Christmas time: an acknowledgment of families in all shapes and forms

While many people, like Chris, look forward to the Christmas season as a time to escape everyday reality and catch up and enjoy time with family and close friends, not everyone sees the festive season this way. For many, Christmas is a reminder of the pain and anguish that family members have shared in the past. For some, it’s a reminder of who is no longer with us, whether it’s due to severed ties, death, or distance. For others, it’s a reckoning of what one’s family could potentially be, but will never be.

In the beginning of our relationship when we’d come down to Melbourne every year for Christmas, I think I was a bit shocked at how close and how much detailed information and conversation Chris would have with his relatives. None of my conversations or interactions with my own family were like this. Though I did partake in all those conversations, I felt a bit envious that I couldn’t have the same with my own blood relatives. But he reminded me that I was part of his family now, and thus they were my family. I think we all know that it’s never quite the same, even if we do enjoy the time together. But as the years went by, I realized that I had idealized his family, and they actually weren’t as perfect and functional as I’d originally made up in my head. I suppose in my own mind, they actually did seem perfect relative to my own family. But with each passing year, I’d notice little passive aggressions, strange exchanges and comments, factoids shared of previous events, and secrets shared by family members to me in confidence. And I realized that they were just as dysfunctional as any other family, but that at Christmas time, everyone let things go to have a semblance of family, togetherness, and love. And that was totally fine and was good for everyone. Their level of dysfunction was never as toxic or unhealthy as my own family’s, and so it still all worked. Relatively speaking, I’d take his family, immediate and extended, over my own blood family any day, always.

I’ve referenced this line on my blog before, as it’s a quote that comes to my mind every holiday season: “All happy families are alike: each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” It’s the first sentence in the famous Leo Tolstoy novel Anna Karenina. But each time I think about this line, its meaning changes a little bit. I used to think about this when my uncle would try to tell me to forgive my dad for what he had done to Ed and me growing up, as “He didn’t know any better because that was how he himself was raised.” I thought about this when Ed had died, and my parents screamed at me and told me I had no right to tell my aunts, uncle, and cousins he had died. I’ve thought about this when hearing about the double standards that people in Chris’s family have for some people versus others, and the blind eyes turned to this. I have also thought about this when learning of the dysfunctions of Chris’s family and extended family, about those who choose not to be in contact, of those who make excuses not to see each other, and about how many in the family like to sweep issues under the rug instead of openly discussing them as problems. Every family has problems and challenges, some larger and more critical than others.

But at the end of the day, we cannot change other people, especially when it’s already so challenging to change ourselves. We just have to set our boundaries, try our best to put a stop to our own unhealthy patterns, and be our authentic selves as much as possible. No family unit is perfect. How we choose to accept that family unit is probably the outstanding question that will last our entire lifetime. I feel that struggle pretty much every day, and every time I have any interaction with my parents. In the back of my mind, I am fully aware that time with them on this earth is limited; they are, after all, at the latter end of their lives, and we have no idea how much time they have. I feel a little guilt when it comes to how I’ve lessened contact with them. I call my mom now at most once every two weeks; it’s a far cry from calling her every day once upon a time about 10 years ago. I realize it probably angers both of them that I chose not to come home (and let them see Kaia) this past year. But that’s what growing up is about: setting boundaries, even if it means when after their lives end that I may always wonder if setting those boundaries really was the best thing for all of us.

Christmas in Australia: Santa comes around the airport, too!

