What the perfect Christmas looks like around the world

What’s the perfect Christmas celebration? While it may look different for everyone, it always carries something meaningful – from festive meals and nativity rituals to barbecues and beach days with family. In this heartwarming collection of essays, four writers share how they celebrate the season.

How Hahna Yoon celebrates Christmas in South Korea

When I moved back to Seoul 16 years ago, I’d cry whenever Christmas music came on the radio. Although I was born in South Korea, I’d lived most of my life in New York – watching the Rockefeller Center tree lighting, shopping at Macy’s and skating in Central Park. It’s my favourite holiday, and every December I missed New York. 

In South Korea, I was surprised by how differently Christmas was celebrated. Outside religious communities, it was embraced by younger couples who’d mark it with dates. Restaurants served couples’ sets and decorations felt more Valentine’s than Yuletide. 

But three years ago, something changed: when given the option of a New York Christmas, I instead chose to spend it in Seoul. Over time, I’ve seen the season blossom into something magical here. A brightly lit fir now stands outside Seoul’s City Hall – replacing the less-inspiring cone “tree” used until 2021. 

From November, wreaths and dancing Santas grace shopfronts in Myeongdong, central Seoul. Shinsegae and Lotte malls glitter with singing angels and flying reindeer. House parties, once rare, have grown popular – bringing festive decor, wine sets and Christmas-themed cakes. 

Now, more people are making Christmas their own – me included. On Christmas Eve, I attend a carol service with my mum at an international Lutheran church where we sing hymns by candlelight. On Christmas morning, my husband and I exchange gifts and dress our dog Hodu in his festive best – a knitted red scarf and Santa hat. We then walk through Gyeongui Forest Line Park, stopping at cafés and shops to hand out cookies I’ve baked and wish all a “merry Christmas”. 

Being in Seoul taught me the lesson of many a Christmas song: for the holidays, you can’t beat home, sweet home.

Hahna Yoon is a journalist and staff editor based in Seoul who writes about culture, travel and, sometimes, her dog, Hodu.

Stacey Morrison on Christmas in New Zealand

Christmas in Aotearoa (New Zealand) is always perfectly imperfect to me, starting with the quirky detail that although it’s summer here, Santa still appears in full North Pole regalia at parades held on boiling hot days.

Our Christmases cling to northern hemisphere tropes, though you’ll find a few with Santa in surf wear which is quintessentially Kiwi. Traditional motifs mix with unique signs of summer, none more iconic than the pōhutukawa flower. 

In Māori understanding, pōhutukawa signal summer’s arrival more than any date. The bright-red blossoms behind our house fill me with awe, much like the cherry blossoms that herald spring on our street. 

Their red makes them thematically perfect, especially beside another Christmas treat that surprises visitors from abroad: hāngi (cooking food over heated rocks buried in a pit) for Christmas lunch. Last year, my husband and son helped put down a hāngi, starting hours ahead so the fire-heated stones in the pit they dug could slowly cook food in baskets ready for lunch. 

We then drove to see as many different members of our whānau (family) as we could, from Tāmaki Makaurau (Auckland) and Rotorua to Maketū, our beachside haven. 

We are whānau of Māori and Pākehā (New Zealanders who descend from Europe) heritage and our traditions reflect that. From hāngi in the morning to fruit pudding at Nana’s in the afternoon, we’re bicultural in food and actions. 

A visit to the cemetery to honour family we can’t see in person is also special – and a chance to meet friends and wider whānau, bringing a sense of community. 

Christmas Mass sometimes fits in, but not every year. What I always know, for sure, is that we have a unique, perfectly, unpredictably summery and sweet version of Christmas in Aotearoa.

As well as a TV and radio host, Stacey Morrison, of the tribes Ngāi Tahu and Tūhourangi Ngāti Wāhiao, is an advocate for Māori culture and educator of the Māori language, and has co-authored several books for learners.

Nicola Capuzzimati shares what Christmas in Italy is like

I have wonderful memories of Christmas. It’s a magical celebration, not because the word evokes the Magi (the Three Wise Men) but because it’s an enchanting event, especially in Italy. Here, Christmas begins in a sacred way, with rituals like the vigil on Christmas Eve and the evocative midnight Mass.

As the season approaches, I recall family gatherings with my two sons, now grown, and grandchildren, and going together to enjoy the splendour of lights, colours, sounds and markets in the squares.

My fondest memories are of intimate dinners and traditional games. Children are the protagonists, standing on chairs to read touching prayers they’ve hidden under grandparents’ plates.

These moments end in a profound spiritual gesture when the youngest places Baby Jesus in the presepe, or nativity, at midnight, singing Tu Scendi Dalle Stelle, the beloved carol written by Saint Alphonsus De Liguori around 1750. The nativity, with Mary, Joseph, the donkey and ox bending over the Child, remains the most expressive symbol of Christmas.

The Christmas tree, rich in decorations and lights, sets the scene for dinner and gift exchanges. Children eagerly await presents from Santa Claus and Befana, the two folkloric characters who bring presents. Once the food is finished and glasses of sparkling wine have been raised, there’s a cheerful gift exchange. Lentils and pomegranates grace the table for luck, and the evening ends with tombola – the traditional bingo game enjoyed by all.

Christmas is a time of joyful anticipation for everyone, a warm gathering of hearts and an enduring expression of love.

Professor Nicola Capuzzimati, a retired Italian Air Force colonel and literature teacher, is an award-winning poet and essayist based in Taranto.

Christmas in the Philippines: how Aleah Taboclaon experiences it

Christmas is a big deal in the Philippines. Starting from September, carols play on the radio, in shops and on public transport. By November, malls display gigantic trees adorned with hundreds of sparkling balls, while streets glow with parols – ornamental lanterns – and kilometres of lights.

My earliest memories include waking at dawn for simbang gabi (Dawn Mass), which begins on 16 December and lasts for nine days. Going to church at dawn feels magical. Outside, vendors sell hot chocolate and seasonal treats like puto bumbong – purple sticky rice steamed in bamboo tubes. There’s absolutely nothing like eating a piece, still warm and smeared with margarine, topped with grated coconut and sprinkled with brown sugar on a banana leaf on a cool morning.

The last Mass is held at 10pm on 24 December, then we rush home for noche buena. Our Christmas Eve feast features lechon (roasted pig), pancit (stir-fried noodles) or spaghetti, meat dishes and desserts like leche flan, sweet macaroni salad and maja blanca (a coconut milk dessert). There might be one token vegetable dish, but there’ll definitely be fruit, beer and sweet red wine. By 2am, leftovers go into the fridge for the next day.

At noon on Christmas Day, visitors arrive – godchildren hoping for cash gifts, relatives and friends catching up over plates of lechon. My favourite part is gift-giving; each family member receives at least one, and seeing their delighted faces makes my day.

Christmas in the Philippines can be overwhelming; some may find it too commercialised. But for me, it’s about gathering with loved ones, catching up on news that wasn’t shared on the group chats and savouring the moments when the season truly means family.

Originally from Surigao del Sur, Aleah Taboclaon chronicles her world travels at solitarywanderer.com. She’s currently studying at Vrije Universiteit Brussel, Belgium.