Go compare Christmas

When you celebrate Christmas in a different country go compare! That’s what happens when a Catalan spends his Christmas holiday in England.

Go compare!

24^th Dec. In both England and Catalonia the birth of Jesus is celebrated at midnight in churches by fewer people every time. I guess that the most important thing is the expectation for waking up the following day to discover the presents delivered by their respective characters.

25^th Dec. English families find the presents delivered by Father Christmas under the tree. Turkey, Christmas pudding and mince pies are eaten. Catalan presents are sort of delivered by Tió, a log with face and covered with a blanket. The tradition stems from the use of logs in the fireplace to keep warm. Tió is kept somewhere in the house and fed fruit some days before Christmas, then kids sing him songs and hit him with sticks — like stirring the fire —  and it defecates [I don't make the traditions] Christmas nougat and rolled wafers and some minor present. Escudella, a thick soup with pasta and meat balls, and chicken or turkey are eaten.

26^th Dec. In England, Boxing Day is a bank holiday and, although it was a date for the rich to share with the poor, it’s become the first day of sales. In Catalonia, Sant Esteve is also a bank holiday, however, nothing special is done.

28^th Dec. Englishmen feel pity for the undeveloped south European-north African Catalan, who dare celebrate April Fools’ in December under the name of Sants Innocents.

31^st Dec. In England — and most of the world — there’s a countdown and the new year is welcomed with impressive fireworks. In Catalonia the home dels nassos or man of the noses walks the streets; kids are encouraged to find the man with as many noses as days left in the year. At midnight Catalan people eat twelve grapes as the bells strike twelve, which are meant to bring good luck.

6^th Jan. Since Catalan kids only received minor presents on the 25^th, the Three Wise Men from the East deliver the main presents of the season while they sleep so that they’ll find them in the morning.

Go compare!

Christmas-in-law

Do you remember that the last post ended with a clue of what I was doing for Christmas? The time has come to reveal the truth.

Black Country dialect.

If yowm saf enuff ter cum dahn ‘ere agooing wum, yowr tay ull be spile’t! Maybe you’ve already recognised this as the Black Country dialect from the West Midlands in England. If you haven’t, the translation into standard English would be: If you’re soft enough to come down here when going home, your tea will be spoiled!

I’m obviously visiting my in-laws. I’d call them out-laws since I’m not married — yet? —, but they don’t do illegal business as far as I know. Anyway, I’m having my first genuinely English Christmas ever. I must admit and celebrate that English Christmas food has nothing to do with the reputation of their everyday gastronomy. I should also add that I won a game of Scrabble against two well-educated native people. Arrogant as it sounds, I don’t intend to show off; I’m just promoting myself as a language professional.

There’s only one thing that bothers me about this whole English holiday. I’m Catalan, therefore my biological clock runs one hour faster than the English clock. Should I celebrate the new year at 11 pm? It’ll be weird to pretend that nothing happens knowing that all my people are already in 2012. But then, I’ve always enjoyed the weird things of life.

Studies on yogurtology: to stir or not to stir

Two weeks ago I told you about licking the lids of the yogurts, but there are plenty of things you can do with these desserts. No, I’m not talking about eating it from someone’s body; I’m talking about something I’ve — also — seen in summer camps.

In fact, you don’t need to go on summer camps to see this; I’m sure that even some of you do this. I’m talking about stirring your yogurt. As you may know, when you take the lid of your yogurt — no matter whether you lick it or not — it looks like jelly or custard, whereas it becomes a viscous liquid when you stir it. If it was the chemist me writing, you’d read things like colloids, emulsions, disperse systems; but not today.

I eat my yogurts in the jelly state. I like to push my spoon deep in the pot, take out half of the yogurt balancing it to my mouth. Some years ago, a monitor fed me yogurts after meals. She wanted to feed me the yoghurts with as few spoonfuls as possible: two, as its impossible to ever fit a whole yoghurt on one spoon. The thing is that this practice meets my pragmatism philosophy. In order to maximize the relation nutrition/effort you should either give extra nutritional value (impossible) or minimize your effort. Therefore, stirring a yogurt is against my principles.

Studies on yogurtology: to lick or not to lick

Sometimes you wonder whether you should publish something in your blog. I mean, we the bloggers have to accept that most of the people don’t spend their time waiting for details about our oddities.

I always lick the lid of my yogurts. Some think it’s a stupid think to do or it’s even rude; but I’ve paid for the whole content of the pot. Would you cut the end of a cigar before smoking? OK, that was not my best metaphor. But I’m sure you wouldn’t cut the end of a cigarette, or you wouldn’t throw the chips to the bin before eating the fish. The yogurt on the lid has a different consistency; it’s like the — necessary — preliminaries before the main yogurt act.

Well, some months ago, I licked a lid of a yogurt as usual and thought it was something important enough to be published. Some things need to be shared with the world; you can’t let this knowledge go to waste. And it was indeed something important. Next day I found it posted on someone else’s blog — in Catalan. And you just need to google it to see how important it is. I’ve waited three months, but I had to tell you sooner or later.

So, next time you eat some yogurt, please think of me. And don’t think I’m over with yogurts; next time we’ll talk about the stirring our yogurts before eating them. Enjoy your desserts.