Let me preface by saying that Christmas is my favorite time of year. I'm a big fan of the gift shopping, the hokey overplayed holiday tunes, the tree-trimming, all the bells and whistles. A lot of people find the commercialism really shallow and disheartening but for me at least, all the frivolity is just icing on the actual important things, like tradition, friends and family. So although I am constantly reminded just how lucky I am to be out here, the prospect of spending Christmas alone in a foreign land left me more then a little melancholy.
Of course, last year I spent Christmas Eve (link) in a pale and lonely corridor of Heathrow Airport, trying to sleep upright in the most uncomfortable plastic lobby chair. My only companions were the night janitor, a very large samoan man who seemed friendly but spoke no English, and a rather raggedy homeless man. I doubt any of us found the situation very merry (except maybe the homeless guy, he curled up behind my luggage and slept quite soundly through the night). Anything that happened to me this year would probably be an improvement on that.
My Christmas turned out to be quite nice, even when not compared to that sleepover in the baggage claim. In the absence of family, we have to create our own, which is how I came to celebrate Christmas with my very own rag-tag Australian-American family. One of our roommates had gone skiing in Sweden but Australian Matt and Australian Ryan were there, along with two very sweet girls who were visiting Ryan from home. On the Yankee side we had myself and Cassie- a girl I had befriended at the BUNAC hostel who is also actually from Northern Virginia. Most of us hadn't even known each other a month prior, but it was Christmas, so family we had to be.
We even had a Christmas tree! A miniature multicolored aluminum thing I had picked up at Paperchase. And of course every tree needs a star, and ours could be none other then the centerpiece of our house- a large men's leopard print thong.
Anyone who has visited me at 360B knows about the thong (or g-back, as the Aussie's call it). Many have even been lucky (or unlucky) enough to spy one of my roommates modeling the thing- which is quickly becoming tattered with overuse. This lucky piece of lingerie was my contribution to the house- I found it while going through a bag of old clothes left in my room by the previous occupant (based on what I found my room was formerly inhabited by a rather poorly dressed girl with a very, very large boyfriend). I showed the Aussie's my peculiar find and it was love at first sight, it's been a constant fixture in our house ever since. It often figured prominently in drinking games and other house punishments. That is the subject for a whole other post, so I will just say that the thong is an important and prominent feature of our house, and it sat proudly atop my tiny tree, surrounded by gifts.
I've always thought of the night before Christmas as a time for family; a time to watch an old movie, maybe go to a midnight mass, listen at the window for Santa Clause and all that. This year Cassie and I were introduced to the old Australian Christmas Eve tradition of partying like there's no tomorrow. It seemed a little bizarre to me but who am I to go against tradition? Decked out in white tank tops, Santa hats and red bows, we played a Christmas round of Kings Cup then headed out to the Walkabout, an Australian dive bar and dance club. The place was packed! We danced, we drank, we even saw a fight- it didn't feel very Christmas-y but it still beat Heathrow airport.
Christmas Day was surprisingly traditional. We woke up late, opened presents (there were even a couple things for me!), and watched old movies on TV while Amanda and Kay, our visitors from down under, cooked us a delicious Christmas dinner with chicken, stuffing, gravy, potatoes, the whole deal. Earlier I had failed miserably at baking Christmas cookies, so this time around I stuck to helping Roommate Ryan mix up the Christmas Punch (2 parts vodka, 2 parts soda, 1 part fruit juice, add champagne as needed). We gathered around the table and drank a toast to new traditions, new friends and new family. Then we stuffed our faces and passed out. Some things never change.
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