The attack on and demonization of Christmas has been going on in the U.S. for decades now, if not longer. You can’t say “Merry Christmas” without someone looking at you strange in the U.S. and someone on the far left insinuating you’re not being inclusive. The far right demonizes this and makes the entire situation worse. Since I’ve spent my entire full-time working life employed by digital marketing or technology companies, saying “merry Christmas” is not something that is acceptable in a group setting, and everyone feels forced to say a generic “happy holidays” message when it is Christmas time. This is supposedly to be sensitive to those who are Jewish, Muslim, or just don’t celebrate Christmas. This is ridiculous since any Jew you know will tell you that Hanukkah, while a holiday in Jewish culture, is not a big deal at all, with no real decorations or associated gift giving (the gift giving, from what I’ve been told, only really started because of the gift giving around Christmas and that influence). In addition, even in many non-Christian majority countries or majority Muslim countries, people celebrate Christmas in a secular way, meaning they embrace the Christmas trees and decorations, Rudolph the red-nose reindeer, and Santa, but they don’t really celebrate it as the birthday of Jesus Christ (and well, any real Christian can tell you that it’s not REALLY Jesus’s actual birthday, anyway!). The majority of my friends who celebrate Christmas celebrate in a secular way and are in no sense Christian, yet even most of them feel compelled to say “happy holidays” to each other. It’s annoying and exhausting.

I had to exercise a lot of restraint and keep silent while on a work call a few days ago when someone on Zoom said, “Hope you all have a happy holiday if you celebrate this weekend (um, there’s only ONE known holiday this weekend, and it’s CHRISTMAS). And if you do not, hope you all have a restful time off.” Why couldn’t she just have replaced the word “holiday” with “Christmas?” Is “Christmas” really such an evil word? N

So you can probably imagine that when I tell friends and colleagues in the U.S. how easily and readily and often people wish each other a “happy Christmas” or “merry Christmas” in Australia that they are pretty surprised. People don’t get offended by it. My general response or thought back would be, if someone wished me a happy Kwanzaa or happy Rosh Hashanah, why the hell would I get offended? And you know Christmas is embraced by all here, even if you don’t celebrate it or identify as Christian, when there is an actual Santa Claus who walks around the major airports here with an elf and a big sack of gifts to pass out to young children in transit; this would be very hard to imagine happening in any U.S. airport, ever.

Kaia met Santa twice going to and from Bundaberg at the domestic airports here. At the Melbourne airport, Santa walked up to her at our gate and presented her with a stuffed kangaroo with a little joey in her pouch. And on our way back to Melbourne at the Brisbane airport between our connecting flights, Santa appeared again at the entrance of the Qantas lounge, where she was given a set of special edition Qantas 3-5-year old-size pajamas with the kangaroo logo redone so that the kangaroo had a glittery red nose, sparkling gold antlers, and a name on the front of the pajama top reading: Roodolph. It was so sweet and special, yet I have a feeling that Chris, Chris’s dad, and I were going to enjoy and appreciate this far more than Kaia ever would for a long, long time.

So the TL;DR of this is really: Christmas is better in Australia than in the U.S. And I can walk around with dancing Santas or blaring red and green Christmas baubles on my head here, and no one will do a double take because I will blend right in.

The dancing and singing Santa in front of the barber shop

Today, we met up with Chris’s friend, husband, and their two daughters for brunch at a fun, kid-friendly brunch spot called Eastwood. Next door to Eastwood was a little barber shop that had a life-sized dancing Santa in front of the store. When you click a button by the Santa’s feet, it starts singing all different Christmas songs and dancing, moving both its arms and legs. As you’d imagine, the three kids were completely enchanted by this Santa. Kaia has just been getting acquainted with Santa in the last week, having seen him walking around the Melbourne and Brisbane airports and lounges twice already. Our friends’ younger daughter, who can be a little feisty, was a bit rough with the Santa. The owner of the shop popped out once to let her lightly know that the kids could get hurt if they were too aggressive with the Santa. He was so gentle and warm with the kids that it seemed like he was more worried about their safety rather than whether the kids would break his dancing Santa. Eventually, he took the Santa back into the shop, but I thought he exercised a high amount of patience and restraint given what the youngest kid was doing with his Santa.

