Tales of Christmases Past

International Living Postcards--your daily escape

Friday, Dec. 23, 2005
Italy, Austria, Guadaloupe, Malta, France, Sicily…

Dear International Living Reader,

I'm never home at Christmas (such is the life of a travel writer), yet I've managed to acquire tree trimmings from almost every destination I've visited: a mouse, an owl, and a hedgehog cleverly made from bunches of painted twigs…an embroidered petit-point moon and sun…a traditional snow-storm with an untraditional red-and-white spotted toadstool…beadwork stars…an emerald-robed Old Man Winter…some tiny sheep made of soap…

Join me now as I take a journey through Christmases past…

Naples, Italy. On via San Gregorio Armeno, Christmas never stops. Deep in the labyrinthine heart of old Naples, this narrow street specializes in making and selling presepi (Christmas cribs)--and everything else you need to create a unique festive tableau.

Usually made of cork, moss and cut pine bark, cribs can be simple or incredibly complex. Some take the form of entire villages with shop-lined streets, bridges, and houses climbing up a cave-riddled hillside. Ranging from $30 to over $200, some "villages" have moving mechanical parts, which can turn a waterwheel, cause a real stream to flow, and make a blacksmith's hammer ring up and down.

At prices starting at $1.20, thousands of painted terracotta figures are also on sale. Not just figures of the holy family, but village characters such as milkmaids, fishmongers, woodcutters, stonemasons, pizza makers, and hunters. The pastoral scene can be completed with miniature baskets of grapes, sacks of beans and grain, caged piglets, boxes of silver fish, and just about anything else you might expect to see in an Italian town or village.

Loreto, Italy. Here in Loreto, there's a permanent presepi set up behind the Basilica--just follow the sound of Christmas music. It's wildly over the top, a succession of little grottos lit by garish red and green lights (kind of like the holes that elves and goblins inhabit in Santa's grotto). Lots of mechanical figures, too, including camels whose heads swivel round at impossible angles. I'm sure this is highly disrespectful, but those camels reminded me of the possessed girl in The Exorcist…

Bad Kleinkirchheim, Austria. This town isn't a throbbing party-party resort…but I've found a couple of places where you can still get a drink at 2 a.m. (As ski school doesn't start until 9.45 a.m., I decided I could indulge in some late night apres-ski.)

Near the Kaiserburg's bottom lift station, on Schneerosenweg, Club MC 99 is a cellar-like pub popular with local teenagers with a penchant for German/Austrian rap music and raucous drinking songs. Not quite my thing--I preferred the octagon-shaped Victoria Pub in the same area. It attracts an older crowd (including some very worse-for-drink ski instructors) and they've got thousands of CDs. Leaf through the music books, ask for zwei-und-sechszig (62) and you'll get Meatloaf. The locals must have appreciated it. The second night, the barmaid put on 62 as soon as I walked in!

All cozy wooden snugs at the back, and with candlelit tables, one of the nicest places to eat in Bad Kleinkirchheim is the Dorfwirt, almost opposite the Römerbad on Dorfstrasse. This is where I had Heiligenabend (Christmas Eve) dinner: $22 for three courses was incredibly good value. Starter was a zucchini cream soup, followed by Weinachtsgansl (Christmas goose served with a plum and cranberry sauce, dumplings, and braised red cabbage spiked with apples). Pudding was a light yogurt mousse with berries. Local red wines such as Zeigelt, Blaufränkischer, and Sankt Laurent cost from $22 to $27 a bottle in most restaurants--all are fruity and exceptionally good.

This might be a ski resort but it's still a very traditional village. On Christmas Eve, hundreds of locals carrying lighted candles converge on the village church for Midnight Mass.

Guadeloupe. This is the Caribbean's other large French island…a full departement of France. Like on Martinique, its citizens use euros, buy baguettes from boulangeries and have a penchant for Renault cars.

Offshore from Basse Terre (the western half of Guadeloupe) are the Pigeon Islands and the Jacques Cousteau marine nature reserve. Warmed by geological hot springs, this area is said to contain some of the most varied marine life anywhere in the Caribbean. Not that you have to be a scuba diver to enjoy the spectacular underwater scenery of corals and tropical fish. Simply catch the Nautilus--a glass-bottomed boat that sails to the Pigeon islands from Malendure four times daily.

