main problem with a whirlwind trip across time zones is that you are immediately smacked in the face with profound lags of jet. When I went home last year, I got so sick from exhaustion and dehydration, crazy weather patterns and just that time of year, that I was physically miserable most of my stay. To combat this, I was downing chewable bear-shaped vitamins and sipping some crazy magical elixir that the French pharmacist gave me in lieu of Airborne. Once on American soil, I moved on to Emergen-C as my daily antidote. Whether it was purely a mental state or all of these supplements actually work, I was very fortunate enough to stave off infection for the duration of my adventures. This did not, however, stave off the lag, but nor did it prevent me from sallying forth nonstop for 16 days. 

Onward forward... My flight to New York was relatively anxiety-free, though my cab ride from airport to Brooklyn was so slow, trafficy, and expensive, that I still managed a bit of nausea and palpitations regardless. Happily, Brother and Sister-in-Law were off from work that day, so I didn't have to wait too long in their neighborhood before being able to get into their apartment. They actually met me at a local coffee shop and I was able to steal some hugs from awesome baby Nephew before once again dealing with the weight of my massive luggage up several flights of stairs. By the time I collapsed in their abode, I wanted nothing more than to relax and pass out for the night. Instead I rallied for  dinner with some of my best friends from my college days. 

We made a reservation at a Mexican restaurant in midtown, convenient for all and with relatively affordable and decent Mexican food. I made it a mission throughout my stay to hit restaurants with cuisine that I generally have a more difficult time getting in France, staying away from baguette and blocks of cheese as much as humanly possible. It was a delightful crew and I was so happy to see some of the friends who know me best in the world. The only difficult was of course the fact that my brain became increasingly foggy, especially under the influence of margarita. I think there was one point where all I could do to respond was foolishly grin in acknowledgement, though whether I even knew what was being asked is the bigger question. 

One of my friends had to head back to Connecticut after dinner, so the rest of us wandered over to an Irish pub in midtown called O'Lunney's. While the Times Square area is repugnant on a great many level and Irish pubs are certainly better in Ireland for the most part, I will always have a soft spot in my heart for O'Lunney's. It's bar I have patroned with various groups of friends over the years, once even having my biggest NYC birthday party at its sister establishment several blocks north. It was a perfect way to cap such a warm, nostalgic, and super satisfying welcome home.