I imagined the same thing happening in the U.S., and I imagined it would have been more of a scold to the parents rather than the shop owner addressing the kids nicely. In the U.S., kids are seen as a nuisance and a liability, whereas here, they seem to blend into society more and be accepted as actual tiny humans. It was actually sweet to see the exchange between the shop owner and the kids.

Wineries and cellar doors in the Mornington Peninsula

Today, the whole family went down to the Mornington Peninsula for wine and liquor tasting, lunch, and fresh local produce. The thing I always love about visiting wineries in Australia is how relaxed and casual they are. There’s no stuffiness or pretense. There’s no air of arrogance that they know far more about wine than you do (even if they do since they work at and/or own the winery). The tasting pours are usually generous (unlike the sad, tiny drops you get at the snotty and overrated wineries in Napa). They talk about the wine, the tastes, the flavors, and scents as though we’re all just everyday people looking to share something delicious together.

We visited one winery, one distillery room, a cherry farm, and in the middle of that, we shared a bottle of red and enjoyed lunch on the sunny patio at Abelli Estate Winery, which had a semi-outdoor kitchen setup and cooked up a delicious Greek-inspired feast for us. Another thing I’ve noticed that is common in Australia: a lot of the wineries here are not only beautifully constructed with large floor to ceiling windows that allow you to see all the vineyards, but they are also known for their gourmet, multi-course meals. Reservations are often required weeks if not months in advance for some of the most popular ones. Oftentimes, individuals and couples will have their special birthday or anniversary celebrations at a winery and share a bottle and a multi-course lunch or dinner. You rarely see that in wine regions in the U.S.: people go to wineries to taste and buy wine, then leave to go elsewhere to eat.

Wine doesn’t have to be an elitist interest or drink. It can be for everyone if wineries in the U.S. treated wine and wine drinkers the way Australians do.

Kaia’s obsession with menus and the woman who saves the day with a menu

In the last couple of months, Kaia has become obsessed with menus at restaurants. When we sit down at a table, she will immediately grab one of our menus and prevent us from actually reading it. So oftentimes, we will have to share a menu between the two of us while she fusses with hers, flipping the pages (if it’s multiple pages) or thrashing it in the air. While eating at Grunske’s the other day, she was super attached to the menu. When the server came by to take them, she was still intently playing with it when the server removed it from her hands (with some resistance) and walked away. Pookster immediately had a melt down, crying with big fat tears streaming down her face. Yet out of nowhere, a nice woman came and gave Kaia her menu. She turned towards us with a sympathetic expression on her face.

“I can’t believe that mean server just took the menu away from you!” the woman said to Kaia. She then turned to us. “I mean, she was in the middle of reading her menu happily, and then she just grabbed it and took it away without any regard for her! She deserves to take as much time as she wants to read the menu! This age is just so precious and goes by so quickly! I hope you enjoy her as much as you can!”

It’s so true, though. Little kids at Kaia’s age have big feelings, and they don’t have all the words to verbally express themselves. We give them orders all day long, especially telling them they can’t do this, can’t touch that. We take things like menus at restaurants away from them without thinking they have any autonomy. From their perspective, it’s a LOT. This nice woman’s intervention made me think more about how having a toddler slows you down… and frankly, it should. We really should think more about their feelings and go at a slower pace for them to take everything in around them. It would probably benefit us all to slow down and stop going through life so quickly.

Good people in the world are everywhere if you want them to be

While walking around the suburb of Collingwood the other day while pushing Pookster in the stroller, I came across the little free library cabinet and took a peek to see what children’s books might be interesting. I took out a book in almost-new condition called “I Am Grateful,” which I thought would be perfect since I was thinking about books that teach little ones gratitude. The book is beautifully illustrated with people of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and it starts with phrases about being grateful for what we may consider basic, like our eyes for seeing and our ears for hearing. It eventually branches out into gratitude for the people in our lives and the experiences we are so lucky to have.

