Should we have learned anything from the influx of holiday movies, mass-produced decorations, and jingle bell-infused songs, it's that the popular narrative has decreed Christmas is a holiday best served cold. Whatever!
The powers that be residing above the equator may have sold this idea globally, but that's only because they are without the innate knowledge we southern hemisphere folk possess: a sun-drenched Christmas is simply superior. This season is stressful enough – regardless of temperature – but at least we don't have to contend with seasonal depression on top of it all.
A Chilly Childhood
And this isn't just an empty claim. I spent my entire childhood experiencing cold festive seasons. Despite my family originating in New Zealand, my father's career meant inevitable international moves. My younger years were spent in the UK and the US, meaning every December brought early nightfall and a crisp sting on my cheeks. The sole silver lining? The style options; bundling up is inherently stylish.
In fairness, a cold Christmas has its appeal. It's traditional, iconic, and the possibility of snow is truly magical. The cosy charm of a frosty gathering 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 experimental in the kitchen, concocting a potent vodka jelly that was famously strong. We all slept well that night.
This became our routine for years – celebrating together with family and friends, complete with playful battles across the table. That was, until my parents answered the call of a new job and moved to a notoriously chilly 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. Feasting upon piles of fresh fruit. Loved ones being just a phone call away. Hot-pink sunsets stretched across the sky. In that moment, I was a summer celebration advocate.
"That summer heat soothed the sorrow in significant ways."
This feeling was reinforced after my father passed away. My mother decided to return home to New Zealand. The first Christmas without him was incredibly tough, his absence felt everywhere. Yet, being once again surrounded by family under the gentle heat of the summer sun helped ease the grief in profound ways.
A Self-Proclaimed Hypocrite
All this said, I must confess to being a massive hypocrite. This year, I'll be spending Christmas during winter in South Korea, and I'm truly looking forward to explore Seoul in my warmest jacket, 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 newborn nephew – will be close by as we enter the new year fills me with a joy my younger self always craved. Not even the deepest powder can hold a candle to that feeling.
