Riding without a "heimat"

The year 2010 has marked many new firsts for me: first year out of college and in the real world, first time living by myself, and the first birthday where I forgot exactly how old I am (though certainly not the last).  The most recent first?  Christmas 2010 is my first away from "home."  And by "home" I really mean heimat, or at least I think I do.  A German friend explained to me that the single word heimat expresses simultaneously the notions of roots, origin, homeland, and upbringing, and thus has no direct equivalent in any other language.  So while I feel at home here in Burgundy, I am without my heimat.  However, happy circumstances helped me look beyond this simple fact.  First, my dad and step-mom were brave enough to tackle this year's mess of airplane traffic in Northern Europe to reach me.  Second, we effortlessly adopted my other currently heimat-deficient American friend, Jane, for the holiday weekend.  And finally, my mentor Alex Gambal provided us with the perfect Christmas setting--his cozy home perched among the cliffs of Orches, with Christmas tree, fireplace and all--under the sole condition that we take care of his polar bear of a cat, Bob.

The kitchen sink (his favorite perch) gives some perspective on Bob's massiveness.

 This new family of five quickly discovered that the upside of leaving behind old traditions is creating space for new ones.  Nothing planned, nothing expected, nothing done just because that's the way it's always been done.  And yet, some of these new traditions were so lovely that I wouldn't mind seeing them again next winter...

La Carte de Vins...always a good read chez Tontons.

1. Stocking up on produce, meat, bread and cheese for the weekend at the morning market in Beaune on Christmas Eve.  Holiday spirit was in the air as the farmers jovially wished each other a "Bon Noël," despite having to work on a holiday.
2. Spontaneous cheese courses.  Christmas gave us an excuse to indulge in moldy chevre or pungent bleu after dinner, lunch, and even brunch, if the craving arose.

Parentals cozying up by the fire.

3. Edward Scissorhands.  I nearly forgot that Tim Burton's original dark tale is set during the merriest season of all.
4.  Sleeping in!  In fact, I was the first creature to stir on Christmas morning, which is a feat I have not accomplished since my pre-puberty years.
5.  Champagne with Christmas brunch.  Make that vintage champagne.  I love me a holiday mimosa but you just can't put makeup on a sparkler like that.
6. Spending hours around the table playing games, listening to James Taylor's seasonal croons, and clinking our glasses with a "santé!" (or a good-intentioned "sauté" in my Dad's case).
7. Homemade boeuf bourgignon for Christmas dinner.  Call me radical, but I'll gladly take a plate full of wine-soaked meat over the traditional ham.
8.  And finally, having a white Christmas.  As a present from Mother Nature, the gentle blankets of snow began promptly Christmas Eve morning and lasted the weekend.  Being snowed in gave us an excuse to cozy up by the fire, cook all day, open that special bottle(s) of wine, and just enjoy each other's company because let's face it, there's nothing else to do!

Orches blanketed in snow.

Making mustard by hand...another regional specialty.

While being in France really defined this Christmas for us, the moral of the story is that maybe you don't need to be anywhere specific to be merry.  This holiday isn't about gift-giving, impressing guests, or imagined obligations, and sometimes it acutally takes riding without your heimat to see that.  And I'm really not trying to push the stereotypical anti-materialism message here, because in fact, my newfound definition of a Merry Christmas does have some essential ingredients.  Good food, good wine, and good people.  Luckily, these components exist just about anywhere in the world.  I only hope I will always be lucky enough to find myself there.