It's cold and everyone's face is buried under a scarf or behind a high collar. Red noses and furtive eyes poke and peer in the semi-dark of afternoon. On the streets, babushkas line up quietly, where men pull slow, live carp from huge bins of slushy water. The tradition was to take a live fish home and keep it in the bathtub until Christmas dinner. But now, most people have the fish beheaded and gutted there on the street.
Fish scales lubricate the sidewalks and reflect the glittery holiday chintz from store windows.
Being a Jew from Southern California, albeit a Jew who celebrated Christmas and Chanukah growing up, I was hardly attached to the trappings of the holiday. Without snow or Christ, it was pretty much Thanksgiving with presents. But as little as Christmas might mean to you, it means that much more when you do it alone. Which is exactly what I was about to do. Then, at the last minute I met Nancy, another Jewish expat with no holiday plans.