If the hourly reminders weren’t enough, I’m assaulted by Christmas cheer so bold and bright it’s nearly offensive each time I walk into the Lotte Mart. There are artificial trees of every shape and size in a flashing display of gold and silver, draped in violently pink tinsel and blue lights. I don’t quite remember Christmas being so neon at home, but I’m sure it isn’t so different than the Wal-Mart displays.

this little kid was adorable

so many people at the snowboarding deal!

No matter. It’s bound to be a nontraditional Christmas for me, which ever way you look at it. It’s my first one away from home and nothing feels quite right. I’ve managed to block my location on the internet so as to get Pandora playing holiday music, and although I sent out Christmas cards and gifts for the family home last month, I still can’t quite sense Christmas in the air just yet. That's not to say there aren't wintry events. Yesterday, I went to a pre-Olympic qualifying snowboarding event in Seoul with Hannah, Michelle and our Korean friend, Ben. This is the first time the event has been held in a city center, so it was super packed, and it was a very cool deal. Still, Christmas is a time to give in and think about home, so here goes.

There’s no snow here, for one thing. I know it happens, because there was snow on the ground last February when I first arrived. We’ve had a couple dustings. But it’s nothing like the thigh-deep mess I’m used to. For once, I wouldn’t even mind that, because I don’t have to drive myself anywhere here. It’s all different. Consider: I haven’t made the standard harrowing journey home from Idaho, a normally four-hour trip turned into six by torturous back roads, painted slick with black sheets of ice by the Grinch himself. I haven’t faced Mom’s reproving looks at my disproportionate ratio of rum to hot butter mix, nor suffered through thirteen consecutive screenings of Ralphie showing how the piggies eat. There won’t be any strange but welcome run-ins with old high school friends doing last minute shopping runs. The priest at St. Joe’s, who always managed to make even Christmas a heavy-hearted affair, refusing proper decorations until the Eve, won’t be insisting we forsake thoughts of shiny papered packages beneath our trees. As to that, I didn’t get to see Dad struggle to put up the tree this year, muttering decidedly unChristmasy words beneath his breath. I have opted to go with the significantly less sentimental Christmas Bamboo Stand this year, as I’m morally opposed to fake Christmas trees, and a solid Douglas Fir is hard to come by here.

And it definitely isn’t Christmas without incessantly arguing with my three siblings over—well, anything. Music selection. Board games. Ornament placement; that’s always been a big issue of contention. Andrew lacks the spatial awareness to place the heavier ones near the trunk, on the inner boughs, and Matthew refuses to throw away the homemade ornaments from our Catholic school youth, although Mom has secretly been tossing about six or seven a year in her quest for “just once, a really nice Christmas tree.” She thinks we don’t know. And they all think I’m too bossy. I probably am. “Little Miss Perfect,” Julie should be sneering, right about now. “Who never does any tiny little thing wrong, ever.”

I remember when I was in high school, trying to escape Family Decorating Night. I wanted to run off with my best friends, or go to a party where someone’s parents had left Schnapps, or later, to indulge in mistletoe-inspired mischief with my boyfriend. There was always somewhere else to be. All that family togetherness was so embarrassing. Who were we, the Waltons?

I miss it now.

Don’t misunderstand me: I’m aware that my situation is not particularly unique. There are millions of displaced people all around the world now, many of them, also, quietly humming Bing Crosby tunes to themselves. I won’t be alone, but will be spending the holiday with the aformentioned Michelle and Hannah. Although I’m far away, my interim country is not war-torn, and I won’t be dodging bombs or taking guard duty. I have many wonderful experiences across more oceans to which I’m looking forward, and these dreams justify the distance. I know that occasional homesickness is what a traveler trades for adventure, and after all, it’s only fair. I’m lucky to have a reason to long for the faces and hearts of home. All in all, there is much to be thankful for. And That’s what it’s all about, right? Wishing you a happy new year, and a Seoulful Christmas. Ha! Sorry, couldn’t resist.

written by  alli_ockinga on December 12, 2009 from Seoul, South Korea
from the travel blog: I go Korea!
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PUNS! The best Christmas gifts ever. They're the gifts that keep on giving all year long, don't ya know?

The holidays make me sappy and sentimental (you've seen the Facebook pictures by now of our apartment, I'm sure) and so of course I could go with the usual blah-blah-blah-I-miss-you shtick. But instead I'll just let you in on the fact that you can a) watch Charlie Brown and Linus debate the meaning of Christmas for free on hulu.com and b) watch Garfield and Odie Christmas-it-up in awkward, sliced up portions as videos on Youtube. Ah, our childhood on the internet. It's a pseudo-miracle! Love you.

written by  Ryan on December 13, 2009

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