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Jan. 6th, 2006 01:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desayunoencamaSince it's practically been hours since our last public holiday, today is once again an official holiday.
A friend is visiting from Paris this afternoon, so must finish cleaning the apartment. But thought I'd share the below, hopefully-humorous personal essay I wrote for FRONTIERS a few years ago, and which was reprinted in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scottynola's anthology UPON A MIDNIGHT CLEAR.
The Kings and I: Spending the Holidays in Spain
By Lawrence Schimel
"Camels," I repeated incredulously, the only American in a room full of Spaniards.
"I don't see why camels are any stranger than flying reindeer," Xose Luis said.
"I guess. It's just, there aren't any camels in Spain."
"Oh, like there are reindeer in Florida or Arizona or a gazillion other places that Santa Claus supposedly visits," my boyfriend, Noé, remarked.
So much for support on the home front. I was beginning to feel outnumbered.
"No, you're right, you're right," I conceded.
"And at least there's a historical precedent," Koldo added. "It makes a lot more sense, both the camels and the date. Because the three Magi did show up, on camels, bearing gifts, 12 days after Jesus was born."
It was Jan. 6, known as the Dia de Los Reyes in Spain, or Twelfth Night in the English-speaking world. We were in the apartment of my friend Felipe in Madrid: me, my boyfriend, and a group of gay friends, each of whom had gone home to their families for Christmas itself. This was my "family" by choice, my blood relatives all an ocean away. Tomorrow, everyone had to go back to work, so today was the last gasp of holiday celebrating, as it were.
Felipe entered the room--and therefore our discussion of the Spanish tradition of giving gifts on Dia de Los Reyes, versus on Christmas Day--a tradition which, lately, has begun to erode under globalization and the exportation of American consumer goods and traditions, not to mention that it made more sense for kids to play with their gifts all during the holiday vacation instead of getting them the day before vacation was over.
The idea of celebrating "Reyes" appealed to me, though--if only out of voyeuristic curiosity from my perspective as an American and as a Jew. It also afforded a way for us to be together since my friends and even my boyfriend had abandoned me in Madrid for Christmas--he'd gone home alone since we felt it was still too early in our relationship for me to meet his parents. The Jewish community in Madrid is practically non-existant, and I didn't really mix with the expatriate crowd here since I'd come to Spain to immerse myself in Spanish culture and the language, so I spent the day feeling like a real outsider and wondering what I was doing here... I did find a Chinese restaurant open on Christmas Eve, which is probably what I'd have gone to if I'd been back in the States on Christmas, anyway. Of course, now as I looked around this room at my friends and boyfriend, I felt welcomed and a part of a family of friends in a way I never had been in New York City. It was a warm and cozy environment--and not just because Felipe had the heat cranked up to combat the chill weather outside. Madrid might have bright Mediterranean skies all winter, but the temperature did drop to near freezing at the height of winter.
"Enough of this bickering over animals," Felipe said, as he handed a gin and tonic to Noé. "I've been trapped with my family for weeks. Let's cut to the important question about Reyes: Which of the three magi is the sexiest?"
"Ha!" Xose Luis said, accepting the glass of wine Felipe held out to him. "As if there were any doubt who a dirty, old size queen like you would choose."
"Balthazar," I confirmed.
"You're all so quick to judge me," Felipe complained.
"Judge nothing," I said. "You pant after every black man you see."
"He's the youngest of the three of them, anyway," Felipe said.
"I don't know," Noé said, leaning over to rub under my chin as if I were a cat. "I think bearded older men have their appeal."
My boyfriend is only 24, and loves to remind all of us of that fact.
Koldo put down his empty glass and stood up, heading toward the bathroom. "What's the point of asking which of the three is sexiest? They've been dead for 2,000 years!"
"Picky, picky," Felipe said to his back, and then to the rest of us in a loud whisper, "Looks like he needs to get laid almost as much as I do."
We all laughed, even Koldo.
"So, Koldo, when are you going to treat us to lunch at that new Indian restaurant like you promised?" Noé asked when he returned from the bathroom.
