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Jan. 2nd, 2008
Oh, what a year it was...
Jan. 2nd, 2008 10:10 pmNew Years should start with celebrations and copious amounts of food. Considering the latter this year has been downsized. The Aunts* decided to celebrate differently. The reason they usualy give for their random breaks with tradition is that my 94 year old Gran should take it easy and needs her time to rest in the afternoon. As with most of their unwelcome breaks with tradition, they didn't consult with half of the family before deciding – or counted on my mother to bring the dreaded news, who didn't, because my mother didn't want the change either, and decided to boycot by not doing the one thing she should have: Being the Bearer of Bad News.
Unknowingly P. and I undertook the 1 hour journey to Hometown. We arrived on schedule (i.e. 10 minutes later than the agreed 12 o'clock) and hardly out of our coats we were thrown into the Kissing Carrousel, which consists of walking around the table and giving everyone there three kisses to wish them a Happy New Year. It's one of the more shameful Belgian traditions, but at least I don't have any aunts with whiskers or uncles with bad breath. After having finished that task, we're already off to the next one: heaving Champagne on the New Year – and downing it as fast as you can, because there's the soup! I actualy drank my glass of Champagne during soup.
And was still drinking when the soup was already gone and the main dish arrived: sandwiches. Really, eating sandwiches can only be a group experience on two occasions – no make that three: (1) the traditional coffeetable following a funeral, (2) the not-so-very-nice reception, and (3) the school cafeteria. Why on earth should I consider eating sandwiches on other occasions than these three? To be honest: I don't even like eating sandwiches. If it were up to me I'd have my food cooked and served three times a day. There was a reason why I liked those eggs and bacon so much when on holiday in Ireland – not because I was hungry.
What I hate most about sandwiches is that they don't come with dessert. The best thing of a meal, is something you can't have when you aren't eating a proper meal. We did have coffee and cake between three and four, but by that time I had cramps in my belly and actualy wanted to go home. That was no fun, indeed. Dreaded sandwiches!
*My mother's two younger sisters
Unknowingly P. and I undertook the 1 hour journey to Hometown. We arrived on schedule (i.e. 10 minutes later than the agreed 12 o'clock) and hardly out of our coats we were thrown into the Kissing Carrousel, which consists of walking around the table and giving everyone there three kisses to wish them a Happy New Year. It's one of the more shameful Belgian traditions, but at least I don't have any aunts with whiskers or uncles with bad breath. After having finished that task, we're already off to the next one: heaving Champagne on the New Year – and downing it as fast as you can, because there's the soup! I actualy drank my glass of Champagne during soup.
And was still drinking when the soup was already gone and the main dish arrived: sandwiches. Really, eating sandwiches can only be a group experience on two occasions – no make that three: (1) the traditional coffeetable following a funeral, (2) the not-so-very-nice reception, and (3) the school cafeteria. Why on earth should I consider eating sandwiches on other occasions than these three? To be honest: I don't even like eating sandwiches. If it were up to me I'd have my food cooked and served three times a day. There was a reason why I liked those eggs and bacon so much when on holiday in Ireland – not because I was hungry.
What I hate most about sandwiches is that they don't come with dessert. The best thing of a meal, is something you can't have when you aren't eating a proper meal. We did have coffee and cake between three and four, but by that time I had cramps in my belly and actualy wanted to go home. That was no fun, indeed. Dreaded sandwiches!
*My mother's two younger sisters