I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas
What a strange bunch of creatures us Aussies are! It's mid-summer and we gear up for the hottest Christmas lunch - complete with sizzling turkey and steamy plum pudding - while it's 38 degrees in the shade! Sweat trickles down foreheads and into roast potatoes, we swelter over a meal that'll give us far too many layers of totally unnecessary fat, and we decorate our trees with snow. It seems like I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas is embedded somewhere deep in the Australian psyche, and is re-playing like a scratched record.
Some Aussies head to the beach for Christmas lunch. It's a good idea - except for crunching the sand that's blown onto your turkey leg and swallowing the odd fly or two.
Still it's a tad better than in Germany where Christmas Eve is called Dickbauch, which means fat stomach. Everyone has to completely gorge themselves on pig and sausage 'cos tradition has it that if they don't they'll suffer nightmares. I'd probably choose the nightmares.
I think the Brazilians have got it right. They've at least made some attempts at cooling down Christmas. Their Santa, Papai Noel wears light, silk clothing, unlike our poor Santa who wilts inside a hot, red suit, boots, hat and all. Still, the Brazilians do a hot meal of marinated Turkey washed down by guzzles of Cachaca, a traditional sugar cane liquor that I remember consuming far too much of one summer's night. Come to think of it, I really don't remember too much at all aside from throwing up violently and inelegantly outside a very cool club.
So what do you guys get up to at Christmas? It's a kinda weird time that brings a whole bunch of people together that might not see each other much otherwise - the perfect setting for lots of drama! Juji x
