I got my first Christmas card of the year today and it gave me a bit of a jolt. When you have grown up with all the pomp and drama which surrounds Xmas, it's pretty strange living in a country where it means absolutely nothing. It's really odd for December 25 to be a normal working day, with all the banks open and the kids going off to school.
As I read the card, the memories of Christmasses past came flooding back. I know everyone moans that it has become 'too commercialised' and 'has lost all its meaning', but it is a special time in our lives. Believe me, you only realise it when you are stuck somewhere far away from home and those you love. Again, this year I won't make it back to SA for the festive season, so I will be doing my thing here in Thailand.
At my suggestion, my Thai friend Tanit, who owns a guesthouse in Patong, put up a Christmas tree on his patio. It's really beautiful, with little angels and twinkling lights and has become a real attraction with tourists posing next to it for photographs and coo-ing: "Can you believe it? A Christmas tree here in Thailand..." It has certainly been good for business.
The big malls that cater to Western tourists have also been infected with the commercial spirit of Christmas (got those tills ringing, baby!), but we are thankfully spared the endless playing of "Silent Night" and "Joy to the World". Some of the big resorts have Christmas dinners (at highly inflated prices, of course) and you can buy mince pies and crackers at some of the delis and stores that cater for those with foreign tastes.
But I won't be stringing up the tinsel and tucking into turkey on Christmas Day. I have learnt that there is nothing sadder than trying to recreate the spirit of Christmas when it isn't there. In previous years, I did my best to gather up some friends, book a table for Christmas lunch and exchange gifts. But it all fell horribly flat. What I realised is that Christmas really has nothing to do with all the trappings like Christmas trees, mistletoe and brightly-wrapped gifts. It's all about people. It's about having the time to be with those you love and love being with.
If the people aren't there, it's best to throw in the towel immediately. In my book, Christmas is about driving down from Johannesburg to the Eastern Cape on busy roads, fighting my way through packed East London shops, drinking and braai-ing with my brothers at the beach, being woken up early by the kiddies desperate to open their gifts and snoozing away in the afternoon with a full, full tummy and sandy feet.
Even if it doesn't always look like a picture of happiness to outsiders, I know I will feel embraced by affection and caring. Yes, we all know Uncle Archie will drink too much and tell his boring jokes. Yes, we know that Candice will try to make Christmas dinner more nutritious and less fatty with her boring salads and vegetable stir-fries (and then sulk when no-one eats them). Yes, we know that the boys will fight about who got the best gift and that by mid-afternoon all the new toys will be tossed into the corner.
And, yes, we all know that someone will bring up the story about how Alfred got caught kissing the neighbour's wife at the Bathurst show in 1984... But there is a wonderful feeling of knowing that you are loved and appreciated. We may all be terribly different and squabble like mad, but we are all part of the family and we can count on each other to be there when it really counts. It is that unwavering acceptance that makes it really, really special.
And that's what I miss most. It's not the days off work, the gifts or the lavish feasts (although I wouldn't mind a good leg of lamb right now), it is the feeling of being secure and enfolded by those who truly love you. You can't get that by rounding up a few new friends and eating Christmas pudding. It's far more rewarding to just ignore the day and spend the money on a long phone call home. So that's what I will be doing on December 25 this year.
Anyway, my one and only Christmas card was from Val and Trevor Evans, my dear friends who took such good care of me (and many others) at Rhodes University in Grahamstown. They have now retired to Nottingham in England. Earlier this year, they came out to Thailand for a holiday and we had a wonderful time. Being with them feels like being with family.
Now, here's a couple that knows about the spirit of Christmas. It may be a little easier in England, but they can throw a Christmas bash of note. They have the knack of being able to draw others into their family fold and embracing them with love and affection. I know their children won't be with them this year, but I have no doubt they will have a great time. They will gather up a straggler or two, bring out the sherry, throw together a helluva meal and sing carols into the night.
Come to think of it, I think they could even pull it off in Thailand. There's no ways we would be eating green curry and reading the Bangkok Post on Christmas Day if they were around. They would squeeze Father Christmas into a tuk-tuk and get the Thais singing carols along with them.
