I must admit — I relish the look of confusion and then consternation on their faces as they realise just how upside down our holidays are.
I am flying back to New Zealand tomorrow for the summer. I cannot wait. It is so cold here my extremities are nearly falling off. I bear an uncanny resemblance to Rudolf, and I long to thaw out in the warmth of my family’s love.
But, wanting to make the most of the European Christmas cheer, I jetted off to Austria early this month for a long weekend, stopping off at Vienna, Graz, and Salzburg along the way.
My brief jaunt to the land of Mozart and The Sound of Music was enlightening, to say the least.
I spent a small fortune on gluhwein (sweet mulled wine), trekked into the heart of a mountain, Salzbergwerk Durrnberg, and wandered as many Christmas markets as my feet would carry me.
I learned a great deal about Austrian Christmas traditions, and was reminded of the love, warmth, and excitement that underpin both New Zealand and Austrian Christmas traditions.
No Austrian city or village is complete without a Christkindlmarkt, a Christmas market. These markets run from late November or early December, and are a veritable smorgasbord of delights — Christmas decorations, roast chestnuts, dried-orange wreaths, vanillekipferl cookies, Liptauer Cheese, endless mulled wine, and gingerbread houses.
Every Christmas season, three small villages — St Wolfgang, Strobl and St Gilgen — dotted around Lake Wolfgangsee near Salzburg have an Advent festival.
My friends and I boarded a boat that sailed us across the gleaming lake, dropping us at the far shore where we were greeted by a snow-dusted picture-perfect village wreathed in Christmas lights, with horse-drawn sleigh carriages, and real sheep and goats clustering around a nativity scene. There was even a goat perched up on one of the little wooden stalls, where a woman inside served punch with little heed to the clip-clop of the creature above her.
As far as I know, we have no equivalent of this in New Zealand. The closest I have witnessed is the little monthly market in Waihi’s town hall, where a bunch of sweet old ladies sell their crocheted goods and second-hand books. My Dad is invariably found outside on a soap box, preaching to a slightly bemused crowd.
The magic of an Austrian Christmas is also present in the myriad Advent calendars that may be found in any home or restaurant, or purchased at any reputable Christkindlmarkt.
Like the Advent wreath, the calendar counts down the days to Christmas, with a little "door" opened daily to reveal a delightful scene behind.
It was not until I found a store in Vienna selling these calendars that I realised how much I had missed them — since I was a very young child, every Advent calendar I encountered in New Zealand was of the sickly-sweet chocolate variety. Chocolate, of course, appeals to small children but it does not have the magic of tiny, beautifully painted watercolour scenes of the nativity or Three Magi.
In contrast, the chocolate Advent calendars were devious tests of our self-control. Inevitably, I gave up on December 5 or thereabouts, and scoffed the whole calendar.
There is so much more I could highlight about Christmas in Austria. There is the fact that Austrians celebrate Christmas on December 24, or that on December 5, children are terrorised by St Nicholas’ bestial companion Krampus, with his matted fur, long horns, and devilish red tongue, who strikes naughty children with his rod.
I could speak of the beauty of hearing Stille Nacht (Silent Night) sung in German, as it was first written, with the poetry of Joseph Mohr and the music by Franz Xaver Gruber expressing a longing for peace on Christmas Eve in 1818 following the harsh Napoleonic Wars.
I think the magic of Christmas in the northern hemisphere is that it is a light in the darkest time of the year. It is a chance to gather inside and bask in the warmth of love and family.
It is a chance to evade the Krampus, to sing traditional carols in the snow, to light the Adventkranz, a wreath of fir branches holding four large candles. It is a time of drawing in, of embracing those dearest to oneself, of reflecting on the past year and anticipating the sunshine of the year ahead.
In New Zealand, Christmas is a more exuberant affair, doused in sunlight and seawater. We also sing traditional carols, but we do so on warm evenings, under the pohutukawa tree, or gathered around an uncle who can sort-of play the guitar. Our Santa Claus wears boardshorts and surfs the waves with a sleigh (or jet ski?) led by a team of kiwi.
We celebrate Christmas with friends and family outside — in the park, or at the beach. We revel in the summer warmth, knowing that we must make the most of the sunshine before the inevitable descent into winter.
I doubt nothing will beat the powdered-snow magic of an Austrian Christmas, save for the joy of watching my little brothers and sisters open their presents on Christmas morning. For all the traditions in the world, nothing compares to being with those you love best in the world.
Frohe Weihnachten!
- Jean Balchin, a former English student at the University of Otago, is studying at Oxford University after being awarded a Rhodes Scholarship.
