After two days of travel, three flights, a nine-hour layover, and three hours of driving during my school-provided vacation time, I was ready for some real rest. On December 19, 2022, my holiday finally began. I sat on a beach in the Lake District of Chile in 80-degree weather, feeling icy waves graze my feet—a complete transformation from the chaos that unfolded in the past three days. The thought of Christmas, a mere six days away, had no place in my mind. 

When I think of a “traditional Christmas,” I imagine houses blanketed in snow, big pine trees decorated with fragile ornaments in every color, and holiday cheer throughout the neighborhood. I reminisce on having an almost-traditional Christmas in past years, with tall pine trees and lights lining houses—and 90-degree weather—but this year, nothing felt “Christmas-y,” especially the mood. Typically around this time of year, my mind would usually be full of gifting ideas and holiday recipes, but in Chile, the thoughts in my brain consisted mostly of card game strategies and weather tracking (to find out the warmest times to swim).

Instead of counting down the days until Christmas with countless stamp/puzzle/charm bracelet advent calendars, this holiday season—without focusing on the central holiday—made me feel much more connected to my family.

While I am usually around only two people constantly—my mother and sister—there were many new people to be around in Chile. I spent time with my grandmother, two cousins, and a family that permanently lived on the property.

As I spent my days sleeping in late and resting on beaches, I found myself allocating more free time to spend with my sister and the four children that lived on the property. After I got my fill of being alone, my days were packed with card games, badminton, and stargazing with a group of people that made me feel like me. I was free from the pressures surrounding making plans with friends and free to spend my time in whatever way I saw fit. I was able to be myself, without the worries of meeting odd family members or eating too much food—my normal holiday fears—and my new worries concerned the mere week that we had left in this new paradise until it was over.

Without the pressure of packing my schedule with Santa meet-and-greets and strolls around decorated neighborhoods, I was able to grasp the true meaning of the holiday season: having time to rest with the people you love. 

When the big day finally came, I came into the living room of the main house to be greeted by a small green spiky bush that looked like one of many shrubs I saw back in California. My grandmother had cut clippings off of trees in the area and put them into a vase to get the illusion of a miniature Christmas tree, perfectly sized for the three dogs that roamed the property. 

There were gifts under the tree, but many of them were not for members of my family. We brought and wrapped clothes that no longer fit us to give to the kids that lived on the property, along with a few store-bought gifts, badminton birdies, and books. My sister and I each got one or two gifts, but my pair of socks was more than enough for me. 

Going into another holiday season, I hope to take memories of this trip with me and think of the holiday season as more than just its traditional activities. My closed mindset towards this time of year made me oblivious to deeper meanings of the holidays, but through this trip I was able to grasp more than I could before. 

In the year since the trip, I’ve tried to input this objective mindset into daily activities, focusing on taking care of myself and people I love over all else—while still maintaining an open mind. Even in the smallest occasions like trying new foods, I’ve found myself more willing to go outside of my regular choices to experience something new. Overall, it has brought me much more good than harm. I have tried countless other foods, television shows, and experiences, and I have felt so much more free to try impulsive things and trust my own choices.

While I will treasure my artistic socks until they are unwearable, the memories and impacts of this seemingly untraditional holiday trip will last me longer than any piece of clothing ever could.