<p>In Santa Claus Post Office in northern Finland, two elves in red felt hats are poring over one of the thousands of letters to have arrived that morning. They have spent hours sorting them in pigeonholes according to their postmark. Geopolitics and the spreading global footprint of the Santa phenomenon are difficult to keep pace with. “Do we have a box for Southern Sudan?” one asks. <br /><br />The elves are full-time employees of the Finnish post office, but a job at this branch requires skills that would not be needed behind an average post-office counter. Leaving aside the costume, these elves have to work with children and reindeer. The previous week they had to perform an elf dance for a TV programme that has 200 million viewers in China. <br /><br />The post office is on the outskirts of Rovaniemi in the Arctic Circle, a city where snow covers the ground for half the year and temperatures average around a crisp minus 10 during the winter tourist season. It is so far north that the darkness gives way to a crepuscular gloom for only about two hours a day at this time of the year. <br /><br />The main function of this post office is to sort and reply to some of the 550,000 letters that arrive each year. The second week in December is peak season with 30,000 letters a day arriving on flights from Helsinki. British children remain committed correspondents; a fifth of all the letters last year came from Britain, second only to Italy. “The most polite letters are from Chinese and Japanese children,” elf Riitta says. “And those from Catholic countries, such as Italy and France, don’t expect so many presents. They say, ‘I don’t expect anything, but if you can, and if you have time...”’ <br /><br />Santa’s post office is the centrepiece of the Santa Village theme park set amid a pine forest. Here, as well as having their letters to Santa postmarked with north pole, quivering children get an audience with Father Christmas, enjoy a dash through the snow on a reindeer-pulled sleigh, stay in an igloo hotel and visit Rudolph’s family in the petting zoo. <br /><br />The Finnish post office isn’t alone in receiving and replying to letters from Santa. Since the 1950s, American children have sent their missives to the Alaskan town of North Pole. Thirty years ago, Canada Post created an address for the million Santa letters sent to them annually — ‘Santa Claus, North Pole, Canada HOH OHO’. Eight hundred thousand letters are sent by British children to the Royal Mail’s special address ‘Santa/Father Christmas, Santa’s Grotto, Reindeerland XM4 5HQ’.<br /><br />But, if correspondents use the names of any real places, then the letters will be sent north to either Finland or Denmark. Those that arrive in Helsinki are airfreighted to Rovaniemi for the post-office elves to sort into piles and respond to. Under normal circumstances, letters with an address as vague as ‘Santa, North Pole’ would be marked as undeliverable and condemned with an addressee unknown stamp, but the post offices in many countries tend to forward Santa letters to Finland even if they are not stamped. This isn’t the result of any formal postal treaty, but it does seem to be a sprinkling of goodwill that has escaped the post office accountants.<br /><br />The real elves tell me about the unsolicited gifts that turn up for Father Christmas. Every day dozens of carrots for Rudolph that have turned to black mulch after weeks in the postal system arrive. “We were once sent an old-fashioned razor so that he could shave his beard off,” elf Riitta says. “And an Italian lady sends us the same present every year — a painting of Elvis. But usually there is a lot of chocolate and candies.” Keys are sent by children who worry that in this age of gas flues, triple-locks and sensitive burglar alarms, Father Christmas won’t make it over their threshold. Others send change-of-address cards. <br /><br />In the spring after the letters arrive, 40,000 of the best ones will be chosen for a response in one of 12 languages they are able to translate. Letters are chosen according to the effort that the writer has made. Those that do get a response are treated to a wholesome version of Father Christmas — part eco-warrior, part teacher and part tourist promotion officer — that is far removed from the Falstaffian bearer of gizmos that our children are used to. “The clean nature of Lapland gives our animal friends a happy place to live and a place to enjoy the peaceful and beautiful environment,” his letter reads, “you too can keep nature clean and tidy.”<br />Sadly, some British children post catalogues with the toys they want highlighted in fluorescent pen without bothering to write a covering note. Green-tinged pieties about saving the planet are common, though tend to come from children from Scandinavian countries. “Children often wish something for others,” elf Riitta says.<br /> <br />The inner sanctum of Santa’s Village is at the end of a long subterranean corridor. Santa is sitting in a wooden chamber, surrounded by wrapped presents, wearing a Finnish smock, boots that look as if they’re made of reindeer hide, and a greyish beard that extends below his knees. In place of a booming voice, there is a barely audible Finnish lilt. What, I ask, makes the ideal letter to Santa? “I like it when a young child has learnt to write because one of the problems is that not all children these days have the possibility to learn to read and write,” he says. “But very often I realise that the writer doesn’t really want an answer. He or she writes the letter to share things — and that is a good letter because it has served its purpose.”<br />Santa, it turns out, is a pessimist about the impact of technology on the lives of children, and complains about the standard of handwriting. “In the past 50 years, there has been a change in the school system. They don’t teach handwriting any more.” And what refreshment should children leave out for you? “Mince pies are appreciated because we don’t have them in this country. The wine is not necessary.”<br /><br />As my designated slot draws to a close, he delivers a true Christmas message that seems miles away from the mountain of gaudy merchandise in the gift shop next door. “Age is not important. What is important is how you are in your heart, how you feel. I always said that the child inside you never fades away.” And, touched by a dusting of Christmas magic, I head out into the pitiless arctic winter — as another coachload arrives.<br /><br /></p>
