A Random Collection of Slovak Christmas Traditions circa 2010

Christmas in Slovakia

December 27, 2010

By Allan Stevo

Christmas in Slovakia can be said to span for three days, which is also how long some weddings in this part of the world tend to last.  Of course, there is the widespread idea that Christmas is 12 days long, even here in Slovakia (from Christmas to Epiphany), but the 24, 25, and 26 December are widely recognized as the most important days of the Christmas celebration.

Eating McDonald’s on Christmas
or
Eating Richman on Christmas

If your cupboard is bare and you forget to go shopping for groceries on December 23 in Bratislava, a Richman or a Big Mac from McDonald’s are about the only things you’ll be able to find to eat for Christmas dinner.  In case you are unfamiliar, a “Richman” is the pioneer of Slovak street food.  It is a ham sandwich that is about 70% mayonnaise by weight.  (Those who love 70% mayonnaise sandwiches take an immediate liking to a Richman.  Those who don’t, find it an acquired taste that they will soon come to appreciate if they find themselves out in Bratislava at 11 pm and hungry.)  You are surely familiar with the offerings at McDonald’s, as these are by and large a common denominator the world over.

The logic “What about the tourists? They need to eat so surely something will be open.” will not save you.  For these three days, Bratislava is locked up tight.

Slovaks still celebrate the Sabbath

Slovakia is a place where the “Sabbath” is still celebrated.  This is gradually changing, but on a Sunday afternoon, most businesses are closed.  Fewer cars are on the street on Sundays as well and fewer people are out and about.  For many Slovaks, it seems nothing takes precedent over a Sunday afternoon at home, especially work.

Christmas Eve is an extreme version of that Sunday at home. The city of Bratislava is a ghost town, with nothing but a few pieces of garbage rolling down the streets like tumbleweeds. Even on busier streets, a car passes every four or five minutes in this city that’s usually overrun with cars.

On the 25^th this is less true, but the city is still very empty.  This year, it snowed late at night on Christmas Eve, so you could see that even at midday 19 out of 20 cars on the street had not been moved since the snow started falling the night before.

And on the 26^th, only a few more people are out.  The busses still aren’t running normally, and the biggest crowds are the half dozen people waiting in line for the irregular regional busses that will bring them to a family member’s house outside of the city.  In many families, December 26 is a day to go about visiting with extended family.

Again to reiterate, Slovaks are serious about their days of rest.  For the benefit of those who come after me as travelers in this land, if your fridge is empty on Dec 23 at 10 pm, you will go hungry for the next three days in Slovakia.

Unless, of course, you are invited to a Christmas feast, in which case you will not need to worry about the decision between McDonald’s or Richman.

The five words I knew when I came to Slovakia

One of the five words I knew when I came to Slovakia was “oblatky.”  I, of course, had no idea how to spell it, because of something I much later learned is referred to by linguists as sonant and dissonant pairs. Oblatky (with a B) and oplatky (with a P) are virtually indistinguishable when spoken.  I only knew what they were and that I liked them.

The reason I knew this word was because every Christmas oblatky and honey made an appearance at our family’s Christmas table. The reason it was able to make an appearance was because some enterprising American lover of Slovak culture saw to it that any Slovak in America who wanted oblatky could get it through him.  This must have been no easy task. Figuring out where the two million  Slovaks who came to America had dispersed to is probably harder than finding a needle in  a haystack, but, as Albert Jay Knock writes, (in his essay – “Isaiah’s Job”) eventually, those dispersed people who want to know about you will find you.  My part of that community found him, the oblatky salesman, and every year before Christmas, oblatky were distributed to every family in the church.

The other words I knew before stepping foot in Slovakia were pupok (belly button), fukaj (“blow” i.e. on your soup) and brat (brother).

