Christmas Day: Jess was bowled over sick. I slept till 3 p.m. We did nothing but watch movies: Four Christmases, A Serious Lame, Moulin Rouge. I drank a bottle of gross champagne by myself, got sick too.
Xmas Eve was the "celebration" part of the holiday. That morning, I called my family through Skype and brought the laptop out to the foyer, where the landlords had set up a tiny xmas tree. The presents were set up, wrapped, near the fake fireplace, and after some strained Christmas Cheer, I opened them, surprising my mom with all the gifts she had paid for but I picked out---beer, a t-shirt, some books. Luna got an Argentina collar and a soccer ball. My mom had also given me some cash to make sure Jess had a gift to open, and J. picked out a necklace from a boutique on Defensa, matched with some earrings. I gave her The Road from Walrus Books, the English-language bookstore here in San Telmo, she gave me a piece of art bought from a street vendor in Plaza Dorrego. My family then opened the gifts I bought for them: gifts my mom and sister picked out and wrapped, since mailing stuff from here would be too expensive. Skype kept cutting out the sound. No one could play music because it would be noise to the microphone. We had to stay still in front of the webcams. We tried, but the Christmas Cheer was lost in the airwaves between here and PA.
The day was sticky hot, above 90 degrees. J. and I tried to revive the Cheer with a couple of holiday movies (Charlie Brown Xmas, Love Actually, National Lampoon's Xmas Vacation). We sweated through the flicks, too uncomfortable to go outside. By the time the movies were over, it was time to begin the feast-making. New roommates Ian and Amanda were collaborating with us on a side-dish dinner: meatballs, fried cauliflower, chana masala, stuffing. I also made eggnog from scratch using this recipe, spiked with a little of Guy's left-behind Old Smuggler. When MTJ arrived for dinner and I offered him some of the eggnog, he asked where it had come from. I told him I made it, and he lit up---the first time I met him, he praised the ingenuity of poor expats finding ways to make due in a foreign country, making their own peanut butter or yogurt or cheese, things they would never make in their own countries. My eggnog-brewing earned an MTJ seal of approval.
The eggnog didn't last long. After that, the wine bottles began to empty. We ate on the roof, in the parilla hut, where the table is larger. We talked, listened to xmas tunes, stuffed our faces. At some point we were done and MTJ went off to another party. Dishes were washed. Leftovers refrigerated.
At midnight---the start of Christmas Day---the concussive snarls of explosions echoed through the city, the battlefield soundscape of fireworks. The four of us took a fresh bottle to the roof and watched the rockets soar into the sky in every direction, hearing even more that were blocked from view by highrises. The fireworks must have gone on for at least 20 minutes: big red and green bursts, volleys of little white sparks. In the huge highrise behind the house, a little Christmas tree blinked red in one dark window. Across the street, a shirtless old man rattled on a drum. Near the end of the fireworks display, a single tiny hot-air balloon rose from the direction of Parque Lezama. One little lantern, with a flame inside its rainbow skin, ascending quickly into night sky. It was beautiful.
We were toasted by then---I don't even know how many bottles sat empty around the house. We settled in around the table on the terrace and spent the next several hours between conversation about American politics, writing, travel, etc. and a card game Ian and Amanda had played as they boated down the Amazon last month. Luna slept beside us, exhausted from trying to catch the far-off fireworks in her mouth. When we noticed the sky turning color, Amanda checked her watch. 5 a.m. Jess went to get something and never came back. She was passed out asleep. Ready to do the same, I told the roommates good night; but they peer-pressured "Just one more drink"---and I ended up with a Christmas Morning Vodka-Coke, which burned as I drank it. The sun came up around the houses and highrises. Conversation sagged. Maybe it was because we'd already said everything there was to say, or maybe dawn is just too peaceful for drunktalk and swagger. I couldn't believe I'd stayed up to see dawn---I can't remember the last time I've done that. I finished the last drink, said Merry Christmas, and crawled into my bed, ready to sleep off my Xmas hangover.
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