That said, here are ten reasons why I think a Kiwi
Christmas is special/ unique/ amusing/ confusing/ crazy/ wonderful:
1)
Santa starts his journey in New Zealand
As a kid I remember feeling genuinely sorry
for European kids ─ in much the same way one might pity starving kids in Africa
─ because Father Christmas didn’t get to them until the very end of his worldwide
mission. I used to wonder if they’d get left with all the crappy toys at the
end; clearly all the cool gifts ─ the slap-bang bracelets, fluffit pens, pogo
balls and skip-its (I was a child of the 80s, remember) ─ would have gone in
the stockings of kids in Taumarunui and Tirau, leaving those in Truro and Tromsø with
stencils and dictionaries.
2)
Santa Parades
The quintessential Kiwi Santa parade
generally features at least one of the following:
-
Kids risking being run over by marching bands,
miniature ponies and trucks covered in tinsel, while they try to retrieve their
twentieth toffee lolly in the middle of the street.
-
Parents elbowing their kids to the front,
thinking that a festive grin and humming ‘Jingle Bells’ excuses their rudeness.
-
An officious old dear who believes her high vis
vest and ‘crowd marshall’ badge gives her licence to overlook the entire happy reason
for the event and lose all perspective in her efforts to get people to “keep
behind the cordon please”.
-
Unanimous excitement (and relief) when the big
man in red appears at the end, and the envy towards the fairy chosen to sit by
Santa’s side (and we’re not just talking about the children; I’d be up on that
sleigh in a tutu like a shot, given half a chance).
3)
Christmas in the park/on the field/in the street/on
the beach
The beauty of Christmas in a warm climate
is that it opens the door to outdoor Christmassy occasions. This year we went
to the Road to Bethlehem, a fantastic living nativity story which involves
walking from scene to scene as the Christmas story is acted out. It struck me, somewhere between Jerusalem and
Bethlehem, that Jesus’ birth may have happened in similar temperatures to New Zealand’s.
Turns out it was probably a fair bit
cooler. According to Google, Jerusalem is a fresh 14 degrees at this time of
year – “refreshingly cool” apparently. Plus, global warming and all that.
4)
Pohutukawa trees
I remember the look on our American exchange
student’s face when we explained that the pohutukawa is New Zealand’s Christmas
tree. You could see her looking at it, trying to picture decorations hanging
from its gnarled branches and flat leaves. Pohutukawa trees flower for such a
short time, but when they do – about now – those bight crimson stamen
immediately bring Christmas and beach holidays to mind. Early settlers
apparently described them as “Antipodean holly” – I rather like that.
5)
Collision with end of school/work year
Many years ago, pre-children, Neil and I went
to Paris in August and were thrilled to find central city parking was free for
the entire month of August. Apparently
Parisians flee the city for their summer holiday. Everything shuts down. You
could say it’s the same in New Zealand from about 20th December
until February. The regular newsreaders disappear for about six weeks. The PM
legs it to Hawaii. You can’t get house repairs done for love nor money. It
feels like there is a unanimous, unspoken pact not to do anything during this
time, except lie on a beach and live off barbecued food and sauvignon blanc.
6)
Festive fare: turkey on the barbecue and berries on the pav
Growing up in New Zealand, we always
celebrated Christmas with Mum’s and Dad’s families on the same day, so they’d
be a lunch and a dinner, both of which usually comprised ham and salads. Truth
be told, I’ve never been a big fan of cold meats ─ and I’d have to say I probably favour poultry over pig. So, the purchase of a barbecue with a rotisserie
function was all it took to introduce the great Barback-qued Christmas turkey.
The whirr of the rotisserie and the men lifting the barbecue lid to “check” it
every ten minutes, is all part of this burgeoning tradition. And it tastes
amazing.
Pavlova often makes it onto the Kiwi Christmas
menu and this year will be no exception. I’m making one for this year and
intend to load it with berries. Check out the boysenberries and strawberries we
picked today in Papamoa!
7)
Contrived Christmas lights
Guy Fawkes night is ridiculous in New
Zealand. It always brings a smile when at about 7.45pm, at the first faint
signs of dusk, you hear fireworks going off, clearly set off by parents unable
to wait for darkness any longer to appease their tired children. The same logic
applies to Christmas lights. It was after 8.30pm when we returned from Road to
Bethlehem, and we figured it was probably the latest - and therefore the
darkest - we’d have the kids up at this time of year, so perfect timing for
Christmas light hunting. But even then it was getting a little dim at best, and
hard to get terribly excited about the few houses in Papamoa that had bothered
to hang up a couple of strings of flashing lights and a neon Santa.
8)
But NYE makes sense
On the other hand, New Year’s Eve is best
celebrated on a beach, any beach. New Zealand is the first country to see dawn
break on the New Year and I’ve always derived a weird sort of geographical
pride about that (except for the new millennium with that whole Y2K debacle
when we all held our breath and hoped we’d stored enough tins of baked bins).
9)
Summer-themed presents under the tree
You can never have too many swing ball sets,
inflatable pool toys or those gimmicky beach chairs that can hold your drink,
phone and keys.
10)
And finally, baking.
It had to make it in here somewhere, this
being a baking blog and all. Every year I participate in two Christmas baking
feats. The first, the annual Christmas pud, is very traditional. It was
always my Great Aunty Jean’s job, but now is my Uncle Bruce’s, and I am
not-so-secretly vying for the sous-chef role. It’s a pretty straightforward
chuck-it-all-in-and-stir process but it’s a lovely tradition, especially as the
rum and the spices scent the air. I also love watching Dan and Emily’s immense
concentration when they make a wish as they stir the pudding.
The second baking exploit is somewhat less
traditional, for our family at least – the gingerbread house. If ever there was
a reminder that I am still very much a rookie in the baking department, it is my
gingerbread house construction. I was heartened, however, by Dan saying in the
wake of my pavlova victory (see previous post) that our gingerbread house would
win a competition. I love that he thinks I’m some sort of prize-chasing baker
(which, if you consider that I entered NZHHB and the pavlova comp – twice – is not
far from the truth!)
Anyway, this particular construction was destined
for neither fame nor glory – rather, after sitting pride of place on the table
for a couple of hours, it was quickly demolished. The kids somehow think that
the usual rules of biscuits and other junk food don’t apply to the gingerbread
house and they wander about non-chalantly and quite unashamedly munching on
whopping great slabs of gingerbread.
Whatever your traditions, whether your Christmas involves
ham, turkey, or nut roast, whether your house features a lit-up Rudolph or you
take a more Grinch-like approach to decorations, wherever you celebrate,
however you celebrate – I wish you all a very merry Christmas.
TTFN x
