Christmas Between Two Worlds

As a Thai massage therapist living and working in New Zealand, every Christmas I feel the distance between two cultures; sometimes gently, sometimes sharply. December here arrives with long days, bright light, and a summer heat that feels unfamiliar to my body. In Thailand, Christmas is not a season of stopping. It is simply another warm month, another set of working days, another time when life continues to flow without ceremony.

In Thailand, Christmas is mostly decorative. Shopping centres have spectacular displays, many hotels also have displays & play Western carols, and that is all. There is no collective pause. No long conversations about family gatherings, no emotional weight placed on a single day. Massage work continues quietly. Clients come for relief, not reflection.

In New Zealand, Christmas is different. It carries expectation. It is filled with memory, pressure, nostalgia, and exhaustion. I feel this most clearly through my customers.

In Thailand, clients rarely speak during a massage. Silence is respect. The body speaks instead—through breath, tension, and release. The therapist is not asked personal questions. My life is separate from my work.

In New Zealand, Christmas opens people up. Clients talk more in December. They share stories about family dinners, travel stress, grief, loneliness, and the weight of the year ending. Some are cheerful, others heavy. Many apologise for talking, but I understand—it is part of how people here process emotion.

New Zealand customers are also more curious. They ask where I am from, whether Christmas feels strange to me, whether I miss Thailand. In Thailand, such questions would be unusual. Here, they come from kindness, but they still remind me that I am between worlds.

There is also a difference in how care is received. In Thailand, massage is maintenance. It is normal, expected, and woven into daily life. In New Zealand, massage—especially at Christmas—becomes a gift, a reward, or an act of self-kindness at the end of a hard year. People arrive not only with tight muscles, but with tired minds.

As a therapist, I adapt. I soften my presence. I listen more. I allow space for conversation when it is needed, and silence when it is not. Christmas here has taught me that massage can be emotional as well as physical.

When Christmas Day arrives, I do not celebrate in the way many New Zealanders do. I rest quietly. I cook Thai & Western food. I call home. I remind myself that it is okay to belong to two cultures without fully fitting into either.

Working through the Christmas season in New Zealand has taught me something important: healing looks different in different places. In Thailand, it is routine and quiet. In New Zealand, it is personal and reflective—especially at the end of the year.

Both are valid. Both are human. And as a Thai massage therapist far from home, I carry a little of each culture in my hands.

—-Wārin Than-antha

Certified Thai Massage Therapist

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