THE CHRISTMAS GONE
Jyväskylä 08.01.2008
Sunday was the last day of Christmas – LOPPIAINEN – or Epiphany. It was the day before the scenery finally turned Christmassy white after a snowstorm on Monday that covered the roads, trees and roofs.
On several occasions before Christmas I attended pikkujoulus or Little Christmases. I was not invited to any modern, huge party that has nothing to do with Christmas and that has become a norm. Companies organize them spending a lot of money to have a party of the year. The ones I was invited to were not extravagant but nostalgic.
When I entered the potluck Christmas coffee for the people working in my building, Fennicum, on campus, it was a complete déjà vu. I could easily go back over forty years to my elementary school or Girl Scout Christmas parties. The songs are the same, the food served is the same, and the decorations are the same. It's very comforting in this modern world to find something so stable.
The table was covered with a red tablecloth. There were joulutorttuja, the star shaped puff pastry delicacies with prune in the middle, there were ginger bread cookies and coffee. There were also savory karjalanpiirakat, our tradition from the Eastern side – and one new item: gingerbread cookies are nowadays often served with blue cheese. I've done an informal survey to find out when this was started, but no-one remembers for sure . . . maybe in the late 80's, early 90's . . . or so. It is one of the very few new traditions with Christmas food. I've been receiving a Finnish magazine for years, and every December, I get very annoyed after looking at the recipes given. Many new ideas get into the magazines while I'm trying to cook and bake the traditional. I've wondered if people really cook these new foods – and now I've confirmed my suspicions. Very few do – it's the same old, same old – positively and mercifully so.
The decorations are set out earlier than before. It was comforting to see little lanterns (with real candles) in balconies and long candleholders with lit (electric) candles in windows in the very dark, snowless December afternoons and evenings when I returned home biking. Still most decorate the tree no earlier than Christmas Eve – and it stays in the house until the day after Epiphany. So, last night Rafu helped me throw my inside (little) and balcony (bigger) tree down from the fifth floor balcony. Then I went down and carried them onto the growing pile of trees next to our very efficient and well-labeled garbage and recycling 'center' in the yard.
Unlike the pikkujoulu adornments, the home and store window decorations are much more glittery than in my childhood. My landlady text messaged me twice about the decorations in the closet I was free to use. I did find the boxes full of gold, silver, shiny, shiny . . . I did accept a tall 'Raggedy Ann'-like Mrs. Santa, joulupukinmuori, holding a pot of joulupuuro – Christmas rice porridge - in her hand and a wooden angel I could hang from the kitchen light fixture. Everything else stayed where I found it, on the upper shelf of the closet. My little tree had real candles secured in old-fashioned holders and a star. Hearing my husband's warnings in my ears from our Barcelona days, I never lit the candles. I also had to buy little clear lights for the living room – since the landlady's were colored. You know our Berkeley house at Christmas – never a colored light to be found! My little apartment looked gorgeous – and against the Finnish tradition, I did bring in my little tree right after the Independence Day, December 6.
Jyväskylä 08.01.2008
Sunday was the last day of Christmas – LOPPIAINEN – or Epiphany. It was the day before the scenery finally turned Christmassy white after a snowstorm on Monday that covered the roads, trees and roofs.
On several occasions before Christmas I attended pikkujoulus or Little Christmases. I was not invited to any modern, huge party that has nothing to do with Christmas and that has become a norm. Companies organize them spending a lot of money to have a party of the year. The ones I was invited to were not extravagant but nostalgic.
When I entered the potluck Christmas coffee for the people working in my building, Fennicum, on campus, it was a complete déjà vu. I could easily go back over forty years to my elementary school or Girl Scout Christmas parties. The songs are the same, the food served is the same, and the decorations are the same. It's very comforting in this modern world to find something so stable.
