Christmas In AsiaPrepared by Harold Stephens
Travel Correspondent for Thai Airways International
Many e-mails from readers arrive asking me where in Asia is the best place to spend Christmas. Everyone, it seems, feels the compulsion to go somewhere during the Christmas holidays. People just can’t stay home. A few weeks ago I was in Singapore, where decorations were already up all over the city, and yet many people I know who live there had plans to spend Christmas in Bangkok or else in Hong Kong, anywhere but Singapore. And here in Bangkok many people I know are going to Singapore or to Hong Kong! If not that far, at least to Hua Hin, a four-hour drive south of Bangkok.
Nevertheless, every time I see Christmas decorations going up in towns and cities around Asia, I am reminded how far the Christmas spirit has spread. It wasn't always that way, at least not when I first came to Asia after World War Two.
Hardly anyone except Westerners living in Asia celebrated Christmas back then, and it wasn't an easy thing to do to spread the Yuletide spirit to those who never knew the meaning of Christmas.
Spreading Christmas cheer was what I was assigned to do on my first Christmas in Asia when, as a US Marine still in my teens, I was sent with my regiment to China. It was winter and we landed at Tsingtao on the Shantung Peninsula. Our mission was to repatriate the Japanese forces back to Japan.
Our company commander, feeling sorry for the kids on the streets that were left homeless from the war, decided we should have a Christmas party for them. He sent his executive officer to an orphanage and his men out into the streets to round up children. I had been going to a Chinese language school and, being able to speak a little Chinese, I was selected to help out.
We managed to herd almost a hundred children into the company mess hall on Christmas day. The meal was a disaster. The children had never used knives and forks and they were baffled by the turkey and mashed potatoes, chocolate candy and ice cream.
When Santa Claus thundered into the mess hall shouting "Ho, Ho!" to the top of his voice, pandemonium broke out. The frightened children scrambled to seek cover under the tables. No wonder. Santa, a rotund sergeant from the cookhouse, was suffering from a hangover. He looked horrible wearing long-john underwear, dyed red, and with a floor mop wrapped around his chin for whiskers.
He gave the children coloured balloons and boxes of crayons but I doubt if they ever drew anything with them—we forgot to include paper to draw on. The saddest part was returning them back to the orphanage or, even worse, out into the streets afterward. It ended up a sad Christmas for all of us.
Times have changed. Now, many Asian countries celebrate Christmas, adopting and adapting to Western customs.
Where did we get some of those strange Christmas customs?
Decking our homes with holly, for example, has descended from Roman times when Christians wishing to celebrate the birth of Jesus had to do it in secret. As a camouflage, they garlanded their doors with holly—the decoration used by Romans for their festival of Saturnalia which was celebrated at the same time. But Asia doesn't grow either holly or mistletoe.
Mistletoe comes to us from the Druids, who regarded it as a sacred plant. They made sure that it never touched the ground and dedicated it to the Goddess of Love, which explains why we kiss under it.
Straw, too, has sturdy roots as a Christmas decoration. Some countries still spread it under their Christmas tables as a reminder of the manger where Jesus was born.
Many Christmas ornaments in Scandinavia, where Christmas perhaps originated, are still made of straw, such as the Yule goat, stars, angels, and bulbs that are used to trim the tree.
Perhaps the single biggest oddity of Christmas in tropical Asia or the southern hemisphere is the fact that it's so hot. How do you explain to children why Santa is all wrapped up in a fur-trimmed suit and hat, wears big boots and has cheeks and a nose that are permanently flushed red?
And how do you explain the sleigh when there is no snow?
"Snow, who needs snow?" an Australian said to me on a hot summer Christmas day in Sydney. "Santa comes riding his sleigh across the sky, doesn't he?" I was in Australia with my Aussie friend and intended to return to Bangkok for the holidays when he said, "Don't be silly. Come and have Christmas dinner with me and my family."
He made it sound inviting. He was an advertising executive, and lived in a fashionable section of town. He mentioned they would have turkey and all the trimmings. Here was my chance to spend Christmas at an Australian home. I accepted. He said to be at his house early Christmas morning. I should have known then that something strange was going to happen.
