A Christmas Like No Other: An Unforgettable Filipino Christmas After 12 Years Away

There’s a saying that goes, “There’s no place like home.” Well, there should also be a quote that goes, “There’s no Christmas like a Filipino Christmas.”

That quote would be emblazoned on stickers, printed on shirts, and embroidered on hats – maybe with a sun or the Philippine flag. It would be cheesy, a little obnoxious, and most likely glittery. It’s not at all the type of thing I would buy for myself. 

But when I see it displayed in someone else’s home, it would evoke: a pinch of exasperation, a hint of nostalgia, and a heaping spoonful of homesickness.

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Home for the Holidays (After 12 Years)

It might sound a little crazy to others, but most Filipinos would probably agree: Coming home in December, in time for Christmas, is different than coming home during the other 11 months.

Sure, the holiday season is special and looked forward to in most religions and cultures. But trust me, a Filipino Christmas just hits differently. I should know, after being deprived of it for 12 years.

Okay, “deprived” is a strong word. A more accurate description would be “detached,” or perhaps “a step or two removed. “

Since I’ve been in the US, I’ve participated in (or at least observed): Salvadorian, Taiwanese, Japanese, Filipino-American, and (of course) American Christmas celebrations.

Filipino Holiday Traditions

Filipino Christmas starts in September.

It sounds like the start of a joke, but it’s really not – vendors start selling the parol (a star-shaped lantern) and other Christmas decorations as early as the start or middle of September. Some malls might also get a head-start playing Christmas music right around then.

Whenever a non-Filipino looks at me bewildered and asks, “Why?”

I always answer, “We’ve got nothing else to look forward to, by that time of the year.”

After all, Filipinos don’t celebrate Halloween the way Americans do – by which I mean, my parents’ generation see it as a purely American thing they sort of imitate, but mainly for the sake of my generation (and younger) who just love the idea of dressing up and getting free candy. Also consider that Filipinos don’t have Thanksgiving, or anything remotely similar to that. So the only significant holidays to look forward* to are Christmas and New Year’s.

*Note:

Technically, Filipinos observe All Saints’ Day and All Souls Day on November 1 & 2 (respectively). But that’s more of a religious/cultural observation or obligation, rather than something we look forward to celebrating.

Unsurprisingly, with no other direction (or parties) to be had, the build-up of all that anticipation, energy, and excitement gets channeled towards Christmas. Then we simply ride that high through to New Year’s Day.

However, don’t discount the difference and uniqueness of a Filipino Christmas based only on exuberance and love for parties. There are also the Christmas traditions we’ve inherited (so to speak) from the Spanish, that have been given the Filipino treatment, making them unique to us after all these centuries.

These Filipino holiday traditions are the sum of our history: the Philippines’ agricultural background, Spanish occupation, plus the trade & conflict we shared with neighboring Southeast Asian countries. These influences were combined, distilled, and remade with Filipino flavors (literally).

Some examples of the most popular and loved Filipino holiday traditions are:

As a child, I wasn’t quite expected to participate in Simbang Gabi, as it would’ve been detrimental to do so since it overlapped with exams right before Christmas break. Later, as a teenager, I wasn’t a practicing Catholic outside of school and religious holidays. Plus, I wasn’t willing to wake up at dawn during my school break.

But what makes Simbang Gabi unique from other masses held the rest of the year (aside from, you know, Christmas), are the vendors that set up outside of the churches to sell bibingka. It’s a type of baked rice cake, topped with salted duck egg and served on banana leaves. Sure, it’s available year-round, but for the best experience, it’s best to eat it freshly baked and still warm. It’s something to look forward to after mass, especially for attendees who didn’t make it in time to grab seats inside and so had to stand outside in the “cold” to hear mass.

In the Philippines, it’s not weird to sell (or eat) our breakfast right there on the Church grounds.

The extravagant decor isn’t quite traditional, but it’s an integral part of the modern Filipino Christmas experience. It’s why most (if not all) cities go all out to decorate the streets and parks.

Not seen in the picture above, but apart from the food stalls (bottom left), enterprising Filipinos also had bikes for rent. There were even small carriages for entire families if you were above enjoying the lights on foot. I’ll admit, that part of the Christmas Markets is a relatively new concept to me – it might’ve been going on in larger parks before I left, but this location was new to me.

My friends and I walked around, mainly since the bike rentals didn’t have a lot of adult bikes left.

When I say late night, I mean dinner either ends by midnight or starts at midnight. Don’t worry, no kids (or adults!) were starved in the process: Filipinos either eat a heavier merienda (afternoon snack) or have an early and/or light dinner around 5-6 pm.

Of course, like every other Filipino tradition (holiday or otherwise), there are no hard and fast rules or universal ways of doing things. Even within my own family, this tradition fluctuated based on our age and plans for the 25th. Some Christmases, because my brother and I were so excited to be “allowed” to stay up late, we ate at midnight. During the times we needed to do an early start the next day, we had Noche Buena earlier, around 9 or 10 pm.

