Discovering Winter Magic Where It Shouldn’t Be
By: Kristina Pytko (W ’28)
GRIP: Business in Sydney, Australia
If you told me back at Penn that my Google Calendar would be fuller on weekends in July than it ever was during the semester, I would’ve laughed out loud. Just like I would’ve never imagined myself celebrating Christmas with scarves, mulled wine, and the most Christmassy German treat, Stollen, in the middle of winter… in July.
But here I am, in Sydney, where the seasons are flipped and the unexpected quickly becomes the norm.
One of the most delightful and surprising cultural experiences I’ve had so far has been Christmas in July. Coming from the northern hemisphere, July has always meant sunscreen, iced tea, and maybe a trip to the beach, certainly not tinsel, gingerbread, and hot chocolate. But in Australia, July marks the middle of winter, and with it comes a cozy, glittering season of faux-Christmas cheer. The whole city leans into it: winter-themed pop-ups, festive markets, and streets filled with twinkling lights, the scent of mulled wine, and the melody of “Jingle Bells.”
My friend Laura and I decided to fully embrace the season, devoting more than just a single weekend to soaking in all the festive winter magic. It all began in late June, when a coworker told me, only half-jokingly, “You can’t survive an Aussie winter without a good wool scarf.” The next morning, inspired by her advice and feeling the unexpected chill in the air, I visited the merino wool shop she recommended and walked out with a beautifully crafted scarf from a local brand, something I never imagined needing in the middle of summer.
One evening we found ourselves at a Christmas-themed concert in a hotel courtyard, DJs in Santa hats spinning festive remixes. At the center of it all was a 20-meter snow slide, which, of course, I rode. And yes, it made me feel like I was five again. Another day, that same holiday spirit drew us to The Rocks, where a towering Christmas tree watched over a maze of market stalls. I ordered a hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles and wandered past stalls while my friend enjoyed her “Dubai-chocolate” chocolate-dipped strawberries. After the market, we walked to the Firepit Cinema, an open-air movie theater by the harbor lit with fairy lights and warmed by a fire. Six of us huddled under blankets, toasting marshmallows as “Moulin Rouge” flickered against the night sky. Carols floated over from nearby stalls, and beyond the screen the harbor glinted softly. Winter coziness set against coastal calm was unmistakably, irresistibly Australian.
Sydney’s winter has made me feel as if I’ve lived two seasons at once. One weekend I’m sun-soaked at Manly Beach in a T-shirt; the next I’m bundled in my new scarf heading to a Candlelight concert or the Opera House. That contrast made it feel like I’ve lived through a whole year’s worth of experiences in just two months. Somehow, time feels fuller than anywhere else in Australia.
What amazes me most is how effortlessly these contrasts coexist. Sydney offers the markets, concerts, and pop-ups of New York—minus the frantic pace. One minute you’re swept up in city buzz; ten minutes later you’re breathing salty ocean air or lounging on Observatory Hill watching the sunset. The city’s built‑in balance turns what could be an overwhelming amount of events into something grounding and deeply enjoyable.
I’ve realized that the best parts of living abroad come when I lean into the unfamiliar, whether that’s figuring out a new workplace system or celebrating a holiday six months early. These moments have taught me that joy, friendship, and growth in every sense often arrive when you’re not looking for them.