Janna Graber, Managing Editor

Editor's Note
Home for the Holidays

It was Christmas week and I was trying hard to be upbeat. Living alone in Europe all year had been a thrill, but now it was the holiday season. I just wanted to be home.

Vienna, where I was studying at the time, was all lit up and twinkling for the festivities. But while I walked alone to the Christmas markets and listened to concerts in the grand cathedrals, all I could think of was my family back home in the States.

They would be putting up the tree and making Swedish sugar cookies. Our home would be filled with the excited sounds of my younger siblings (all seven of them) as they hung their stockings and counted down the hours. I could just picture the scene.

Hoping to cure my homesickness, I gathered enough money for a train ticket to Spain, where my aunt and uncle lived. Seeing their kind, familiar faces was a comfort, but inside I still felt blue. Celebrating the holidays in Spain just wouldn’t be the same.

Local tradition in Spain usually meant attending a midnight mass on Christmas Eve, but my uncle had other plans for this holy evening. “We’re going to visit some friends,” he said, handing us our coats. So we piled into the car and weaved through the busy streets of San Sebastian. Finally, we stopped — at a garbage dump.

Confused, I followed my aunt and uncle as we gingerly walked past a maze of boxes and other stacked debris. Then, built along the edge of the refuse, I saw several makeshift homes. Their flimsy walls tilted at uncertain angles, and holes cut for windows left some of the occupants exposed to the cold night air. A dim string of Christmas lights illuminated the scene inside one of the homes, revealing pieces of meat hanging from the ceiling, a few scattered pieces of furniture and a pile of laundry.

“This is a gypsy camp,” my uncle whispered. “They’re a small group of Christians who live apart from others in their ethnic group — and they’ve invited us for Christmas Eve.”

Even as we neared the structures, a rush of people came to greet us, chattering words that I couldn’t understand. One matronly woman put her arm around me, inviting me into their open-air room. Still others brought out plates of cookies, while another woman offered me hot chocolate. I saw only five folding chairs for this big group, and an older man offered me one of them.

As I sat down and pulled my coat tight against the chilly coastal air, one of the young men brought out a child-size portable organ. The group gathered around us in expectation. Then a woman’s sweet soprano voice led us in Christmas carols, one after another. Though I didn’t understand the words, I recognized the tunes of old. The sweet sounds warmed my melancholy soul. This group’s simple joy and heartfelt welcome were an unexpected Christmas gift that I’ll never forget.

I’m not the only one with pleasant memories of holidays on the road. In this issue of Go World Travel, Amanda Kendle tells of riding a reindeer-drawn sleigh in Finnish Lapland, Susan Van Allen celebrates with La Befana in Rome and Elaine Oswald rings in the New Year in Peru.

These are just a few of the stories in this issue of Go World Travel. We hope they inspire you to create some unforgettable holiday moments of your own, whether you’re celebrating at home or trekking halfway around the world.

Warm wishes,

Janna Graber
Managing Editor
Go World Travel Magazine