“Dobry den” I knew as well, or at least had been exposed to that phrase.  The phrase was corrupted in my mind because of the many variations of it that I had been exposed to.  I had no clue that people were always greeting each other in different Slavic languages in my presence – dobrý deň ( in Slovak),  dobrý den (in Czech), dzień dobry (in Polish), dobar dan (in Croatian),  dober dan (in Slovenian), as well as all the Cyrillic alphabet language greetings for “good day” that look very different on paper, but sound nearly the same aloud – добры дзень – “dobry den” (Belarussian), добър ден – “dobr den” (Bulgarian), добар ден – “dobar den” (Macedonian), добрый день – “dobry den” (Russian), добар дан – “dobar dan” (Serbian) and which includes, of course, Ukranian – добрий день – “dobry den,” in which “good day” sounds identical to Slovak.  I always figured (until the early 90’s) that everyone was speaking the language of Czechoslovakia in my presence. Little did I know as a kid that that’s just what Slavs did in Chicago, they ran around saying hi to each other in their different Slavic languages and dialects.  So, it’s probably not entirely fair to credit me with knowing “dobry den,” but pupok, fukaj, brat and oblatky were words I definitely knew from that long lost land from which my forefather’s came.

If Slovaks in the U.S. ate oblatky at Christmas, I figured oblatky would still be part of  the Christmas tradition in Slovakia, and it was.  What I would find at the center of the Christmas table, however, was a surprise to me.

The Center of the Slovak Christmas Table

On the south side of Chicago, when I was a child and rode with my family past the factories in the corridor that runs from the city right into Hammond and beyond, sometimes there would be old black guys out fishing in the runoff. The warm water helped the fish grow bigger I had heard.  One of my neighbors later in life would swear by the warm water runoff as a place to catch fish.  He said the EPA tested that water so often that it was actually cleaner than Lake Michigan water.  Carp, catfish, and other bottom feeders is what they would catch.  These were fish living in the muck of the runoff of an industrial plant.

No one ever told me that that fish wasn’t healthy to eat, but from childhood, I knew there was just something wrong with the word “carp.” There was just something wrong with eating a bottom feeder when there was food enough to eat something that didn’t feed at the bottom.

If you could fast-forward to my first Christmas in Slovakia, you’d see me at a dinner table eating a piece of carp, because, well, that’s what the Slovaks do and I wanted to know how Slovaks live.  I wanted to know where I come from. I wanted to know what traits in me are traits of my own, what traits in me were traits of my family, and what traits in me were traits of the cultural remnants that couldn’t help but come across on a boat with my 12-year-old grandfather.

The tradition of eating farm raised fish is an old tradition in this part of the world.  It took effort to raise a fish like a carp.  It was like raising a pig or a cow and therefore was expensive.  Sometimes what is expensive and out of reach is also coveted and a farm raised carp came to be considered a luxury item.

Done right, it can actually be quite a delicious and rich fish.

The Christmas Eve Kitchen is the Man’s Domain.
Carp is the man’s domain.

On any yuletide visit to a Slovak home, fish is commonly the centerpiece of the Christmas Eve meal.  Somehow, it is acknowledged as a legitimate part of a pre-midnight fast.  I’d always understood the word fast to mean “not eating,” but even Webster’s allows for the more lax definition of “to eat sparingly or to abstain from some foods.”  For some the Christmas carp is seen as part of that definition of fasting.  For others it is seen as one of the most pleasant tastes of the entire year.  That some people love it so much and others say that they eat it because they are “fasting” indicates to me that the fast can’t be a very trying fast.

It’s also common to see that the social order in the kitchen seems to be turned upside-down on Christmas Eve.  In families where women are so adept at nurturing their husbands and children, and where women so often profess that it feels fulfilling to be such a nurturing homemaker, it has surprised me that there are times where the man is in charge of the kitchen.  One such time where it seems to be common is with the Christmas Eve dinner, where the man sometimes chases the woman out of the kitchen and sets his mind to the not very complex, but easy to screw up work of making potato salad and fried carp.

