Griekse kerst … het is een heel ander gevoel dan de Belgische kerst. Zeker wanneer de temperaturen maar niet zakken naar winterse waarden en de zon het redelijk goed blijft doen. Het brengt me niet echt in kerststemming. Nochtans doet men hier flink zijn best: kerstmannen, lichtjes, verlichte balkons en vooral Amerikaanse kerstliedjes (ze komen me werkelijk de strot uit). Kerstdag is hier ook de dag dat er een gevulde kalkoen op tafel komt. Het is allemaal zo Amerikaans, hoewel me dat in Belgie toch ook meer een meer die kant lijkt op te gaan.

Maar goed, over Amerikaans gesproken: aan de overkant van de plas hebben ze een traditioneel kerstverhaal “The Night before Christmas”. Daar is een Grieks-Amerikaanse variant op (denk “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”).  Ik weet niet echt hoe vertrouwd u bent met het Grieks, en of u alle woorden zult begrijpen, maar onderstaand verhaaltje vond ik te grappig om het niet te publiceren.

Twas the night before Xristouyenna and all through the spiti,

I could smell fasoladha & pastitsio through my myti.
Pandofles were hung on the fireplace quite low,
Hoping Ayios Vasilis would bring some ouzo.

Patera in his krevati was snoring pretty hard,
Tired from stealing the tree from our malaka neighbour’s yard.
Mama was in the basement cooking like a nikokira,
adding just enough lemoni to her fresh made horta.

When the thorivo came from outside the porta,
Baba yelled from his room “ela mesa re malaka”.

The knocking on the door, such a rude, loud barrage,
I yelled through the window “It’s a Greek house re malaka, come
in through the garage!”

Then, standing in the garage right next to my car,
was my drunk thio Mitso coming home from the bar.
“Aide kimisou methismene” I told him with might,
“you’ll ruin my chances of seeing Ayio Vasilis tonight”.

About two hours later I heard a noise down the stair,
I jumped from my krevati to see who was there.
Standing by the tree eating leftover fakes,
Was Ayios Vasilis reeking of tsipouro no less.

He was all dressed in red and as big as an ox,
Wearing brown “pandofles” along with black socks.

Smelling like a katsiki with a touch of “Old Spice”,
He’d been drinking for days and smelled not very nice.

He was putting the presents out under the tree,
They were wrapped like skata, it was quite plain to see.

Vrakia & 6 kaltses from Sears for me,
and 12 for my brother coz he’s only 3.

This Santa was paraxenos, nothing like the fable,
Before leaving he stole my tsigara from the table.

I yelled “Eh, Ay’ Vasili, ti kaneis ekei?”
and he turned and he threw his “pandofla” at me.

The look in his eyes was nothing but fright,
He said “ande fiye apo tho, re malaka” and dashed out of sight.

And he called to his reindeer, and called them by name
I knew they were not the same animals from “Jingle Bell” fame.
“Ela Mitso, Sotiri, kai Nektario,
Yianni, kai Taki, Thanasi kai Yiorgo…”

“Aide grigora na pao gia katourima”,
and he yelled as he went “KALA XRISTOUYENNA”