Christmas Eve is upon us, and in my family, this is truly the start of Christmas. My stepdad, Niels, is Danish, so Christmas for him–and Denmarkians in general–is Christmas Eve. The big, traditional meal, the gifts, the cool tradition of singing carols while circling around a tree that is lit with actual candles. In the States we could never do that for a couple reasons. First, a lot of Americans are fat, so we’d probably knock over the tree and it would catch on fire. Second, if that happened, we’d sue people once it did, even if our legal battle meant suing Granny Mildred.
As an aside, Granny Mildred wasn’t even in the pretend caroling circle when the imaginary fire happened; she was resting in the gold color velour rocker-chair (Christmas was at her house). She just watched, startled, when the fire started. I’m sure our money-grubbing lawyers would find a way to include her in the suit anyway, even though her only income is Medicare. We’re just litigious like that. Unlike fat Americans, Danes are neither litigious or fat. They are thin, so they can circle around the candlelit Christmas tree and sing carols, no Granny Mildred lawsuits needed. Unfortunately, no traditional Danish Christmas this year because of damn Covid. No circling, no holding hands, no singing. Damn.
I know that Christmas in Denmark is a big deal, because that’s what my step-dad told us my whole life (well, at least once he entered the picture). “You don’t know a real Christmas until you have Danish Christmas.” After hearing that every year repeatedly, eventually I did go to Denmark for the Santa holiday. (Jack and I were living in England at the time, so it seemed like a really good idea, not to mention I have family there, of course). Danish Christmas was, indeed, amazing, just as Niels had said. Candle lit trees, encircled by thin people, which is perhaps why no fires happened. No Christmas Eve Gremlins!
A gremlin, by the way, is not just the main character in the 80’s movie, “Gremlins.” No, a Gremlin is not only that, because, as I learned this morning, the cute little creatures have to do with glitches in all things electrical. There were no such glitches (or any fires) in our Danish Christmas, probably because candles are not electrical.
Surpassing all expectations, Danish Christmas meant candle lit trees and Christmas carols (already mentioned), amazing, beautiful food—and plenty of it. On Christmas eve, Danish people eat as if they are Americans–holy cow! That, or I was so drunk I can’t remember. Maybe we actually had pizza, I dunno. Just kidding, there was a ton of food, as I said, all of it glorious. I was drunk, though, that part’s for sure.
Ah, let’s not skip the discussion of alcohol. If there is one thing the Danes do well, it’s alcohol and drinking. (There is much, much more they do well; I assure you, from design to cooking to Hans Christian Andersen books and more.) In my experience, Danish people can get drunk often and big time. Of course, it was Christmas, so that has to be factored in, so I don’t want to suggest that all Danes drink like fish. Maybe it’s just my family. Still, the alcohol was poured, served, and encouraged as much as the food. I drank sooo much that I even ate ham, and I don’t eat ham. I did that night, though, much to the delight of my schnapps drinking, frequent wine-pouring, champagne-glass re-filling family, all of whom encouraged the drinking as much as the feasting. For years, my lovely family would remind me that I ate ham at Danish Christmas in the year 2000. Let it go, people, it’s Covid time now, for Pete’s sake. I eat Covid, now!
Jack and I quickly came to understand why Danish people drink so much. It’s the sun, or rather, the lack thereof. In Denmark in the winter, it gets dark SOOO early that it can’t be helped. One simply must drink, just to stay alive, albeit in a drunken state, because it gets dark at noon. Okay, that part isn’t true, but it does get dark ridiculously early. Noon thirty maybe. It’s also absurdly cold. If I lived in Denmark, I would have to stay drunk on a regular basis, because one can only read so many Hans Christian Andersen books, drink so much or watch so much TV before going crazy. Or dying of liver failure.
Another thing Danes do well, besides making, pouring and drinking alcohol, is “partying.” In fact, they know how to party–whatever that means–like nobody’s business. (Seriously, it’s none of your business). After our Christmas feast, my cousins went out to the clubs to go party some more. Jack and I didn’t go and there’s no way I could have. Not only was my giant American belly too full to move, I was still shit-faced. Also, by the time the cousins went out, it was very, very, late, and well past my Danish bed time (probably around 9:00 pm). I’m not sure exactly how people can go from one party to another; it’s not something I’ve ever been able to pull off. Then again, I can’t drink that much, and rarely do…unless it’s Danish Christmas and I drink to the point of eating ham. (That doesn’t even sound right, but it is, indeed, exactly what I meant.) So, to the discos my cousins went and danced, drank and stayed up until the wee hours, while Jack and I went to bed. In the morning, everyone else seemed perfectly fine whilst we Americans were still recovering, hungover from the feast, the drinking, and all our revelry. In the morning, it was actual Christmas day, which meant the partying would begin all over again. But first, Christmas breakfast. Ham and eggs, anyone?