"Yes," I said quickly, "What about tomorrow?" A free meal sounded really good after all I'd spent on gifts. Unlike in the States, where every store offers pre-Christmas sales to encourage gift-giving, here in Spain everything was full-price throughout the holiday season.
"I can't," Koldo said.
"Thursday, then?"
"Busy."
"I think we're being given the runaround," I said to Noé, before turning back to Koldo. "It's January 6th and you're no doubt busy for the entire rest of the year, is that it?"
Xose Luis laughed. "He's busy at least until the end of February, I'm sure."
I had a feeling that they were making fun of my American ignorance once again.
"Doing what?" I asked. "What could legitimately take up that much time, which he could be spending with us?"
"Shopping," Xose Luis answered.
"Rebajas start tomorrow," Noé said, as if that explained anything.
"Sales?" I translated, wondering how this could justify our free lunch being so delayed. "After-Christmas sales?"
"Not just a regular sale: Rebajas. Everything is discounted, starting tomorrow. Practically the entire country goes on sale. And after a few weeks, there will be additional discounts on what's left. Until everything is liquidated and the new season starts."
"I wonder if the hustlers offer rebajas, too, in January," Felipe mused aloud.
"This is something you couples take for granted, whereas the rest of us go through a 'holidays sexual drought,'" Xose Luis said to Noé and me. "It looks like we should leave those two alone so they can get laid."
I looked from Felipe to Koldo with an appalled expression upon my face. "But that would be, like, almost incest!"
"Not with each other," Noé said, with an air of exaggerated patience. "Xose Luis is suggesting that we leave so they can go off to the sauna without Felipe feeling he's been inhospitable."
I still found it strange that friends could go to a bathhouse together as a social activity. But it seemed a common enough practice here.
Besides, so much of sexual life here in Spain seemed to still revolve around public spaces like saunas or backrooms. There was a time for getting laid, which had nothing to do with going out later in the evening for drinks with friends to bars or out to a club for dancing. Not that one couldn't pick someone up at a bar and go home with him, but it was more common to go looking for sex before going out (or afterward if you still had energy at 6 or 7 am when the discos closed...)
Koldo looked at his watch. "It's not a bad idea ..."
"I'll go get the roscón," Felipe said, disappearing into the kitchen. A moment later he returned and placed an enormous ring-shaped pastry in the middle of the coffee table. It looked a little dry, but it couldn't be worse than the fruitcakes that are traditional in parts of the U.S.
Besides, after having everyone ganged up on me in favor of camels over reindeer, I wasn't about to open my mouth again just to get myself in more trouble by questioning their traditions.
Felipe passed around dessert plates with slices of roscón. I waited for a fork, but everyone else just picked it up with their hands, so I followed suit. Roscón was just a dry, sweet cake; I figured it must have been something the Magi had also brought with them, along with the gold, frankincense and myrrh, and took another bite.
"Ouch! I think I just broke a tooth." Delicately, I spat into my napkin.
"Let's see," Xose Luis said.
"Don't be gross," I answered, folding the napkin to hide the semi-masticated mass .
Noé explained, "It's tradition. Which one did you get?"
"Which what?" I asked, as Noé took the napkin from me. I was beginning to feel like things were getting out of hand. For one thing, my mouth still hurt ...
"He found the faba!" Noé announced.
"Oh, good," Felipe said, "I'll give you the receipt."
"The receipt for what?" I said, watching as Noé held aloft the napkin to display the piece of roscón I'd spat out with the fava bean in it . How much more embarrassing could this get?
"You get to pay for the roscón!" Xose Luis declared.
"Whoever gets the faba is king of the festival," Koldo explained, "just like during Mardi Gras. He wears the crown and has a year of good luck. And, as a gesture of kingly generosity, he also pays for the roscón."
"It is the tradition," Noé agreed.
"Tradition!" I shouted. "Traitor!" is what I wanted to call my boyfriend. But I merely said, pressing a hand against my left cheek, "What I want to know is, who's going to pay for my dentist?"
