Christmas in July

“Boy, did the people of the Southern Hemisphere draw the short straw!” I thought a year ago, in the middle of a Tierra del Fuego winter at 55 degrees south latitude (the same latitude as Novosibirsk, by the way, only the other way round). Just look: when winter begins up north, by November you already feel like howling at the moon, anticipating six months of suspended animation and darkness for two-thirds of every day. And only one thing saves people from depression. The greatest people-uniter and leftover-salad-eater of them all. Its name is New Year. Or Christmas, if you’re not where we’re from. And we prepare, anticipate, book, shop, and leaf through horoscopes a month and a half in advance. Then it takes another two weeks to recover, and by then 23 February is just around the corner. Or Valentine’s Day, or finally 8 March. In short, there is always something to celebrate until the first thaw begins and the starlings arrive. That is what keeps us northerners going. Now let’s look at people in the south. We’ll rule out the tropics straight away—their Christmas under a palm tree in +30°C is utterly surreal, with a sweating Santa lugging a sack around and Christmas trees dusted with artificial snow. For the sake of a clean experiment, let’s take those latitudes where winter does actually exist. South Africa , southern Australia , New Zealand—it gets bracing there in winter. Tasmania and New Zealand even get snow. People ski on Mount Kosciuszko. And in southern Patagonia—good grief. It may not be -40°C, but there are snowdrifts, morning twilight until lunchtime, followed by evening twilight. July is the depths of winter, yet there are no holidays. I mean, Christmas in July—what’s that about? Not a single decent holiday to divide winter into two unequal halves. One that could also soothe chilled souls with romance, mulled wine for a very good reason, and “Jingle Bells.” I pondered all this throughout the long Patagonian winter, sweeping snow off the solar panels and squeezing in some sledding with the young sailor during our three hours of daylight. And now winter has caught up with us again in Australia. It is hardly cold at all, and even quite pleasant. Except that it is dark by six, and the boat is freezing without a heater. How Christmas in July Entered Our Lives I had barely begun my traditional winter musings about the misery of Southern Hemisphere people, who live through winter without New Year and dress up as snowmen in +40°C summer heat, when the muse of all Western Australia, Ksenia Arkhipova , invited us to a party with the strange name “Christmas in July.” The idea of holding something on a grand, carnival-like scale came to Ksyusha when, before and during her birthday, I started waxing lyrical about a fancy-dress party. Ksyusha was inspired, and—voilà, a five-year plan completed in a month and a half. The name Christmas in July and the theme of masks, Christmas trees, and assorted snowmen were puzzling at first. Circus acts at the carnival Well, a bit of exoticism has never stopped me. But the captain said it was beneath his royal dignity to attend such strange events. Christmas in July—what on earth was that? That was exactly what he said, only in different words. I went to Google and discovered that, of all the people in the Southern Hemisphere, Australians have thought things through the best. Indeed, although it is not nearly as widespread as regular Christmas, they do have this tradition— Christmas in July . Which meant that every decent venue was already booked for Saturday, 25 July. That was why this Russian masquerade ball in Perth was held on 18 July. And we flew to the ball like Cinderella—straight from the bush (the Australian savannah), where we had woken up that morning 500 km from our destination. Strangely enough, we made it to the party on time. Stranger still, after two weeks of persuasion and explanations about why we had to go to the carnival, the captain finally gave in. I put that down to Nastya’s and my powers of persuasion. Bewildered and maskless 🙂. Photo by Iulia Galushina Carnival Night The only thing that distinguished Christmas in July from ordinary Christmas was that nobody was waiting for the clock to strike midnight or for Santa Claus. Everyone was simply having a blast. The hangar-like hall was decorated in white, with Christmas trees, lighting, and blue snowy cubes. On the tables were wintry ikebana arrangements and candles (we even forgot to light ours, which was a shame). The best performers took to the stage. There was circus, a musical cover band, and dancing. Everything was first-rate, even the dancing. The DJ wore a cool mask, and Ksyusha herself wore a ladybird princess dress :). Food was served in an adjoining little hangar; nobody managed to overeat or get completely plastered, which considerably improved the mood. We did not win the prizes for the best costumes or dancing, but it was wonderful anyway. Photo by Iulia Galushina . The Morning After the Christmas in July Celebration Monday morning was no less wonderful, when we went to help strip the hall back down, fold up the tables, and scrub the chairs clean. We warmed ourselves washing dishes in hot water, then enjoyed a splendid afternoon snack at Ksyusha’s with the organising group. I have several photos from this party. The most beautiful were taken by super-agent Iulia Galushina ( Iulia’s website: https://iulia-galushina.photographer.ru ). The captain and I went as ourselves. I thought every other person at the party would be a pirate. But no—not a single one besides us. The Russian Community in Perth Thanks to Elena Mur , through whose good offices I acquired the most important costume details—Jack Sparrow’s hat and braids, plus a great cloak. Other essential details (earrings and boots with socks) had to be treacherously stripped from Annalakshmi Yulia . Incidentally, it was thanks to her that we had spent the entire previous week searching for gold in the middle of the continent (we haven’t told you about that yet, have we?—we will!). And Yulia’s husband, Brian Yeo , not only held the fort throughout all eight days of our journey, but, once we returned from the bush, whisked us—two pirates and a kidnapped Arabian princess—to the carnival venue. Either on a broomstick or carrying a halberd 🙂 . Winter and the Festive Spirit If you are feeling very sad, invent a big holiday for yourself, like the Australians do. So what if it is not on the calendar! After all, Santa Claus does not care when you dress up as him, and neither does Ded Moroz. They could not care less, while it makes us happy. And now we have celebrated Christmas in July, and winter is on the wane. Though in Australia that is not exactly a plus. Nastya and I prefer it in winter :). Photographer Yulia at work First mate—a pirate; Lena—steampunk 🙂 We ought to introduce this tradition to Tierra del Fuego . The climate makes it much more relevant there. Any volunteers? Patagonia, the fjords of Tierra del Fuego Christmas for everyone! And birch boletes with blueberries. Title photo by Iulia Galushina