From the spiders’ webs hung on Ukrainian trees (pavuchky) to the little boats that bring sparkle to many a Greek square (karavaki) and the cardboard crackers serving up mediocre humour to the British dining table, every European country does Christmas a little differently.
For some, nothing says festive cheer like watching the same thing on television year in, year out. For others, it’s the food, the customs or the decorations (which, frankly, would raise the eyebrow of any guest who happened to be visiting).
Here, Guardian correspondents across the continent reflect on the quirks and idiosyncrasies without which Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas.
Donald Duck smörgåsbord
Shortly after 3pm on Christmas Eve, millions of households across Sweden will be tuning in for an unlikely national festive icon: Donald Duck.
Along with the julbord (the Christmas table or smörgåsbord), julgröt (Christmas porridge) and an in-person visit from tomten (Sweden’s father Christmas), the annual screening of Donald Duck – or Kalle Anka to Swedes – has become a staple of Swedish Christmas.
First aired on Swedish television on Christmas Eve in 1960, the Disney Christmas special is known in Sweden as Kalle Anka och hans vänner önskar God Jul – Donald Duck and his friends wish you a Merry Christmas – but was originally called From All of Us to All of You. It features original clips from Cinderella, Snow White and Mickey Mouse plus a few newer additions – but for the Swedes, Donald is the undisputed highlight.
Some households get going on their julbord – which might include ham, meatballs, beetroot salad, gravlax and pickled herring – before he appears on their screens. Others wait until afterwards to begin their big Christmas meal.
This year, for the first time, Donald Duck will be preceded by an hour dedicated to stories by Astrid Lindgren, the Pippi Longstocking author, prompting fears that Sweden’s festive duck had been cooked. But broadcaster SVT has pledged to keep him on 24 December for “as long as we can”.
Miranda Bryant
Rubbish Secret Santa
Wichteln, literally meaning “imping” and also known under its Swedish name Julklapp, is the German version of Secret Santa: before the Christmas party at your office or sports club, you are randomly assigned another member for whom you have to bring a present on the night.
Because the gift-givers remain anonymous and can’t be held accountable, the spoils of these kinds of evenings tend to be underwhelming, which may explain why Wichteln has in recent years been increasingly superseded by the more honest Schrottwichteln: “rubbish Secret Santa”.
Scratched CDs of 90s one-hit wonders, coffee cups with cheesy slogans, plastic toys: the more mediocre the better. The only unwritten rule seems to be that you shouldn’t have bought the present you bring along to Schrottwichteln especially for the occasion – essentially, it’s a more sophisticated form of recycling, something the Germans have been excelling at for decades.
Philip Oltermann
Soviet romcom
In Russia, where since the Soviet period New Year’s Eve has been a much bigger holiday than Christmas, a longstanding festive tradition is to watch the film The Irony of Fate, a good-natured romantic comedy released in 1976.
The film follows a group of male friends who have a New Year’s Eve tradition of going to the sauna. Afterwards, in a drunken haze, they head to the airport to put one of their number on a plane to Leningrad, but end up putting the wrong friend, Zhenya, on board.
When Zhenya awakes from his alcoholic stupor, he thinks he’s still in Moscow and takes a taxi to his home address. In a wry commentary on Soviet urban planning, the same street exists in Leningrad, and the block of flats looks exactly the same. He lets himself in to what he thinks is his apartment and passes out again. When the flat’s owner, Nadia, returns, she is initially furious with the drunken intruder, but eventually love blossoms.
At the time, the film was a gentle but clever satire on some of the bleaker aspects of Soviet reality. Now, it can have the opposite effect for some viewers, a cutesy nostalgia trip for some Russians who miss the Soviet past.
The film was popular across the former Soviet Union but was banned in Ukraine in 2015 as part of the battle against Russian culture and influence.
There has been a 2007 Russian sequel and a 2022 Hollywood remake but neither has the charm of the original. The film is traditionally shown on television every New Year’s Eve, and many families watch it every year.
Shaun Walker
Carp in the bath
Carp is traditional fare on Christmas Eve dining tables across the continent, but especially so in the Czech Republic, where vendors with tubs full of the chunky pond-dwellers line the streets of popular shopping areas in the run-up to 24 December.
A younger generation of Czechs may be developing more of a taste for smoked salmon, but proper traditionalists stick with carp and will insist the seller doesn’t kill or descale the catch upon purchase, in spite of officials pleading to leave the task to professionals.
Instead, they will transfer the fish to their very own bathtub and keep it alive there until Christmas Eve so it is as fresh as possible. Those who can still bear to kill their fishy flatmates after sharing the same roof for a few days traditionally serve it fried in breadcrumbs with potato salad as a side, and with the head used to make a fish soup.
Philip Oltermann
Bare-bottomed statuettes
For many people in Catalonia, nothing – but nothing – says Christmas quite like a small, squatting figure in a corner of the nativity scene. Though not exclusive to Catalonia, the bare-bottomed caganer (shitter), has become synonymous with the north-eastern Spanish region and is a Christmas staple in shops and stalls there.
While the figurines – which first appeared in the late 17th century and are thought to bring good luck and fertility – usually depict red-capped, pipe-smoking Catalan peasants, more modern caganers are available in the images of singers including Rosalía and Harry Styles, sports stars such as Cristiano Ronaldo and Rafael Nadal, and politicians from Giorgia Meloni to Volodymyr Zelenskiy.
Another festive tradition is the Cabalgata de Reyes Magos. The huge public cavalcades, held in Spanish towns and cities on 5 January, celebrate the generosity of the Three Wise Men. But rather than travelling by camel and offering children gold, frankincense and myrrh, these Magi process through the streets on enormous and ornate floats, and toss huge quantities of sweets into the crowds, where they are swiftly seized by eager hands both young and old. The use of ladders to command better views and bigger handfuls of goodies is not uncommon – nor is topping off the sugar high with a slice of traditional roscón de reyes cake and a cup of hot chocolate.
Sam Jones
