Where’s the stuffed bird?!

The Budapest Sun’s columnist, Paul M. James, takes a look at some of Hungary’s Christmas traditions from a British perspective.


For many Anglo-Hungarian families, the festive time of the year throws up a number of cultural anomalies which have to be resolved. Let’s begin with the gratifying delight of opening presents. Should we go Hungarian style and open them on Christmas Eve or, wait a day and, adopt the British custom of Christmas Day. When the tiny ones ask who to address their Christmas wish list to, another dilemma presents itself. Is it Jesus or Father Christmas who will do the honours?
The decision of when to exchange presents is intrinsically linked with the staging of the main Christmas meal. Evening on the 24th , or afternoon on the 25th? Nuclear family, or members of the extended family? Many Hungarians like to keep to the nuclear family for the festive meal. They then have the intricate logistical problems of persuading both sets of in-laws that they had the privilege of being the first to be visited. Little porky pies abound even at Christmas!
The choice of meal also varies; carp (ponty) being the preferred choice of most Magyars against our liking for roast turkey. Actually, carp doesn’t enjoy the best of reputations in Britain. In fact, it wouldn’t be a gross exaggeration to say that most people wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole. An interesting tie-in with this are Britain’s fishing fights between the native inhabitants and the Polish immigrants. Instead of throwing the carp back into the river, the Polish fisherman, quite naturally as befits a food that they, like the Hungarians, consider good enough to constitute the Christmas meal, take it home to eat. Stocks have thus become depleted and conflicts have arisen.
The carp are not suffering only in the UK though; I always feel very sad and annoyed when I see how the poor blighters are sold here. Supermarkets and market sellers cram as many as they can into ridiculously small tanks which result in the fish barely being able to move, let alone swim. Surely, some kind of animal cruelty law is being broken.
When the Christmas tree first appears, and at whose hands, differs too. In Britain, the tree, often an artificial version, goes up in early-ish December courtesy of the parents and eagerly watched by the children. In Hungary, however, almost always a real one is put up by Jesus at, in British eyes, the alarmingly late date of the 24th. I remember our next-door neighbour’s young son knocking on the door one year to enquire quizzically how our tree had miraculously appeared so early. My wife gave him a concocted explanation of how a visiting Father Christmas from England had been responsible (yeah!).When one looks at the number of trees that proliferate the shopping centres, this must be a common source of puzzlement to Hungarian children. Apparently, the oft- given retort is that they are mere impersonations, albeit impressive in both height and stature.
It’s quite surprising to me that the major day for celebrating Christmas in Hungary, the 24th is not an official national holiday though rumblings on this topic can normally be heard at this time of the year. Generally, Hungarians either take it as part of their holiday entitlement or work the previous Saturday.
In Britain, with the focus on Christmas Day, many people have to put in a half day on Christmas Eve. Nevertheless, after a few hours, this quickly becomes a case of ‘let the party begin’.
A riotous affair of drunkenness then proceeds, which usually stretches into an evening pub crawl. An interesting snapshot comparison of the 24th would find the Hungarian family huddled together in the family home eating their fish, and passing round poppy seed and walnut pastries (beigli), while the British are out on the town getting absolutely bladdered with their friends and fellow workers. Indeed, Christmas Eve in Britain vies with New Year’s Eve for the police’s worst night of the year. It also probably produces the year’s biggest morning after regrets as home truths are spouted to bosses and misguided fornications take place.
When you think about it, there must be a catalogue of unknowing tourists who have chosen Budapest for a Christmas vacation and been sorely disappointed by the paucity of their social options on Christmas Eve.
Anyway, regardless of whether it’s fish or turkey, beigli or Christmas pudding, mulled wine or sherry, szaloncukor or paper hats, pálinka or whisky, I’d like to wish all the Budapest Sun readers a very merry Christmas and a happy and prosperous new year!

Paul M. James

12.12.2008