Advent Calendar

Snow kindness

Laura McEwen, a British set and costume designer, grew up with her mother reading The Snow Queen to her each winter in their stormy northern home. When she was fourteen, a close friend fell into depression and withdrew from everyone. Remembering Gerda’s courage, Laura walked through a heavy snowstorm to his house and simply sat with him in silence — a moment that became the first step out of his “winter.” For her, The Snow Queen has always been a story about showing up for people frozen by pain.

Like Laura, we believe that even small acts of kindness can thaw an inner winter. Sometimes, a suspended cappuccino waiting for someone who needs it is enough to melt a frozen heart.

Small Gestures

Right before a performance at the Vienna State Ballet, I was waiting in the wings, a bit tense. One of the stagehands passed by, gave my shoulder a quick reassuring tap, and said quietly, “You’ve got this.” It lasted two seconds — nothing dramatic — but it warmed me more than the applause that came later.
Sometimes it’s the smallest backstage gestures that stay with you the longest.

And to make a difference on a tense morning or a bad day, nothing grand is needed. A tiny gesture — like a hanging espresso macchiato — can work the same quiet magic for someone as that little shoulder tap backstage did for me. (Calo Failia)

Winged Horses of Winter

I am an art teacher in a community center in Italy. In our art & crafts workshops with children, we always create stories about the pieces they make in the studio. Recently, we had a class on Christmas ornaments. According to the Chinese calendar, the horse is the charm for the coming year, so we worked on horse decorations and decided that horses’ duty would be to deliver presents.

Being children of the 21st century, my students immediately insisted that a delivery horse needed more speed. So, they gave their horses wings. And that’s how they learned about Pegasus, Ancient Greek myths, and the famous Fountain of Pegasus at Villa Lante in Rome. Art is never boring – it just needs a bit of navigation. (Tata Lapteva)

Dancing in the Dark

At fifteen, I was dancing Prince Lemon in ballet Cipollino. I was a shy boy, and the role demanded the opposite of me: Prince Lemon was arrogant and authoritative. The acting, more than the dancing, overwhelmed me. Before every show – especially my first entrance – I felt a lot of stress going on stage.

One evening, I walked onstage, began my variation… and the entire theater suddenly went dark. The music stopped. The audience froze.
All electricity in the theater went out.

Only an emergency light from the wings remained. Instinctively, I kept dancing.
In that silence and half-light, the performance became an intimate exchange between me and the stage – no pressure, no character to force, no fear. It felt like a safe space for the first time.

I was halfway through when the stage manager called me back, but something had already changed. (Robert Gabdullin)

That unexpected blackout erased my stage fright. Excitement and nerves still came and went, but stepping from the wings onto the stage was never frightening again.

The Waltz of Memory

My great-grandmother’s family married their European aristocratic title into solid American money by giving their daughter to a U.S. banker. She arrived at Ellis Island in the mid-1920s with a trousseau that even included Christmas tree ornaments. In my childhood, this chest of treasures would emerge from storage, always accompanied by Nana’s stories of her aristocratic adolescence at Viennese balls.

In my young imagination, those stories were all Disney movies from a long-gone past. A century later, I live in Vienna, and the Opera Ball is part of my annual life cycle. I spend cold weekends chasing Christmas ornaments at antique markets, attempting to recreate Nana’s Christmas tree from my Disney dreams and her chest of treasures.

And sometimes, it’s the smallest things – an ornament found at the bottom of a dusty box, or a hanging Viennese coffee waiting in an old-timing café – that bring a bit of magic back to a cold winter weekend.

Spellbound in Giselle

I was premiering in the role of Prince Albrecht in Giselle, but I hadn’t done a rehearsal with the scenery. In the studio, I had only imagined what it would be like. So, I run to the rustic cottage, stage left, from where I’m supposed to emerge as a peasant prince. Being inside the cottage completely throws me. Suddenly I don’t know what to do next.

I look at my colleague playing the role of my servant in panic. He has danced Albrecht many times. I almost shout at him, “What’s next? What do I do?” He thinks for a few milliseconds and then simply says, “Hands!”– showing me the gesture of my hands.

That’s all I need. Everything clicks back into place. I step back onstage and dance as if I hadn’t been panicking a minute earlier. A hanging Viennese Einspänner – strong espresso crowned with thick whipped cream and served in a glass – would certainly help anyone regain control and get back to business in even the clumsiest of moments.

The Astronaut Barbie

Growing up in the 1960s in small town America I remember looking at Barbie dolls and thinking “I want to be like her.” Women in this decade were seen as stay-at-home moms and little girls mainly played mommy with baby dolls. But Barbie was cool! She owned her own house and hot pink car and had a career! She was a doctor, a presidential candidate, and even an Olympic athlete. And then in 1965, 18 years before US had its first woman in space, Barbie became an astronaut! And that was it! I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grow up! I abandoned my piano lessons and threw myself into science and math, which eventually led me to programming. I didn’t become an astronaut, but I owe my career path to a doll whose so-called “impossible beauty standards” are now at the center of so many heated debates.

