If we have gleaned anything from the deluge of holiday movies, mass-produced decorations, and festively themed songs, it's that the popular narrative has decreed Christmas is a holiday best served frosty. 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 inherent understanding we denizens of the south possess: a warm Christmas is simply superior. This season is fraught enough – irrespective of temperature – but at least we don't have to battle seasonal depression on top of it all.
Frosty Formative Years
And this isn't just an empty claim. I spent my entire childhood enduring cold festive seasons. Despite my family hailing from New Zealand, my father's career led to inevitable international moves. My younger years were spent in the UK and the US, meaning every December brought dark skies by 4pm and a biting chill on my cheeks. The sole upside? The fashion choices; bundling up is inherently stylish.
In all honesty, a cold Christmas has its charms. It's traditional, classic, and the possibility of snow is undeniably enchanting. The cosy charm of a chilly celebration is hard to dismiss. Yet, with my extended family an ocean away, I always felt I was missing out an authentic celebration that not even the most decadent hot chocolate could replicate.
The Southern Shift
Everything changed when another move brought my family to Australia. There, I finally experienced a full festive family affair, joined by extended relatives for the first time. With a larger group to entertain, my father got experimental in the kitchen, crafting a potent vodka jelly that left everyone reeling. We all slept well that night.
This became our routine for years – celebrating together 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 wave of fond remembrance. Instead, I found myself missing everything that made a summer Christmas unique. Sipping sangria in the sun. Feasting upon piles of fresh fruit. Loved ones being just a phone call away. Hot-pink sunsets painting the sky. Suddenly, 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 absence felt everywhere. Yet, being once more surrounded by family under the gentle heat of the summer sun alleviated the grief in profound ways.
Conflicting Celebrations
All this said, I must confess to being a massive hypocrite. This year, I'll be celebrating during winter in South Korea, and I'm truly looking forward to wander around Seoul in my fluffiest coat, hoping for a glimpse of snow. The frosty festive ideal still has a slight grip on me!
Nevertheless, I'm keen to return home for another New Year's Day under the Australian summer sun. Knowing my family – including a newborn nephew – will be nearby as we enter the new year fills me with a happiness my younger self always yearned for. Not even the deepest powder can compare to that feeling.
