"Christmas makes me think of oranges," a student in the Czech Republic once told me. "During Communism it was the only time of year you could ever get them." My Czech Christmas meant carp and cold beer, and an afternoon train from Roudnice to the market in Prague, where I wandered aimlessly around the city centre along with several thousand tourists. In South Korea, I had Christmas dinner in a shopping mall chain restaurant, served by waitresses in Santa hats, and was back to work the very next day. I was a fortnight too late to celebrate in Sicily, and always left too early to see it in Japan.
Merry Christmas everyone, wherever you are.