I recently read an article in the Sydney Morning Herald telling me that my Australian Christmas is not real. Our snow is replaced with sand and our frozen hands are replaced with peeling noses.
Who does this journo think he is?
Like many Australians, it's the only Christmas I know. I didn't make snow angels under my perfectly groomed pine christmas tree in my childhood, nor did I rug up with red and white hand knitted scarves and jumpers while singing Christmas Carols outside my neighbours homes.
Despite this, my memories of Christmas in Australia are real and have been nothing like the Home Alone movie.
The Christmas Day of my childhood started very early in oppressing suburban heat having barely slept the night before. Sheer excitement of what I would find the following morning kept me awake, similar to children all over the world. My parents would have spent the last few hours of Christmas Eve putting together bikes and doll houses and setting the gifts perfectly under our tree. They would feign annoyance at being woken at 5am, but secretly couldn't wait until we unwrapped our presents, had breakfast and then had a morning nap.
My day would be filled with various festive treats; cold meat platters, salads, prawns, trifle (yes, the full bowl of custard and cream and jellies), Christmas cake, soda drinks, and tropical fruit.
Sometimes we would spend the day at Balmoral Beach playing with new water toys and smelling like sunblock. Sometimes we would remain at home riding new push bikes with the neighbourhood gang. Always, our Christmas Day was spent outdoors.
When I became a parent, we started a new tradition of a champagne breakfast in Nielson Park with friends and family. We swam in the harbour, sipped champagne and ate from platters of gourmet cheeses and crackers. Our expat friends would join us, thankful not to be battling a freezing day in sleet and drizzle. Bikinis, kaftans and thongs were our friends.
The rain kept us away this year. We ate croissants in a bakery in Bondi instead, and then headed to my sisters house for a large family festive lunch, under cover. We then enjoyed an evening with friends for yet another festive feast, sheltered from the continuing drizzle.
A wonderful day despite the weather.
It doesn't matter if its snowing, raining, or sunshine. Christmas Day is Christmas Day. Its real wherever you are in the world. It's the people you surround yourself with that make it special.
Merry Christmas 2013!
Who does this journo think he is?
Like many Australians, it's the only Christmas I know. I didn't make snow angels under my perfectly groomed pine christmas tree in my childhood, nor did I rug up with red and white hand knitted scarves and jumpers while singing Christmas Carols outside my neighbours homes.
Despite this, my memories of Christmas in Australia are real and have been nothing like the Home Alone movie.
The Christmas Day of my childhood started very early in oppressing suburban heat having barely slept the night before. Sheer excitement of what I would find the following morning kept me awake, similar to children all over the world. My parents would have spent the last few hours of Christmas Eve putting together bikes and doll houses and setting the gifts perfectly under our tree. They would feign annoyance at being woken at 5am, but secretly couldn't wait until we unwrapped our presents, had breakfast and then had a morning nap.
My day would be filled with various festive treats; cold meat platters, salads, prawns, trifle (yes, the full bowl of custard and cream and jellies), Christmas cake, soda drinks, and tropical fruit.
Sometimes we would spend the day at Balmoral Beach playing with new water toys and smelling like sunblock. Sometimes we would remain at home riding new push bikes with the neighbourhood gang. Always, our Christmas Day was spent outdoors.
When I became a parent, we started a new tradition of a champagne breakfast in Nielson Park with friends and family. We swam in the harbour, sipped champagne and ate from platters of gourmet cheeses and crackers. Our expat friends would join us, thankful not to be battling a freezing day in sleet and drizzle. Bikinis, kaftans and thongs were our friends.
The rain kept us away this year. We ate croissants in a bakery in Bondi instead, and then headed to my sisters house for a large family festive lunch, under cover. We then enjoyed an evening with friends for yet another festive feast, sheltered from the continuing drizzle.
A wonderful day despite the weather.
It doesn't matter if its snowing, raining, or sunshine. Christmas Day is Christmas Day. Its real wherever you are in the world. It's the people you surround yourself with that make it special.
Merry Christmas 2013!
Christmas Fairy Maddie lighting the Christmas Pudding
