Fortunate Few

With the winter solstice and the holiday season upon us, reflection is always appropriate. Those "what-we've-been-up-to" form letters in Christmas cards made me think of what I'd write were I to send one. I also came to the startling realisation last week that I've been living in Chicago the same amount of time I lived in London--six months. In my bad moods I'd say "What do I have to show for it?", but I'll stick with the innocuous "How strange" instead.

Early last December I visited my old French flatmate, Laurence, and her boyfriend Lionel in Alsace.

Looking down from Mount Sainte Odile in the Vosges mountains


Laurence and me in the center of Obernai, a small town


Multi-colored dormer windows in Strasbourg


Strasbourg's christmas tree --better than New York, much better than London


The week of Christmas was spent in London with my family, complete with a daytrip to the magnificent Leeds Castle in Kent.

Leeds Castle -- still a bucolic green in the dead of winter


Then it was off to rendezvous with my Swiss friend Stephan for a visit to our French friend Sonia. Paris for six days--what fun that was!

The Eiffel Tower's beacon beckons


Last night I arrived home to find photos I'd printed from digital pictures: Halloween (photos), Thanksgiving (photos); trips to Alsace (photos), Paris (photos), Switzerland. All were there, and it made me feel so priviledged. While I love Chicago, and my life here is astounding for its depth of interesting things on a shoestring budget, I can't help but compare life in the isolated Midwest to cluttered old Europe.

That said, my social life in Chicago rocks. Things slowed down a bit in October and November (by that I mean I only went out 3--4 times a week instead of 5--6), but with the holidays upon us they're picking back up. This past weekend I baked several kinds of Christmas cookies with one of my best friends, and the following night went to see the Polkaholics, a rock'n'roll polka band, at an upstairs bowling alley (no kidding). No cover, no IDs being checked, and the band was insane: red sequined vests and Christmas tree lights all over the drums, and the lead guitarist lept onto the bar for a song. At 1 a.m., ready to start the trek home (I work on Sundays) and plastered with Polkaholics bumper stickers a groupie helped place on various parts of my anatomy starting with 't' and 'a', my friends convinced me to stay and bowl a game. "Just one game!" "It'll be over soon!" Soon was not enough--in my inebriated state I think I scored something in the low 30s. That might be an exaggeration (can one even do that poorly?), but certainly not much of one. Ah, what a night.

I'm going home on Thursday night for a quiet family Christmas followed by a boisterous gathering of my extended family on the 26th. For all of you out there, happy holidays.