Well, it sure was a busy holiday month for me. If I was complaining
about my boring life before, I have gone into hiding this weekend to take a
break from the holidays. We were very lucky to get several batches of guests
visiting us on several occasions for the past month or so. The Diplomat’s
sister and her family came for a blitz Thanksgiving visit, and her twin 10-year
old girls entertained Son while they themselves obsessed over Fat Cat and his maddening
sloth.
Then I spent two weeks getting ready for Christmas. I
decided that the best time to buys a Christmas tree was in the middle of the
first snowfall in Washington, and much to chagrin of a VERY unenthusiastic
Diplomat, we set out on a mission to find ourselves said tree. I had noticed a
place close by which claimed to sell trees and we headed there only to discover
4 sad small trees standing lonely in a parking lot. Elated, the Diplomat
announced that they all looked great and we should buy one immediately and then
go home and do nothing. I protested loudly and unfazed, took my grudging party
to a more-distant Home Depot, which was selling many resplendent, ridiculously
cheap trees. With the Diplomat standing steeped in obvious and deep boredom,
Son and I pranced around in the falling snow, unfurling tree after tree to find
the right one. We did and then spent the next 3 days decorating it. Well, it
was more like me decorating it, Son hanging one ball and then breaking another and
then wandering off to play with dinosaurs and the Diplomat murmuring that all
looked very nice whenever he would pass by. In the meantime, I cruised the stores
for days for various gifts, then spent several days wrapping them and then some
more mailing some of the gifts to India, Bulgaria and Bangladesh. I also
actively avoided the several boxes in the Diplomat’s closet that were clearly
delivered for me by Santa Amazon and Santa Sephora. I was SO ready for that
Christmas, you have no idea!
Then for Christmas we had a visit from our fabulous British
friends, whom we met in Bangladesh (she works for the British Foreign Service) but
now live in Jamaica (welcome to the Foreign Service life and its complexities).
We had a manic Christmas Eve, where I cooked a traditional Bulgarian vegan
dinner and we also had our lovely friends M&M and their two kids over (it
is magical just how much noise 4 children can make together, even when they
watch a movie). Then we went out the next two nights – we managed to find a lovely
college student, daughter of a fellow FSO, who agreed to babysit on Christmas and
the following day. Even though we clearly overdid it (the poor thing texted me around
1.30 am on the second night we went out to check whether we were alright. We
were. We were dancing, drinking colorful drinks with many things in them and
completely oblivious to the time), she agreed to babysit for us again!
When they left on the 27th, we spent a night with
the Diplomat’s fantastic cousin and his wife, who live in Oregon but had come
to visit their parents in the area. We happen to love them – they are doctors,
and nothing fazes them out. We spent another boozy night with them, and then on
the 28th the Diplomat and Son and I piled ourselves up somehow in
the car and took off for NYC where other friends (whom we know from their own
stint in Dhaka) had graciously agreed to give us their apartment while they gallivant
in Argentina for the holidays. We arrived in NYC around 7 pm and headed straight
to see yet another set of friends who had just arrived from Bangladesh (man,
this Bangladesh connection just never stops!??). Finally, around 8.30 pm, we
crawled into the apartment, put the child to bed and collapsed ourselves.
The next 3 nights are a bit of a blur to me. I know that we
paid a pile of cash to the babysitter (a fabulous Tibetan lady recommended by
the friends whose apartment we were invading, who sighed and said that yes, she
would come on New Year’s Eve) so that we can go and eat and drink and spend
even more money around Manhattan. We even managed to see Brook Shields in one
of the restaurants! We went out for lunches, drinks, dinners, some more drinks,
shopping, ice-skating in Central Park (a sure highlight for Son who skated for
the first time in his life, and after falling give or take 87 times, concluded
that he could skate very well), coffees and teas and finally it was time for
New Year’s Eve. Well, that was going to be a night well spent.
I was determined to party the night away and it was shaping
up to be that way. We were going to have dinner with a couple of friends, and
then go dancing with another bunch of friends. As it happens in all crappy movies,
everyone canceled mere hours before we were supposed to go. Undaunted and with
grim determination, I slathered on a whole bunch of makeup, put on a skimpy
dress (a GREAT choice in the 30F weather) and the Diplomat and I dove into the bright
NYC night. We had a wonderful date! After randomly walking into a phenomenal
restaurant in the West Village (Blue
Ribbon), and having drinks at the Orient
Express bar (it has a Portuguese bar tender, who overheard us speaking Portuguese,
something we do when we have one too many, and asked whether we were Brazilian –
whaaaaaat??), we ended up at Sounds of Brazil, aka SOBs
where we danced until, I think, 2.30 am to the sounds of funky Brooklyn brass
band. Then we took pity on the babysitter and headed home. You try to get a cab
in Manhattan at 3 am on New Year’s eve. After 20 min in the streets, competing
with dozens of other desperate taxi-aficionados, and slowly sliding into
hypothermia, I think the Diplomat sort of threw himself in front of a cab which
was clearly headed home. The bleary-eyed cab driver took one long at my bare
legs and took pity on us. We were in bed by 3.30 am. Happy New Year.
The next day we drove back to Washington. You’d think that after
all that, we’d just quietly go home. Not us for there is no rest for the
wicked. We first stopped to see our lovely friends in Jersey City, the original
Bulgarian-Indian couple, who had just had their first baby and were more or less
locked inside their apartment. After fortifying ourselves with massively strong
Indian tea and fabulous Bulgarian apple pasty, and Son pooped in their resplendent
master bathroom, we set back on the road. Next we stopped to see one of the
Diplomat’s 47 first cousins (or 43, or 38; the number of his first cousins varies
constantly every time the Diplomat mentions them – they either die and
resurrect themselves all the time, or he has no idea what he is talking about).
He and his wife live in exciting Metuchen, and on that particular day, they
themselves were hosting for the holidays his own brother, his wife and daughter
(who live in Canada). The ladies of the house had cooked up a massive Indian lunch
for us, which was so good that I was the last person to leave the table. It was
embarrassing, really.
I have always enjoyed Christmas in their house. Albeit faithful
Hindus, they put up a Christmas tree every year to the delight of their two
your daughters. Gifts are exchanged and Santa is respected. Puzzled by the
obvious religious discrepancy, I was told by the Cousin’s wonderfully
progressive wife Mrs. H, that this was a Hindu Christmas tree. It is quite possible
that she was joking. Then it turned out that she even organized a group of
little Indian kids who went around their housing development caroling for the unsuspecting
neighbors. I was speechless. Welcome to the melting pot.
After we managed to get ourselves out of the food coma
around 4 pm, we got back on the road and an hour later arrived in Princeton,
the last stop on our insane itinerary, for a brief visit to a couple of our
oldest friends. As if we hadn’t eaten anything so far, we shamelessly attacked
the amazing cheeses and champagne they offered us. What is WRONG with me? 8
pounds more, that’s what…
Finally, at 10 pm, we wobbled in home. It is official – the holidays
are over. Hallelujah.
No comments:
Post a Comment