The Aussie Holiday List
Author – Shreshta Chandra Shekar
Hi! I’m Max (well, you can call me Max the Explorer), and I’m 10 years old. I live in Australia, where we have some pretty epic Australian holidays every year. Some come with fireworks, some with chocolate, and some with way too many sausages. I thought I’d take you through the coolest ones—Max style. So grab your sunnies and let’s go!
Boom Goes the Sky! (New Year’s Day – January 1)
Okay, so New Year’s Eve is, hands down, one of the coolest nights of the whole year. It’s like the grown-ups finally decide to let us stay up past bedtime on purpose—and not just for five more minutes. I mean, it’s a legit night mission. Even Mum doesn’t tell me to brush my teeth until way later than usual.
Dad’s outside cleaning the barbecue like it’s some kind of science lab experiment, and Mum is cutting up fruit like she’s in a cooking show. There’s always this big bowl of glowing punch with fruit floating in it, and I pretend I’m fishing every time I take a sip.
As it gets dark, the fun gets bigger. We set up blankets and camping chairs in the backyard—or sometimes we go to the park if there’s a big fireworks show nearby. Everyone keeps checking their phones for the countdown.
After the big countdown—”TEN! NINE! EIGHT!”—everyone yells “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” and throws their arms in the air like they just won the lottery. People hug and kiss (ew), and we bang pots and pans or pop party poppers.
Then BOOM!
Fireworks light up the sky like a giant paint set exploded in the clouds. The whole sky starts dancing. My heart feels like it’s bouncing in my chest like a trampoline. I scream every time one goes off. “THAT ONE’S MY FAVOURITE! No wait—THAT ONE!”
After the fireworks, my ears are buzzing and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I’m sticky from watermelon juice, my feet are black from running around barefoot, and I’ve still got glitter stuck to my forehead from a rogue party popper.
Mum wraps me in a blankie like a burrito, and I curl up on the deck chair, watching the last sparks fizzle out in the sky. I try to keep my eyes open, but they start doing that weird blink-slowly thing. Dad carries me inside, and even though I’m half-asleep, I remember to whisper, “Happy New Year,” before I drift off.
And just like that… the year begins and the Australian holiday list keeps increasing!
Sizzle & Cricket! (Australia Day – January 26)
Australia Day is like the ultimate summer party, hot sun, cold drinks, loud music, and SO. MUCH. FOOD. It’s one of those days where everyone seems extra smiley, the air smells like sausages, and even the flies are having a good time (but ugh, I still swat them away like a ninja).
The day usually starts early ’cause Dad wants to “beat the crowds,” but honestly, I think he just likes having first dibs on the shady spot at the park. We pack up eskies full of fizzy drinks, watermelon, and ice blocks. Mum brings the sunscreen and starts the whole “Slip, Slop, Slap” speech like a sunscreen superhero.
We wear green and gold or flag T-shirts, and I always draw a little Aussie flag on my cheek with face paint. One time, I tried to draw it myself in the mirror and ended up with a blob that looked like a weird starfish, but I called it “abstract.”
When we get to the park or beach, it’s already buzzing.The grown-ups talk a lot about cricket or politics or something boring, while we kids zoom around playing backyard cricket with a tennis ball and a plastic bat that’s been used since before dinosaurs.
We pile up our paper plates with sausages in bread (with onions if you’re brave), lamb chops, and Mum’s famous potato salad. Dad always says, “It’s not Australia Day without prawns,” and then tries to peel them really fast like it’s a competition with himself.
When the sun starts to dip, everyone’s faces look a little shiny from sweat and sunscreen. Some people head home, but others stick around for the fireworks. If there’s a show nearby, we grab our picnic rug, lie down, and wait for the BOOM.
I stretch out on my back, holding a melting ice block, watching the sky light up in red, green, and gold. The fireworks crackle and pop like the barbie earlier, and my ears go fuzzy. I cheer for the big ones and groan when I think it’s over—but then SURPRISE! There’s always one last huge blast at the end.
By the time we pack up, I’m sticky, sandy, and totally wrecked. But it’s the best kind of tired. As we drive home, I hum the national anthem under my breath and wonder if next year I’ll finally win backyard cricket MVP.
The Great Chocolate Hunt! (Easter – March/April)
Easter is honestly one of my favourite times of the year—mostly because it involves chocolate for breakfast and no one yells at you about it. It’s the one time Mum doesn’t give me “the look” when I’m halfway through a chocolate bunny at 8:30 a.m.
The Easter weekend kicks off with Good Friday, which is super quiet. Mum says it’s a day to slow down and think, so we usually go to church in the morning, and then have fish and chips for dinner ‘cause we’re not supposed to eat meat. Not gonna lie, I kinda love Good Friday just for the hot chips and the chill vibes. No yelling, no rushing—just salty fingers and sea breezes if we go down to the beach after.