Gratitude is not something that comes naturally. It really is something that needs to be taught and instilled at as early an age as possible. As I read this book a number of times to Pooks, who is loving it and asking for it “again” and “again,” I thought about my miserable cousin who now lives in Westchester, who is going to turn 50 next year, and exactly how ungrateful he is for nearly everything. He is constantly angry with everyone and everything. He is a victim of the world, and everyone is out to get him and his son. Generally, if you are not a Chinese American male, he hates you and thinks you’re a problem. A frequent text he sends to our mini group of his brother, our uncle, and me is “White people need to die.” Maybe my cousin could have benefited from a book like this when he was young so he wouldn’t be full of so much anger and hate today. He said that everywhere he goes, people are mean and awful to him. But in my own experiences, I’ve felt quite the opposite. While I may be upset about the state of polarized politics in the U.S., or the terrible atrocities that are happening in Israel and Gaza, for the most part, I feel that people at their core are good.

On our first day in Bundaberg on Sunday, I was thinking about how Chris’s dad told us to look for Bowen mangoes while in Queensland because they were not easy to source in Victoria (I have since corrected his information: Bowen is just another name for Kensington Pride mangoes, which are the most common and popular mango in all of Australia and thus extremely easy to find during mango season). So we asked around, and we found out that there is a stretch of road where mango orchards and and we could buy a whole tray of mangoes for just $15. Unfortunately, given we’re only here for 3.5 days, we’d have to beg the growers to sell us just one. Well, I didn’t even have to do that. Chris dropped me off at one orchard, where I met the owner and asked if I we could just buy a single ripe mango. He said he typically only sells by the tray (and all the mangoes were still green and quite far from ripe), but I told him we’d be leaving to go back to Melbourne in just 4 days. So he dug through his massive pile of mangoes and found one very ripe one, ready to be cut that evening. I asked him how much it would cost, and he waved his hand and said, don’t worry about it. It’s on me. I insisted and took money out of my wallet and said I had to give him something for it. He smiled warmly and said, “No, I can’t take your money. I hope you enjoy it and have a safe trip.” It was so kind and generous of him to do that — completely unexpected.

The experience I’ve noted above is not an isolated one. Everywhere we have traveled around the globe, people have extended warmth, kindness, and generosity. This was even before Pookster was in the picture. I’ve found that with a little smile, even with a language barrier, people generally are kind and always willing to help. I used to tell my cousin this, but it would always fall on deaf ears. “It’s because you’re a girl,” he’d always retort. Maybe. But Chris isn’t…?

Americans get made fun of as international travelers for always smiling — “You always know someone’s an American because they smile so much,” some Europeans have noted. But you know what? A smile is going to get you farther than a straight face or a scowl; it is a quick way of indicating good intentions. And a smile transcends languages and cultures. So it’s best to smile and have a good disposition: it won’t cost you anything, and chances are that more cases than not, it will get you a smile back. And we’d all be happier and less stressed if we were surrounded by more smiles.

Bundaberg Barrel: The epic soda tasting

Growing up, soda was always something that was in the house. It was there for everyday consumption and special events like birthday parties. I didn’t really love it, but I’d occasionally have it. But when I got braces (for the second time…) when I was 12, my orthodontist strongly said that he recommended all his patients stop soda consumption, as it would weaken my teeth and make them more susceptible to cavities especially with orthodontic treatment. I didn’t have any attachment to soda, so I just decided to cut it out completely. So since I was 12, the only rare times I have soda are when it’s mixed into a cocktail or on occasion when I’m traveling, and it’s an interesting brand/flavor that I find intriguing.