<p>In Santa Claus Post Office in northern Finland, two elves in red felt hats are poring over one of the thousands of letters to have arrived that morning. They have spent hours sorting them in pigeonholes according to their postmark. Geopolitics and the spreading global footprint of the Santa phenomenon are difficult to keep pace with. “Do we have a box for Southern Sudan?” one asks. <br /><br />The elves are full-time employees of the Finnish post office, but a job at this branch requires skills that would not be needed behind an average post-office counter. Leaving aside the costume, these elves have to work with children and reindeer. The previous week they had to perform an elf dance for a TV programme that has 200 million viewers in China. <br /><br />The post office is on the outskirts of Rovaniemi in the Arctic Circle, a city where snow covers the ground for half the year and temperatures average around a crisp minus 10 during the winter tourist season. It is so far north that the darkness gives way to a crepuscular gloom for only about two hours a day at this time of the year. <br /><br />The main function of this post office is to sort and reply to some of the 550,000 letters that arrive each year. The second week in December is peak season with 30,000 letters a day arriving on flights from Helsinki. British children remain committed correspondents; a fifth of all the letters last year came from Britain, second only to Italy. “The most polite letters are from Chinese and Japanese children,” elf Riitta says. “And those from Catholic countries, such as Italy and France, don’t expect so many presents. They say, ‘I don’t expect anything, but if you can, and if you have time...”’ <br /><br />Santa’s post office is the centrepiece of the Santa Village theme park set amid a pine forest. Here, as well as having their letters to Santa postmarked with north pole, quivering children get an audience with Father Christmas, enjoy a dash through the snow on a reindeer-pulled sleigh, stay in an igloo hotel and visit Rudolph’s family in the petting zoo. <br /><br />The Finnish post office isn’t alone in receiving and replying to letters from Santa. Since the 1950s, American children have sent their missives to the Alaskan town of North Pole. Thirty years ago, Canada Post created an address for the million Santa letters sent to them annually — ‘Santa Claus, North Pole, Canada HOH OHO’. Eight hundred thousand letters are sent by British children to the Royal Mail’s special address ‘Santa/Father Christmas, Santa’s Grotto, Reindeerland XM4 5HQ’.<br /><br />But, if correspondents use the names of any real places, then the letters will be sent north to either Finland or Denmark. Those that arrive in Helsinki are airfreighted to Rovaniemi for the post-office elves to sort into piles and respond to. Under normal circumstances, letters with an address as vague as ‘Santa, North Pole’ would be marked as undeliverable and condemned with an addressee unknown stamp, but the post offices in many countries tend to forward Santa letters to Finland even if they are not stamped. This isn’t the result of any formal postal treaty, but it does seem to be a sprinkling of goodwill that has escaped the post office accountants.<br /><br />The real elves tell me about the unsolicited gifts that turn up for Father Christmas. Every day dozens of carrots for Rudolph that have turned to black mulch after weeks in the postal system arrive. “We were once sent an old-fashioned razor so that he could shave his beard off,” elf Riitta says. “And an Italian lady sends us the same present every year — a painting of Elvis. But usually there is a lot of chocolate and candies.” Keys are sent by children who worry that in this age of gas flues, triple-locks and sensitive burglar alarms, Father Christmas won’t make it over their threshold. Others send change-of-address cards. <br /><br />In the spring after the letters arrive, 40,000 of the best ones will be chosen for a response in one of 12 languages they are able to translate. Letters are chosen according to the effort that the writer has made. Those that do get a response are treated to a wholesome version of Father Christmas — part eco-warrior, part teacher and part tourist promotion officer — that is far removed from the Falstaffian bearer of gizmos that our children are used to. “The clean nature of Lapland gives our animal friends a happy place to live and a place to enjoy the peaceful and beautiful environment,” his letter reads, “you too can keep nature clean and tidy.”<br />Sadly, some British children post catalogues with the toys they want highlighted in fluorescent pen without bothering to write a covering note. Green-tinged pieties about saving the planet are common, though tend to come from children from Scandinavian countries. “Children often wish something for others,” elf Riitta says.<br /> <br />The inner sanctum of Santa’s Village is at the end of a long subterranean corridor. Santa is sitting in a wooden chamber, surrounded by wrapped presents, wearing a Finnish smock, boots that look as if they’re made of reindeer hide, and a greyish beard that extends below his knees. In place of a booming voice, there is a barely audible Finnish lilt. What, I ask, makes the ideal letter to Santa? “I like it when a young child has learnt to write because one of the problems is that not all children these days have the possibility to learn to read and write,” he says. “But very often I realise that the writer doesn’t really want an answer. He or she writes the letter to share things — and that is a good letter because it has served its purpose.”<br />Santa, it turns out, is a pessimist about the impact of technology on the lives of children, and complains about the standard of handwriting. “In the past 50 years, there has been a change in the school system. They don’t teach handwriting any more.” And what refreshment should children leave out for you? “Mince pies are appreciated because we don’t have them in this country. The wine is not necessary.”<br /><br />As my designated slot draws to a close, he delivers a true Christmas message that seems miles away from the mountain of gaudy merchandise in the gift shop next door. “Age is not important. What is important is how you are in your heart, how you feel. I always said that the child inside you never fades away.” And, touched by a dusting of Christmas magic, I head out into the pitiless arctic winter — as another coachload arrives.<br /><br /></p>