One of the hardest things about being an expat is being away from home for the holidays.  It is double hard when it’s Miles’ first Christmas.  Triple hard when we won’t have any family here on the BIG DAY (pain eased by plans of family visitors next week!!!).  Quadruple hard (you get the point) when there is no chance of snow, cold, or even a cool enough breeze to make us think about wearing a long sleeved cover up over the bikini, let alone a fuzzy sweater.  But we’ll get through it.

This could have been a great picture if the rickshaw driver was also a good photographer.

We improvise.  Our “tree” is a tropical houseplant.  Santa will arrive in a rickshaw being pulled by 8 monitor lizards.  And on the night before Christmas, (hopefully) not a creature will be stirring, not even a sewer rat or a drunk-off-shift-Bollywood-blaring security guard who likes to hang out 7 floors below our bedroom window in the very wee hours with his buddies, Johnnie Walker and his Honda.  On Christmas day, we plan to have lunch at one of Tim’s colleague’s home followed by a playdate in the park for the other displaced expats and their little ones.

Miles and Santa did NOT get along

It should be a good time.  But not good enough to take the place of Christmas at home, snow, Pearl Street, Pasta Jay’s or Bill Knapp’s (RIP), snowmobiles, fire in the fireplace, cinnamon rolls, a REAL pine tree, and no where near replacing the thing we miss most: family.  It’s a homesick holiday this year.  We miss you!

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