FROM TOKYO TO DUBAI

ASHLEIGH STEWART

By now, I’m fairly well adjusted to a Christmas spent in a country where it’s barely a day worth marking on the calendar.

Back home I’m the self-appointed Leslie Knope of Christmas – forever decorating, baking, and sprinkling unwanted Christmas cheer on the many Ron Swansons of my friends and family.

This has made it especially hard for a person who frequents countries who care little for Christmas – like Dubai where I am now – and all the sweaters and advent calendars it entails.

However, nothing quite compares to the shock I got when the festive season rolled around in 2011 while I was living in Tokyo.

In Japan, Christmas is actually a romantic holiday; one more akin to Valentine’s Day than a religious celebration, where the large man decked in red is nothing more than a weird Western custom.

At the time I was as single as they come, and so I hurriedly volunteered to work – suddenly I was totally OK with the fact it wouldn’t earn me a cent of extra pay, or a day in lieu.

Christmas Eve is more popular than the day itself too, meaning there’s a full 48 hours full of reminders that you’re single. Couples stroll down the streets taking selfies and showering each other with gifts, as you try to ignore everyone and everything that isn’t breakfast food, bacon or Asahi.

The only solace can be found in the Japanese Christmas day national dish: fried chicken.

It’s the busiest time of year for KFC, and chicken-crazed pundits prepare by placing orders at their local takeaways in advance – for once, a tradition I could actually get fully on board with.

But Japan is partial to bits of Western tradition, so you’ll still find Tokyo decked out in sporadic bursts of lights, decorations and Christmas trees – while my family scoffed Christmas ham under the pōhutukawas with Brenda “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” Lee blaring in the background over Skype, at least I had tinsel.

Despite its best efforts, though, Japanese people really don’t care. New Year is their big, familyoriented tradition and there’s the feeling they’d much rather hold out for that.

I’m told Dubai will be a similar scene.

From what my Kiwi friends here have told me about the festive season, it’s all but business as usual. Sure, in a city that’s 80 per cent expats, the malls and the odd house might jump aesthetically onboard with fairy lights, but you won’t see Mr Claus waving from any float.

What with Muslim culture forbidding two of my favourite Christmas ingredients – pork and alcohol – this year’s spread is also likely to be makeshift at best.

It might be nice to wake up to my first Christmas headache-free, however, as traditionally my Timaru cohort and I would mark the festive season by spending a particularly big night out on Christmas Eve – dancing to Wagon Wheel in The Sail. Luckily, I’ve got a clan of Kiwis here ready for an orphan’s feast full of date juice, tabbouleh and shish taouk.

I’m just hoping they’ll allow Wagon Wheel.