When I first came to Australia, Chris kept raving about how much he missed Bundaberg and ginger beer. I didn’t quite understand it until I had Bundaberg ginger beer and other flavors, such as mango (made only with Kensington Pride/Bowen mangoes grown in Queensland), passion fruit (I mean, this speaks for itself, right?), and the deliciousness (and rarity – still never seen it in the U.S.!) of their lemon, lime, and bitters flavor. There’s something special about the Bundaberg brand: they really want the flavors they are brewing to be pure and fully represented in the sodas they produce. So the brews, depending on the flavor, range in melding/processing time from one day (peach) to seven days (lemon, lime, and bitters) to extract just the right amount of flavor to be true to what they think is perfection. And they certainly have quite the range of flavors, which are all delicious: while they change them up (they’ve had apple in the past) and have seasonal specials (spiced ginger brew for the festive season), they have about 12 flavors that remain constant. The ones that are easiest to find in the U.S. are the ginger beer, sarsaparilla (root beer), and oddly, even the guava. The ones I never see in the U.S. are the red grape (Burgundee creaming soda, which I had for the very first time this visit), lemon/lime/bitters (brewed for seven days, made with cinnamon quills, clove buds, and gentian root, then mixed with lemon and lime juice and bitters for a flavor that could honestly pass as an alcoholic drink due to the bitters in it!), peach (the shortest brew at only one day), or pineapple coconut (brewed two days and made with fresh pineapple juice and coconut water).

We visited the Bundaberg Barrel on Monday, which is actually shaped… just like a barrel! The place is well decorated and appointed, with oversized exaggerated Bundaberg bottle caps topping each of their oversized bushes in front. And if that weren’t enough to convince us we were at the right place, as soon as we parked the car and got out, we could smell the heavily wafting scent of spicy ginger invading our noses! There, we had a tasting of about all twelve flavors, and the tasting fee included SIX cans of whatever flavors we’d like – what a good deal! So we optimized for the ones we couldn’t get easily, such as the creaming soda, lemon/lime bitters, and the grapefruit. We couldn’t cart all 12 back to Melbourne given our relative bag space, so we had to drink as much as possible on this trip. So this would most definitely be the most soda I’ve had in a short period of time — likely ever!

Tinaberries: the strawberry paradise farm

On Sunday after lunch, we stopped at Tinaberries, a strawberry farm that I had read about and added to our list of places to visit while in Bundaberg. Unfortunately, strawberry season in the area is from August to October, so while we’d be missing the pick-your-own opportunity, we’d still have access to their beautiful grounds, as well as their special fresh fruit ice cream.

The Tinaberries property is definitely one that would be inviting to families and anyone who is looking for a quiet, open outdoor space to relax and breathe in fresh air. They have a huge lawn that has plenty of shady cover provided by huge, blankety trees, along with beautiful flowers everywhere, marked by handwritten chalk signs with cute messages like, “If you are not a bee, please stay out of the garden.” The owners provide big picnic blankets for you to borrow and enjoy their lawn. They also have a number of play structures for little ones to play and run around. And given they grow their own strawberries (and presumably their own passion fruit), they allow you ample tastings of jams and butters made with their own fruit. We tried their strawberry and blackberry jams, which had far more fruit than sugar in them, along with a hint of lemon to even out the sweetness — these were delicious. We especially loved their passion fruit butter, which had a rich passion fruit pulp complete with passion fruit seeds, sugar, egg yolks, and butter. We ended up buying a jar of this to take home for Chris’s parents, along with their “lamington chocolate” macadamias, which were macadamia nuts covered in milk chocolate and shredded dried coconut.

If that was not enough, I especially enjoyed their fresh, churned to order soft serve ice cream. On Sunday, they had two flavors, strawberry and passion fruit, so we got both flavors in kiddie cup sizes. I’m not sure if it’s the Australian dairy that made these ice creams so delicious, but the creaminess and milkiness of the ice creams really stood out in my mind among the fruit ice creams we’ve had. They had plenty of passion fruit and strawberry to scream that they were extremely fruit forward, but it didn’t overshadow how creamy and rich the dairy in the ice creams were. Both the creaminess and the fruitiness stood out and did not outshine the other.

