Eight days ’til Christmas! That’s how I would normally be at this point in the year. Yes, I am a nineteen year old who still gets excited about Christmas. But right now, I’m listening to Christmas music, watching Christmas movies and seeing all the Christmas things in shops and yet I just don’t have that feeling.
And I think the reason is pretty simple. It’s not 30 plus degrees, there’s no sun beating down during the day, no ice cream waiting to be devoured and no summer fruit. In short, this is nothing like the Aussie Christmas I’m used to by far. And while I was pretty pumped for a white Christmas it didn’t occur to me just how deeply I associate Christmas with summer. I should be lying on the couch sweating, eating mangoes with ice cream and dreaming of the beach. Instead, I’m rugged up inside, eating mandarins and dreaming of the beach. Not that I have anything against winter or mandarins, but it just doesn’t seem like Christmas.
Now it doesn’t look like it’s going to be a white Christmas either. After all the snow last week, it’s starting to warm up (relatively speaking) and the snow’s melting. I think it’s one of the most depressing things I’ve ever seen. Melting snow is not as fun as fresh snow. Fresh snow gets me childishly excited.
Speaking of which, last week I took part in the biggest snowball fight of my life, and came off second best. Here’s a hint, if you’ve never seen snow before, don’t have snowball fights with Europeans, they know a lot more about the fluffy white stuff than you do. And they will take advantage of you. You will end up being thrown into the snow more times than you can count, and while it’s fun at the time, you just end up wet and cold. Which is exactly as much fun as it sounds.