Life

Jake O'Kane: My tip for seeing Santa in the 'North Pole' is, if there's no snow, don't go

My surprise after being told by my wife that we were off to see Santa was compounded when I discovered our destination was Finland and not the North Pole. My wife explained that due to global warming, Santa had been forced to relocate south

Santa Claus takes a breather – the lack of snow in parts of Lapland so far this year has caused some concern
Santa Claus takes a breather – the lack of snow in parts of Lapland so far this year has caused some concern Santa Claus takes a breather – the lack of snow in parts of Lapland so far this year has caused some concern

MANY parents and children are rightly worried that their ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ trip to visit Santa this weekend will be a let-down due to there being no snow in Lapland.

At the time of writing, travel agents are refusing to cancel the trips even though many of the planned activities revolve around the need for snow. As someone who has already taken the trip, I’d argue that if these families get a full refund, they may come to view not going as a blessing.

My surprise after being told by my wife that we were off to see Santa a few years back was compounded when I discovered our destination was Finland and not the North Pole where I was always told Santa lived. When I pointed out this anomaly in front of our children, my exasperated wife panicked and explained that due to global warming and the melting ice cap, Santa had been forced to relocate south. The reports this month of no snow in his new home may necessitate yet another move for him.

Our one-day trip involved an early flight from Belfast International Airport into Rovaniemi in northern Finland, situated on the Arctic Circle. As families gathered in the airport, I began to feel a bit of the festive spirit kick in. This didn’t last long as once on the plane, we were handed into the care of ‘Santa’s Little Helpers’.

These ‘helpers’ were young women whose accents suggested that they originated somewhere in the English midlands. Having obviously failed in their life’s ambition of handing out markers at their local bingo hall, they’d settled for working as Santa’s helpers, the nearest any of them would ever get to show business.

No sooner had the plane lifted from the tarmac than one enthusiastic ‘helper’ launched into a one-woman sing-song. Having someone with absolutely no musical ability screaming The Twelve Days Of Christmas via a cheap loudspeaker in the confined space of a plane had me wishing I was back on a past flight to the US where I’d endured 10 hours sitting beside a baby with croup.

By the ‘…five gold rings’ verse, I was praying the pilot would announce an emergency landing. What seemed like an eternity later, as our Santa singer reached ‘12 drummers drumming’, I’d a real appreciation of what detainees at Guantanamo Bay had endured during torture sessions when they had Nellie The Elephant played at them incessantly.

From Rovaniemi airport, we were bussed to a ‘changing area’, where we were rushed into changing into snowsuits and snow boots; the ensuing melee looked like a mad Arctic pyjama party.

From there it was another short bus journey to Santa’s Village, which turned out to be a couple of fields in a wilderness of snow and cold. There we enjoyed such amusements as being dragged around on sleighs pulled by forlorn reindeer. Eventually, after standing around in temperatures of -17C, we were told Santa was ready for us.

As we approached his house I could tell something was wrong. Evil-looking elves were positioned all around, watching. It reminded me more of North Korea than the North Pole. Once inside, it was obvious Santa wasn’t happy; he’d lost weight and his beard had fallen out due to stress and had been replaced with a naff cotton wool one.

Yet even under these conditions, Santa did his best with the kids, with his ho, ho, hos and ‘Have you been a good boy this year?’ routine. His superhuman efforts couldn’t hide the fact he was a man being held against his will.

Yes, I’m convinced Santa’s been kidnapped by a gang of rogue elves, and is being forced to work in subhuman conditions. I’ve forwarded my suspicions to Interpol, MI5, and the PSNI and demand immediate action is taken to free the Santa 1.

For the purposes of balance, I must admit that neither my wife nor children seemed to notice any of the annoyances I’ve mentioned. Maybe you have to either be a child, or have the innocence of a child, to fully appreciate the wonder of such a trip.

The one thing which rescued the trip for everyone was of course – you’ve guessed it – the snow. Which brings me back to my original point. For travel agents to argue they can guarantee a wonderful day in Lapland with no snow is akin to them guaranteeing a wonderful beach holiday with no sand. The answer is simple, if there’s no snow, don’t force families to go.