SCHOLARSHIP DAY 118: Dan's Christmas Message from America

In this long and epic travelling chronicle, through the most world renowned cities, and the lost and bygone neighbourhoods of America, I have experienced first-hand the diversification of this truly wonderful country. A country with a comparatively short history, but one that is as rich as any other nation that settles on this phenomenal planet. I've always believed the best traveller embodies the spirit of a sponge; willing to absorb anything that falls in their path, whether it's an inspiring culture or a mesmerizing landscape. Along with your luggage and personal possessions, you carry a spirit of inquisitiveness, a longing for thrill and a thirst for exploration.

There are moments in great journeys which make you feel right at home; a cup of hot cocoa before turning in, a song on the wireless that inspires childhood memories, maybe a painting or an extract of poetry. In a similar regard, the contrary can occur; there are episodes in an adventure that make the explorer feel far away from the comforts of their friends and family.

As I gaze up to stare at the familiar emblems of this festive season, sitting in a room burnished with the symbols of this holy season, I am made aware of the internationality of the Christmas story. It's a narrative woven together over centuries; a tale that has voyaged far and wide through a multitude of cultures and traditions across the world. Christmas unites the world in a way little else does, and today as I enjoy a day off to enjoy the American traditions, I rest comforted with the knowledge that in my home country, the family and friends I cherish so much are celebrating it as well.

However, as I imagine chestnuts roasting on my family's open fire, and Jack Frost nipping at the noses of friends and colleagues, the very fact that I am not beside an open fire and greeting Mr Frost myself  is one that leaves me feeling far away from what I have come to know as tradition. I greet passing pedestrians through avenues and streets, not snugly enveloped by woollen jumpers and scarves, but adorning brightly patterned shorts and short sleeved T-shirts. I negotiate my way through a city not afflicted by a perishing frost, but by the beam of daily sunshine.  Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby sing their infamous tunes, with the same melody and the same rhythm, but not to the same atmosphere. An agreeable aroma of roasting turkey is floating through the hostel kitchen, but my mother isn't there cooking it. A bottle of speciality red wine perches on the counter, but where is my father doing the honours? It's 3:00pm, the television is on, but where's the Queen and her joyful message?

Christmas, I've come to believe, isn't just a date on the calendar. It isn't just a time when we festoon the lounge, sing carols and yank at crackers. It isn't the just the period for opening presents and making a monumental mess of the lounge floor with shreds of wrapping paper, or an excuse for the most guiltless self indulgence. Christmas is a feeling. Something that can't be explained with mere words, but with emotion and sentiment. And it's being thousands of miles away from friends and family at this time of year, that arouses this feeling the most. Out of everything I miss from the UK, this Christmas period is certainly one of the foremost.

I wish all my readers a very Merry Christmas and hope that, wherever you are in the world, your wishes come true.