I wish I could tell you that we spent Christmas on the beach, soaking up the sun and eating a barbecue and surfing.
Ever since I was a child I’ve been intrigued by the reversal of the seasons down under. The reality of December being a summer month is still strange to me, but Dunedin seemed to have other plans this year.
We spent our Christmas Day in much the same way as we would have done in Sussex, watching the rain outside the window and playing endless rounds of Uno and Whist.
My parents made the long journey to visit me and my sister in New Zealand for Christmas, because the long-haul flight is an undertaking which I can only face once a year.
Daily, alongside breakfast, we would check the weather for Lewes and find it very similar to Dunedin (much to my father’s chagrin), or compare it to Scotland, reliable in its unreliability. The rhythm of Christmas to New Year did feel different, at least.
There is something comforting about the carol services, the long nights, the endless refrain of Auld Land Syne heralding the slow and steady return back to work in the UK – Christmas feels designed for the darkest part of the year. Despite the inclement weather, Dunedin in its summer has over 15 hours of daylight, making things that we think of as stalwart traditions like Christmas light shows seem a bit redundant.
I’ve heard, although can’t say that I experienced this in the winter, that many Kiwis have a half Christmas on 25 June. While this raises the chances of a white Christmas considerably and would justify the hours spent roasting a joint as an attempt at staying warm, many seem to prefer the opportunity to go outside or have a long staycation over the holiday period in December.
If you look closely at Kiwi Christmas cards you might notice summer Santa, surfing or kayaking or building sandcastles. The coincidence of the summer holidays, the festive period, and the Kiwi proclivity to take any opportunity to engage in outdoor activities means that Christmas here feels more exciting and less languid.
New Zealand has its own Christmas traditions
Pōhutukawa, a red flowering native known as New Zealand’s Christmas tree for its tendency to flower at this time of year, replaces the holly and the ivy.
In a rare break from the rain we took a trip to Larnach Castle, New Zealand’s only castle on the Otago Peninsula overlooking Dunedin, and watched the tūīs (nectar eating birds with a distinctive white ruff) picking around the pōhutukawa in droves. You may have noticed the Scottish sounding name, Larnach — I can confirm that there was a bagpiper outside the castle, and that he was in fact playing Auld Lang Syne.
While I cannot overstate the poor weather (if you come to Dunedin, pack waterproofs) we did manage one day out in the sun — and at the beach, no less! St Clair beach would have been the ideal location for summer Santa, but we were overdressed and under-suncreamed and ended up sunburnt and with sand in our shoes from paddling in the still frigid South Pacific Ocean.
We did spot one unusual Christmas reveller: a juvenile New Zealand sea lion sunbathing amongst the hordes of people doing the same, totally unaware of the furore it was causing. A nervous lifeguard had placed a cone by its head in case we mistook it for another suntanned surfer. It’s times like that when the peculiarity of New Zealand comes straight back to me.
As for food there were few surprises. Mince pies are readily available, although called ‘fruit mince’ pies to avoid confusion, and the usual Boxing Day ham seems a particular favourite.
In the sunnier north it is less common to have a roast, but we couldn’t resist the temptation to cook a leg of Kiwi lamb. One difference that I feel most egregiously is the substitution of the Christmas pudding for the pavlova.
Until moving to New Zealand I thought the pavlova was a classic British staple, only to discover that it (like many other delicious treats) has a disputed history, with both Kiwis and Aussies claiming ownership. This is a debate I won’t weigh in on, except to comment that its omnipresence on the Christmas dinner table and on most pub menus in New Zealand does still baffle me slightly.
I spoke to a Scottish ex-pat in Sydney who told me she had always hated Christmas down under: it wasn’t meaningful enough, nobody cared about the songs, there weren’t enough lights.
Honestly, if not for the occasional musical intrusion, it would almost be possible to forget it had happened at all.
It’s a great Christmas for people who dislike Christmas. Or those who really enjoy a pavlova.
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