I told the kids that we wouldn’t have a Christmas tree in Paris. It seemed wasteful to buy a stand and lights that wouldn’t work back in Canada and we didn’t bring any decorations with us. Besides, this Christmas was going to be different for us in so many ways that I thought it better to focus on new experiences than to try to replicate our traditional holiday.

Then all of the Christmas trees started to appear on the Paris streets. They were stacked outside of flower shops, markets and even grocery stores. They came complete with stands: a half log with a hole in it and the trunk of the tree carved down to fit in the hole. They were available in every height from two to ten feet. How could we resist?

I declared that we would get a tree and one string of lights. I had already planned to continue our tradition of buying a new Christmas ornament for each child. That meant we would have three for our tree. We were lucky enough to be gifted a few more.  Our little Paris Christmas tree was charming and beautiful in its simplicity.

Christmas, for us, is usually defined by family, snow and skiing. This year we would be just five and have neither snow nor winter sports to keep us busy. To combat the homesickness I feared would set in, I focused on finding those experiences that would make our Paris Christmas as memorable as possible. 

To kick things off, we brought home advent calendars from the local chocolate shop. Mavis and Sophia ask for advent calendars every year. Every year I refuse because I don’t like the idea of a chocolate a day and we don’t celebrate advent. This year was different and the girls were thrilled: Christmas in Paris was looking good.

December was full of festive activities. We visited our first Christmas market, beside the Tuileries garden, and tried, for the first time, hot wine and roasted chestnuts. We visited Santa Claus, or Père Noël, for the annual Christmas photo and yes, he did speak to the girls in French. The department stores, Printemps and Galleries Lafayette and The Bon Marché, were decked out for Christmas and it seemed all of the shopping streets around Paris were dressed up with lights. We experienced the best of the Christmas markets on our memorable weekend in Strasbourg and stocked up on food for the holidays. One of my French teachers insisted that we go see the Feérie Des Eaux at the Grand Rex Theatre where they have been showing a holiday film with a water show to French children for over 60 years. At the girls’ Christmas performance at school we were astounded at the French songs and poetry they were able to perform. Wow! They are actually learning French. They sang carols on our morning commute and perfected their version of Vive le Vent. Mavis went to a gingerbread decorating party and we decorated cookies one evening at our apartment for a dinner party dessert. We started sampling Bûche de Noël.

Choosing the Bûche de Noël for Christmas dinner seemed almost as important as the meal itself. Our new French friend, Alexandre, came home with three small Bûche de Noël from the famous patisserie Cyril Lignac. His family was to sample each and select one for Christmas Eve. We debated ordering one from somewhere famous and decided that we would take our chances, go to our favourite patisserie on Christmas Eve, and choose the one that called to us.

We asked the French families we’d met what they were doing for the holiday. We learned that it was typical to have their celebratory meal on Christmas Eve and then have a lunch on Christmas day. Many would go to mass on the 24th, perhaps at midnight. It was common to serve seafood, fruits de mer, and we saw lots of people leaving the markets on Christmas Eve with their cold seafood platters. Alexandre bought a single truffle that they would shave on their pomme purée and some truffle cheese for their cheese course. Mom, Maryline, shared some of their rose de Noël. She stored them in her “Paris fridge”, a shelf outside her kitchen window, for easy treats over the holidays. There are chocolate shops everywhere in Paris and I started to notice the line ups out the door. Apparently buying chocolates was also a holiday tradition.

Our most anticipated event was Desmond’s arrival from university in Toronto. Sophia had made a countdown calendar a month ahead and the girls could barely contain themselves in the days before. Even though they had another week of school, it felt like holiday time. We got out the board games and started the Christmas puzzle.

Our Christmas dinner was the source of much discussion. We received a generous invitation from some new friends to their Christmas lunch but the kids declared that we needed to stick with our traditional breakfast and a dinner that involved turkey and cranberry sauce. We were to spend Christmas at home as a family.

I managed to buy cranberries at The Grande Epicierie where they carry a huge selection of expensive, gourmet foods as well as some hard to find items that are desired by expats. H spoke to our local butcher about how to cook a turkey that would not fit in our fridge or oven. He came home with a deconstructed bird which we would cook overtop of traditional stuffing. 

