Christmas around the country
Feliz Navidad from the desert: What it's like to spend the holidays in Phoenix
We, your faithful servants at CultureMap, have spread out across the country for our annual holiday traditions. I, myself, have landed once more in Phoenix, the city I departed in 2008 when fortune invited me back to Austin for another go-round.
My generous, welcoming parents now live in a suburb of Phoenix called Gilbert, which is next to Mesa where I spent my junior high and high school years. Everyone in Texas seems to know someone who retired in Mesa, and nearby Scottsdale is where Texans have heard of big name celebrities going shopping if they ever stopped in Arizona.
Right now, the weather in Gilbert is incredible. Leaving behind the gray skies and freezing rain at Austin-Bergstrom, I’m happy to brag that it is currently 60 degrees outside and the sun is keeping its silent, relentless posture in a clear blue sky.
The Arizona sun leaves behind the most colorful sunsets you’ll ever see in the U.S., thanks to the ever-growing pollution problem here in the Valley. Factually, as allergies get worse, the sunsets just get prettier and prettier.
So, yeah, the weather is nice. Not like what you have learned to expect about Christmas from movies or greeting cards, but infinitely better for us thin-blooded namby-pambys. In my parents’ home, the heat is cranked way up to accommodate the “cold snap.”
Perhaps to make up for the lack of snow, the most popular outdoor decorations for houses are hanging icicle lights. People string multi-colored strands of lights around their cacti. Inflatable Santas and Frostys populate many rock-strewn yards. It’s quaint in it’s own regard.
One year, our relatives from Minnesota came to spend Christmas with us in our old home in Mesa. They just could not get over the logical disconnect of a winter without snow. They played golf on Christmas Day because they could; we ate tacos for the novelty of it.
The suburbs creep out ever further east toward the Superstitions Springs Mountains, devouring former farms and desert landscape. Again, the vistas are spectacular, and the subdivisions are often named after them.
A Midwest friend once commented about visiting Phoenix: “I loved seeing Phoenix…’s parking lots.” That’s because there are so many of them. Everywhere you look, there’s a gas station, a strip mall, a big box retailer and another gas station. (Three gas stations on one street corner is the most I’ve ever seen.)
But you need all these parking spaces to accommodate all of the Chevy Suburbans and other seven or more passenger vehicles that are clamoring to get to The Olive Garden. Especially during the holidays, the mall parking lots are gloriously stuffed to the brim with caution-to-the-wind Christmas shoppers.
That is, of course, if you’re at one of the fancier malls around Phoenix like the old money Scottsdale Fashion Square Mall or the nouveau riche Chandler Fashion Square. Or how about the outdoor Santan Village! (We Arizonans love an outdoor mall! You can eat fro-yo in front of a fire!)
We would rather not talk about the whole “Fiesta Mall Area,” however. Despite being in the heart of the city of Mesa, and in close proximity to my old high school, this five mile radius is the perfect example of what happens when a city keeps recklessly expanding outward, always on to the next new thing.
The further the suburbs expand, the longer it takes to get anywhere in the city. Without traffic, it takes about two and a half hours to take the Loop 202 around the city. But when are you ever going to see the 202 without traffic?
I grew up never realizing there was anything cool happening downtown, and West Phoenix (“The Avenues”) was just a funny concept that you only saw from afar as you drove the eight hours to L.A.
Turns out, downtown Phoenix is working hard to become a legitimate draw for the adventurous people of the Valley. I’ve even heard rumors of a pack of roving food trailers.
Turns out, downtown Phoenix is working hard to become a legitimate draw for the adventurous people of the Valley. I’ve even heard rumors of a pack of roving food trailers. The artsy, the alternative and the Democratic tend to gravitate toward this area in the hopes of finding other creative, anti-Jan Brewer types.
Illogically split down the center by the I-10 freeway, downtown Phoenix now boasts a thriving campus for Arizona State University and some fantastic food, drink and entertainment options. The biggest problem is, however, due to traffic and parking, only those living downtown really ever experience them.
Local support and community pride are mostly foreign concepts in a city this wide and vast. Most of its inhabitants are transplants either from the Midwest, wanting to escape the snow, or from California, wanting to escape the traffic and the mortgages.
Still, during the holidays, everyone here has shown a grin-and-bear-it kindness. While out shopping for last minute stocking stuffers, it seemed that every business was open and flourishing.
I asked every store employee how their days had been, and they all expressed surprise at how cheerful every customer had been so far. In each store, they would still be working until six.
Undoubtedly, my years in snowless Phoenix have altered my perceptions of Christmas. None of my favorite Christmas songs involve descriptions of weather. Movies set during the holiday don’t ring as sincere with me. And, yes, a reason to wear scarves would be nice.
But you also can't beat the joy of relaxing on an outdoor patio in December, prickly-pear margarita in hand, watching the hurried masses rush by to exchange their unwanted Christmas gifts.