Merry Christmas

McMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA

It is Monday morning and I am nursing a cup of strong coffee, struggling to pay attention to another safety meeting that has little to do with my job, and skirting any real issues that plague the station. It is another start to a work week like any other. Christmas has come and gone at McMurdo. Meanwhile, 12,000 miles away, on the other side of the International Date Line, my niece and nephew are swimming in an ocean of wrapping paper, no doubt giddy over the heaps of goodies Santa has left under the Christmas tree.

The holiday season lasts less than week here, and our time off of work is a mere two days- an average weekend in the states, but twice the weekly days off we usually get. It is true that just shortly after thanksgiving the lineman are seen bolting wooden Christmas decorations to the power poles, but aside from that, there is little sign of the coming holiday until a few days before Christmas, when the Waste Management department drags their equipment out of their oversized, dilapidated Quonset hut, and erects a stage for the annual acoustic Christmas show. Oversized pieces of salvaged cardboard line the walls and spray painted with snowflakes and Christmas trees.  Rows of old couches and chairs are set up, and in the front, at the foot of the stage, crazy creek chairs borrowed from the field center are strewn about a carpet of cardboard, protecting the floor-sitters from the decades of stale beer and rotting food juice that line the floor. On Wednesday, I crowded in among friends with whom I have celebrated the last several Christmases, in awe, as always, of the incredible musical talent that seems to accumulate at the bottom of the world. 

The work week officially ended on Friday afternoon, with a white elephant gift exchange. Friday night was the annual town holiday party, in a venue not much fancier than the waste barn. This time the Vehicle Maintenance Facility plays host to the large gathering. Vehicles and hoists were cleared out, in their place, a stage, a bar, and a few clusters of couches. The choir started that evening off with Christmas carols. In one corner, a small line formed to take pictures with Santa who looked suspiciously like one of the IT guys. Tables were scattered about with Christmas cookies and hors d’oeuvres, and on one wall a projector played a slideshow of family pictures contributed by community members. The slideshow was inevitably made up mostly of dogs and children, with a smattering of tropical vacation scenes, hiking snapshots, and photos of family gatherings back home.

The highlight of my holiday weekend, however, was sleeping past 10 am two days in a row! It has been weeks since I have felt remotely well rested. Work days drag into the evening, and I often skate into the galley for dinner mere minutes before it closes. I look at the date on my last post and am shocked to see that it was thanksgiving weekend when I last wrote. I have thought often of writing, about the craft fair and the amazing artistic talent here, or the long awaited decision on a new contractor for the next ten years, or the latest developments with the melting ice pier. But best intentions have fallen flat, plowed under by exhaustion and more pressing needs. Here’s hoping for a January that is calmer and quieter, and allows for a bit more breathing room, and things like writing and running and hiking, favorites largely absent from December.