Its Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

We celebrated the Italian's birthday last Saturday night by roaming the newly Christmasfied Rouen, drinking vin chaud, eating beignets and walking a mile and half through the city buzz to catch a Rouen hockey game.

We’ve been waiting for this day for a few weeks now. The Christmasfying of Rouen, that is. I mean, we knew the birthday would be a blast but the Christmas preparations have been going on for weeks now. And it happened to all come together on Mati’s
birthday, which made it all the more festive for us.

I’ve waited for the Christmas lights to come on here since they started working on them in an ever so unsafe manner in mid-November.
The idea of construction safety here is the safety reflector vest - and that's all - no safety measures to speak of other than the vest will be taken. They just “grip and rip’ through the city readying for the Christmas party month with tractors, saws, and other unidentifiable and dangerous looking machinery.

After the famous yearly rotisserie pork roast festivities at Lours Noir have closed the doors, after the last ferris wheel basket has been trucked away along with the Crazy Mouse ride, and the bumping American,"Gettin’Jiggy Wid It" tunes have been silenced and just when we were about to feel the vacancy of that side of the Seine going dark after a month of boisterous carnviviality, the Christmas preparations saved us from melancholy.

There is literally always something happening in this city. And if you live here in the city, if you walk in this city without a car, you naturally have a visceral connection to it and you participate in the life unless you hide in your flat for sleep or recuperation which is necessary from time to time.

But when I walk out my door and into the city streets, it reminds me of going to Trula’s house when I was 10. She was a strange lady but I loved her madly. She had a weird doll collection that I loved too – like over 200 or something like that. She decorated up big for every holiday and there was always something cooking on her stove. There was the inevitable crazy theme music playing along with whatever the occasion, an opera, a polka, an irish jig…something to fit the mood. I visited whenever I could, running up and ringing her doorbell incessantly to see what was new at Trula's house. She was impulsive too, like Rouen and its inhabitants. Once I had a loose tooth. Normally, I would work the tooth back and forth over time until it was ready to come out on its own and it would all happen in a safe and natural fashion. Then I would put the tooth under the pillow…and you know the predictable rest. But not at Trula’s house. My tooth was loose and she had the Rouen, “grip and rip” impulsive, spontaneous nature of my new French city. Before I knew what was happening, Trula had string wrapped around my tooth and the other end tied to door-knob and before I could think straight – Wham! The door slammed shut and out came the tooth. Shocking and a bit painful? Yes,but really very harmless too. And I was a buck wealthier two weeks sooner so I didn't complain. : )


Rouen is like that friend. It’s all so intriguing but you must be cautious or you could lose a tooth.
Smoking construction workers in their reflective safety vests hanging precariously over city sidewalks and stringing lights wildly around oversized ornaments and barren branchy trees, while a 97 year old shopping lady walks underneath, oblivious to the life endangering activities taking place above her head.
They’re smoking and welding metal plates together for some kind of Christmas "thingie" in the middle of the Cathedral square.
They’re smoking and welding.
With reflective safety vests on!

We waited for the lights to shine their Christmas spirited pride. We heard it through the grapevine the city would light up on Dec. 1 and with childlike anticipation, we ventured out at dark fall to see it all happen.
But in the Frenchie style, not a light..nope not a peep..nothing…just the city more quiet than usual for that hour.
So onward home.. tight lipped and disappointed …me anticipating if it would be the next night for the lights..no, not the next night..or the next …nuthin…nada.

I’d worked myself into a bit of a waiting French fried frenzy over the lights and decided I needed to chill. So I pretended to get used to the Christmas city roadies working their safety hazard set up and dismissed the process, chalking it up to “lame”.
The construction continued and I became immune to the excitement.

On Wednesday, I pretended I was only interested in Mr. Accordian Man, as I walked my walk but I did notice the construction guys were working on something big in the middle of the Cathedral square, which indicated that maybe the lighting of the city would be soon. They were putting up a stage of some kind. I turned my nose up a little, thinking, "Oh yeah..sure. When?"

But when I got home I feverishly described what they were doing in the square and demanded from the Italian,
"WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY'RE PUTTING THERE?? WHEN DO YOU THINK THE LIGHTS ARE COMING ON?? MATI, WHEN?"
"Soon, baby, soon."

We passed at 10pm in the evening and they were construction crews working late with those bright movie type lights and what to my wondering eyes should appear...
An ice skating rink and construction guys smoking and drinking beer??
They were pouring water onto a rink for ice skating? How cool is that?
I was sucked in again.



