Christmas in Ireland - a time for families to gather around the fireplace, share a laugh, eat, sing and reconnect. Apart from the occasional cold snap, snow and ice are rare events, so the weather will be mild, and I can remember having an icecream between the years. Especially along the coast, the fog and mist will be particularly enchanting. It's pleasant to stroll through a small town, chat a little with the shopkeeper and browse around to find a last-minute gift. You may come across the odd hardware store that carries every item under the sun, although they have been disappearing fast. If time flows slower in Ireland in general, it's another tad slower in the countryside.
Christmas ornaments in other countries depict owls or reindeer or birds or wooden angels blowing a trumpet. On the continent, festive markets offer handmade artifacts to lighten up the home during the dark days of winter. In Ireland ornaments can bring back the early days of Christianization, and the harp is an all-time favorite symbol.
Christmas is not complete without Evening Mass and the cross is a reminder of the deep spirituality of the Irish. True, the religiosity of old has undergone massive changes, a younger generation has grown critical of the rituals and power of an establishment often deemed out of touch with modern life. Yet, Christmas returns and with it the joys of family gatherings.
Why not decorate a tree with ancient symbols of Irish culture and history? The magic of Ireland shines through the intricate designs and beautiful crisp lines of illuminated manuscripts.
Few countries can boast of a more exciting color scheme than Ireland. It's as if homeowners eagerly await the time to apply a fresh coat of paint to make their house stand out. I can imagine that it's always been a way to make giving directions easier - 'It's right by the orange house at the end of the street' or 'You can't miss it, it's the purple one,' and I can feel the cheeky grin of the Irish farmer in his voice. Not only do you find all shades of green but also all shades of gaudy and cheerful.
Taste and smell have the ability to transport us in the past. As a child, I felt the distinct difference between the cities of Continental Europe and the towns of Ireland, not least because of the cozy smell of turf fires covering the streets and lanes. The earthiness of inhaling the odors of dozens of fireplaces glowing with smoldering turf that had probably been cut not long ago remains one of those childhood memories that stick with me.
Closely related to the experience of strolling down a small town street at dusk and seeing the smoke from the chimneys is the taste of freshly baked Irish soda bread. My grandmother used to bake it for us. It looked very different from the factory wonderbread that was good for toast but for little else. Fluffy and white, this concoction of modern food engineering had little taste and nutritional value. You could actually moisten it and use it to stop the draught seeping into the room through the windows. Primarily, we ate it for breakfast, neatly cut into triangles, with a dab of jam.
But the real stunner turned out to be the homemade granny bread. Rich in texture and full of healthy grains, it tasted like nothing else. She usually cut it in thick slices, filling your mouth with a big bite meant you weren't able to talk for a while. Which was just as well because you enjoyed the wholesome taste of the soda bread and the salty Irish butter on top of it. A cup of tea, and you were ready to face the adventures of Ireland!
