A record for Christmas

How I bridge cultural gaps, break language barriers, and survive the Christmas crowds

Photo by The Retro Store on Unsplash

I grew up in the southern hemisphere, where Christmas typically marks the beginning of the summer break. The thermostat in Buenos Aires in late December can easily hover around 40°C (104°F), with 100% humidity and not even the whisper of a breeze in sight.

I would always get a record for Christmas and spend the entire summer listening to it.

Buenos Aires on a typical summer day. Photo via mfron / iStock / Getty Images Plus

Perhaps it was the scorching heat, or the break from school, but the run-up to Christmas was, by and large, a lazy exercise in waiting. Waiting for that one record which would become my summer buddy.

Christmas nowadays is a world apart. Armed with my winter coat, scarf, hat and gloves, I run around central London like a maniac, rushing to get to work, meetings, appointments, and the obligatory Christmas drinks, while zigzagging the hordes of tourists obsessed with the Christmas lights at Piccadilly Circus (the Times Square of London, so to speak).

I know the lights are pretty, but my office is just around the corner, and December is mayhem (in all respects)

The contrast with my childhood is so stark that I can’t tell what is due to geography, what is cultural, and what is simply being an adult and having responsibilities.

Thanks to this duality, though, I often feel simultaneously comfortable with traditions that, put together, might feel quite odd, like fireworks on Christmas Eve, or wearing the most ridiculous Christmas jumper (sweater) during formal legal signings while keeping a straight face.

This adaptability is an asset, but it also means I don’t fully belong anywhere. People born and bred in London have asked me where I learned Spanish to be able to translate legal documents (it was actually English, not Spanish, that I learned as a second language).

I can sort of camouflage, yes, but I’m also the only one wearing an extra layer indoors and pumping up the heating.

Photo by The Retro Store on Unsplash

If I hate shopping in general, you can imagine I find Christmas shopping exasperating.

My husband and I often take a short flight to see his family and we buy presents at the eleventh hour. We are both very busy, but it’s also one of our little traditions.

During that mad Christmas shopping run, he usually asks me what I want for Christmas. Obligatory Mariah jokes aside, my replies are evasive and vague.

Oh, I don’t know…

… there’s no need, really…

… you can take something else, like our next dinner out or something…

… I guess I do need a new…

… nah, forget it, too much hassle…

… we don’t have a lot of time…

Tell you what. A record. That’s it. Sorted.

Photo by The Retro Store on Unsplash

I can’t say I have lived a long life, not just yet, seeing as I’m among the youngest in most record collector circles I can think of. But trust me, in this short life of mine, I have seen more change than some people experience in their entire lifetime.

Getting a record for Christmas is perhaps the only bridge between that sizzling Latin heat and this icy northern frost.

Does it mean I’m still a child at heart? Or does it mean I was a very adult child? Probably both. I can’t really tell where one ends and the other begins.

Wherever you are, and however it may find you, I hope you have a great Christmas, and that you get a record too.

Happy spinning, and merry Christmas.