Many families continue to buy live carp for the Christmas Eve meal, so that is where the preparation begins – with a live carp.

Food and death are intricately linked.

No matter how many gross videos animal rights activists circulate about the cruelty of industrial food production (and there are many on the Internet), these videos are simply graphic and disgusting and are unable to duplicate the feeling of reality.  The experience does not translate.  There is no way that I know of to describe the energy of life that fills a room when there is a living thing like a 10-pound carp there, followed by the sudden emptiness once that life is extinguished.

For that experience to be so much a part of Slovak culture says much about the connectedness between the culture and nature.  It shows a connection to a reality of life – another living thing must regularly die to sustain each of us.  That connection is testified to by the popularity of Slovaks killing a fish at Christmas, by families who kill a pig for celebrations or just as the winter comes.  Even those who live in the most urban areas of Slovakia engage in rituals like this.

Something is lost that we may live.  That’s part of the burden of survival.  The further you remove yourself from the necessary taking of life for survival, the harder it is to know this unpleasant feeling.  A living thing dies each day, that we may have a chance to live a better life.  If all you know is videos and photos of food being produced, then you don’t know the feeling of life leaving a room.

A Chicken McNugget bears such little resemblance to a live chicken that is makes sense that the point is lost in the West.  How could a kid in Chicago ever really understand – “something will die today that I may live.”  Yet, it’s a thought that seems so evident to almost any Slovak.  The point is probably a harder one to simply gloss over in a place where a tradition like killing a Christmas carp exists.

A Downside to Carp.

The fish can be delicious in its carefully prepared and seasoned breading, but you definitely can’t enjoy it the way you might enjoy a big slice of lasagna or a juicy hamburger.  You can’t just dig in.

You’ve really got to watch out for the bones.  Every year several dozen people in Slovakia go to the emergency room to have carp bones pulled out of their throat. If you have a bone lodged in your throat that you can’t reach with your fingers, common advice says to push the bones down with plentiful pieces of bread and water.  If that doesn’t work and you can’t handle the discomfort, then it’s time to go visit the doctor.

This year I learned a “mashed-potato-style” method for dealing with carp that gets around the bones.  A friend of mine takes his fork and smooshes the carp steak little by little into tiny pieces, so tiny that the tiny bones are the biggest thing on the plate and easy to navigate harmlessly.

Catching Carp in Bratislava?

My elderly black neighbors always seemed to have a greater appreciation for fishing locally than my older white neighbors.  Some of my Slovak colleagues will do the same, they will pull a fish out of places around Bratislava where one might not even actually expect a fish to be able to live.  There’s a certain industriousness to Slovak culture where both men and women are largely expected to be able to make things that they do not buy in the store.

You name it, I know a person who makes it as a hobby – decorations carved from wood, fine instruments carved from wood, canned vegetables, canned fruits, canned products of the forest such as strawberry jam or a wild mushrooms in their own aspic, sausages from freshly slaughtered pigs, illegally made alcohol from any of a variety of fruits, legally made alcohol from any of a variety of fruits, wine, smoked meats from a hunted wild boar or a hunted dear, medicinal teas picked from herbs grown in nature, sauerkraut fermented fresh on the balcony of a Bratislava apartment, alcohol distilled on the balcony of a Bratislava apartment (definitely in violation of a number of laws), honey, alcohol seasoned with underripe walnuts, alcohol seasoned with herbs, tomato paste, juice, a pate from any number of home raised and slaughtered creatures….

This list is virtually endless.  The tradition of cultivating a skill that allows you to make at least one item at home seems to be weaker among the younger generations and those living in Bratislava, but even among those groups people commonly know how to make something at home.  The more homes you visit, the more surprised you are to see what kinds of things there are that people are sitting at home in their free time making for themselves, perhaps for the sole purpose of proudly presenting to guests to their homes.

