Pukekura Park in Taranaki, New Zealand
You know, I’ve never worn a Christmas jumper in my life. Here in New Zealand Christmas is celebrated during the summer months, so if I want to wear one my options are to either sweat it while my fellow kiwis are playing backyard cricket in shorts and singlets, or rock one in June when it is cold enough but I’d probably look like a dick.
You may consider me a little ungrateful to be whining about summer, especially if you’re reading this from the northern hemisphere, but sometimes I would really like to experience a white Christmas (and wear an over the top Christmas jumper).
Instead, my Christmas in New Zealand will be spent on beaches and in backyards. I’ll team a Santa hat with a bikini and grimace with sympathy at the poor sods who wear full Santa costumes in parades to keep the kids happy.
Airy pavlovas replace dense Christmas puddings, cold beers replace mulled wine.
This time last year Jack and I were in on the Caribbean coast of Colombia over Christmas. While we still had our usual warm weather beach holiday but it was without those New Zealand traditions that I had come to associate with this time of year regardless of the white Christmas imagery most people conjure up at the word.
Cartagena, Colombia at Christmas 2014
In other words, as much as I love travel, it’s nice to be home this time around.