One of the most difficult things while overseas is accurately yet succinctly explaining your country and its culture to others. Especially if your country is Australia.
The old stereotyped vision of a vast desert, kangaroos, ‘shrimps on barbies’ and hats with odd cork attachments still hold fast in the minds of many, much to the chagrin of many an Aussie. We’re that, but so much more.
I’ve heard all the stories of Australians stretching the truth slightly to test the minds of foreigners to their gullible breaking points – the regular car ride to work turns into a kangaroo ride, with your toddler riding a wombat instead of a trike around the back yard.
But the best reaction I get from foreigners (especially those in the Northern Hemisphere) is from an entirely truthful story; it’s my version of an Australian Family Christmas.
Once I’ve convinced my audience that yes, it really is summer during December, and yes, our seasons are the opposite and their surprise has been digested, it’s on to the re-telling of the day.
It starts early morning in a tent, the walls hot from a scorching sunrise. As soon as the tent doors open, the slightly cooler sea breeze and the salty tang that accompanies it rushes past to clear out the stuffy inside.
Kids are already running and screeching with delight at the piles of presents that Santa has left at their mini campsite tree. I hear one little boy ask, “Mummy, did Santa land his sleigh on the sand?”
Once the first batch of presents are over, it’s off for a quick swim, most likely with some kind of new water apparatus in tow. As soon as he wakes, Dad (US expat and firm believer in the Aussie Christmas) scouts the surf break on the corner for waves, judging the best time to go between presents and lunch. Longboard under arm, he’s off (in Speedos no less) and there’s no point in asking for a return time. Only the waves and his hungry stomach can judge that!
We see more cars arrive, and it’s our cue to leave the surf and give Nan and Pop a salty kiss. Mum’s got the kitchen and the sink set up, and the double BBQ towed down from home is already producing some 5-star smells. Fresh Morton Bay Bugs, prawns and scallops are already sizzling, with Dad carving up ham off the bone. It’s about as traditional as this Christmas lunch gets. Mum always said, “Who wants to eat a piping hot roast lunch when it’s just as hot outside?” I imagine the fuss-free aspect of it is just as appealing as what is on the table.
The Christmas bon-bon’s are the entree to our meal, and the familiar ‘crack crack’ and victory cry of the winner ring around the table. The obligatory coloured paper hats are put on, and forced to stay on mind you, much to the embarrassment of my former teenage self. It’s the outfit of the day; bikinis and coloured paper hats.
If we can move after our feast of seafood, cold meats, pork sausages, salads and nibbles, it’s a 10 metre waddle to the sand for a game of beach cricket, volleyball, or the given toy of the day. Or, like Dad, more surfing.
It’s all over by early afternoon and the lazy beach side holiday vibe kicks up a notch, no doubt influenced by a mild food coma.
And there you have it, my Aussie Family Christmas.
My audience is left intrigued, amused and surprised, while only some have tutt-tutted the lack of regiment and tradition.
But that’s the way we do it, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.*
*Alright, I could definitely handle a New York White Christmas every now and again.
Image credit: Caro & Co
