Step by step

It seems a whole lot of Christmas for someone who travelled to South East Asia to escape it: Thousands of red, green, blue and yellow lights wrap themselves around each house, framing windows and doors, spreading to palm trees and bushes. Santa figures ride sleds over roofs, followed by Virgin-colored reindeers - a Christmas wonderland in the slipstream of reality.

“Yalla! Nice?” It’s thanks to Simon I’m here, a local I met in downtown Malacca. He taught me my first Malaysian-English word: yalla – yes. Simon pulls at my arm and we are sucked into the whirlpool of people flooding the streets of the Portuguese Settlement. I learnt about its Kristang community, an ethnic group of Portuguese and Malay origin – and about their pompous Christmas Eve celebration.

My mouth drops open as I watch families in front of their radiant houses, cheeks bloated with a variety of makan, food, chewing and smiling simultaneously. Many have left their gates open and beam at the visitors storming their gardens, pointing camera lenses at Santa figures, shiny cribs and the banquets themselves. My stomach grumbles at the promise of grilled meat that fills the air – until I realize what the smell is: fat frogs on spits!

Everybody speaks in capital letters to drown the yelling of teenage girls in long dresses and headscarves spraying each other with fake snow. On top of the chatter, Christmas carols ring out of houses, spreading a veil of the festive spirit over the village. The stew of sounds bubbles over me as my brain struggles to absorb this fanfare for the senses.

The tide takes us to the Malacca River from where brightly lit lanterns hover into the sky. “Chinese tradition! You write down a wish and let it fly…” I buy a lantern and scribble on the delicate paper. Simon fiddles with a lighter, trying to set fire to the piece of coal attached to the bottom wire. “When the flame fills the lantern, let go!” People’s emotions boil over every time a lantern takes its first clumsy shot at flight, beginning with a staccato of “oh-ohs” and climaxing in a relieved “ahhh” when the paper takes wishes safely into the sky instead of drowning them in the Malacca River.

“Merry Christmas”, Simon shouts when midnight strikes. “Like it?” I look at the people rejoicing around me, at fireworks ripping apart the dark, at wishes hovering up. Simon would never believe me if I told him this was the first time I enjoyed Christmas for as long as I can remember. So I just smile. “Yalla!”