There is truly no better feeling than stepping off the plane after 10 hours to the view of palm trees and a warm breeze. Actually, it does get better. The feeling is so much better when you come from the cold dead Ohio winter, and Christmas is coming up.
Every year since I moved to the United States from Argentina I have returned home to Buenos Aires, Argentina for two weeks during winter break. It is absolutely lovely to see my family, my Abuela, and Abuelo, my Tia, Tios, and of course my cousins. The food my Abuela cooks is amazing, and being off school is great. But, the best part is that it is summer.
Argentina is a Spanish-speaking country in South America, which is in the southern hemisphere. Because of this, their seasons are “reversed.” During the winter months of December, January, and February, in Argentina, it is summer.
In America, the typical Christmas routine involves seeing family and friends on Christmas Eve, going to sleep at a normal time, and then waking up early to snow, the smell of breakfast, and gifts piled under the tree. In Argentina, we do things differently.
We begin by sleeping in on Christmas Eve. When we wake up, we put on our swimsuits and spend the day in the sun. My family meets at my grandparent’s house in the evening to begin cooking on the outdoor grill and preparing for a Christmas Eve dinner. A typical dinner time is between nine and 11 pm, and consists of steak and chorizo cooked over an open fire grill. After dinner, everyone goes outside; we shoot fireworks, do sparklers, and wait until midnight, when Christmas day begins.
When I was still young enough to believe in Santa, my cousins and I would stand on chairs in my Abuela’s backyard trying to spot Santa dropping off the gifts. The second it reached midnight, we would all rush inside to gifts waiting under the Christmas tree. We would all open our gifts, but instead of starting to play with them like kids in the US, we would put them into bags to bring home as it was very late at night.
After midnight, everyone would go home for the night at 1 a.m., go to sleep, and wake up. We would then head back to my grandparent’s house for a Christmas day lunch. My cousins and I would play in the pool together and show off the gifts we received the night before. In the evening, a few hours after lunch, the Christmas activities would come to a close.
A week after Christmas, a few days into the new year, we would say our goodbyes and make the long journey home. I would come home dreading having to change into my long-sleeved clothes and heavy coat. I would step off the plane, back into the cold, and back into the reality that I was not exempt from all of winter. It may seem strange to many people, not having a white Christmas with cold weather, not drinking hot chocolate, or wearing matching flannels, but to me, the idea of a cold Christmas is weird. In my mind, Christmas comes with swimsuits, a tan, and being surrounded by family in Argentina.
