A Green Christmas

You wouldn’t know it’s Christmas here, except for the sign over Jalan Sudirman, the city’s main drag, that says Selamat Hari Natal.

There is no snow. No foggy Christmas Eve. No houses decorated with lights and glowing reindeer in the front yard. No Christmas carols playing at the mall. No ice to scrape off the windshield after a long evening spent with family at Grandma’s house. No bundling up in scarves, hats and toques for the annual park walk, then coming inside to warm up with a cup of hot cocoa by the fire. No Turtle chocolates, homemade Christmas cake, or shortbread. No wonderfully chaotic Christmas dinner with all the extended family - young cousins excitedly tearing open presents and gorging on holiday treats, then burning off their sugar highs wrestling with each other.

Out here, near the equator, snow tipped evergreens give way to broad-leafed palm trees. Friends become family as almost no one has relatives who live in the same hemisphere. And snowy walks through the park are replaced by plunges in swimming pools surrounded by green foliage and brightly colored tropical blooms.

What to make of this new, green Christmas? I miss the familiarity of a white Christmas, surrounded by family. Of the same events and traditions occurring every year since I can remember. I don’t miss the holiday stress - the need to be prepared, to buy presents for everyone, bake lots of treats, remember to send out Christmas cards, and help with or host one of many large family gatherings.

In the largest Muslim country in the world, where December 25th is of no particular significance to the vast proportion of the population, Christmas is what you make it.

Friends make a big effort to celebrate together, morphing December into party season. Kid parties, cocktail parties, dance parties, office parties, pool parties, and Santa parties sprout up, often at the last minute. Without the trappings of Christmas all around the city and family to celebrate with, we create our own festivity with friends, feeding off the initiative taken by each other. Eager to feel grounded while living in a foreign country (especially during the holidays), we share the diversity of our Christmas traditions: Gingerbread cookie decorating, snowball fights with tissue balls hiding a marshmallow in the middle, Scandinavian dancing and carols around the Christmas tree, worn out horse carts transformed into Santa’s sleigh pulled by elegant reindeer. Many old traditions from home survive the journey across continents… stockings brimming with treats, a tree topped with a shining star, presents for the kids, time together as a family, a Christmas prayer.

Christmas morning comes early as Bodhi jumps out of bed and runs to see if Santa filled his stocking. It's 6 am.

“Mommy, Daddy, Santa came!!!!” he shouts with the overwhelming excitement and complete lack of conflicting emotion that only a four year old can exude.

Bodhi is awestruck by the arrival of a day long awaited. For a month he has steadfastly followed the calendar with his school-made bell and links. Each day he cuts off one paper link until reaching the bell at the top signifying Christmas day.

His eyes glisten with wonder as he dumps out his stocking to see if Santa brought the items he asked for: candy cane, chocolate, marshmallow, lollipop, and gum. Yes, he inherited my sweet tooth. The look of pure, unadulterated joy on his face as he does his happy dance with little legs and arms pumping up and down, is the reason Pawan and I stayed up late wrapping presents and stuffing stockings. Well worth the effort.

Soon Meijin joins the fray. It’s impossible for her to sleep in with the decibel level in our apartment nearing rock concert proportions. We open presents, dance, sing carols, take pictures and drink in the chaos and wonder of Christmas morning. Bodhi is thrilled with his spiderman suit, and MJ with her puppet theatre. After the initial excitement wears off, we sit down to a breakfast of fresh tropical fruit, raisin toast and oatmeal with honey.

Without the big family gathering to prepare for or anticipate, the day stretches on. MJ goes for nap, and the rest of us catch some tube. By mid-afternoon our quiet day as a family seems almost too quiet. Bodhi and I head to Starmart to pick up some milk and stop at the cash machine, bringing home a pile of crisp, blue Rupiah notes. The normally busy garden and pool is empty, as most friends have returned to their home countries to celebrate Christmas with loved ones. As we walk home through the subdued tropical oasis, I think of the noisy, messy Christmas dinner back home that will soon begin. Chairs packed around Mom and Dad’s antique dining table, everyone passing around plates of turkey bursting with stuffing, mashed potatoes with thick gravy, pungent cranberries, steaming brussell sprouts, and buttery carrots garnished with fresh parsley. Oh, and Mom’s deliciously decadent black forest torte for dessert! A pang of melancholy washes over me as I think of what we are missing - both the food and the company.

Night comes, and with it the four B’s. Bath, books, bottle, and bed. The kids down, Pawan and I head over to the 5 star hotel across the street to enjoy a lavish Christmas buffet and some time together to reflect on a year gone by.

“What are your highs and lows for 2006?” I ask.

An animated three hour conversation ensues - one that would never happen amidst the activity of a day with the kids.

Returning home, talked out, bellies full, we take turns having a full body rubdown by our favorite massage lady in the comfort of our bedroom. Hours later, relaxed, content, smelling of sandalwood and lavender, we turn to each other against the backdrop of glowing Christmas tree lights.

"This is bliss" I say softly.

Pawan nods gently, eyes closed. The absence of holiday stress and the new traditions we’ve created with our family and friends here are meaningful and precious. Christmas in Jakarta has its own charms after all.