One of my favourite Christmas songs. Good ol' Dean Martin. Of course, my white isn't what he was singing about. While snow was falling in my Canadian hometown, we (my family) pressed powdery white sand underfoot on December 25th.
Sentimental me wondered if I could accept a bikini Christmas rather than a hot chocolate, hockey, fuzzy sock sort of Christmas. Family arrived one-by-one and with each reunion the holiday spirit grew. They were ready for a Caribbean holiday so I allowed their enthusiasm to spread inside my grinch heart. And eventually, I found myself feeling Christmas-y right along with everyone else.
Dad arrived first.
And then brother.
Grenada loves Christmas much as the whole world does. They also have unique holiday traditions in food, music, and family. Christmas day is spent with family and visiting neighbours, delighting them with a glass of homemade sorrel juice (which I made! Post to come later), and snacks. Parang, the Caribbean's version of Christmas music, fills malls and busses with upbeat but unexpected sounds. My family created a mixture of Canadian and Grenadian traditions to suit our fancy. Dad chose reggae music; I chose butter tarts.
In keeping with my beach theme, I was greatly surprised that hardly a Grenadian leisured the beach on Christmas Day. Beach chair tourists exploded all over Grand Anse, filling the air with foreign tongues and rum punch fumes. I mean, we were no exception...I just was not expecting so many foreigners. Tis the season, I guess.
|These two pictures, taken on my brother's Rebel, remind me of what I want for Christmas next year. Or maybe for my birthday...|
We spent a lot of time doing this.
Christmas on the sand really wasn't much different than a snowy Christmas. We were together. Laughing. Eating. Napping. Smiling. And rapidly buying presents behind each others' back. Just like we always do.
Happy Holidays, Grenada!