But the real action? That’s Easter Sunday. That’s when the magic happens.
I usually wake up at lightning speed, jump out of bed, and start the official Easter Egg Hunt Patrol. Mum and Dad have already been up, sneaking around the garden in their dressing gowns, hiding eggs behind plants, inside shoes, under gnomes—once, I even found one in the mailbox. I grab my Easter basket (okay, it’s actually a beach bucket with stickers on it) and race around the backyard, yelling things like, “I FOUND ONE!” and “THIS ONE’S A BIG ONE!” while trying to beat my little sister to the good hiding spots.
The best part? The Easter Bilby. Yep, not the bunny. Mum says we have bilbies instead of bunnies because rabbits aren’t great for the environment here and bilbies are super cute and endangered. So we get chocolate bilbies with long ears and tiny paws. Mine always looks too cute to eat… but I eat it anyway.
After the hunt, we sit in the sun and trade eggs like Pokémon cards. “I’ll swap you two mini bunnies for your caramel egg.” It’s serious business.
Later in the day, we head to Grandma’s for Easter lunch. The table is packed with food—lamb roast, salads, and hot cross buns. OH MAN, the hot cross buns! They’re like little cinnamon clouds of happiness. I toast mine and slather on enough butter to make it shiny. Some people put chocolate chips in them now instead of fruit, which I’m totally on board with
By the end of the day, my hands are sticky, my belly is full, and I’ve probably eaten more sugar than I’m allowed for the whole month.
But hey—it’s Easter. That’s what it’s all about, right?
King’s Big Day (King’s Birthday – June, varies by state)
The King’s Birthday might sound super fancy, like a day for crowns and carriages, but for us kids, it’s basically a surprise bonus day off.
Most people in Australia celebrate it on the second Monday in June, except in Queensland and Western Australia, where they move it around a bit so it doesn’t clash with other stuff. We don’t actually have parties for the King or sing royal songs or anything (though I once made a crown out of cereal boxes just for fun).
What it really means is: LONG WEEKEND! That magical phrase that makes everyone in the house cheer.
Some years, we just chill at home. We sleep in, wear our PJs till noon, and eat pancakes for breakfast. Dad might fire up the heater and put on the footy, and if there’s an AFL game on, he yells at the TV like it can hear him.
Other years, we go away for a mini trip—maybe to the mountains, or camping if it’s not too cold. Mum packs snacks, and we all squeeze into the car with blankets and playlists. I bring my tablet and a book I probably won’t read.
Even though we don’t do anything too royal, it’s nice to stop and remember that it’s a public holiday because of the King’s birthday—especially now that we’ve got a new monarch. I guess it’s kind of cool to have a day where everyone across the country gets a little break.
So yeah, thanks, Your Majesty. I may not wear a crown, but I’ll definitely wear trackies and enjoy the toastiest, laziest day of the month.
The Horsey day! (Melbourne Cup Day – First Tuesday in November)
Melbourne Cup Day is this really fancy-sounding day where horses run like rockets and the whole country cares a lot about racing. Grown-ups call it “the race that stops a nation,” and I’m not totally sure what that means, but I do know school stops in Victoria, so that’s good enough for me!
Even though it’s only a public holiday in Victoria, people all over Australia get excited. At school, we do our own pretend race—usually on the oval—with hobby horses or pool noodles, and everyone cheers like it’s the Olympics. Sometimes we even get to decorate our own “jockey hats” with glitter and feathers. Mine never looks as cool as I imagine, but it still gets a few laughs.
Mum says the real Melbourne Cup is part of this thing called the Carnival, and it’s not just about the race—it’s about fashion. People wear super fancy clothes, and women wear these wild headbands with feathers and swirls called “fascinators.” I thought they were bird nests the first time I saw one. Some people even have competitions to see who’s best dressed—kind of like a horsey fashion show!
Dad always joins something called a “sweep,” which is like a lucky dip for grown-ups. Everyone picks a horse from a bowl and whoever’s horse wins, gets the prize. One year, Dad won $30 and shouted us all ice cream!
The actual race is fast. Like, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fast. We all crowd around the TV—Mum, Dad, Grandma, and even the dog—and yell at the screen like the horses can hear us. I don’t know who’s who, but I always cheer for the one with the coolest name.
When it’s all over, we eat snacks, and the grown-ups talk about the winners, but I mostly remember the fun outfits, the loud cheering, and trying to run as fast as a racehorse during our own “Mini Cup” at school.
Fancy hats, fast horses, and no school? That’s a win in my book.
Spook-A-Roo! (Halloween – October 31)
Okay, Halloween might not be originally Aussie, but these days? It’s Huge. At least in my neighbourhood, it’s like a spooky Christmas—but with way more sugar.
We call it Spook-A-Roo at home because Mum says it sounds “extra Aussie,” like if a ghost moved into the Outback and started handing out lollies.