A man who catches live carp and other fish in the populated areas of Bratislava to feed himself, his family, and guests, in my eyes follows in that tradition.

Lengthy and Elaborate Greetings

Lengthy and elaborate greetings are common for Christmas in Slovakia.  They are common for any celebratory day in Slovakia – health, happiness, love, romance, wealth… these greetings will incorporate dreams you’d never even imagined for yourself.  Big holidays, birthdays, name days, important events.  If something significant has happened in your life and you are among Slovaks, a mammoth greeting is coming your way.  Just wait and see.  Slovaks seem to even have a special breathing pattern where they can allow these greetings of goodwill to flow from their mouths at an even keel without pausing for a breath in the middle.  Which leads me to conclude, that for a friend, Slovaks will do anything; they’ll even stop breathing.

And since this is any time after the year 2002, I can verify that text messages are very popular with Slovaks of all ages, so the greetings will be offered even by those who are not with you on this day.  Before the day comes to an end, lengthy text messages will be sent that, because of the dense grammar of the Slovak language, are able to pack a lot into 160 characters.

Baby Jesus Flies Through Your Window

In Slovakia, St. Nicholas (Mikulas) comes for a visit on the night of Dec5/6.  Santa Claus, who has grown out of that tradition, is commonly perceived by Slovaks to be linked to America, capitalism, and especially to Coca Cola.  In Slovakia, Santa Claus may occasionally be seen out in public gathering spots (such as shopping malls), but I’ve not once heard of him visiting a home to deliver presents.  The usual visitor is “Jezisko,” which translates as “Baby Jesus” or “Little Jesus.”  In many families, he’s said to fly through the window on Christmas Eve sometime around dinner (usually after dinner so that the kids aren’t playing with their new prized possessions at the dinner table).

Jezisko did not come to all families however during the last 60 years.  With baby Jesus such a commonly celebrated part of the holiday, the atheist communists felt the need to present an alternative.  So “Dedo Mraz” appeared in Czechoslovak culture. Dedo Mraz, the communist old man in a robe and a beard who brought gifts from Russia for all the good boys and girls, flew threw the window in some households instead.

Whichever figure was said to fly through windows, the style of diverting the attention of children during the placing of gifts seems to have commonly followed one of two set patterns. Based on the many conversations I’ve had on this topic, this is the approximate equation I’ve found:

1. Have a child go to his or her bedroom window and open it for Baby Jesus as they watch for the savior’s coming.
2. From the next room, inform the child that he or she must have failed to noticed baby Jesus flying through the window so quickly since the presents have already appeared in the next room under the Christmas tree.
3. The child closes the window, flummoxed yet again, and returns to the next room excitedly to open his or her presents.

Another equation I’ve found that was common in numerous families was

1. Sit down for Christmas Eve dinner

2-A. While everyone is getting ready at the table, one of the parents quickly and stealthily drops off gifts under the tree in the next room.

or

2-B. While everyone is already eating, a neighbor, at a prescribed time, rings the doorbell downstairs and one of the parents goes into the next room to pretend to be dealing with the neighbor and his greetings, when in fact, presents are being placed under the tree.

3.  When Christmas Eve dinner is over, the presents have somehow magically appeared to the astonished excitement of the children, who have once again missed the coming of Jezisko.

A simple Christmas Tree – Wooden Decorations

Garland is sold in Slovakia, but garland is not common.  Tinsel is sold, but tinsel is not common.  Lots of Christmas kitsch is sold, but this also does not seem to be very common. A few sprigs of pine or mistletoe about the house are common.  In families where a Christmas tree is present (a tradition probably introduced several centuries ago by German Protestants who colonized areas of Slovakia) the Christmas tree often looks simple.  Maybe a few simple glass ornaments. Maybe a few simple wooden or straw ornaments.  The three-foot-tall (about one meter) Christmas tree in this photo is the most representative Christmas tree that I have come across this year.  When I have been exposed to Christmas trees in homes in Slovakia, “simple” has been the common denominator of many of the trees.