As I read the card, the memories of Christmasses past came flooding back. I know everyone moans that it has become 'too commercialised' and 'has lost all its meaning', but it is a special time in our lives. Believe me, you only realise it when you are stuck somewhere far away from home and those you love. Again, this year I won't make it back to SA for the festive season, so I will be doing my thing here in Thailand.
At my suggestion, my Thai friend Tanit, who owns a guesthouse in Patong, put up a Christmas tree on his patio. It's really beautiful, with little angels and twinkling lights and has become a real attraction with tourists posing next to it for photographs and coo-ing: "Can you believe it? A Christmas tree here in Thailand..." It has certainly been good for business.The big malls that cater to Western tourists have also been infected with the commercial spirit of Christmas (got those tills ringing, baby!), but we are thankfully spared the endless playing of "Silent Night" and "Joy to the World". Some of the big resorts have Christmas dinners (at highly inflated prices, of course) and you can buy mince pies and crackers at some of the delis and stores that cater for those with foreign tastes.
But I won't be stringing up the tinsel and tucking into turkey on Christmas Day. I have learnt that there is nothing sadder than trying to recreate the spirit of Christmas when it isn't there. In previous years, I did my best to gather up some friends, book a table for Christmas lunch and exchange gifts. But it all fell horribly flat. What I realised is that Christmas really has nothing to do with all the trappings like Christmas trees, mistletoe and brightly-wrapped gifts. It's all about people. It's about having the time to be with those you love and love being with.
If the people aren't there, it's best to throw in the towel immediately. In my book, Christmas is about driving down from Johannesburg to the Eastern Cape on busy roads, fighting my way through packed East London shops, drinking and braai-ing with my brothers at the beach, being woken up early by the kiddies desperate to open their gifts and snoozing away in the afternoon with a full, full tummy and sandy feet.
Even if it doesn't always look like a picture of happiness to outsiders, I know I will feel embraced by affection and caring. Yes, we all know Uncle Archie will drink too much and tell his boring jokes. Yes, we know that Candice will try to make Christmas dinner more nutritious and less fatty with her boring salads and vegetable stir-fries (and then sulk when no-one eats them). Yes, we know that the boys will fight about who got the best gift and that by mid-afternoon all the new toys will be tossed into the corner.
And, yes, we all know that someone will bring up the story about how Alfred got caught kissing the neighbour's wife at the Bathurst show in 1984... But there is a wonderful feeling of knowing that you are loved and appreciated. We may all be terribly different and squabble like mad, but we are all part of the family and we can count on each other to be there when it really counts. It is that unwavering acceptance that makes it really, really special.And that's what I miss most. It's not the days off work, the gifts or the lavish feasts (although I wouldn't mind a good leg of lamb right now), it is the feeling of being secure and enfolded by those who truly love you. You can't get that by rounding up a few new friends and eating Christmas pudding. It's far more rewarding to just ignore the day and spend the money on a long phone call home. So that's what I will be doing on December 25 this year.
Anyway, my one and only Christmas card was from Val and Trevor Evans, my dear friends who took such good care of me (and many others) at Rhodes University in Grahamstown. They have now retired to Nottingham in England. Earlier this year, they came out to Thailand for a holiday and we had a wonderful time. Being with them feels like being with family.
Now, here's a couple that knows about the spirit of Christmas. It may be a little easier in England, but they can throw a Christmas bash of note. They have the knack of being able to draw others into their family fold and embracing them with love and affection. I know their children won't be with them this year, but I have no doubt they will have a great time. They will gather up a straggler or two, bring out the sherry, throw together a helluva meal and sing carols into the night.
Come to think of it, I think they could even pull it off in Thailand. There's no ways we would be eating green curry and reading the Bangkok Post on Christmas Day if they were around. They would squeeze Father Christmas into a tuk-tuk and get the Thais singing carols along with them.
Now, there's an idea. If I can't get home next year, perhaps I need to bring home to here. A family Christmas in the tropics, that could be something different. In the meantime, to all of you wherever you are, have a Happy Christmas!