A friend is visiting from Paris this afternoon, so must finish cleaning the apartment. But thought I'd share the below, hopefully-humorous personal essay I wrote for FRONTIERS a few years ago, and which was reprinted in
scottynola's anthology UPON A MIDNIGHT CLEAR.The Kings and I: Spending the Holidays in Spain
By Lawrence Schimel
"Camels," I repeated incredulously, the only American in a room full of Spaniards.
"I don't see why camels are any stranger than flying reindeer," Xose Luis said.
"I guess. It's just, there aren't any camels in Spain."
"Oh, like there are reindeer in Florida or Arizona or a gazillion other places that Santa Claus supposedly visits," my boyfriend, Noé, remarked.
So much for support on the home front. I was beginning to feel outnumbered.
"No, you're right, you're right," I conceded.
"And at least there's a historical precedent," Koldo added. "It makes a lot more sense, both the camels and the date. Because the three Magi did show up, on camels, bearing gifts, 12 days after Jesus was born."
It was Jan. 6, known as the Dia de Los Reyes in Spain, or Twelfth Night in the English-speaking world. We were in the apartment of my friend Felipe in Madrid: me, my boyfriend, and a group of gay friends, each of whom had gone home to their families for Christmas itself. This was my "family" by choice, my blood relatives all an ocean away. Tomorrow, everyone had to go back to work, so today was the last gasp of holiday celebrating, as it were.
Felipe entered the room--and therefore our discussion of the Spanish tradition of giving gifts on Dia de Los Reyes, versus on Christmas Day--a tradition which, lately, has begun to erode under globalization and the exportation of American consumer goods and traditions, not to mention that it made more sense for kids to play with their gifts all during the holiday vacation instead of getting them the day before vacation was over.
The idea of celebrating "Reyes" appealed to me, though--if only out of voyeuristic curiosity from my perspective as an American and as a Jew. It also afforded a way for us to be together since my friends and even my boyfriend had abandoned me in Madrid for Christmas--he'd gone home alone since we felt it was still too early in our relationship for me to meet his parents. The Jewish community in Madrid is practically non-existant, and I didn't really mix with the expatriate crowd here since I'd come to Spain to immerse myself in Spanish culture and the language, so I spent the day feeling like a real outsider and wondering what I was doing here... I did find a Chinese restaurant open on Christmas Eve, which is probably what I'd have gone to if I'd been back in the States on Christmas, anyway. Of course, now as I looked around this room at my friends and boyfriend, I felt welcomed and a part of a family of friends in a way I never had been in New York City. It was a warm and cozy environment--and not just because Felipe had the heat cranked up to combat the chill weather outside. Madrid might have bright Mediterranean skies all winter, but the temperature did drop to near freezing at the height of winter.
"Enough of this bickering over animals," Felipe said, as he handed a gin and tonic to Noé. "I've been trapped with my family for weeks. Let's cut to the important question about Reyes: Which of the three magi is the sexiest?"
"Ha!" Xose Luis said, accepting the glass of wine Felipe held out to him. "As if there were any doubt who a dirty, old size queen like you would choose."
"Balthazar," I confirmed.
"You're all so quick to judge me," Felipe complained.
"Judge nothing," I said. "You pant after every black man you see."
"He's the youngest of the three of them, anyway," Felipe said.
"I don't know," Noé said, leaning over to rub under my chin as if I were a cat. "I think bearded older men have their appeal."
My boyfriend is only 24, and loves to remind all of us of that fact.
Koldo put down his empty glass and stood up, heading toward the bathroom. "What's the point of asking which of the three is sexiest? They've been dead for 2,000 years!"
"Picky, picky," Felipe said to his back, and then to the rest of us in a loud whisper, "Looks like he needs to get laid almost as much as I do."
We all laughed, even Koldo.
"So, Koldo, when are you going to treat us to lunch at that new Indian restaurant like you promised?" Noé asked when he returned from the bathroom.
