THE PERFECT TREE

I'm not really in Gabon right now but I somehow rather took to this blog and I hope you'll forgive me for this slightly off-topic entry. I got to Poland last Friday after an exhausting, 15-hour long trip. It's cold and snowy. -14 degrees, normally quite bearable if uncomfortable, suddenly prevents me from going out. I feel tired. But I'm home! Home! And right in the middle of Christmas preparations. To that end, my Mom is making bigos and my Dad and I, as every year, hit the icy road to find the perfect Christmas tree.

Buying a live tree is a family tradition. Never has there been an artificial one in our home. I know what people say about ecology and stuff but these trees are grown for Christmas and they are there to be bought. So we buy them. My Dad and I usually go to at least five places before we find something we like. We're rather picky, the two of us. There is no general tree market, so we just drive around until we see a place that sells trees. We get out of the car, complain loudly about there being no pretty trees whatsoever and leave quickly, because we know we will need to visit several spots. That's tradition.

When we finally find something we like, we haggle. I'd always thought my Dad excellent at this procedure. Today, however, he gave up quite quickly, while I, the Libreville handcraft market survivor, wanted to go on until I got the price I wanted. I was on the verge of shouting: I don't care about your wife and children! You give me this for 80 zł or I'm out of here this minute!, when my Dad said we'd take it for 85. I guess Africa did really change me.

Then we bring the tree home and my Dad puts it in its stand. He then, alone, puts on the Christmas lights. Afterwards my Mom and I come in. We always hang too much stuff and the tree looks ridiculously colourful. I love it. We decorate it together. Some ornaments are new (my Mom gets new things every year) but some of them, like the ballerina in the picture, are the ones I made with my Mom when I was little.

And then we look for a place to put the tree in the small living-room. There never is a good place so the tree ends up in an awkward corner in which it doesn't fit, as it always turns out bigger than anticipated. I love that, too.

And then the flat smells good. And then it's Christmas.