About a week before Halloween, our whole house turns into a haunted zone. Mum hangs plastic bats on the windows, and we put a skeleton near the letterbox that waves its hand when someone walks past. Dad gets a bit too excited with the fog machine—it once filled our whole front porch and scared the postie. Oops.
The best part? The Costume Plan. I take it very seriously. One year I was a pirate-zombie-ninja. Another time, I wrapped myself in toilet paper and told everyone I was a “budget mummy.” It’s not just me—my friends dress up too. Witches, vampires, superheroes, Minecraft characters—you name it, we’ve seen it.
On the big night, the sun starts to go down and the street gets busy with kids everywhere. We grab our lolly bags (mine’s shaped like a pumpkin with a handle), and off we go, door to door yelling “Trick or Treat!” Most people give us lollies with a smile. Some try to spook us with creepy music or talking skeletons on their lawn. One house had a real person hiding in a bush who jumped out and made me scream so loud, I nearly dropped my snakes!
We don’t trick people much—we’re too busy counting our loot and trading lollies like we’re in some kind of candy market. “I’ll swap you two Chupa Chups for one Caramello.” It’s serious business.
By the end of the night, I’m full of sugar, dressed like a monster, and ready to crash. But my bucket is heavy, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and my heart feels just a little bit happier.
Halloween might not have started here, but trust me—it’s found a pretty awesome home in Australia.
Sun, Sand, and Santa (Christmas – December 25)
Christmas in Australia is nothing like the movies. There’s no snow, no reindeer hoofprints in the frost, and definitely no hot chocolate by a fireplace. Nope! Down here, it’s sunburns, sand in your swimmers, and Santa in boardshorts.
The magic starts in December. Everywhere you go—shops, schools, and even the servo—you hear Christmas music blasting and see tinsel hanging from palm trees. We put up our Christmas tree (usually fake ’cause real pine trees don’t like the heat), and Mum lets me put the star on top even though I have to wobble on a chair to reach it. We hang stockings, decorate with fairy lights, and if we’re feeling really festive, we join the neighbourhood lights competition. Dad once tried to make our house look like a “Christmas spaceship”… it sort of worked.
On Christmas Eve, I leave out cookies and milk for Santa—and a carrot for the kangaroos pulling his sleigh (because, let’s be honest, reindeer would melt). I try to stay awake to catch him in the act, but I always zonk out around 10pm.
Then—BOOM—Christmas morning! I wake up before the sun and do the sneaky hallway shuffle to see if there’s anything under the tree. The second I spot a gift with my name on it, I launch into full present-opening mode. Wrapping paper flies, and I usually yell, “NO WAY!” at least five times.
After the gift explosion, we pack up for a day full of fun. First stop? The beach. Yep, Christmas swim time! Everyone’s there in Santa hats and sunnies, splashing around like it’s some giant beach party. Even Grandma dips her toes in (and yells when the water’s too cold).
Back home, the Christmas feast begins. We fire up the barbecue (because roasting stuff in a hot oven on a 35°C day is madness) and cook up prawns, sausages, and sometimes a ham or turkey. There’s potato salad, Pavlova piled with fruit, and buckets of ice cream melting in the sun. We eat outside under a big umbrella while swatting flies and laughing at Uncle Mick’s terrible Christmas cracker jokes.
In the evening, we all head to the local Carols by Candlelight. We bring picnic rugs and glow sticks, and everyone sings along to “Jingle Bells” and “Silent Night” under the stars. Kids run around with fairy wings and Santa hats, and there’s always someone who sings way too loud (usually me).
Right after I get home, I curl up on the couch next to the tree, surrounded by wrapping paper, leftovers, and happiness.
Christmas in Australia isn’t white or snowy—but it’s warm, wild, and totally awesome.
Round Up
So there ya go—a whole year of Aussie holidays, told by me, Max the Holiday Legend (okay, I just made that up). From sky-exploding fireworks to chocolate egg missions, beachy Christmases, and dressing up like a spooky banana for Halloween—being a kid in Australia is actually the best.
Whether you’re munching sausages on Australia Day, building sandcastles on Christmas morning, or staying up late on New Year’s Eve yelling, “THAT ONE’S MY FAV FIREWORK!”—Aussie holidays aren’t just about getting the day off school (okay, maybe a little)… they’re about making awesome memories.
So next time a holiday rolls around, grab your sunnies, your party hat, or your cricket bat—and make it epic. ‘Cause let’s be real, every day off is a chance to have a bit of fun, eat a bit too much, and maybe stay up past bedtime. Win-win-win.
Catch ya on the next holiday adventure, legends! 🎉✌️
I marvel at how writers conjure realms of fiction, crafting narratives that, while imaginary, bear the indelible mark of their creators’ truths. Through their words, they leave a piece of their soul, creating a profound connection with readers. Literature is not a mere evasion from reality; it’s where emotions and intellect find their purest articulation.
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