Today, when I leave a hanging espresso tonic for someone I’ll never meet, it reminds me that inspiration is often a gift passed forward – a chain of small boosts that change someone’s orbit. (Kathryn Birstein)

The Disney Crimes

My K2 daughter once got yelled at by a nun for “lying” about having lunch with Winnie the Pooh, flying in a magic teacup, and nearly dying in a haunted elevator.
The nun insisted none of it was true.

So I calmly said: “What if I told you we just got back from Disney… and she actually did all those things?” (Adriana Gonzalez Hernandez)

On days like this, a hanging affogato kindly left by a stranger would be a sweet reminder to an exhausted parent that delight is not a sin.

Operatic Survival

Mezzo-soprano Maria Schellenberg once survived a day in Venice with nothing but Italian opera. She was robbed within hours in the city – passports, cards, everything gone.

The “International Police” on San Marco didn’t speak English. Maria didn’t speak Italian… except operatic Italian.

So she launched into Monteverdi and Gluck: “Son disprezzata e sconsolata! Io manco, io moro!” (I am despised and inconsolable! I faint, I die!)

Trying to explain the missing passport she continued with Gluck: “Che farò senza mio passaporte? Dove andrò senza mio passaporte?”(What will I do without my passport? Where will I go without it?)

It worked. They showed her photos of pickpockets, and she recognized the woman who had slammed into her: “Ecco la donna maledetta! Vorrei smembrarla!” (Here is the accursed woman! I want to tear her to pieces!)

Hours later, the documents were found. Overwhelmed with joy, Maria declared: “Signore cavalliero! Vi benedico per la vostra bontà e gentilezza!” (Good knight, I bless you for your goodness and kindness!”)

The astonished officer fearfully replied: “Signora, your Italian is very elegant.”

Inheritance of a Scout

My sister and I have a great-great-grandfather who played a part in a very pivotal event in Canadian history. It was the Northwest Rebellion, and he was one of General Middleton’s scouts that was involved in Louis Riel’s surrender.We have a copy of his hand-written journal from the time and would correct history teachers occasionally. We would then get in trouble. They’d say we were lying, threaten us with the principal’s office, etc. We’d show up with pictures of the journal and a few small belongings of his that we have. Usually a discussion on how textbooks are not always accurate would inevitably follow. (Erin Wheeler)

For an afternoon spent rereading history books, there’s no better drink than a strong, steady Americano – the kind that keeps you turning pages and questioning every “official version” you were ever taught.

Christmas in a Suitcase

Back in uni, we had an Indian fellow who invited our entire group to visit her parents’ home in India. None of us, of course, could miss such an opportunity. The only downside for our Belgian classmate was the complete lack of Christmas spirit during a holiday trip spent in 30°C heat.

Imagine our astonishment when, at customs, the Indian officer unzipped his suitcase… and pulled out a tiny pine tree he had smuggled along to recreate “a proper Christmas atmosphere.”

As a substitute for traditional hot wine, we had to drink a lot of Masala Chai Lattes on that trip just to keep his Christmas spirit alive. Turns out he simply couldn’t imagine celebrating the holidays without all those attributes.

Fact, Not Fiction

My husband’s roommate when we first started dating, told him I was mostly harmless but a pathological liar. She wanted him to be “cautious”. She later learned that everything I said was true. I was a published artist, there are photos of me and a particular famous actor as children playing, my father an actor, my mother an award winning videographer, & I did have an Aunt Princess who was batty as a hatter. You should have seen her face when she heard Aunt Princess on the phone the first time. (M Melanie Chevalier)

The Stuck Prince

When my mum was a professional dancer, she was in Sleeping Beauty in a theatre where the principal male dancer had a dressing room upstairs from the stage and a lift to get down. One day they were all “sleeping” waiting for the prince to come when a whisper went round the “sleeping” inhabitants of the castle that the prince was stuck in the lift! You can imagine the difficulty trying to look like you were sleeping whilst having hysterics! @dramascientist

The Train Lady

In my adult ballet class, there was a student everyone affectionately called “The Train Lady.” Unable to resist my curiosity, I finally asked her where the nickname came from.
“Oh? That’s because I own a vintage train!” she explained cheerfully.

When her husband died, he left her with some “play money.” To preserve his memory, she decided to invest in something he had always loved – railroads. She purchased and restored a carriage that once belonged to Austria’s last Emperor, Franz Joseph I, and Empress Elisabeth (Sisi), and then acquired a few more.

To gain access to tracks and steam engines, she had to register her own private railroad company, becoming the only woman to own a business of this kind in Austria.

Today, her vintage train is part of Golden Eagle Luxury Trains — a hotel-on-wheels offering sleeping cars in three comfort categories, along with restaurant, lounge, and staff cars.

A story like hers deserves a chili hot chocolate – sweet, warm, and with just enough fire to match a woman who bought a train in memory of the man she loved.

The Accidental Trio

Peekaboob

It’s His Now