The table was covered with a red tablecloth. There were joulutorttuja, the star shaped puff pastry delicacies with prune in the middle, there were ginger bread cookies and coffee. There were also savory karjalanpiirakat, our tradition from the Eastern side – and one new item: gingerbread cookies are nowadays often served with blue cheese. I've done an informal survey to find out when this was started, but no-one remembers for sure . . . maybe in the late 80's, early 90's . . . or so. It is one of the very few new traditions with Christmas food. I've been receiving a Finnish magazine for years, and every December, I get very annoyed after looking at the recipes given. Many new ideas get into the magazines while I'm trying to cook and bake the traditional. I've wondered if people really cook these new foods – and now I've confirmed my suspicions. Very few do – it's the same old, same old – positively and mercifully so.
The decorations are set out earlier than before. It was comforting to see little lanterns (with real candles) in balconies and long candleholders with lit (electric) candles in windows in the very dark, snowless December afternoons and evenings when I returned home biking. Still most decorate the tree no earlier than Christmas Eve – and it stays in the house until the day after Epiphany. So, last night Rafu helped me throw my inside (little) and balcony (bigger) tree down from the fifth floor balcony. Then I went down and carried them onto the growing pile of trees next to our very efficient and well-labeled garbage and recycling 'center' in the yard.
Unlike the pikkujoulu adornments, the home and store window decorations are much more glittery than in my childhood. My landlady text messaged me twice about the decorations in the closet I was free to use. I did find the boxes full of gold, silver, shiny, shiny . . . I did accept a tall 'Raggedy Ann'-like Mrs. Santa, joulupukinmuori, holding a pot of joulupuuro – Christmas rice porridge - in her hand and a wooden angel I could hang from the kitchen light fixture. Everything else stayed where I found it, on the upper shelf of the closet. My little tree had real candles secured in old-fashioned holders and a star. Hearing my husband's warnings in my ears from our Barcelona days, I never lit the candles. I also had to buy little clear lights for the living room – since the landlady's were colored. You know our Berkeley house at Christmas – never a colored light to be found! My little apartment looked gorgeous – and against the Finnish tradition, I did bring in my little tree right after the Independence Day, December 6.
Now I'm packing away my new decorations: a ceramic angel dress in a little hanger, three angels made of wool, the star, a wire angel from Riga, and three paper mache hearts. I also added to the collection for our Berkeley pesebre – the nativity scene - with an annual tradition: a new animal. It's a little black sheep, made of wool.
The entire period from December first until Christmas in Finland is a real Advent, anticipation of the good news to arrive. For me, it started emotionally and gloriously on the first Sunday of Advent when I attended a church service in a modern, gorgeously white church building, arriving in a snowstorm. The first Advent service always includes singing of the Hosanna hymn. I also managed to catch Kauneimmat joululaulut, Most Beautiful Christmas Carols, an event that packs the churches for many a night. The audience gets to sing most of our cherished songs. I arrived a few minutes late and found a seat behind a pillar . . . just to join in the last verse of Sylvian joululaulu that makes most Finns living outside Finland weep at Christmas time. I felt so blessed to be here. Topelius, our beloved national poet, wrote it while spending a Christmas in Southern Italy.
The entire period from December first until Christmas in Finland is a real Advent, anticipation of the good news to arrive. For me, it started emotionally and gloriously on the first Sunday of Advent when I attended a church service in a modern, gorgeously white church building, arriving in a snowstorm. The first Advent service always includes singing of the Hosanna hymn. I also managed to catch Kauneimmat joululaulut, Most Beautiful Christmas Carols, an event that packs the churches for many a night. The audience gets to sing most of our cherished songs. I arrived a few minutes late and found a seat behind a pillar . . . just to join in the last verse of Sylvian joululaulu that makes most Finns living outside Finland weep at Christmas time. I felt so blessed to be here. Topelius, our beloved national poet, wrote it while spending a Christmas in Southern Italy.
Oh, star, glowing bright, may your light shine on high,
O´er the northland´s remote wintry scene.
And then, when your radiance fades in the sky,
Your mem´ry will linger in dreams.
So dear none can I ever anywhere find
As may native country, the land of my kind!
And thanks do I offer with Sylvia´s song,
Resounding forever so splendid and strong.
Hosanna starts the Christmas season, caroling continues it, and Epiphany officially ends it. So, pack the decorations – and back to work!
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