The Unexpected

I don't do Christmas.

It was a decision my sister and I reached a few years ago. And really, it makes perfect sense seeing as a) we aren't Christian and b) we have issues with mass consumerism. So we threw it all away. We don't buy presents and for the most part, we don't accept presents. We don't decorate. No tree is murdered for our sakes.

Most people seem shocked that we don't celebrate. But once we explain how un-stressful the season is, how we don't have to fight the crowds at the mall, how little money we spend in the month of December, we invariably get the response of "oh I wish my family could do that."

Nadine is a big advocate for the unexpected present. She likes to buy things just because, rather than massive corporation saying we have to buy things.

A few weeks ago, I got a text asking what I was doing this Sunday. Of course, my normal response of nothing sparked my sister into action mode. Suddenly I was ordered to head up island for the weekend.

I arrived on Friday evening to have drinks with a friend, mostly so I didn't have to take the 7:30 bus Saturday morning. My friends were surprised that I was in town, seeing as I'm scheduled to head up island for our spa day next weekend. But news of my sister having a surprise for me got them. Questions arose. What is it? Where are you going? Is it outdoors or indoors? Dude. It's a surprise. I don't know.

So, Nadine picked me up, and we were off to the first surprise. And it turned out to be a stage version of The Princess Bride by high school students. It was so cute, them trying to remember their lines. But seeing it was the Princess Bride, my favourite movie EVER, I really enjoyed it.

The second surprise was a concert. An African Drum and dancing jam session. It was awesome. Okay. Most of it was awesome. Some of it was weird and pretentious. Hippies seem to have this strange notion that because they don't shave their armpits or wash their hair that they have this validity, this we're better than the rest of you. It's fucking annoying. Seriously, poor hygiene does not give you moral superiority. And this is coming from a girl with hippie tendencies. It definitely does not mean that spinning dish clothes around on sticks shows that you are deep and arty.

However, the drumming and the African dancing was rad. Really earthy. There was a dude there that kept feeling the beat so much, that he just couldn't sit. He had to get up and groove. He clearly was a raver, because that's how he was dancing but it was amusing. He almost knocked over this baby who was wandering in the dancing mob. At one point he disappeared and when he reappeared he was wearing a different shirt. I guess the beat had sweat through the first shirt.

So that was my unexpected surprise. And much more satisfying than opening a meaningless nothing on Christmas morning.

S.