So, what is Christmas like in England? Is it similar to how we do it in Spain? And how do the Spanish festivities match up to those of our European neighbours?
It couldn’t really be said that Christmas, as we know it today, has any concrete origins, other than the obviously religious aspect. Most modern ‘traditions’ observed around the world have their roots in Northern Europe, more specifically in Germany. It’s Germany that has given us some of our most famous and most beautiful Christmas carols, along with the evergreen Christmas tree with its spiky needles, its fairy lights and its baubles. And then from the United States and a certain soft drink brand that somehow worms its way into our whole lives, came Santa Claus dressed in red and white, like a walking advert for fizzy cola.
But of course, every country also has its own festive idiosyncrasies, and every part of the world has its own special way of celebrating Christmas.
So, what is Christmas like in England? Is it similar to how we do it in Spain? And how do the Spanish festivities match up to those of our European neighbours?
So, let’s begin. Turkey vs sea bream. Erm, no, that’s too obvious, too much of a cliché. We’ll try a different tack. Father Christmas and the Wise Men. But that’s three against one, which doesn’t seem very fair. The Nochebuena dinner on the 24th and the Christmas dinner of the 25th? Well, the fact is that they don’t really have a lot in common, and I’m not sure we want to go into that much detail. Crib or tree, what difference does it make, especially if the crib has its own cute little palms?
Let me think… I know, let’s start from the beginning.
If the Sunday roast is legendarily tasty, what can we say about the Christmas roast? There are often two types of meat, and at least one will be a bird. But if it’s something really special that you’re after, there’s a recipe online (and apparently served at Buckingham Palace) for a seven bird roast, which, as the name suggests, consists of seven birds, stuffed inside one another and all roasted together.
When does Christmas start in the UK? Well, on the 2nd of November, when the Halloween costumes come off and artificial snow suddenly fills the department stores, offices and pubs. And then on the 9th, the lights on London’s Regent Street (world capital of Christmas presents) are turned on, and there you have it. The Christmas concerts, the carol singers and the mulled wine all appear, along with the television specials with recipes for turkey and salmon (since it seems like they’re the only options), and the thing that really drives every Spaniard living in Britain mad: the soundtrack of carols and Christmas songs that seems to be on a constant loop wherever you go. You only need to go to the supermarket to hear Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” being blasted out, or the doctor’s waiting room by Brenda Lee’s “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”.
And from there we skip straight to the 25th, because everyone ends up working on the 24th, and the day ends with a normal dinner. Can you imagine that in Spain, a normal supper on the 24th December? I don’t even want to think about it. What would the neighbours say?
Of course, they really pull out all of the stops for the 25th: the tree surrounded by the most amazingly wrapped presents (a skill peculiar to the British), a crackling fire, the table laid and crackers at every place, just waiting to be pulled apart and reveal their hidden ‘gifts’.
If the Sunday roast is legendarily tasty, what can we say about the Christmas roast? There are often two types of meat, and at least one will be a bird. But if it’s something really special that you’re after, there’s a recipe online (and apparently served at Buckingham Palace) for a seven bird roast, which, as the name suggests, consists of seven birds, stuffed inside one another and all roasted together.
And now the dinner can begin: crackers are pulled between neighbours to left and right or in front, exploding to reveal a handful of confetti, a slip of paper with a joke or a fortune and a paper crown, which must be worn for the whole of the dinner.
After the starters, which are relatively full of fantasy, but which, as I said earlier, inevitably involve salmon, the roast arrives in its glory, along with roast potatoes and boiled, roasted, fried or steamed vegetables and the cranberry sauce that adds that special festive touch to the meal.
And then the dessert, a flaming Christmas pudding. Rather stodgy and sweet, it would have few real fans if it weren’t for the brandy that it’s doused in to feed the flames.
And that’s it! Presents are opened, festive greetings shared and the drinking begins, in moderation, since the 26th is dedicated to going to the in-laws’ to finish off the leftovers from Christmas Day: turkey and a few sprouts, probably cooked up into some recipe from the television or suggested by a neighbour as a way to use up the 12 kilos of meat left over from the day before.
By the 27th, everything is back to normal and anyone unlucky enough not to have a few days of annual leave left will be back at work until the 31st, New Year’s Eve, celebrated like we’d do for a good friend’s birthday: with a party.
Let’s say that the Sales start 26th at Harrod’s.
Considering they’re British, it’s not bad, not bad at all.
And so, let’s have a look at how we do the festive season in the country of the Spaniards.
When does Christmas begin? Every Spaniard knows that the festivities really start with the kids from the San Ildefonso school choir singing out the winners of the Christmas lottery on the 22nd , and if you haven’t got your tree up by then, you’re practically running late.
And as if today were the last day of the world, once again everyone’s in the bar at the corner at 3pm, wolfing down the entire year’s harvest of Cantabrian oysters and bickering with the Accounts department over who’s going to pay for the next round of drinks, before heading back home, completely stuffed, for a bit of a rest before yet another dinner with the family.
From there to the 24t by 3.00 PM. At this time in all the bars the length and breadth of Spain are full , with everyone downing cava and prawns like they’re not going to get any dinner. Evening rolls around and it’s time to eat, a little something “light” (as the doctor recommends, and as we tell ourselves), like a seven course meal full of uric acid, cholesterol, fat and something that isn’t quite sugar lurking in the “turrón”.
The 25th is spent at the in-laws’, but none of this about leftovers, since they’ve got to show their superiority by offering an eight-course meal, and if yesterday wasn’t enough to punish our livers, today we round it off nicely with a few artery-clogging saturated fats.
And that was just the beginning. Slowly but surely the 28th, day of practical jokes, creeps around, and if you’re at work you’ll have to watch out not to fall into any traps, that is, if you’ve not already been caught out by the spoof story on the radio or in the newspapers.
And as if today were the last day of the world, once again everyone’s in the bar at the corner at 3pm, wolfing down the entire year’s harvest of Cantabrian oysters and bickering with the Accounts department over who’s going to pay for the next round of drinks, before heading back home, completely stuffed, for a bit of a rest before yet another dinner with the family.
In Spain New Year’s Eve is still a family affair, not for everyone, but certainly more than for most of other European countries. What is it that makes the real difference? Well, Spanish Christmas lasts until the 6th January, and so the 31st December fits neatly into the Christmas celebrations, even if it’s got very little to do with the birth of an adored baby and the appearance of a star in Bethelem.
And so the meal is, if possible, even bigger than the one on Nochebuena, mainly because something’s needed to line the stomach before the drinking begins in the New Year’s Party, or just to be able to put up with the ‘New Year’s Eve’ specials that take over the television, and will be endlessly repeated more than three times in the week just after the party.
As for the 1st January for itself, for most it’s a day of rest, recuperation and nursing a rather nasty hangover. There are some brave souls, though, who haul themselves out of bed at the crack of dawn, hitting the flea markets in Madrid for the first bargains of the New Year.
From the 2nd to the 4th, it’s work, as well as finishing stocking up on the presents that the ‘Wise Men’ give out on the night of the 5th, finishing off the children’s costumes for the Epiphany parade and starting to think about the diet that’ll start on the 7th, along with the New Year sales, even as you stuff yourself with the last of the cream-filled roscón, the Three Kings’ cake, for breakfast.
A long time ago, an Italian friend of mine said that if anyone knew how to party, it was the Spanish, and he’d never even been in Spain for the Christmas season. As for me, after this short analysis of the festive period, I’m not sure if it’s that we know how to party best, or just that we can put up with more. Or at least, our livers can!
