I miss my lovely Latin Christmases. Our pine trees are different and so are our traditions. Its nice.
I have white Christmases now and they're fun too but I miss the crazy fun of Guatemala. The fun would start on the 24th of December and carry on practically until the 26th.
I still remember the posadas, the bright confetti, the punch, the loud music, the pinatas and the over all crazyness that came with the season. It was fun. Since it was usually hot, family parties would turn to block parties and there would always be some type of barbecue/churrasco going on.
Kids would stay up late drinking atole and virgin punch until the adults would herd them back in doors at around eleven. We were to sleep but the excitement of what was to come never let us do so; my cousins and I would curl up on my mom's bed and sit near the window, ever-so-expectant to hear and see the fireworks that would come at midnight.
At midnight, the church bells would start ringing and at about the third ring the fireworks would start to pop. You could hear the sounds popping from all over the neighborhood -- next door, on our porch, across the street at the park, at the Cathedrals' plaza at the school.. everywhere. My cousins and I would fight to smash our faces against the windows to see the light up sky.
Of course, we'd just toss ourselves under the covers when we'd hear footsteps coming down the hall-- because if we got caught being up at midnight, the presents that Baby Jesus brought us would vanish because we were bad little kids.
....
Too bad we moved out of the country before I was old enough to visit the fairs that would open up again at midnight. See, since Guatemala is a highly Catholic country, there is such a thing as midnight mass;the kids would wake up, gather at the tree and pray with the family a rosary-- then we'd tear open the presents as quickly as we could so the family could document the fun. Then the kids would be herded back to bed and left with the oldest kid while everyone else went to mass and enjoy a bit of the midnight fairs. I did go to like one when I was like six; it was a bit of fun. I remember having bunuelos, fried plantain and atole before I went in for mass. I just couldn't stay awake and got cranky so mom decided not to bring me anymore until I was old enough to be a good girl.
-- The most we did last year was get out at midnight and have a snow fight. That was fun, but I miss the fireworks.
I have white Christmases now and they're fun too but I miss the crazy fun of Guatemala. The fun would start on the 24th of December and carry on practically until the 26th.
I still remember the posadas, the bright confetti, the punch, the loud music, the pinatas and the over all crazyness that came with the season. It was fun. Since it was usually hot, family parties would turn to block parties and there would always be some type of barbecue/churrasco going on.
Kids would stay up late drinking atole and virgin punch until the adults would herd them back in doors at around eleven. We were to sleep but the excitement of what was to come never let us do so; my cousins and I would curl up on my mom's bed and sit near the window, ever-so-expectant to hear and see the fireworks that would come at midnight.
At midnight, the church bells would start ringing and at about the third ring the fireworks would start to pop. You could hear the sounds popping from all over the neighborhood -- next door, on our porch, across the street at the park, at the Cathedrals' plaza at the school.. everywhere. My cousins and I would fight to smash our faces against the windows to see the light up sky.
Of course, we'd just toss ourselves under the covers when we'd hear footsteps coming down the hall-- because if we got caught being up at midnight, the presents that Baby Jesus brought us would vanish because we were bad little kids.

....
Too bad we moved out of the country before I was old enough to visit the fairs that would open up again at midnight. See, since Guatemala is a highly Catholic country, there is such a thing as midnight mass;the kids would wake up, gather at the tree and pray with the family a rosary-- then we'd tear open the presents as quickly as we could so the family could document the fun. Then the kids would be herded back to bed and left with the oldest kid while everyone else went to mass and enjoy a bit of the midnight fairs. I did go to like one when I was like six; it was a bit of fun. I remember having bunuelos, fried plantain and atole before I went in for mass. I just couldn't stay awake and got cranky so mom decided not to bring me anymore until I was old enough to be a good girl.
-- The most we did last year was get out at midnight and have a snow fight. That was fun, but I miss the fireworks.



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