Joyeux Noel

  Christmas is in the air, but it has a different flavor in Paris. In North America we get used to colored lights, Santas on the roofs and Christmas music in shopping malls starting in early November. It’s not that way in Paris. Let’s not think that les Parisiens feel less about the holiday season–Christmas and a Catholic population go hand in hand. But it’s different. It’s, to my way of thinking, more low-key and sophisticated. It starts in November in a sense, but only because that’s when the Nouveau Beaujolais comes out. There is a festive spirit when the population goes from wine shop to wine shop sampling the year’s new vintage. Maybe the parties and drinking start immediately but for many, buying extra wine is a sign of things to come. There is a holiday feeling in Paris at all times but Christmas is still the time to eat, drink and be merry. I walked along last November sampling wine with subtle chocolate aroma and cherry or cranberry flavors. I tasted the full-bodied yet feminine and charming offerings from Beaujolais villages. I even tried the spicy, intense, fruity Loire wines, which I enjoyed with a plate of pâté and cold cuts. Nouveau Beaujolais to me meant that Christmas was around the corner. But, unlike life in Canada, there were still no lights, no festive music, no sidewalk Santas, collecting for charities. Parisiens went about their business. Then, one day in early December I saw teams of men stringing lights on the Champs Elysées. But it took another week before the magic switch was thrown and the boulevard was trimmed, not with the garish colored lights of my youth, but with crisp, clean, glowing white lights that called out a message of festivity, purity and sophistication. Trust me. There is nothing more moving than looking up the Champs at the Arc de Triomphe, when those lights come on. Add to that the wonderful but tasteful colored panels on the outside of the Galleries Lafayette. The streets behind the Opéra come alive with the spirit of Christmas, even if there is a quality of commerce to the reason for the decoration. White lights are a Paris thing. A member of the Canadian diplomatic corps in Paris told me that when she traveled outside Paris in December and saw colored lights in and on houses, she knew that the inhabitants were foreigners. Even the trees sold in stores were tiny imitation fir trees sprayed white to look like snow. It takes getting used to a city where snow doesn’t come at Christmas. But sometimes it does get very cold. One year, not long ago, the water in the parks froze. Many swans were caught in the ice, doomed by their frozen surroundings. The firemen had to brave the cold and the snapping of the swans to free the frightened birds. They then appealed to the local population to take one or two swans into their garages until the temperatures rose. The people did save the birds in a true Christmas spirit. But last Christmas, I happened to be in the Hotel de Ville of the 5th Arrondissement. I lined up to buy a new issue of stamps. A guard approached. “Are you here for the stamps or the chocolate?” he asked. The word ‘chocolate’ was magic to my ears. The stamps could wait. I asked what the chocolate line meant and he explained that the mayor offered a large box of chocolates to any resident of the district whose income was below a certain amount. That certainly wasn’t my position since I was a visitor from Canada in a rented apartment. But I did go to the office where they explained that the giving of chocolates was a tradition. Low-income people were offered discounts on Métro tickets and a social club with amusements, courses and self-help themes. It was a Paris thing and Christmas was the time to do it. I did taste one tiny truffle and left smiling. The spirit of giving was in the air and in the smiles of the recipients whose Christmas would be just a little happier because of the generosity of their neighbors. How can you not love a place with attitudes like this? —