As the days grow shorter and the christmas lights sway in the wind above the road leading up to Brighton’s clock tower, I think of a place 12,000 miles away.
About this time on Waiheke Island, just off the coast of Auckland, residents are dusting off the barbecues and opening windows of beach houses, or as Kiwi’s call them, bach’s. It’s time to wind down, kick back and enjoy Christmas antipodean style.
Christmas in New Zealand is an odd mixture of European tradition and ‘She’ll be right’ attitude. It heralds the start of the long school summer holidays. New Zealand closes down, not just for a couple of days over Christmas, but for at least a month while Kiwis go to the beach to surf, swim, sail and generally lay about and do very little.
It’s the time when the Pohutakawa trees blossom. Pohutakawa’s are unique to New Zealand. They grow large, spread out and their red flowers stand upright on dark green branches. They bed down in between rocks and at the edge of the coastline, giving the blue skies and yellow sandy beaches a Christmas edge of dark green and bright robin red. Pohutakawa is their Maori name and they were also named the New Zealand Christmas CandleTree by the by early European settlers missing the pine needles and Christmas baubles of home.
I lived in New Zealand for over 20 years and particularly love Waiheke Island. Each year I was again enchanted by the way that, despite the hot summer sun, we all stood and cheered Santa parades, decorated Christmas trees, pulled crackers, sprayed artificial snow on our windows, wore paper hats and ate turkey.
Christmas day in New Zealand is celebrated often at home. It’s on Boxing Day when the real fun starts. Families pack up the left-overs and Granny, pick up a 12-pack and it’s off to the bach. There will always be someone you know in New Zealand who owns a bach. A hospitable people, Kiwi’s will feed you if you stand round the barbie with them for a yarn – as long as you bring your own tent if the bach is full.
Bach’s range from architect-designed mansions to run-down wooden shacks that have been in the family for years, handed down to the next generation with a vague expectation that someone at some time will slap a bit of paint on the outside and mend the shower.
I love Christmas in Brighton. I love the cold, pulling my coat up around my chin and the hope that snow will fall. But there’ll always be a bit of me that dreams wistfully of Christmas on the beach in New Zealand.
Meri Kirimete (Merry Xmas)
