Some Like It Hot: Why Cold Christmases Pale in Comparison to a Sunny Season's Celebration.
Should we have gleaned anything from the influx of holiday movies, ubiquitous decorations, and festively themed songs, it's that the cultural zeitgeist has decreed Christmas is a holiday best served frosty. Whatever!
The bigwigs residing above the equator may have convinced the world, but that's only because they are without the innate knowledge we denizens of the south possess: a sun-drenched Christmas is simply superior. This season is fraught enough – irrespective 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 hot air. I spent my formative years 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 early nightfall and a biting chill on my cheeks. The sole upside? The style options; layering is effortlessly chic.
In all honesty, a cold Christmas has its appeal. It's time-honored, classic, and the possibility of snow is truly enchanting. 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 make up for.
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 bigger crowd to entertain, my father got creative in the kitchen, concocting a potent vodka jelly that was famously strong. We all slept well 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 notoriously chilly part of northern England.
Nostalgia's Surprise
Visiting them for Christmas after a long absence, I expected a surge of fond remembrance. Instead, I found myself yearning for everything that made a summer Christmas unique. Sipping sangria in the sun. Feasting upon piles of fresh fruit. Loved ones being just a short drive away. Vibrant sunsets stretched across the sky. Suddenly, I was a summer celebration advocate.
"The warmth soothed the sorrow in monumental ways."
This feeling was reinforced after my father passed away. My mother decided to move back to New Zealand. The first Christmas without him was profoundly difficult, his loss palpable 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 readily admit to being a massive hypocrite. This year, I'll be celebrating during winter in South Korea, and I'm genuinely excited to explore Seoul in my warmest jacket, hoping for a snowfall. The cold Christmas propaganda still has a slight grip on me!
Nevertheless, I'm eager to return home for another New Year's Day under the bright southern sun. Knowing my family – including a newborn nephew – will be nearby as we enter the new year fills me with a joy my younger self always craved. Not even the deepest powder can compare to that feeling.
