Jolly saint Nick, in the 1990s, Rovaniemi, Finland.

At Santa Claus’ home; the North Pole

It was cold, and dark, by the time we arrived, and it was only 3.30 p.m. Santa’s village spread out in front of us, lights twinkling in the late afternoon dark; while the fresh layer of snow glistened and sparkled like a million diamonds. Sunrise is at around 9.30 in the morning, and sunset at roughly 3.30 during December and January, so the short number of hours of daylight are precious. We were escorted to Santa’s office area, where everyone was in a jolly good mood. We were given a briefing on the town of Santa Claus, including a peek at the vast logistics operations behind making sure that everything is ready and in perfect shape on that most important day of the year, 24 December. The huge post office is an integral part of the village, as it is here where tens of thousands of letters arrive every year; and are replied to by Santa and his staff.

We took a tour of the the workshop, and came to realize how important this village is to the economy of the region. Not only do all those thousands of letters arrive here every year, an equally large number of visitors make their way to Santa’s village to see and experience and remember the magic (and perhaps even experience a moment of giddy anticipation as they had in childhood) for themselves. Our tour ended, and just at that moment, a giant door swung open and we were met by a tremendous burst of laughter of great cheer, and were ushered into Santa’s office. There were several stacks of letters and envelopes, all from the previous year, now carefully sorted and ready to be stored. We stood inside the door for a few moments, and I could have sworn that despite his great age of however many centuries, Santa didn’t look a day over 50. We were invited to have a seat, and for the next half hour we spoke with St. Nick about all the work that goes into keeping alive the hopes and dreams of thousands of children around the world. When we asked if we could possibly go to meet Rudolph, there was a hearty laugh, and we were told that we had already met him the previous day when we had gone on a sleigh ride with reindeer – “Rudolph is just too modest” was the comment when he saw our surprised looks. Indeed, when he mentioned it, I saw in a flash the lead reindeer of the previous day, and I was only a little bit upset with myself that I hadn’t had my picture taken with the most famous reindeer of them all.

Santa’s Village, Rovaniemi, Finland. (Photo courtesy of: https://www.santaclausvillage.info/

We ended our interview with Santa, and took our leave, happy that we would be able to share a little bit of the mystery of the north pole with our audience back home. Of course I would be remiss if I did not at least include the post office address for Santa, so here it is:

You can send a letter to Santa Claus using this address:
Santa Claus
Santa Claus Main Post Office
FI-96930 Arctic Circle
FINLAND

just make sure you put FINLAND in big capital letters underneath the address.

We set off for our accommodations for the evening as there was very little else we could do in the dark. The following day would see us participate in a few other events, at least one of which very few people would consider doing, and an event which was to cause me to become the first westerner to have his naked back end appear on Thai television uncensored, even unbeknownst to me until I actually saw the actual broadcast – talk about dying a thousands deaths….

Rudolph’s accommodation….

Em-bare-assed on Television

We woke relatively early the following morning, about 8 a.m. and went for breakfast – there really is very little else to do at the time of the day and in the dark. By the time breakfast was over and we were ready to venture out, it was light outside, and we made our way to a nearby village for some snowmobile riding lessons and an actual ride or two. Having grown up in Canada, riding a snowmobile was not that great a thrill for me; and I distinctly remember a few rides that were harrowing, while some others were absolutely wonderful. But for our Thai team and our Thai audience, the chance to rip around a race course on these machines was great fun, and we did get some good mileage out of the segment when it aired. After the cold of the snowmobiles, there is nothing better, according to Finnish wisdom, than to sweat for 10 minutes or so in a wood-fired sauna, with loads of steam, before dashing out into the cold weather outside and plunging into an ice cold lake through a hole that has been cut through a meter of ice. In for a penny, in for a pound. We had enjoyed the snowmobiles, now it was time to prove we could also enjoy the dubious pleasures of alternating searing heat and icy cold. There was a minor problem, one which I did not foresee until it was too late. Having not brought a pair of swimming trunks, I decided I would just use the towel wrapped around my waist and enjoy the heat of the sauna, without taking the plunge into the ice cold water after – my producer had different thoughts.

John and I sat in the sauna and were slowly baked, all the while being told how good this would be for our health. The ten-minute limit was up, and there was a rap on the door; time to go to the ice pool. I grumbled and urged John to go ahead, but I was cajoled into getting out of the sauna and join the second part of the health treatment. I swung a jacket around my shoulders, put on a pair of boots, and in this fashion, towel wrapped around my waist, made my way to the hole in the ice. Luckily the camera was behind me and focused on John, as he had to say a few lines to camera to talk about the why and whatfore of the sauna and ice bath. I made my way to the hole in the ice, took off the boots, threw down the jacket, and slowly placed my feet on the ladder at the edge of the ice. I looked behind me and saw the camera still pointing in the opposite direction – what I didn’t see was the assistant director giving a heads-up to the crew. I figured all was safe, and took off the towel and tossed it behind me before taking a second to screw up my courage before plunging in.

The few seconds before…

The plunge…

The. Water. Was. Freezing. The tremendous shock in temperature difference must have been what kept my heart beating. Luckily I didn’t go under and I kept my head and hair dry. I moved my arms to keep afloat and tread water for a few moments. The camera crew had arrived, and on the edge stood John, waiting for me to get out of the water so that he could take the plunge. I reached for the ladder, and then realized with a shock that I was wearing nothing, and the camera was trained on me, as were the stares of my female producer and assistant producer. I made a tentative step up the ladder, and John must have realized my predicament, for at that very moment he grabbed my towel from somewhere near him and held it up right at the edge of the water at the stairs, blocking the camera and the stares from the bystanders. I hurried up the ladder and grabbed the towel. As I set foot on a solid surface, I turned around and hitched the towel properly into place before turning around again and with as much nonchalance as I could muster, made my way back to the heat of the steaming sauna – I couldn’t tell whether my colour was due to embarrassment or the steam. As I was making my way to the sauna, I heard a yelp from behind me, John had taken the plunge and found the water as disbelievingly cold as I had, and only a few moments later he had also come back up, made one or two short remarks, and strode back to the sauna.

…and the naked truth

It was a few years later, when I was doing an interview for another television program, that my twist and turn with the towel was actually aired – it had been cut from the original episode, but the footage had been saved. And while we were talking about my career as an actor in Thailand and the various countries we had visited when I was working on the travel program, a short review reel was shown. I had no idea what was coming. I sat and watched a few benign scenes from some series, and I chuckled at a few before I suddenly froze and turned beat red, for there, in ambush, came the scene of me at the edge of the ice, removing my boots, tossing my jacket aside, and my final glance behind me before tossing off the towel – that split second (or what I had thought was only a split second) became the moment of my undoing, for there, amidst all the whiteness of the snow that covered the surrounding countryside, an object paler than the moon itself appeared for a few moments before following two milk-white legs into the dark depths of an icy pool in the arctic circle of Finland.