By Nicole Rupersburg

This year’s 36th Annual Noel Night was a treat: if you can teleport.

On Saturday, December 6th, thousands (tens of thousands?) of people descended onto Detroit’s Midtown area in the University Cultural Center District to celebrate all that which is Christmas in the D, and it ‘twas good. Except for the fact that those descendees had exactly 4.5 hours (really, only four, since most places ended their festivities at 9:00PM) to toggle some 30+ different institutions including retail stores, restaurants, churches, museums, galleries, and the like. Additionally, those 30+ different institutions were offering some 100+ different events, from choral and dance performances to music of all genres from all over the world to art workshops and demonstrations to pictures with Santey Clause.

Then there was the parking situation, in which precious time was sucked up by idling in traffic jams on Warren, Woodward, Cass, and John R, searching desperately for a parking space and finding none, and precious more time was wasted walking the four blocks to the nearest Noel Night destination from where you were finally able to find parking. Now granted, there is a shuttle to bus you from place to place (though with that you are at the mercy of the shuttle’s schedule and route), but that doesn’t solve the initial parking problem.

There were countless—countless—sights to see and things to do. Perusing the schedule and attempting to create a game plan or rough itinerary of some sort was nothing short of daunting, as most places had an amazing lineup of performances to see and all were happening simultaneously. Not to mention all of the participating museums had free entry, which isn’t always the case, and to simply take advantage of that to see some of the things offered at the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History or the Detroit Historical Museum or the Detroit Science Center had an appeal all its own.

Despite the initial stress, I finally came to accept that fact that I wouldn’t be able to do and see everything I wanted, and resigned myself to enjoying everything the DIA and Scarab Club had to offer.

First, though, I did swing by the live nativity scene at the Cathedral Church of St. Paul. Every barn animal under the sun (or should I say, frigid winter moon) was there…perhaps not entirely representative of what would have likely been seen in a manger in Bethlehem some two thousand years ago, but the kids seemed to enjoy it.

The next stop was the DIA, which was likely the most bang for your non-buck. While there, I saw the Suzuki Royal Oak Camerata perform their all-string versions of Christmas carols, followed by a very odd performance by the Detroit Dance Collective (I don’t claim to “get” performance art, nor will I make an effort to try). Apparently it had something to do with raising environmental awareness through dance; I was simply curious about the anorexic-looking waif flailing about onstage.

The best part of the DIA was seeing Hot Club of Detroit. One of countless gypsy jazz quintets worldwide inspired by the Quintette du Hot Club de France (formed in 1934), Hot Club of Detroit brought that Parisian café feel to the DIA’s Kresge Court. I felt like I could just as easily be an existentialist philosopher in 1960s France as an occasional arts reviewer and full-time retail worker in 2008 Detroit. They brought a certain magic with them, a feeling of some far-off poetic place full of artists and intellectuals. It must have been the accordion.

After this, it was on to the Scarab Club to catch Grupo Escobar, an 11-piece Salsa and Timba group specializing in the music of Cuba. Energetic and feisty and fiery and frenetic, Grupo Escobar also made you feel as if you had been transported to some far-off exotic place—only this one had throngs of deeply tanned attractive people dressed in white linen and flowing skirts sipping mojitos and dancing expertly to the sexy pulsing rhythms of the music on a hot and sweaty Havana night. High-ranking members of the local drug cartel would be throwing money around like Diddy in Vegas. Everyone would look like Antonio Banderas or Eva Mendes.

And then, just like that…it was over.

In a perfect world, Noel Night would become Noel Nights, performances would be more evenly spaced out (or perhaps repeated), and the whole shebang would be more easily navigable. However, this was overall still a fantastic event, and my only regret is that I couldn’t see more of it.