Greetings and Merry Christmas!

We're in a land which does something a bit differently than we do in the United States these days: they don't seem to fear using the word "Christmas." Seems that particular strain of political correctness has not caught on here, and I must say, it's a warm and nostalgic feeling to have everyone wishing us Merry Christmas everyday rather than the bland and meaningless "Happy Holidays." I do, of course, give serious nod to the complexity of the situation, given that the US, and at this point the world, is a multi-cultural, multi-religious collection of folks. So while hearing "Merry Christmas!" makes me feel good, we want to wish a belated Happy Hanukah to our family and friends who celebrate the Jewish holidays, and not leave out anyone who might also celebrate Ramadan, Kwanzaa, or a nice, simple secular holiday. So there: we're covered, and it only took 140 words or so.

Our time in Sydney was delightful, a bit of a vacation-away-from-vacation. It was good to have a room to spread out in, lots of hot water, a "large" (by my standards) kitchen, and no responsibilities for a few days. We enjoyed Sydney in a way I haven't before, as this time, I wasn't on a layover. We went to the zoo, to the Blue Mountains, to the Botanic Gardens for a picnic lunch on the lawn while we watched the lovely and entertaining fruit bats in the trees. We had some good family time with the gang on s/v Totem, and some good adult time with Jamie and Behan, the adults on Totem, for a dressy night out to a delicious Japanese restaurant. Norm took us on a tour of the north beaches of Sydney and up to Pittwater, as well as a visit to the Royal Prince Albert Yacht Club, where the main contender for this years' Sydney-Hobart Race, Wild Oats, was docked, awaiting the big Boxing Day launch. We got to know the bus and train systems, and our special little neighborhood of Cremorne, (which, if I'm not careful, will be spell-check-corrected to "Crematory") and now I have an affinity for the whole Neutral Bay-Cremorne-Mossman area on the north side of the bridge.

The flight back to Sanctuary Cove on the 23rd went well, and yesterday morning we caught up on laundry and grocery shopping, and I even had a chance to borrow Norm's car for a quick run to the chaotic outlet mall nearby for some Christmas presents for Allan. Last night we had an absolutely delightful Christmas Eve with Norm and his family at Clancy's, an Irish pub in the little mountain town of Tambourine Mountain. The rain fell heavily all day, making the holiday feel more authentic to those of us not used to Christmas in summer, and even though the air was very comfortable, I rather thought the fire should be blazing in Clancy's fireplace. The atmosphere was perfect for a cozy Christmas Eve, with the owner and his wife playing piano and guitar and singing traditional Irish folk songs as well as the '60s folk songs we all grew up with. Their kids were there for the first part of the evening, and young Clancy was at the microphone for a few songs while his sister climbed all over dad as he attempted to play the guitar. Finally I heard him say "I've got to get the kids to bed" and off they went, leaving his wife and her brother to keep up the casual entertainment. It was like being in someone's living room -- very comfortable, easy, warm, and full of family.

At one point, as I sang along nearby, they invited me to join in. Anyone who knows me can attest - this is a great Christmas present for the wanna-be singer I am. We played a few James Taylor songs and Allan got it all on camera, like a proud husband. Dinner was warm and hearty pub food: pate, steak and Guinness pie, bangers and mash. The rain fell and fell, the fog lay thick outside in the rainforest, and it was hard to know where we were. But as I say, no matter where you go, there you are, so it doesn't really matter. On the drive home, Kerrin and I sang every Christmas song we could think of while Jenny assisted on her I Phone with the words and a massive song list. The rain let up just enough to let us get back to the boat, where our little battery-operated Christmas tree valiantly held down the festive fort in an otherwise bland marina virtually devoid of life and cheer. Only Joe on the Catalina 375 has lights on his boat -- the marina focal point, for sure.

As I write it's Christmas morning here, and the rain has ceased, for now. The sky is getting a bit lighter, we may be through the worst of it, although I'd be happy to have it pour torrentially all day. We're planning a quiet Christmas on board: I'm roasting a turkey breast with cornbread stuffing that I've had on board since we left Oxnard (!), broccoli and sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie. At the market yesterday I asked if they had any pumpkin pies, and the woman looked at me like I was from Mars. In a land where the pumpkin is a major influence in many dishes - they put it in soups, on sandwiches, in pate's, smoothies, salads - she had never heard of the only thing we seem to do with pumpkin - put it in pies. So I bought a little pastry crust and will use the ancient Libby's can I've also had on board since Oxnard and see how it goes without cloves or nutmeg, and barely enough cinnamon. Later on Norm et al are stopping by for Second Dessert - pumpkin chocolate chip bread and the little mince pies that are popular here at Christmas.

We wish everyone the absolute best Christmas, the nicest Hanukah, the finest holiday season of all, and of course send our best wishes for a healthy and happy 2011. Next year we'll be back home, surrounded by family, with a big, giant turkey roasting in the big, giant oven in my big, giant, massive kitchen. Until then, we'll bask in the last days of our time on Fly Aweigh.