The 90-minute trip costs 18 euro and the first boat leaves at 10.30 a.m. After you've glimpsed shoals of zebra fish and all kinds of zanily-colored creatures of the deep, the Nautilus anchors at the Pigeon Islands for 30 minutes. Those wishing to snorkel or dive have the opportunity to do so. On our way back, one crew member donned a red Santa Claus hat and handed out beakers of rum punch for adults and juice for the kiddies. Rum definitely helps to get a singsong underway…but I don't want to dwell to much on what the rest of the passengers must have thought about my attempts at Creole Christmas carols sung in French.

Gozo, Malta. The flat roof of a Gozitan house makes an ideal place to fatten up a Christmas turkey. Traveling around Malta's sister island today, I spotted three handsome looking birds. Destined for the festive dinner table, they were basking in the winter sunshine atop one village house…and if it's possible to judge the expression on a turkey's face, I'd say it seemed like they didn't have a care in the world.

Although turkey appears on the Christmas table (a throwback to British colonial days), cribs and nativity scenes are still far more prevalent than fir trees decorated with baubles. This is a deeply religious island--locals name their houses after saints and many of the older generation still attend Mass every day.

If you're in Victoria (the island's capital) in the six-week run-up to Christmas, pay a visit to Tony Vassallo. He has a tiny workshop on a street called Triq Vajringa in St. George's parish. Since retiring from the local electricity board in 1991, he has dedicated his time to producing an incredibly intricate annual Christmas crib…made entirely of colored candle wax.

Not even Tony seems to know how many figures are in his nativity scene…here known as a presepji. "Maybe 400, maybe 500." About 10 feet wide, six feet high, and six feet deep, it takes him almost all year to make…and he puts in around five hours work each day.

On Jan. 6, Tony will start on next year's creation…an entirely different presepji. He doesn't keep the old wax figures or sell them--he simply breaks them up and starts again. "Doesn't this make you sad?" Seemingly not--he's happy to just have a photo as a memento of what he's done.

As we were leaving, Tony gave us our own memento: three little wax figurines of a hen, a sheep and a baby lamb. No money wanted…his payment is seeing the delight on visitors' faces.

Provence, France. I've shopped in Milan, I've shopped in Paris…but on this trip I didn't have my husband along to carry my baggage for me. To my great regret, I had to pass up the opportunity to buy any santons in Provence.

These beautiful little figurines--the name santon means "little saint"--can be seen in many ateliers' windows in towns throughout Provence. Made from fine clay and painted in oils or gouache in vivid colors (or sometimes dressed in Provençal fabrics), they were originally designed for the Christmas crib. However, santon production is now a major cottage industry throughout the region and they make wonderful mementos to take home. There's even a santon fair that's held in Marseille in the Advent weeks leading up to Christmas. Apparently it's been going strong since 1803 and santonniers from all over Provence come here to sell their wares.

Santons originated in the time of the French Revolution when celebrating Midnight Mass in church was forbidden. Santonniers began to produce the figurines so people could have their own Christmas cribs at home…and the tradition has continued ever since.

They are so eye-catching, I'd say there's an opportunity for anyone who wanted to import them to sell in the States. As collector's items, I imagine they're pretty addictive.

Taormina, Sicily. Christmas Day in Taormina…one of the loveliest towns in Sicily. A dizzy eyrie high above the Ionian Sea and backdropped by Mount Etna, it still has the look and feel of the medieval stronghold it once was…full of mysterious stepped alleyways climbing up the slopes of the town's own little mountain, Monte Tauro.

Thanks to the volcanic gray sands down below, Taormina is a resort town, but it's not at all tacky. It stays open in wintertime--like us, plenty of people are spending Christmas here. Everywhere looks magical--red and purple bougainvillea is still flowering, mandarin oranges and lemons are hanging on the trees in gardens, and the streets are decorated with tiny Christmas trees strung with twinkly blue lights. An intricate presepi has been set up in one of the churches, and last night bonfires were lit after Midnight Mass.

Standing on the viewpoint on Corso Umberto, we could see a firework display further down the coast--Christmas here doesn't have to mean shutting yourself up at home; in Taormina, it's a celebration that takes place out on the streets. Even little kiddies were still up at 1 o'clock in the morning!

Now I'm off to indulge myself with some ruins. For the next hour or so I'm going to go poking around the remains of the town's ancient Greco-Romano theater. This is my idea of the perfect way to spend Christmas Day morning.

Steenie Harvey
Roving Editor, International Living

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