Should we have learned anything from the influx of holiday movies, mass-produced decorations, and festively themed songs, it's that the cultural zeitgeist has decreed Christmas is a holiday best served cold. So they say!
The powers that be in the top of the equator may have convinced the world, but that's only because they are without the innate knowledge we southern hemisphere folk possess: a warm Christmas is simply the better way. This season is stressful enough – irrespective of temperature – but at least we don't have to contend with seasonal depression on top of it all.
Frosty Formative Years
And this isn't just an empty claim. I spent my formative years experiencing cold festive seasons. Despite my family originating in New Zealand, my father's career led to inevitable international moves. My younger years were scattered across the UK and the US, meaning every December brought early nightfall and a crisp sting on my cheeks. The sole silver lining? The fashion choices; layering is inherently stylish.
In all honesty, a cold Christmas has its appeal. It's traditional, classic, and the prospect of snow is undeniably magical. The cosy charm of a chilly celebration is hard to dismiss. Yet, with my extended family on the other side of the world, I always felt I was lacking an authentic celebration that not even the richest hot chocolate could replicate.
The Southern Shift
Everything changed when another move brought my family to Australia. There, I finally experienced a proper festive family affair, joined by extended relatives for the first time. With a larger group to entertain, my father got creative in the kitchen, crafting a heavily marinated vodka jelly that was famously strong. We slept soundly that night.
This became our routine for years – sharing the day with family and friends, complete with water gun fights across the table. That was, until my parents answered the call of a new job and moved to a particularly cold part of northern England.
A Revelation in Reverse
Visiting them for Christmas after a long absence, I expected a surge of fond remembrance. Instead, I found myself missing everything that made a summer Christmas special. Sipping sangria in the sun. Noshing on piles of fresh fruit. Loved ones being just a phone call away. Vibrant sunsets stretched across the sky. In that moment, I was a hot-Christmas convert.
"The warmth soothed the sorrow in monumental ways."
This feeling was cemented after my father passed away. My mother decided to return home to New Zealand. The first Christmas without him was incredibly tough, his loss palpable everywhere. Yet, being once again surrounded by family under the soft warmth of the summer sun alleviated the grief in monumental ways.
Conflicting Celebrations
All this said, I must confess to being a walking contradiction. This year, I'll be celebrating during winter in South Korea, and I'm genuinely excited to explore Seoul in my fluffiest coat, hoping for a glimpse of snow. The frosty festive ideal still has a little hold on me!
Nevertheless, I'm eager to return home for another New Year's Day under the Australian summer sun. Knowing my family – including a newest member – will be nearby as we enter the new year fills me with a happiness my younger self always yearned for. Not even the fluffiest snow can compare to that feeling.