The skies were brilliant blue when I arrived at his house, and the weather was hotter than Bangkok. One almost forgets that winters in the northern latitudes are summers Down Under. But I had been in Asia long enough not to be bothered about a snow-less Christmas.
I could smell the turkey when my friend opened the front door. The kids came bounding out of the front room like kangaroos, excited to show me all the presents Santa had brought. So far everything was normal.
My friend's wife was in the kitchen, making preparations for our Christmas dinner. At a glance I could see this was going to be something special. They had their finest crystal laid out, along with their best silverware and china, and there were linen napkins and tablecloth. But something didn't quite fit into place. Among all this finery was a Styrofoam ice chest. "We can't forget the esky!" my friend revealed when he saw me––staring at the yellow box.
"The esky?"
"Sure thing, mate, can't have Christmas without the esky."
"And what do you do with that?"
"You put it in the boot, of course."
Put the esky in the boot. I didn't bother asking any more questions. Besides, I didn't have the time. Things suddenly began to happen. They were going berserk. The esky was suddenly being jammed full of beer; the fine linen, the dishes, the crystal, the silverware, the turkey and all the trimmings- all were thrust into a large wicker basket.
"Okay," my friend bellowed when the lid was closed. "Let's go!"
"Go?"
"Yea, to Bondi. Hurry. Me in-laws are waiting."
So we were going to his in-laws at Bondi, I thought. When we arrived, I couldn't believe it. We were going to have Christmas dinner on the beach! His in-laws were just as daffy as he - they had a large table set up on the beach, with proper dining room chairs arranged around the table.
But it wasn't only my friend, his wife and kids and his in-laws who were insane. It seemed half of Sydney had gone mad too. They were all having their Christmas feast on the beach at Bondi. With their eskies.
"Do you do this every year?" I asked my friend after my second helping of turkey.
“No, not at all. Last year, we went to the Blue Mountains."
The turkey was good, in spite of the sand when the wind blew.
Here in Asia, Santa Claus resorts to some ingenious means to get to his destinations.
In Hong Kong one year I saw him swoop down in a helicopter to deliver his goodies. And when he arrived in front of the Selangor Club in Kuala Lumpur, he came gliding down in a parachute.
In Cebu in the central Philippines, one Christmas, right after midnight, Santa arrived riding in a calesa, a horse-drawn carriage. In Bangkok he's likely to arrive in a tutuk, and in Singapore a Mercedes.
All this begs the question: what is Christmas without snow?
Singapore manufactures its own snow. In department stores along Orchard Road air-conditioners are turned on full blast and white flakes fly through the air. But the flakes bounce when they hit the floor—they're chopped Styrofoam. I wonder what effect it has on children who have never seen real snow.
And who will play Santa?
I had a photographer friend in Singapore who was asked to play the role a few years ago. He really looked the part when he fitted out in his red suit. He even learned to say in Mandarin, "Ho, ho, ho! How are you, little boy, and what do you want for Christmas?"
Things went well until one afternoon an English lad of nine or ten, who knew Christmas back home, sat on Santa's lap, looked up and loudly declared: "You're not Santa Claus."
"How can you tell, little boy?" my friend asked.
"Your whiskers, they aren't real."
My friend smiled at the little boy and then nodded to those queuing up. Slowly he stood up, reached up to his whiskers and ripped them off. Underneath was his own white beard. Everyone gasped.
"You see," he said, patting the boy on the head, "even Santa likes to play tricks!"
And that is Christmas in Asia. It’s much like in the West, but not quite.
Next week I will take readers on a tour of the Legends of Indochina. QUESTIONS & ANSWERSLast week when I mentioned I would be writing about Christmas in Asia this week, I received several dozen e-mails from hotel pubic relations departments reminding me that their hotels are offering incredible discounts this holidays season. Some are offering 80% discount on their rooms. It would be unfair for me to list but a few of these hotels but I can remind readers to check on-line for hotels and their discounts. This is the time to travel to Thailand. Readers can also check with Royal Orchid Holidays at any Thai Airways ticketing office for more details.
Harold Stephens
Bangkok
E-mail: ROH Weekly Travel (booking@inet.co.th)
Note: The article is the personal view of the writer and does not necessarily reflect the view of Thai Airways International Public Company Limited. | 
