Diaries Magazine
Ah, Christmas really is in the air! Can't you just feel it? We're only a few days away!
I have to be honest, I find that the Christmas season in Paris is a little quiet. In America, the entire month of December is jam-packed with Christmas parties, cocktails and dinner parties, whereas here that culture of getting together with friends and co-workers falls a bit flat. Has anyone else noticed that the holidays seem to be uniquely spent with families? In New York, by the time January rolls around, I'm usually fat and broke. So I probably could without four cocktail parties a week.
This is just yet another cultural difference. Just how Séb (which some of you will learn tonight that his real name is Aurélien) doesn't understand how Dick is an actual name in English, he also doesn't get why our Santa says "Ho, Ho, Ho!". It took me a second to follow his thought process. Why wouldn't he say "Ho, Ho, Ho"? That's his tagline, right? "Doesn't 'Ho' mean slut in English?" he asked while popping a mini piece of toast slathered in holiday foie gras in his mouth. Oh yeah, there's that 'Ho' thing, but in English there isn't really a link between the two. We're used to it. "I guess," he said not at all convinced with my casual disregard, "In France, Père Noël would certainly never say 'Pute, Pute, Pute! Joyeux Noël!'"
No. He wouldn't. Although that would be really funny.
We appreciate the little joy that is comparing our cultures with each other, especially during the holidays. With me being in France, I admit that I do take on more of his customs than he does of mine. But...as we celebrate our second Christmas together there is one of my traditions that has now become ours; a little ditty for all of those crazy Italian-Americans out there... Hey, you can take the Italian girl out of New York but...