As Christmases go, I think these few days are unfolding as the perfect hail mary to the nightmarish and definitely unforgettable 2020. I’m alone in my (big by Madrid, small by Charlotte standards) apartment in Madrid.
In Spain they celebrate with a giant Christmas Eve dinner, a day of rest (and hangover) on December 25, and then another feast on January 6, Three Kings Day when kids leave their shoes outside to be filled with gifts from the kings.
My building is deathly quiet and I suppose all the people I usually hear in the stairwell or using the elevator have vamoosed to their family’s… though I’m not sure any travel is strictly legal these days. On Dec 22 entries from UK were suspended due to the new strain of COVID, except for Spanish citizens (not sure how that part is helpful to containing the spread). On that day authorities also issued new holiday travel and socializing regulations, which seemed to only muddy the water - saying citizens have permission to socialize with allegados, which means ‘people with whom there is a close bond’ (whatever that actually means!) Additionally, regional authorities have added their own guidelines into the mix. Now everything is clear as mud and some friends experienced agents examining travel permission papers on the trains on Dec 23.
So, I’m huddled in my apartment, watching Netflix and Amazon Prime in my pjs (thankfully finding movies that still have English audio) while the history and art and culture of a thousand years is just outside my window and a thousand miles away. I’ve bought enough food to last until Sunday, lots of beer and carbs. I gave myself permission to eat cookies and pork sausage. And I read late into the night.
I just keep thinking back to the fabulous trips I’ve taken over the past few Christmases - Avignon in 2017, Krakow and Auschwitz in 2018, and my tour of Costa Rica in 2019.
What a snoozefest. Same-ole-same-ole 2020.