Although we were still missing friends and family from home, it seemed that we had enough festivity with the five of us. Then right before Christmas I received a text: Hootan, H’s brother who lives in Berlin, had bought a ticket and was arriving on Christmas Eve! It had been two years since we last saw Uncle Hooty and his arrival made the holiday even more special.

On Christmas Eve we went skating at the Grand Palais. It was our first time inside this incredible building that was constructed in 1900 for the world fair. We admire it and it’s cousin, the Petit Palais, often, on our walks by the Seine. Mavis examined the buildings and declared that she thought the Grand Palais was bigger than the Petit Palais. Even Desmond, who doesn’t speak any French, got a good laugh out of that one. 

It felt great to be on skates and it was surreal to circle the ice under the incredible rooftop of the Grand Palais. Walking home, we strolled through the Christmas Market at the base of the Eiffel Tower. Sitting in the heart of Paris, drinking hot wine and hot apple juice with my family on Christmas Eve was magical and is a memory that will always stay with me.

At home, everything was ready for Christmas Eve. Earlier in the day, we had picked up oysters from the stand set up on our street and they were staying cold just outside our kitchen window. We had fois gras and spiced breads from Strasbourg and a variety of tapenades which we have decided we love. Friends had brought us a case of Champagne produced by friends of theirs and I practiced my new found skill of opening the bottle without wasting a drop. Afterwards, we made Canadian style smash burgers, which are, ironically, one of our new favorite meals in France.

Christmas day was quiet but perfect. The kids opened their stockings and we had our traditional breakfast, including the requested cinnamon buns, which sadly were a flop. I took this as a sign that I should not try to bake in Paris. Sophia and Mavis had handmade gifts for all of us: truly one of my favourite Christmas traditions. In the afternoon, we took a long walk along the Seine, the Champs-Elysee and Avenue Montagne, the glamorous home to haute couture in Paris. We admired Paris along with the thousands of other people who had chosen to walk the streets that afternoon but who could blame them? It was beautiful.

Our traditional dinner of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce was familiar and delicious. The local touches included French wines, our chocolate caramel Bûche de Noël and the accidental lateness of the meal.

There was some disagreement over what pan we should use to cook the turkey: the low, wide pan where everything could be spread out, or the much nicer, but smaller, pot, where everything was tucked in close together. H felt confidant and insisted we use the pot.  When the rest of the dinner was ready but the turkey was still raw he sheepishly admitted that perhaps we should have followed the recipe’s suggestion. We joked that we had become truly French as we sat down to the table at 10PM.

The days following Christmas were devoted to exploring Paris and crossing items off of our bucket list. H and I went to see the Cinderella Ballet at the Opera Bastille and decided that the “new” opera house pales in comparison to the old. We resolved to get tickets to something this year at the Opera Garnier. The On the Wall exhibit of Michael Jackson at the Grand Palais was a little too “out there” for us but we were completely enchanted by the Cirque d’Hiver. This classic circus took place in the building where they have been performing circuses for over 150 years and it felt as though little had changed between now and then. Mavis finally got a barbe à papa, or cotton candy, that she had been coveting since coming to Paris. We had a family photoshoot on the bridge Bir-Hakeim and went to see Mary Poppins on New Year’s Eve on the Champs-Elysées. On the first day of 2019 we went for a walk on Paris’s coulée verte: an elevated pathway through Paris’s 12th arrondisement following an old railway line and the inspiration for New York’s highline. We bought our first Galette des Rois. Desmond found the fève in his piece and so had the privilege of wearing the crown. Afterwards, the girls went to a baking class and learned how to make their own of these traditional cakes.

On our last night together, before the girls started school and Desmond boarded his airplane for Toronto, we shared highlights. I loved hearing what was special for each of us as we all recounted simple, family moments and experiences that we could not have had anywhere but in Paris. I will remember the ritual of sharing a glass of champagne, of shopping and cooking together and of heading outdoors to experience the beauty around us. I hope these are memories we will take home with us and, along with our new French tree decorations, bring them out every year.