The holidays are fast approaching and as we harvest our few remaining apricots and tend to our grapes I realize how far away Christmas really is. Planning Christmas in 38 degree weather (>100 Fahrenheit), with our minds and bodies occupied by early summer chores, is more than a stretch. Nothing is more alienating other than the actual festivities. 

We live in a predominantly Catholic country, so Christmas is unquestionably the highlight of the season. The festivities start on Christmas eve around nine o’clock when large droves of people take to the road to gather with family.  In our area people are mainly on foot; you see large families on the move, adults with sleeping babies in their arms, large shopping bags in hand, older kids taking care of the little ones.  Outdoor fires are lit everywhere and a thick grey smoke hangs over the city and town while the smell of barbecued meat is carried on the wind. By 9:30 the streets return tranquil when every one sits down for their evening meal. The featured dish is suckling pig, and if that is too expensive other meat will do. Tranquility will not last long; at the strike of midnight a cacophony of sound blasts the town when firecrackers explode on every street corner and in every backyard. It is Christmas and with the traditional drink in hand, apple cider, holiday wishes are exchanged, everyone kissing anyone. This well-wishing lasts about fifteen minutes after which the traditional cake, a ‘buche de noel’ is served. Kids may receive some gifts of Toby or Papa Noel. The festivities on Christmas Eve remind me the most of New Year’s Eve in Holland or the 4^th of July in the States. More than anything it seems a secular holiday; no church bells tolling like in Holland, no Christmas carols or church-going like in the States. 

On Christmas day people take to the road again, now in car or by bicycle. The country side is their aim today for a swim in the lazily flowing rivers or a dip in the deeper irrigation canals. A pick-nick along a river bank to escape the summer heat in town is the name of the game. In our area people will flock to Valle Grande, a narrow stretch of red-colored canyon through which the Atuel river flows; another destination is Nihuel, a town bordering a large reservoir where people go for boating and fishing. We stay home this day, since the roads will be clogged and the accident rate drastically increases.

This year we will host the Christmas Eve party for an expat crowd; all our Argentine friends have their own families to go to. Observing the Argentine ways we will celebrate late at night to escape the sun’s heat. Besides, we have work to do the day of Christmas Eve; our irrigation turn ends at three o’clock that afternoon. We will prepare a barbecue Argentinean style in our steel drum, the assorted side dishes will be brought by our guests; a potluck American style, whomever comes can bring whatever they like!  

From our first year here I remember that Christmas Eve is just another day on the farm; tractors will run from early morning until the sun sets, fields will be ploughed, vines will be sprayed and harvesting will be carried on as necessary. And although people are busy with farming chores up till the last possible minute, Christmas time does not have that frenzied feel that I remember from either Holland or the States. Few decorations adorn the stores or the houses for that matter, no trees, few lights, no baking of cookies to share, no gift shopping or advertising. Just two days to mark the event, one day to celebrate, one day for recuperation, then back to work we go. Arn calls Christmas here a non-event, I savor the blessed reduction to essentials: sharing a good time with family or friends.