Merry Christmas, Moroccan Style!

There is definitely something completely foreign about living in a country where Christmas is not celebrated.  There was no hoopla leading up to the holidays, so it all quickly snuck up on me.  I secretly miss all the to do, such as Christmas decor out before Halloween is even over!  Before we moved, I separated my must have Christmas items to be sent to Morocco, as I was not sure how much storage space we would have in our apartment.  Well, even those few containers were left behind!  The movers drove off and left them on our driveway, so off they went to storage.  At the time, my mind was running in a million different directions, and it didn't seem like such a huge loss.  Finding a tree and some ornaments wouldn't be that difficult... wrong!  I was super proud of myself when I was able to have the local florist (the man who sets up flowers on a busy corner intersection every day) find me a REAL Christmas tree and even make some wreaths and garland!  I explained that I wanted to pick up my order on December 1st, and it actually arrived on time.  Jamil received some strange looks as he carried our special order to the apartment.  Ironically, he passed and greeted the new Islamist Prime Minister, Abdelilah Benkirane, while carrying our Christmas tree home.

I honestly had no idea what to expect, but was preparing myself for the worst.  It took me about 2 seconds to let go of the fact that Jamil was walking through the door with the most Charlie Brown looking tree that has ever entered my home.  This year, we were truly just happy to have a tree at all.  However, I can't believe this thing is even holding up the few ornaments I found at a French grocery store.  Thank God they're plastic and light.  My choices were limited to a package of all red, all blue, all gold, or all silver plastic ornaments.  I went with all silver and was somewhat okay with the idea of having a completely tacky, blinged-out, gangsta tree as opposed to no tree at all.  As we opened the ornaments, we were shocked to find a package of strings.  What do you mean the hanging strings are not already attached to the ornaments?  You've got to be kidding.  We quickly gave up on the task of threading and knotting and stuck our ornament hooks (otherwise known as paper clips) through the loops without the strings.  I bought 6 strands of lights, only to find out that they don't connect to one another at the ends.  We had to buy a power-strip and extension cords just for the tree.  I asked the florist where I could find a tree stand, and he explained that they would just stick the tree in a plastic bucket and fill it with rocks... really!?!  Well, the trunk of the tree is so tiny, and the tree is so light, that it actually works.  It just looks ridiculous.  I had no luck finding a tree skirt to cover up that mess or stockings for the first fireplace we've ever had, but I was able to order some and have them quickly shipped from Etsy (aren't the white ruffles adorable?).

As for Christmas cards, I missed my deadline to have them printed and mailed to me with enough time to address them and mail them back to the States.  I'm now trying to figure out if I can find a printer here and explain how to print a front and back, 5x7, card-stock card and find envelopes to match.  It will be a miracle if I can make it happen.  If not, see Christmas card above.  I hope it graces your mail boxes soon.

Everything has come together quite nicely, all things considered.  I missed seeing the decorations that I pull out every year, but it's also refreshing seeing something new.  As with every other adventure, I feel proud of myself for tackling this small obstacle.  As my dear friend (and fellow Olmsted wife) reminded me, I get to celebrate Christmas without commercialism.  That is truly a rare gift. 

The Musas got to see Santa at a couple of Embassy events, and there was even a small party at the boy's school.  Gabriel's a kid who needs a little warming up.  When he's ready, he'll embrace most things with open arms (see sweet boy below).  As for Abraham, I don't think this is a good Santa age.