Page 23 of A Winter in Wonderland
Chapter 11
Later that morning, after a buffet breakfast of porridge, rye bread and omelettes, we employees found ourselves back at the Santa Claus Village once again.
Daan explained that the morning was ours to explore, to help us really get into the Christmas spirit that would be invaluable for us over the next couple of months. And then, he said, he had a surprise for us in the afternoon.
Uh-oh.
The group split into smaller gatherings, and I latched onto the one that included Josh for no reason other than he was the only one I kind of knew.
First, we went inside the Santa Claus Main Post Office, open all year round.
‘Look at this,’ said Josh, stopping in front of a chalkboard sign after we stepped into the cosy-warm log cabin building. ‘Santa can get thirty thousand letters a day atChristmastime. He has about half a million sent to him here from all over the world.’
‘No wonder he needs elves to help him,’ I quipped.
Our group was recommended to write cards for loved ones back home that would then bear the special Arctic Circle postmark. So, to get into the spirit of things, I picked a large card with Santa’s smiling face on it, and settled onto one of the benches, the scent of wood all around me, and wrote a quick note to Shay.
Dear Sister,
Merry Christmas from the most festive place on earth. I can’t believe I’m here.
Love from,
You know who.
One of the Post Office elves kindly helped me as I stood hovering beside the two post boxes, trying to decide which to put my card into.
‘The yellow ones will be sent off today, they are like normal post, but if you put it in the red box your card will be held until Christmas and sent then. Which would you prefer?’
‘I think … I think I want to send it to my sister now,’ I replied, and stuffed it into the box, offering a thankful smile to the lady.Everyone is so kind here.
From there, we crunched back over the snow and went inside Mrs Santa Claus’ Christmas Cottage, where the lady herself was inside and fed us gingerbread. Her cottage wasbeside the reindeer, so I waved hello to the friend I made last night as I passed. Or at least, I waved at a reindeer that looked a lot like the reindeer from yesterday. As did they all.
We then found our way to a tiny cabin called Roosevelt Cottage, which was the very first building at Santa Claus Village and contained photos and memorabilia from when Eleanor Roosevelt visited in the summer of 1950.
And finally, we crossed back over the square, wide and open and empty of the stage that had been there the night before, and entered the Santa Claus Office.
‘Hello!’ Out from behind a corner sprang a man. Sorry, an elf. He was dressed in green and red felt, with a pointed hat and a smiling face. I glanced at Josh, and wondered if this was what he would look like soon. ‘Would you like to meet Santa Claus?’
‘Yes!’ the others chorused just as I said, ‘No, that’s OK.’
Everyone turned to me so I added, flustered, ‘I just mean, not if he’s busy, or if we’d be making any little kids wait around in the cold or anything.’
‘Santa is never too busy to meet with his friends,’ the elf said, and beckoned us to come with him.
We followed a series of darkly lit corridors and stairs decorated with clocks and decorations and gift-wrapped presents, a chart explaining the Earth’s Rotational Speed Regulator, a Wall of Fame showing Santa hosting some well-known guests. I could well imagine that seven-year-old me would have felt her excitement growing with every step. Even late-twenties me could feel the intrigue, though I hated to admit it.
But when we rounded the corner and met Santa Claus himself, I felt like a fraud. My heart was thudding and I stayed at the back, and I’m sure you could one hundred per cent tell from the group photo that there was panic in my eyes. As my colleagues chatted to him and laughed and posed, I focused on my breathing, a fixed smile on my face, forcing myself to remember in intricate detail the plot ofPretty Little Liarsinstead of letting my thoughts spiral elsewhere.
‘You know,’ Santa was saying to our group, ‘here in Finland, Santa leaves the presents for the children to find on Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day. So Christmas Eve is a very exciting day here in Lapland. But then, so is every day.’ He laughed with aho ho hoand caught my eye. ‘But no matter how exciting, everybody can feel a little nervous meeting Santa Claus.’
I blinked and smiled, and with the tiniest nod he moved on to asking questions from the others.
As soon as I feasibly could, I broke from the group and headed for the gift shop, where the wooden walls were painted red and the big man’s face emblazoned everything from ornaments to socks to sweatshirts and chocolate bars. It was so warm in here I almost didn’t want to leave, but also, the extreme festiveness was making my head hurt, so I ventured back outside into the frosty air.
A short while later, Daan had us pile onto a bus, and when we stopped again five minutes down the road, outside a place called SantaPark, he looked extremely pleased with himself.
‘OK, I know only some of you will be working as elvesover in Luosto, but I have arranged for something special for everyone this afternoon.’