Food in Australia just tastes better overall than in the U.S. Animals have more space to roam around, get exercise, and eat what they are supposed to eat. Produce gets the TLC and nutrients they need to be more tasty and nutrient dense. From a food/eating perspective, I’m not sure why you would ever leave Australia to come to the U.S.; it’s like a downgrade in a million ways.

Fresh seafood in Australia: hard to top

Every time I’ve visited Australia, I never get tired or bored of the seafood here. Given that Australia is an island country that’s pretty far removed from the rest of the world, it is not surprising that they have endless flora, fauna, and ocean life that is not only quite unique, but extremely delicious. And being up in Queensland, we’re in the midst of the tropics up here. And when doing research for this Bundaberg trip, I came across this open-air seafood spot that looked interesting called Grunske’s by the River. It’s one of just a small number of seafood processors in Queensland that also sells direct to the public via their little market, as well as via prepared foods and their casual restaurant setup.

Given that shellfish is quite expensive everywhere, we rarely have full-on seafood meals ever. But if you are going to do it, it should probably be here! So we had an indulgent meal at Grunske’s this early afternoon after our arrival in Bundaberg. We decided on the hot and cold seafood platter, which included crumbed local fish bites, sea scallops, and calamari; grilled scallops on the half shell with garlic butter; Coffin Bay (South Australia) oysters, local wild caught massive prawns, Moreton Bay bugs (basically like the lesser known but just as expensive cousins of lobsters!), cooked sand crab, and pear and rocket (arugula) salad. This was all served alongside chips (fries), tartare sauce, seafood sauce, and plenty of lemon wedges.

I still remember the very first time I saw scallops served on the half shell in Australia back in 2012 when I first came. In that moment, I realized I had never seen scallops in their shell, period, ever. So I had no idea they looked like that and was completely stunned, not only by how pretty they looked, but also my own ignorance for not even knowing what a scallop shell even looked like! It presents very well and almost even makes the scallops taste better because they seem fresher and more natural! These scallops were fat, juicy, sweet, and meaty. The sand crab was also surprising; it was served cold, and like Maryland crabs, most of their meat is in the body versus the legs. So I spent quite some time picking out all the meat, and it was definitely worth the effort. The flesh was also very sweet and meaty. The Moreton Bay bugs, as per usual, were delicious and sweet, and the restaurant made it easy to take the meat out of the shells by cutting each bug in half for us, so no cracking was needed. What may have been the most stunning in terms of presentation were the prawns, though. Although we do have easier and cheaper access to prawns/shrimp in the U.S., it is rare to see prawns of this sheer size — almost the size of my whole hand! These were also perfectly cooked and not even a bit rubbery. They were also a very deep, bright orange and red color. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought these prawns were fake, for display and not eating. But that’s how gorgeous and spectacular seafood is here in Australia!

Pookster: 2 going on 12-13

Pookster, as with almost all our trips, has adjusted really well to the 16-hour time difference this past week. Every night, she has slept the full night in her own (floor) bed. The only area that’s been a bit iffy is whether she knows what time it is to eat and when she’s actually hungry. But I’ll take the sleeping-through-the-night over the all-over-the-place eating/hunger any day. I know she will make up for the calories at some point later.

But I will say: fighting with her over getting her into her high chair or putting on her silicone bib to eat is not fun. The other day, I chased her around the kitchen area after telling her it was time to eat dinner.

“Pooks! It’s time to eat dinner!” I called.

“No! No!” she yelled back, running away.

I followed behind her, holding her bib and positioning it so that I could put it around her neck.

“Yes, it’s dinner time!”

She turned back, glared at me, and then turned her back towards me. “No! I do what I want!”

Chris’s mom and I both did a double take and looked at each other, then started laughing. Did she really say what we think she just said? And who the heck taught her how to say that…?! She just turned 2, but she’s already giving me all this attitude and grief! I was not prepared for this!