The one constant was the food: not in terms of what, but by volume. There was always plenty of food to go around, then get shared the next day.

Speaking of Filipino holiday food…

Food is One of Our Love Languages

Filipinos are a very food-centric culture. Where most Westerners gathered around hearth & home, Filipinos gathered around a suckling pig spit-roasted outdoors, and shared food served on large swathes of banana leaves.

Most of us have probably heard the phrase, “It takes a village.” Usually about raising the next generation, but could also broadly refer to how a community comes together to support each other in big and small ways.

Nowadays, it seems as if everybody expects their metaphorical village to be a given, based on blood, marriage, or sometimes just previously demonstrated helpfulness. But what some people seem to fail to understand is that these villages are built, not found. 

To build a village takes a constellation of small kindnesses: A give-and-take of love, favors returned, and (of course) food shared around the table.

On a personal level, we learn essential skills like cooking, cleaning, or even gardening (or farming). But on a broader scale, we learn how we fit into the bigger picture: by learning how we can best contribute, we learn to define our roles within the community and how we can grow further as individuals and as a group.

Growing an individual but not the group, and vice versa, is not sustainable in the long run. As a child, I was taught to never take more food than I thought I could finish – this was both to prevent unnecessary waste and also to make sure that everyone in our extended family had a chance to partake. We were always welcome to seconds of any dish left after everyone had a chance to take some.

As an adult, offering to share my favorite food isn’t simply a matter of being considerate or generous. It’s a culturally ingrained way I can say, “Your comfort & happiness matter to me, which is why I’m offering to share something that brings me comfort & happiness.” Food is straight-up one of our love languages.

The internalization and exact message might differ between Filipino families, but the core is usually the same when we come together and share food: We are in this together.

Filipino Christmas = Family Time

Some cultures have retained Christmas as a deeply religious event, treated with reverence. While other cultures have repainted it with more…materialistic brush strokes, and celebrated it wildly and loudly.

Filipinos have long since equated religion with family. So Christmas is an inseparable mixture of both. Even for those who don’t observe or participate in the religious side of Christmas, this time of the year is still a time for family.

I’m not immune to the lure of a warm, nostalgic Filipino Christmas – and honestly? I’ve long since been homesick to experience Christmas with my immediate family again.

While I wasn’t unappreciative of all the past Christmases I had in the Philippines before I left, I now realize I had taken it for granted. Primarily because it was all I’ve ever known, and secondly because almost everyone I knew celebrated it very similarly.

It wasn’t until I was over 7,000 miles (over 11,700 km, for the rest of the world) away, that I realized what I had left behind. Yes, I’m a cliché.

I enjoyed learning how other cultures (and particular families) celebrated. Seeing Christmas from the perspective of their respective parts of the world, all imported and adapted for Los Angeles was eye-opening. I’ve also been lucky to have extended family to celebrate Christmas with, where most traditions felt familiar. But it wasn’t quite home.

So I went back to the Philippines. Back to the warmth (literally & metaphorically) and comfort of my childhood to re-experience the Christmas that internally, is the standard I’ll always compare all other Christmases to.

It wasn’t formal, loud, or grandiose: celebrating Christmas with my nuclear family again, after 12 years away, felt like slipping back into my favorite and comfiest pajamas I’ve ever worn. But the best part was that I got to share this part of my childhood with my husband.

Christmas, Then and Now

Some days, it felt as if I never left. Except that I did (leave, I mean). So for all that everything was (mostly) familiar, adjusting for most of us grandkids aging up, it wasn’t quite the same. To be fair, I didn’t expect it to, but it was still jarring.

There were moments I wasn’t sure what to do, or what my role was anymore – one of the grandkids or one of the adults? Family/ate (big sister) or a guest? Local or tourist?

The reality is that I was now both sides of the coin, but we didn’t (still don’t) know how to react to that. Anyway, that’s an ongoing fact and issue that I’m sure I’ll keep encountering on future visits. Heck, coming home gave me reverse culture shock – something I’ve heard of but didn’t quite think would hit me so hard.

But the most disconcerting thing is being faced with the reality that everyone is – me included – getting old. Growing up and moving away, getting married (hello), or running into health problems. It’s not a surprise, per se, more a sobering reality.

The reality is that the adults were facing the same realities back then too – siblings leaving for better opportunities, focusing on their own families, and growing old. 

Now as an adult myself, having seen below the surface gloss, I can’t unsee it. There’s no such thing as a perfect day. Because every Christmas could be someone’s first and last – extreme happiness & sadness coexisting simultaneously in one day, every year.

Recalling my childhood and viewing it through the lens of the adult I am today, I’m grateful. It allowed me to see Christmas still as happy and magical because as an adult, I can make it that way for my own family.