On top of that, aside from a few pleasantries, Santa doesn't speak Spanish. ![]() Anyone can come to the door in Spain, and in that outfit, he'd most certainly be recognized. No one can spy on him, and he doesn't have to worry about people coming to the door. While he could probably live wherever he wanted, Santa chose the North Pole specifically because it is harsh and isolated. When asked how he got from Turkey to the North Pole, Oscar told me with complete conviction that Saint Nicholas currently resides in Spain, which again is simply not true. The climate's all wrong, and people wouldn't appreciate him. He's not retired, and, more important, he has nothing to do with Turkey. For starters, Santa didn't use to do anything. One doesn't want to be too much of a cultural chauvinist, but this seemed completely wrong to me. The outfit, I was told, is a carryover from his former career, when he served as a bishop in Turkey. Unlike the jolly, obese American Santa, Saint Nicholas is painfully thin and dresses not unlike the pope, topping his robes with a tall hat resembling an embroidered tea cozy. It sounded sort of quaint until I spoke to a man named Oscar, who filled me in on a few of the details as we walked from my hotel to the Amsterdam train station. In France and Germany, gifts are exchanged on Christmas Eve, while in Holland the children receive presents on December 5, in celebration of Saint Nicholas Day. It's nothing I'd want for myself, but I suppose it's fine for those who prefer food and family to things of real value. Gifts are generally reserved for children, and the parents tend not to go overboard. They go to mass, open presents, eat a late meal, return to church the following morning, and devote the rest of the day to eating another big meal. People who traditionally open gifts on Christmas Eve seem a bit more pious and family oriented than those who wait until Christmas morning. "When do you open your Christmas presents?" is another good conversation starter as it explains a lot about national character. ![]() When told that an American rooster says "cock-a-doodle-doo," my hosts look at me with disbelief and pity. In Germany, where dogs bark "vow vow" and both the frog and the duck say "quack," the rooster greets the dawn with a hearty "kik-a-ricki." Greek roosters crow "kiri-a- kee," and in France they scream "coco-rico," which sounds like one of those horrible premixed cocktails with a pirate on the label. "What do your roosters say?" is a good icebreaker, as every country has its own unique interpretation. ![]() Guns aren't really an issue in Europe, so when I'm traveling abroad, my first question usually relates to barnyard animals. In a country that's become so homogeneous, I'm reassured by these last touches of regionalism. You wouldn't want a blind person driving a car or piloting a plane, so why hand him a rifle? What sense does that make? I ask about guns not because I want one of my own but because the answers vary so widely from state to state. They must be accompanied by a sighted companion, but still, it seems a bit risky. I've heard, for example, that the blind can legally hunt in both Texas and Michigan. Bide your time, though, and you can walk away with some excellent stories. Can I carry a concealed weapon, and if so, under what circumstances? What's the waiting period for a tommy gun? Could I buy a Glock 17 if I were recently divorced or fired from my job? I've learned from experience that it's best to lead into this subject as delicately as possible, especially if you and the local citizen are alone and enclosed in a relatively small space. What really interests me are the local gun laws. My second question might have to do with average annual rainfall, which, again, doesn't tell me anything about the people who have chosen to call this place home. They're nice enough places, but the numbers mean nothing to me. I say silly because I don't really care how many people live in Olympia, Washington, or Columbus, Ohio. I've never been much for guidebooks, so when trying to get my bearings in a strange American city, I normally start by asking the cab driver or hotel clerk some silly question regarding the latest census figures. Sinterklaas arrives in Amsterdam, accompanied by his "helpers" Sint Nicolaaskerk, Amsterdam, across the canal from Central Station Your browser doesn’t support HMTL5 audio, we're sorry.
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