"Yes," I said quickly, "What about tomorrow?" A free meal sounded really good after all I'd spent on gifts. Unlike in the States, where every store offers pre-Christmas sales to encourage gift-giving, here in Spain everything was full-price throughout the holiday season.
"I can't," Koldo said.
"Thursday, then?"
"Busy."
"I think we're being given the runaround," I said to Noé, before turning back to Koldo. "It's January 6th and you're no doubt busy for the entire rest of the year, is that it?"
Xose Luis laughed. "He's busy at least until the end of February, I'm sure."
I had a feeling that they were making fun of my American ignorance once again.
"Doing what?" I asked. "What could legitimately take up that much time, which he could be spending with us?"
"Shopping," Xose Luis answered.
"Rebajas start tomorrow," Noé said, as if that explained anything.
"Sales?" I translated, wondering how this could justify our free lunch being so delayed. "After-Christmas sales?"
"Not just a regular sale: Rebajas. Everything is discounted, starting tomorrow. Practically the entire country goes on sale. And after a few weeks, there will be additional discounts on what's left. Until everything is liquidated and the new season starts."
"I wonder if the hustlers offer rebajas, too, in January," Felipe mused aloud.
"This is something you couples take for granted, whereas the rest of us go through a 'holidays sexual drought,'" Xose Luis said to Noé and me. "It looks like we should leave those two alone so they can get laid."
I looked from Felipe to Koldo with an appalled expression upon my face. "But that would be, like, almost incest!"
"Not with each other," Noé said, with an air of exaggerated patience. "Xose Luis is suggesting that we leave so they can go off to the sauna without Felipe feeling he's been inhospitable."
I still found it strange that friends could go to a bathhouse together as a social activity. But it seemed a common enough practice here.
Besides, so much of sexual life here in Spain seemed to still revolve around public spaces like saunas or backrooms. There was a time for getting laid, which had nothing to do with going out later in the evening for drinks with friends to bars or out to a club for dancing. Not that one couldn't pick someone up at a bar and go home with him, but it was more common to go looking for sex before going out (or afterward if you still had energy at 6 or 7 am when the discos closed...)
Koldo looked at his watch. "It's not a bad idea ..."
"I'll go get the roscón," Felipe said, disappearing into the kitchen. A moment later he returned and placed an enormous ring-shaped pastry in the middle of the coffee table. It looked a little dry, but it couldn't be worse than the fruitcakes that are traditional in parts of the U.S.
Besides, after having everyone ganged up on me in favor of camels over reindeer, I wasn't about to open my mouth again just to get myself in more trouble by questioning their traditions.
Felipe passed around dessert plates with slices of roscón. I waited for a fork, but everyone else just picked it up with their hands, so I followed suit. Roscón was just a dry, sweet cake; I figured it must have been something the Magi had also brought with them, along with the gold, frankincense and myrrh, and took another bite.
"Ouch! I think I just broke a tooth." Delicately, I spat into my napkin.
"Let's see," Xose Luis said.
"Don't be gross," I answered, folding the napkin to hide the semi-masticated mass .
Noé explained, "It's tradition. Which one did you get?"
"Which what?" I asked, as Noé took the napkin from me. I was beginning to feel like things were getting out of hand. For one thing, my mouth still hurt ...
"He found the faba!" Noé announced.
"Oh, good," Felipe said, "I'll give you the receipt."
"The receipt for what?" I said, watching as Noé held aloft the napkin to display the piece of roscón I'd spat out with the fava bean in it . How much more embarrassing could this get?
"You get to pay for the roscón!" Xose Luis declared.
"Whoever gets the faba is king of the festival," Koldo explained, "just like during Mardi Gras. He wears the crown and has a year of good luck. And, as a gesture of kingly generosity, he also pays for the roscón."
"It is the tradition," Noé agreed.
"Tradition!" I shouted. "Traitor!" is what I wanted to call my boyfriend. But I merely said, pressing a hand against my left cheek, "What I want to know is, who's going to pay for my dentist?"
