Merry Christmas

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I have always thought that somehow I understood the meaning of Christmas. The antiquated ritual of giving presents and department store Santa’s, the holiday chaos of shopping and the endless search for the perfect gift. I am realizing today that maybe I have understood this concept in such an noticeably foreign way. I miss the tree. Isn’t that a given? I miss the lights, of which there are many here, yet none hold them same consequence. So what have I missed? Is it the glitzy wrapping that surrounds my offerings, or the yards of ribbon that dawn my presents gay-fully? I am sitting here in a hotel room, with nothing but a kindred white sheet and a TV that process ridiculously overplayed Christmas movies. I don’t feel Christmas. I don’t even hear it. Oddly enough the radio plays Khmer top 40’s that don’t interest me in the slightest. My most sacred of Christmas traditions has been ruined. I didn’t get a chance to see Home Alone, Macaulay Culkin as Kevin the 8 year old mischievous devil celebrating what Christmas is really about. So have I missed out?

You could say that the western definition of Christmas is seriously in Jeopardy. No tree. No lights. Or has it? Tomorrow I will be teaching Christmas carols to my kids, having a party to celebrate the debatably un-Buddhist holiday. My kids remind me that they are utterly interested in what this Santa Clause business is all about. What do I tell them about Chris Kringle? I am not sure. Maybe this was all about a little understanding. A quick Wikipedia search yields some generic fairly tales on the story of Christmas.

”Sinterklaas (also called Sint-Nicolaas or De Goedheiligman in Dutch ) and Saint Nicolas in French) is a traditional holiday figure in the Netherlands, Aruba, Netherlands Antilles and Belgium, celebrated every year on Saint Nicholas' eve (December 5) or, in Belgium, on the morning of December 6. The feast celebrates the name day of Saint Nicholas, patron saint of, among other things, children.’’

I am finding that Christmas travels with you. Tonight it would have been found at a small restaurant called “Cold Night, “ where two colleagues of mine discussed the English process of teaching in as a foreign language. TESOL as some call it. Among beers, food, and friends I realized that Christmas isn’t a date. It’s not a holiday for Christian’s, oddly one of my companions was Jewish. It’s a time to take stock of what you have, who you’ve spent it with and what it means to be thankful. Gifts aren’t always given with bows or glamour’d wrapping. Its about the moments spent listening to others and enjoying their company.

I miss home. Don’t get me wrong. Not a single wrapped gift was exchanged. Nor a prayer outwardly resounded. But the feeling of Christmas was not far from this evening. I keep all of you that I am far from, so close to my heart. I am sitting here realizing how important each memory, each conversation, and each experience you have given me really means. My family and friends will be tucked away in a snow blanked houses with presents and warm ciders, I am here saluting each and everyone one of you with a cold Cambodian beer. Cheers. I miss and love each and every one of you. Think of my travels and be thankful for the company that surrounds you. Until tonight I don’t think I was thankful enough for those that surround me.

I will be spending my holiday amongst friends in Siem Reap, visiting the temples of Angkor Wat for the third time. My friends and theirs families will be there to remind me the holidays are here. There may be no snow, but many a conversations and meals will be shared. I am not far from home.

Merry Christmas to all. From your dearest friend in Cambodia. I miss you. There is always next Christmas to share. But this one will have to be done at a distance. For it is the best I can offer but comes with the warmest of holiday wishes. I regret nothing and am thankful for all.

Love and wishes,
-Ian

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