dreaming of a white-sand christmas

For Thanksgiving, our group of Americans in Wellington put together a
feast and invited the internationals: my flatmates (two Germans, an
Aussie and a Brit) as well as a couple of New Zealanders.
I didn't have the proper equipment to fry a turkey as I would have
preferred, but the turkey turned out fine regardless. We threw in
some stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole (I don't know
why) and a reasonable facsimile of candied yams. Instead of yams, we
used Kumura, a New Zealand sweet potato.
The internationals were mostly bemused by the situation. Why did we
feel the need to cook more food than we could possible eat on a
Thursday night? And why did we add brown sugar and marshmellows to a
vegtable? But the food was good, even the dishes I made that I'd
never eaten, much less cooked, before. The company was good, and
everyone had a merry time late into the evening.

I won't get to repeat the occasion on Christmas. Kirsten and I are
taking a little more than two weeks off from Wellington to travel
around the South Island during the height of New Zealand's summer.
We're going as south as we can get, or at least that's the plan,
exploring the southern coast and Stewart Island (which hangs just off
the bottom of the South Island). We haven't actually set our
itinerary, but there will be mountains, the coast, several towns, and
whatever lies in between.
We've borrowed a car from a friend who will be spending the holidays
at home in Scotland. We'll have a tent and some sleeping bags, even
though we don't have a plan.
And I don't know what we'll do for Christmas or New Years. Perhaps a
beach for Christmas. At least a day spent somewhere, rather than
driving the holiday away.
It's not the first time I've been away from friends and family on
Christmas - last year was the first time I'd spent Christmas with my
family since 2000 - although most years I have gone back to Montana
for at least a few days in January.
I don't think Kirsten's missed a Christmas. Although she professes
not to enjoy the trappings of the holiday, we'll see how the day goes.
No matter what happens, it can't be worse than the first Christmas I
spent away from home. That was my final day of an internship for the
Birmingham (Alabama) News. I drove an hour and a half south to
Montgomery to cover a football game, and had Christmas dinner at
Waffle House. (Completing an odd pair - I'd also spent that
Thanksgiving at Waffle House, unintentionally, after my car broke
down driving back to Birmingham from Montgomery).
To the best of my knowledge, there are no Waffle Houses in New Zealand.