On Saturday morning, we dressed and moved methodically to the boathouse in anticipation of a cold but spiritually productive row on the Seine. It turned out to be a nice birthday morning for the Italian, not too entirely cold and the good work of the oars internalized.

When we were through, we made our way towards the Cathedral, sensing festivity in the air. Happy Birthday to Matthew! The festivities were, indeed, underway.
We were about to witness and participate in Christmas, Rouen style.
And it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas - but just a little bit off.

A French telethon was underway, raising money for children with needs. Don’t ask for the specifics of the needs because my French is getting better, but I still miss many of the details. : )

There was a long line of spandex wearing firemen participating in a continous chin-up party under a pop up tent. One guy would do 5 and go to the end of the line. They kept it going for a designated number of hours to raise the money. And every other fireman was either lighting a cigarette, putting one out just before his turn at the bar, or talking to a buddy with one hanging out of his mouth. Little log cabins with cross country skiing Santas and elves were surrounding and a large staircase of the Cathedral had been transformed into a snow hill with sleigh rides for kids. There was a clown in full on clown gear too, which wasn't quite Christmas but more circus - but that's how they do it around here. The more fun, the better. And clowns are fun. Big red clown afro, big red round rubbery nose, long floppy clown shoes pointed skyward as he walked and complete with a big clown cigarette hanging from his smilin’ clown lower lip. It’s a French Christmas - festive, feverish…and just a little bit off.

Later, we anticipated the lighting of the city and timed it so that we would walk out the door and to the hockey game under the Christmas lights and we did…

But you know how in the states, people hang their Christmas lights ever so meticulously around and around so even and uniform and it’s primary color Christmas for the most part?


That's not so here. It’s Cosmic Christmas in Silver, Black and Blue, and Gold.
And the lights, though pretty and charming too, look a bit like the web of a not so stable black widow…shall I say, a bit crazy…I was taken aback after all the buildup and I might have maybe judged it as mediocre upon first sight. And not saying anything out loud, thought to myself, “Oh, American Christmas kicks French Christmas’ ass.”

When I say things like that out loud or to myself, I always and I do mean Always have to eat crow.

Etymology of a phrase: I’ve always wondered about the origin of “to eat crow” so I did a little research. Evidently it is not known with certainty the origin of the phrase, although it is clear that it originated in America in the 19th century. Its meaning is similar to the phrase “to eat humble pie”. Crow is really gamey and stringy and tastes terrible so this is one possible meaning of the phrase’s origin.

So, I eat a lot of crow, despite my attempt at a mostly plant based diet.:)

We drank the hot wine and we ate the beignets- those little powdered sugar covered nuggets of deep fried goodness - that beckoned to us and we listened to the “grip and rip” rockin’ band singing a festive rendition of Johnny Be Good.
The hot wine was beyond delicious on the cold walk to the hockey rink and the band rocked Johnny Be Good without knowing the lyrics and I danced a little in my spot.


We walked through the city that had been haphazardly prepping for this day and the month to come…and we made it to the hockey rink where the 6,000 or so fans who were packed in to cheer for their team, the second place Rouen Dragons, and they did not stop cheering and chanting for their team for the entire 3 periods…I’m not kidding…no breaks…all together at the top of their spirited lungs….chanting….
“Allez!, Rouen!, Tes supporteurs sont la!…Allez! Rouen!, Tes supporteurs sont la…!”
So loud…in unison…together…a team of fans cheering “Let’s Go Rouen!, Your Supporters are here!”

They weren't there to eat snacks or drink beer or chat with their friends. They did do that a little - with preoccupation, though and only at the end of each period. But when the break was over, they were back in their seats, ready to cheer. They were there, all 6,000 of them, to cheer for their team - and that was the clear and main priority.

I observed them, as I had been all month, the people who live and work here in Rouen. I felt the thumping of the city heartbeat in my own little by little, but I couldn’t quite give over to the childlike whimsical abandon that these people cheer with, hang their Christmas lights with and work and play with…and while at first I judged the Christmas lights and their ways, I realized there’s no competition. I can love both. I’m not betraying my home city if I embrace another, am I?
So, I admit I’m falling for the French whimsy of Rouen.
I finally had to let go and chant along with the others that love their city with wild abandon. It's becoming my city too.
“Allez, Rouen, Tes supporteurs Sont La!! Allez, Rouen, Te supporteurs sont la!!”
Love, Ruth