Christmas
Racing to the market before it closed for the Christmas break, we were unsure if we would still be able to purchase a large free range chicken for Christmas lunch. The whole idea of competition with mad angry housewives who clawed, screamed and tugged over the last remaining chicken from the poultry shop during a last minute chicken-shopping frenzy sort of fed the assumption that we will arrive at the market and there will be no chicken in sight.
When we got there the shops were starting to close. Even the veggie stores had stored their greens away and the florist was trying to haggle with a few ladies over the price of Christmas lily that looked like it was about to die in two days. Around the stalls were buckets and buckets of Christmas lilies that were in full bloom and had started to decay, left there by the florist as they were no longer fit for sale, probably adding to the whole 'rotten spirit' of Christmas.
Only one poultry stall was still opened, and it belonged to a round-faced Asian man with a kid playing with the bits of dead chicken in a tray in front of him. Thankfully there were no queues or desperate housewives. There was just chicken. Heaps and heaps of chicken.
~
Lunch at mom's was a real pleasant surprise, with the mercury retreating to sub-artic conditions in summer. At a high of 12 degrees by midday, Melbourne was under the grip of the coldest Christmas since records began. Even more bizarre was the rain which poured like crazy and then left as though it was never there the next minute. In the midst of a drought, 8mm of rain was a welcome sight, but the sub-zero temperatures and snow were unusual for this time of the year.
In fact, the snow was so heavy in the Alps that they really truly did have a white Christmas.
Freaky for this time of the year in Australia.
With the gorgeously roasted chicken done by the boyfriend coupled with the fabulous salads made by his mother, my tummy was all pleased. This is the first Christmas that I've spent away from home. This time there are no images of fucking Santa or bullshit Christmas carols, no obligation to award the relatives with presents or 'well wishes' (though I secretly did wish that some of them died in their sleep for Christmas) and away from obligatory church services that told you everything you needed to know about the birth of Christ, a story that you've heard a million times before.
This time it was just me, the boyfriend and the mother, tucked away in a tiny home in the far Eastern Suburbs, feasting over a simple meal and having chats about nothing in particular.
This is the first time I've felt happy for Christmas, the first time I did not feel that I had to live up to some expectation of what a 'filial' son should be.
Sitting in the car on the way home after his mother offered a lift, I find myself dosing off as the car ascends and descends the hills along the long and winding road towards our house. In between blackouts and the realisation that we've just done a very sharp turn at 50kmph such that my head banged against the side window, I realise how much he's made me feel at home in this foreign land. I realised how much I've learnt and experienced, and how much the other friends who come from the same country as I do, are missing out by being the rich pretentious International Students they so rightfully are.
I catch a glimpse of her smile as we wave goodbye and she drives away, leaving us at our doorstep. Inside me, a sense of acceptance, that I am finally making my way towards being treated as a human being with feelings and opinions.
I am finally feeling that I am part of the family, and fuck that's a good feeling.
When we got there the shops were starting to close. Even the veggie stores had stored their greens away and the florist was trying to haggle with a few ladies over the price of Christmas lily that looked like it was about to die in two days. Around the stalls were buckets and buckets of Christmas lilies that were in full bloom and had started to decay, left there by the florist as they were no longer fit for sale, probably adding to the whole 'rotten spirit' of Christmas.
Only one poultry stall was still opened, and it belonged to a round-faced Asian man with a kid playing with the bits of dead chicken in a tray in front of him. Thankfully there were no queues or desperate housewives. There was just chicken. Heaps and heaps of chicken.
~
Lunch at mom's was a real pleasant surprise, with the mercury retreating to sub-artic conditions in summer. At a high of 12 degrees by midday, Melbourne was under the grip of the coldest Christmas since records began. Even more bizarre was the rain which poured like crazy and then left as though it was never there the next minute. In the midst of a drought, 8mm of rain was a welcome sight, but the sub-zero temperatures and snow were unusual for this time of the year.
In fact, the snow was so heavy in the Alps that they really truly did have a white Christmas.
Freaky for this time of the year in Australia.
With the gorgeously roasted chicken done by the boyfriend coupled with the fabulous salads made by his mother, my tummy was all pleased. This is the first Christmas that I've spent away from home. This time there are no images of fucking Santa or bullshit Christmas carols, no obligation to award the relatives with presents or 'well wishes' (though I secretly did wish that some of them died in their sleep for Christmas) and away from obligatory church services that told you everything you needed to know about the birth of Christ, a story that you've heard a million times before.
This time it was just me, the boyfriend and the mother, tucked away in a tiny home in the far Eastern Suburbs, feasting over a simple meal and having chats about nothing in particular.
This is the first time I've felt happy for Christmas, the first time I did not feel that I had to live up to some expectation of what a 'filial' son should be.
Sitting in the car on the way home after his mother offered a lift, I find myself dosing off as the car ascends and descends the hills along the long and winding road towards our house. In between blackouts and the realisation that we've just done a very sharp turn at 50kmph such that my head banged against the side window, I realise how much he's made me feel at home in this foreign land. I realised how much I've learnt and experienced, and how much the other friends who come from the same country as I do, are missing out by being the rich pretentious International Students they so rightfully are.
I catch a glimpse of her smile as we wave goodbye and she drives away, leaving us at our doorstep. Inside me, a sense of acceptance, that I am finally making my way towards being treated as a human being with feelings and opinions.
I am finally feeling that I am part of the family, and fuck that's a good feeling.
Fell from the sky at 12:56 AM
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