Holiday Warmth in Wales

The deep meaning behind Welsh Christmas

When I first arrived in North Wales in 2001, I had no idea how this laid-back, sheep-filled countryside celebrated Christmas. Growing up in the Philippines—especially in the barrio, and in a big family where money was always tight—we didn’t have the luxury of writing Christmas lists or expecting mountains of presents. With my father as a farmer and our priority simply getting food on the table, celebrations always came second. That was our reality.

Yet Christmas in the Philippines was still magical. The moment the ‘ber’ months rolled in, the whole country transformed into one giant Christmas festival. Shopping malls sparkled with glowing parols, carols echoed in the streets and in every corner shop, and ‘Simbang Gabi’—mass before dawn- brought families and friends together in half-asleep joy. You didn’t need anything fancy—just stepping outside felt like a celebration, wrapped in the warmth of the weather and the warmth of the people.

I remember my first Christmas in Wales vividly. I celebrated with a few colleagues who had arrived at the same time I did. We were Filipinos from different regions, different backgrounds and a mix of accents and dialects—but equally far from home. We shared a rented house, and in many ways, that Christmas felt “levelled up”—an improvement—compared to what my family back home could afford. But it was also completely different—crisp, chilly air instead of the tropical breeze, bustling streets instead of the quiet reverence of Simbang Gabi. And because we were new, we weren’t allowed to take Christmas off; we were rostered to work. In its own quiet way, the calmness of rural Wales reminded me of the barrio where I grew up.

For Filipinos, Christmas is the most anticipated season of the year—a time for family, laughter, and sharing love, rooted in centuries-old traditions. From parols to Simbang Gabi to the grand Noche Buena feast, Christmas in the Philippines has always been about the warmth of home and the richness of relationships.

But in Wales, far from the shores of the Philippines, Christmas slowly took on a deeper meaning. In this land of songs and poetry, mountains and stories, I found not only a place to live but a community that welcomed me with open arms. Christmas in Wales reminded me that no matter where we are, the spirit of Christmas travels with us.

Over the years, celebrating Christmas in Wales became more than simply adapting—it became a way of blending in and embracing a new culture. I began enjoying the festive markets with their crafts, foods, and drinks. I felt the childlike excitement of hoping for a white Christmas, even though in Wales it might arrive on Christmas Day, Boxing Day, or not at all.  The weather in Wales seems to enjoy keeping you guessing. 

I still remember Christmas at work when we experienced the first snowfall since our arrival. I kept glancing out of the window, thrilled to see the flakes drifting down. Our sister-in-charge let us step outside, and it was my very first time walking on snow and catching the tiny flakes with my mouth open. 

Living in North Wales meant we were only minutes away from Snowdonia, the highest mountain in Wales. Visiting it in the winter gave us postcard-perfect views of its snow-capped peaks. In Wales, I learned to appreciate the simple joys of the season: carol singers on the streets and on television, the switching on of high-street lights, and the traditional Welsh Christmas dinner with roast turkey, pork, beef, stuffing, and plenty of gravy.

Still, no matter how many Christmases passed, the Filipino part of me never faded. Our own home gradually became a meeting place for two worlds. Every September, we waited for the first post or meme of Jose Mari Chan— sometimes we played “Christmas in Our Hearts” just to feel closer to home. We brought down boxes from the loft, and my wife decorated the house with enthusiasm to make it look like we were competing in a neighbourhood contest. Windows glowing first, garlands wrapped the stairs, and decorations hung from every spot that could hold a nail. Every archway glittered with giant red and green Christmas balls. Our Noche Buena table soon reflected our blended family, too: Filipino dishes side-by-side with a Welsh roast dinner.

From Welsh traditions, I learned the excitement of opening individually wrapped gifts—from socks to shirts to gadgets. Sometimes it really is the quantity over quality, especially for the kids who enjoy tearing open every last present. Matching Christmas pyjamas became a tradition too, and conversations over dinner often circled back to comparing Christmas in the Philippines with Christmas here in Wales. By the end of the long day, we always wound up on the sofa watching classic Christmas movies—films I’ve watched so many times they’ve become part of Christmas traditions. 

Last year, as Vice Chair of the newly established Philippine Nurses Association-United Kingdom (PNA UK) Wales Chapter, we proudly organised our very first Christmas Charity Ball. The event was held in support of three Filipino-founded charitable organisations: The Spread the Love North Wales, the Filipino Voice Choir and YGC ITU -Philippines Partnership.

After nearly 25 years, Christmas in Wales no longer feels foreign. It feels like home – one enriched by memories of another country, another culture, another version of myself. I’m grateful to have two places that shaped the way I celebrate. My Christmas here is a blend of Filipino joy and Welsh warmth—a celebration that reminds me where I come from and where I have lived almost half my life.

As we celebrate Christmas, we embrace both our Filipino and Welsh identities, knowing that through this blending of cultures we grow richer, stronger, and more connected. Together, our stories, traditions, and love become a vibrant tapestry of Christmas in Wales—a reminder that no matter where we are in the world, the true spirit of Christmas lives on in our hearts.

So I wish you all “Nadolig llawen a Blwyddyn Newydd dda"—Welsh for "Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.