As the traditional Czech celebration time is rather near (or better yet already here, as the Advent – 4 Sundays before the Christmas Eve – already started), I’ve begun to remember the atmosphere I liked; the baking during evenings when outside is blanketed by heavy layer of snow, the walks during the freezing days tugged in warm clothes, the hot chocolate milk after we arrived with our noses red and about to fall off (or melt), the traditional denying of my family that there’s something like a fish or carp and stubbornly having a chicken feast; and so on.
The smells of the tree at home mixed with the peeled off clementine or orange and a gingerbread. The going crazy after a cat breaks that extremely fragile glass decoration hanging deliciously swinging from the fir branches.
While being in Briatin wasn’t quite the real thing for me, it still had some hints of our Highlands winter, cold air and decorations and the spirit; being in Kuwait is something diametrically different. No snow, no winter, unless I count the recent drop by 30 degrees down compared to summer, but still clear sky, salty sea breeze and around 20 degrees of Celsia in the shadow. The real picnic time of Kuwait, we might say, same thing which was happening in Newcastle during the very rare sunny summer days.
So I’m safe to say this year won’t be white for Christmas. Actually, the last two days it’s mostly yellow; a sandstorm came and for my luck this time our neighbourhood got hit straight and we were not really burried in velvety veil of white-yellow-brown dust for several days, with today fading but still ubiquitous crunchy taste of tiny rocks in your mouth, but very close to that.
Two of our bathrooms have broken fan lids so the fans keep on going day and night, which is fine during the normal days (understand, with bearable amount of sand dust in the air), but a misfortune for me as a housekeeper during such a sand disaster outside.
It really took only few hours of the night to bury the whole flat in a silky layer of golden sand. It was and still is everywhere you can imagine; on the sofas, carpets, floors, shelves, cats, freshly washed clothes, newly washed dishes, washing mashine, stove, your coffee and even your underwear. Hard to get rid of and leaving me with a lot of work in the following days trying to smudge it away with a mop and dust it away with a vacuum cleaner. Swipe, clean, desinfect. And hope it won’t come back for some time.
One lovely morning.
One of many sinks… I clean everyday, this came overnight.
Food? Oh no, just more sand.
Note to self: Do not leave dishes from the night till the morning. They’ll need a wash again.
Mirror, mirror, who brought all the sand? Mother-in-law says Lebanon.
Bored, all the windows are closed and all the birds are hidden.
Because yes, white Christmas are romantic, although limb-breaking; but you can stay at home with your warm mug of cocoa and laugh. Yellow Christmas suck, because they reside in your home and transform you fir tree and presents in a bunch of dunes.
PS.: The exquisite white signs of our cat Daniel changed to match the rest of his orange coat. He looks, however, very displeased.