by Dear Santa,
My name is Valentina and I am ten years old. I live in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where it is summer at Christmas, which I have been told is very confusing to people in other countries but is completely normal to me because I have never experienced anything else. My abuela says Christmas in the heat builds stronger character than Christmas in the cold. My abuela also says this about everything that is uncomfortable, so I am not sure how much to weight her opinion.
Valentina, your grandmother is a wise woman. Discomfort does build character, though I will admit the reindeer find December in the Southern Hemisphere professionally disorienting. Dasher spent twenty minutes circling Buenos Aires last year convinced the compass was broken. It was not broken. It was December. It was simply thirty-one degrees.
I have several important questions, Santa.
First, does it bother you that when you arrive in Argentina it is the middle of summer? Because my papa says it must be very strange to wear a red velvet suit in thirty-degree heat over the Río de la Plata. My papa says many things about thermal management. He is an engineer. We hear a great deal about thermal management in this house.
Your papa raises a legitimate engineering concern that the North Pole has discussed internally for several decades. I will say only that the suit is more breathable than it looks, that Christmas magic has remarkable climate-control properties, and that I carry a change of clothes for the Southern Hemisphere leg of the operation that Mrs. Claus packed without telling me what was in the bag. Whatever is in the bag, I trust it. This is the foundation of a successful marriage.
Second, how do you handle the asado? Because in Argentina, Christmas dinner is an asado, and my tío Horacio has been the asado master at our family Christmas for fifteen years, and he takes this very seriously. Last year he made a speech before the meat. It was eight minutes long. My cousin timed it. Tío Horacio says the secret is patience and good wood. My papa says the secret is that nobody is allowed to question Tío Horacio.
I am aware of Tío Horacio. His asado is excellent and his speech, while long, contains genuinely useful information about fire management that I have passed along to the elves who handle the workshop furnaces. The secret, as your tío correctly identifies, is patience. Good things — whether they are brisket, Christmas preparations, or the behavior of a nine-year-old who fed the cat her sister’s homework — require time and the right conditions. I respect Tío Horacio deeply. I had three pieces last Christmas and left before the second speech.
Third, do you know about mate? Because in Argentina everyone drinks mate all the time, including at Christmas, including at the asado, including while watching the fireworks, including while doing literally anything. My abuelo says a country that drinks mate together stays together. I tried mate once. It tasted like hot grass. My abuelo says I need more experience with difficult things.
I know mate well. Several elves discovered it during a logistics trip to Montevideo in 2019 and brought back a thermos and a gourd and have not stopped since. The workshop now has a small mate corner near the packaging station. Productivity has gone up. Arguments about whose turn it is to heat the water have also gone up, but this appears to be culturally expected. Your abuelo is right that it is an acquired taste and also right that acquiring difficult tastes is good practice for life. Drink your mate, Valentina. Give it three years.
Fourth, the fireworks. Santa, I need to discuss the fireworks. In Buenos Aires on Christmas Eve there are fireworks everywhere — not just the official ones, but everyone on every balcony and in every street, which means the reindeer are flying over a city that is basically exploding sideways in all directions. How do you manage this?
The Buenos Aires approach to fireworks is, I will say diplomatically, enthusiastic. Rudolph’s red nose has been mistaken for an incoming rocket on three separate occasions. Prancer has filed a formal complaint about the airspace conditions over Palermo, which I have not yet responded to because it is extremely detailed and uses language I was not aware Prancer knew. We manage by flying higher over Buenos Aires than almost any other city on the route. The view from up there, I will tell you, is extraordinary. Your city at Christmas from the air looks like someone spilled a box of stars and decided to leave them there. It is beautiful, even if it is also somewhat terrifying for the reindeer.
Fifth, what do you think about tango? My maestra says tango is the soul of Buenos Aires. She is very serious about this. We practice tango at school on Fridays. I am not very good yet but my maestra says tango is not about being good, it is about being honest with the music, which I think might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about being bad at something.
Your maestra is correct, and what she said about tango is also true about most things worth doing. Honesty with the music. Honesty with the work. Honesty with the people you care about. The North Pole has a small tango tradition — one elf, Marisol, who joined the team from Mendoza in 1987, started it, and it has been going ever since. I have attempted tango twice. Mrs. Claus has asked me not to attempt it a third time. I am respecting this request. It is also the foundation of a successful marriage.
My wish list this year, Santa, is as follows: a new set of colored pencils because I am drawing a comic book about a girl who discovers her grandmother is secretly a retired spy, which is something I believe could actually be true about my abuela because she is very calm in emergencies and once disarmed a pickpocket on the Subte without putting down her empanada. Also, I would like books. And I would like, if it is possible, for my best friend Camila to be happy because she has had a difficult year and she deserves something good.
The colored pencils are noted and enthusiastically approved. A comic book about a grandmother who may or may not be a retired spy is exactly the kind of story the world needs more of, and the empanada detail suggests your instincts are strong. The books are also approved — always. But Valentina, the last item on your list is the one I want to talk about. A child who uses a Christmas wish on a friend’s happiness instead of something for herself has demonstrated a quality of heart that is rarer than most people realize and more valuable than anything in the sleigh. Camila is lucky to have you. I will do what I can. The rest is in your hands, and from what I have seen, your hands are good ones.
I have some additional questions.
Do the reindeer know any Spanish?
Vixen is conversational. Comet learned the numbers one through ten and considers this sufficient. Blitzen once attempted a full sentence in Buenos Aires and a local pigeon corrected his pronunciation, which he has not recovered from emotionally.
Has any reindeer ever eaten an empanada?
Dasher. Once. Spinach and cheese. We do not discuss what happened next. The empanada was excellent. The aftermath was a logistics problem.
Is the North Pole familiar with Lionel Messi?
The North Pole is very familiar with Lionel Messi. He wrote a letter at age seven that remains one of the most politely worded and clearly argued wish lists in our archive. I cannot share the contents. What I can say is that certain qualities — focus, patience, the willingness to practice the same thing thousands of times until it becomes extraordinary — appear early in some people. They appeared very early in him. They are also appearing in you, Valentina, even if your tango still needs work.
Do you speak Spanish, Santa?
Fluently. Also Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Japanese, Swahili, Arabic, and forty-three other languages, plus a regional dialect spoken exclusively by three elderly elves from a village in northern Finland that has not appeared on any map since 1932. Language is how you hear what people actually mean. In this job, that matters.
Thank you for reading my letter, Santa. My mama helped me check the spelling but the questions are completely my own. She said some of them were very good and one of them was, and I am quoting her, “very Valentina,” which I think is a compliment but I am not entirely certain.
Tell your mama that “very Valentina” is the highest possible compliment, and that she should write it down somewhere because the girl who asked these questions — the one drawing spy-grandmother comics and wishing Christmas wishes for her friends and tasting mate even when it tastes like hot grass and standing in the Buenos Aires summer wondering how Santa manages the heat — that girl is going to be someone worth knowing. She already is. Feliz Navidad, Valentina. Give Tío Horacio my compliments on the asado. Tell him the wood choice in the second half was correct. He will know what I mean.
Merry Christmas, Santa.
Your friend,
Valentina Esperanza Reyes
Buenos Aires, Argentina
P.S. My abuela wanted me to ask whether you have ever had locro, because she makes the best locro in Argentina and possibly the world and she would like a second opinion from someone who has eaten in every country.
I have had locro. Your abuela’s is the best I have encountered in Argentina and I have been to every province. Please tell her this. Please also tell her I said she has the calm eyes of someone who has seen a great deal of life and handled it with dignity. She will understand what I mean by that. I think you might someday too.
