by Janis Patterson

Maybe that’s not a politically correct greeting, but right now I don’t really care. I am wishing each of you the very best and most joyous thing I can think of. After a very hard year almost exactly halved between a crushing load of work and several unexpected, life-threatening surgeries (where some of my nurses said I died on the table for at least a minute, but my records don’t reflect it – who knows) and an unexpectedly long and difficult recovery (which isn’t over yet) I kind of think I have the right to say what I want. Which I usually do anyway, but let’s pretend it’s because of the season.

Anyway, I usually try to talk about things writing-related, but today I am too imbued with the spirit of the season and just plain happiness so I’m going to talk about other things, like our trip to Germany which ended just at the beginning of the week. This was a week of touring small Southern Bavarian cities with charming Christmas markets – a small (6 people) tour run by a friend which we have taken several times during the years. This particular tour was also a special ‘thank you for not staying dead’ present from my wonderful husband who has spent the last few months doing precious little except taking great care of me since the surgeries.

Can I make a confession? I have been feeling pretty good, but did not realize I was really too weak to make this trip properly. I spent a lot of time sitting on the sidelines instead of touring, but in a way that’s all right. We had taken this trip before and so had seen what most of the group was seeing for the first time. Perforce I was seeing things from a different viewpoint, and it truly was a wonderful experience. I actually saw the spirit of Germany as well as the holiday trappings. And I was impressed.

Germany is an incredibly clean country. We drove through big cities, small cities, tiny villages and down narrow country lanes. There were no wandering plastic bags (and yes, they do use them) or trash. Leaves were neatly raked. There was some painted graffiti in the big cities, but none elsewhere. There were no junked or abandoned vehicles to mar the landscape. I saw no evidence of vandalism anywhere. Everything was neat, tidy, well painted and on the whole charming. It was very refreshing.

The people were delightful, polite and caring. When it was noticed that I had some problem with mobility there were more offers of arms and chairs and help than I could count. One man even offered to carry me over a stretch of rough ground – which, considering my bulk, was most of unwise of him! I did allow him to give me the support of his arm over the uneven ground. While the tour group was exploring a market, I went to the grocery store to buy some of my favorite sweetener to bring home. The door was unexpectedly heavy and I was struggling with it when a man – a villager – dashed across the road to open it for me. He was a local and not associated with the tourist industry at all. Just a nice man. I don’t speak German and he didn’t speak English, so we just smiled a lot, said thanks in our own languages, then he tipped his hat, went back across the street and on with his own business. A fleeting but lovely encounter.

Not speaking the language of the country can have some interesting consequences. One night the group decided to go to a special restaurant, one that was just beyond my comfortable walking distance. Most of the group walked, but three of us decided to splurge on a cab. (Wise!) Getting there was okay, but when it came to coming home we got a cab driver who spoke no English and none of us spoke German. My husband had the presence of mind to pick up a hotel brochure, so we could show him where we wanted to go. The driver nodded happily … and then took off in the wrong direction. I immediately tried other languages, but he understood none of them. (And my command of most of them is not THAT bad.) He tried a couple of languages, none of which I even knew what were. To make things worse, the other lady in the party was melting down, convinced that he was carrying us away to a dark and unseen future. Finally in pure desperation I tried my abysmal Arabic and the cabbie’s face lit up as he replied in the same tongue. Not that things were easy then. He spoke the Syrian dialect, and I can barely mangle the Egyptian version, but it was good enough to get us turned around and on the right road home. We chatted (sort of – as best we could) all the way back and everything ended happily.

If there is one thing I admire about Germany it is their enthusiasm for Christmas. Even in the tiniest village there are banners and tinsel strung along the streets. The cities are pure extravaganzas of Christmas cheer. In hotels and shops and even humble groceries there are signs, plaques and sculptures proclaiming “Frohe Weihnachten” (Merry Christmas). You hear it from people, too, whether you know them or not. I frankly gave up trying to pronounce it (German and I really do not get along!) and just replied Merry Christmas and it was fine.

Perhaps I have a warped view, or am just a Christmas junkie, or perhaps it is just because we were in tourist areas and treated with kid gloves, but it was indeed a magical time. I missed a lot of our tour because of my infirmities, but I also gained a fresh insight into a wonderful land and people.

And that is the end of my peroration on my year, my trip and my fascination with Christmas. I promise I’ll get back to writing topics in January, but in sharing this with you I get to relive it, and I’m selfish enough to find that wonderful. Wishing you all a Merry Christmas, and a wonderfully Happy New Year!