The Calm After the Christmas Storm

I didn’t quite understand why there was so much hype around Christmas in England. The lights are over the top, the decorations and celebrations start before Halloween (a very foreign idea to me), and there is a definite “buzz” in the air, as the season gets closer. On Christmas Day, Eastern Boy and I went in search of a Christmas evening service. His parents had sent him a Christmas card with a bread wafer to take part in communion on Christmas Day. So we set out around 5 p.m. with a couple different churches in mind to check out. We assumed that like Poland and the States churches here would be holding evening services. While I am sure somewhere in this huge city there must have been an evening service, there was not an open church to be found in the Aldgate East area. We walked to about five different churches; some of them didn’t even have morning services. What’s the point in celebrating Christmas if you don’t even know the real reason for the season? The city was like a ghost town, I thought at one point maybe the rapture had taken place in the morning service and we’d missed the trip. Everything was closed, there were very few cars on the street and even fewer people. We decided to find our way back to the hotel and take a walk down Brick Lane. It was there we found an open Indian restaurant where we shared our Christmas meal: spicy chicken curry and rice. The meal was spicier than we had expected and Eastern Boy made the comment that the spices were making his “nose cry”. I laughed and agreed! After dinner we wandered into a little pub that I thought seemed to come right out of a Sherlock Holmes novel. It was eerily quiet and there were two people sleeping in chairs by a small gas fire. Nobody stayed long and nobody seemed to be talking to each other. Eastern Boy and I drank our pints and left, but not until after he had snapped a few pictures of the interesting scene. Now the hotel was a pleasant change from my little flat. The bed was fabulous, the pillows were feathers, there was “tele”, and most importantly, the room had heating, which could be adjusted to my perfect temperature. It was quite a treat! I must say, I feel a little indulged now. When I walked back into my freezing cold flat I couldn’t help but wonder how I had convinced myself that it “wasn’t so bad” not having a proper heating system and that I “liked” the fresh air that consistently blows through the old draftee windows. It took me a little over two hours to warm my little living room. This is the only room where the heat works so I shut the door and just don’t leave. No wonder the landlord travels south for the winter! Excited to see life back on the street this morning I woke up early to go return some things I had bought in Wimbledon, get some groceries and pay rent at the bank. However, I guess shouldn’t have been surprised when I stepped out and saw my little street closed. The trains were running a limited service and I was lucky enough to get a train right away. The grocery store was completely dead compared to the mad house it had been only days before, only a few shops in the main mall were even open and the banks are closed almost all week (they will be open the 29th before closing again until the January 4th – I’m in the wrong profession). I was shocked that a whole city can shut down for almost two weeks and then it hit me! That’s why the British love this time of year, good food, family, presents and no work! Maybe Americans should take a step back and actually rest and enjoy this time of year. Maybe we have it all wrong? Or maybe I am missing the conveniences that I have grown so accustom too? Maybe I am ready for life to get back to normal? Personally, I think the latter is true.