From Tuyo to Tea Time: My Mama’s First UK Christmas Adventure

One winter, one suitcase, and one Filipino mom ready to conquer the Queen’s land

When my mom landed at Gatwick last December, fresh from a long-haul flight and still clutching a Ziploc full of sinigang mix, I knew this visit was going to be legendary. It wasn’t just a holiday; it was a long-overdue reunion—wrapped in a winter coat, sealed with hugs at Arrivals, and sprinkled with powdered snow like a cinematic touch from the universe.

For the first time ever, my mama set foot in the land of biscuits (not cookies), rain that drizzles artistically, and buses that talk. And oh, she was ready.

Christmas in the Kingdom

Her visit began with a Christmas straight out of a Netflix holiday rom-com—minus the spontaneous snowball fights (we got rain, of course) and with more lechon belly than turkey. She arrived just in time to experience her first real cold Christmas—complete with wooly socks, awkward family selfies by the tree, and me explaining for the hundredth time that no, the heater is not broken, it’s just British.

She brought the timpladong pagmamahal of home, and I gave her the awkwardly charming British version of a winter wonderland.

Touring Like a True Tita Tourist

We did The London Tour—you know the one: Big Ben, Tower Bridge (not to be confused with London Bridge, which my mama kept asking if it was the one that fell), Buckingham Palace, and every red phone booth that remained standing. My mom took pictures with such glee you’d think she was auditioning for a VisitBritain commercial.

And let me tell you—she walked around with her scarf stylishly flung over her shoulder like she was in a teleserye set in Notting Hill. At one point she whispered, “Anak, ang lamig pala talaga ng mayaman…” 😂

Then came our provincial chapter—a road trip up north to Liverpool, where the streets echoed with Beatles tunes and the spirit of maritime history. Mama was so starstruck by the waterfront she asked if it was okay to throw a coin in like Trevi Fountain. I said, “Sure, Mama, as long as you don’t follow it.” She laughed. I panicked slightly.

And oh, Shrewsbury—the medieval dream town with cobbled lanes, crooked houses, and a castle that made Mama pause and whisper, “Parang may lalabas na knight in shining armor, anak!” I told her if a knight did appear, I’d make sure he had a British passport.

We wandered, snapped pictures, window-shopped, and then ended the day with a cozy meal at Umai, a Japanese gem tucked in this charming town. The sushi was fresh, the ramen comforting, and Mama—well, she tried chopsticks for the first time in years, gave up halfway, and asked the server for a spoon with the sweetest smile. “Masarap, pero sana may toyo at calamansi,” she said, proving once again that her heart (and taste buds) remain proudly Pinoy.

Each stop was a memory in motion. Each town a soft reminder that wonder isn’t always loud—it can be found in quiet streets, shared meals, and mothers who still say “Huwag mong kalimutan ang jacket mo” even when you’re grown.

A New Year, A New Beginning

We rang in the New Year together, the kind of celebration we hadn’t shared in years. No video calls this time—just real-time laughter, “Happy New Year!” screams, and a midnight feast that was 80% Filipino, 20% confused charcuterie board.

We talked about everything and nothing. She told me stories I thought I had forgotten, ones about childhood and prayers whispered over my dreams. We watched fireworks sparkle on the television, and in that moment, I saw something in her eyes—joy, relief, and the quiet kind of love that stretches across oceans. But just when we thought the festivities were over, my cousin showed up a few days later for a late New Year’s celebration—because in true Filipino fashion, we believe “di pa tapos ang kainan.”

Mother’s Day, The British Edition

Mother’s Day came around (the UK version, because yes, there are two—you’re welcome for the extra flowers, Mama) and we made it special. A handwritten letter that made her cry?

She said something that stuck with me:
“Ang sarap pala sa feeling na anak ka ulit ng anak mo.”

Because for the first time, I got to take care of her the way she’s always taken care of me. Every bus ticket, every meal, every coat I wrapped around her shoulders—it was my quiet way of saying,

thank you for everything.

To anyone reading this who’s far from their mom—send her a message. Book that ticket. Or write her a letter. You never know when the magic of togetherness will bloom, even in a land of fog and fish and chips.

Mama, if you’re reading this… next time, we’re doing Scotland. Pack your jacket—and yes, I’ll boil the water for your instant coffee just right.