There’s much about tradition in the family that I’ve mentioned here and much more that could be mentioned, but I have forgotten to mention visitors that might show up.  On the third of these three days of Slovak Christmas (and on the fourth, maybe the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh as well) a visitor comes to the door to pick up his Christmas gift.

The Gypsy at the Door

He was dressed like my garbage man.  He smelled like my garbage man.  But he was not my garbage man.

“Dear sir, I’m sorry to bother you on this blessed holiday, I am your garbage man and just wanted to pay you a visit….”

He was dressed like my garbage man.  He smelled like my garbage man.  But he was not my garbage man.

“..and to let you know what a pleasure it was to pick up your trash on the very early mornings, the very early mornings throughout the year, no matter the weather, and during these holiday seasons I want you to know…”

He was dressed like my garbage man.  He smelled like my garbage man.  But he was not my garbage man.

“…that from my family, my nine children, my mother, and my wife, as well as my colleagues’ families,” at which point his colleague who was also not my garbage man, but was also dressed like him, gave me a nod and a smile, “I would like to wish you and your family the best during this holiday season as we begin the next year ahead and finish the year behind us….”

He was dressed like my garbage man.  He smelled like my garbage man.  But he was not my garbage man.  Why was he standing at my door?

“…we would like to wish you much health that the year ahead will be another step in your long and prosperous life, so much health, much wealth, much happiness, happiness for you and your family, love for you in all of your relationships and especially in your closest relationships, much romance for you and those who love you, a long life I wish you sir, and happiness in the year ahead as well as very merry holiday celebrations, sir I wish you much wealth and success and I would like to kindly ask you sir if you could help make this holiday a bit more special for me and my colleague and our families in the days ahead.”

Silence.

I stared.  He stared.  I stared.  He stared.

I knew what he wanted.  But I wanted to see how far I could take this playing dumb.

“Sir, thank you, I wish you the same.  What is it that you would like from me?”

“A small gift to thank me for the hard work and to make the lives of my family and my colleagues’ families a little more joyous for the rest of the year.”

He was dressed like my garbage man.  He smelled like my garbage man.  But he was not my garbage man.

“What kind of gift would you like?”

“A gift that we can share with our family sir.”

“What kind of gift would that be?”

“A monetary gift sir.”

“How much would you like?”

“200 crowns” he said to me.

“I don’t understand.”

“200 crowns.”

“I don’t understand.”

He was dressed like my garbage man.  He smelled like my garbage man.  But he was not my garbage man.

Using his finger, he wrote the numbers “2” “0” “0” on my apartment door to help me understand.

“No, I don’t recognize you; you do not look like my garbage man.”

“2” “0” “0” he wrote on the door again.

“But I will not give you 200.”

“1” “0” “0” he wrote on the door again.

“And why would I want to give that to you?”

He began his memorized speech…” Dear sir, I’m sorry to bother you on this blessed holiday, I am your garbage man and just wanted to pay you a visit and to let you know what a pleasure it was to pickup your trash on the very early mornings, the very early mornings throughout the year, no matter the weather, and during these holiday seasons I want you to know…”

“Okay, okay, all that I understand, but I don’t understand why I would want to give you this money.”

“Here in Slovakia, it is our custom to give gifts to one’s garbage men on this day.”

“Yes, but I know you are not my garbage man.”

“Sir, your neighbor has given to us.”

I thought about my neighbors.  “Which neighbor?” I asked.

“Downstairs.”

“Downstairs?”

“Really?  How much?”

I knew the guy downstairs didn’t give them a penny.  He would probably call the police on them if he saw them in the building.  He was a 40-year-old banker.

“2” “0”  “0” he writes on the palm of his hand very slowly for me to understand.

“If he tells me he has given, then I too will give.”

“We went downstairs.”

Mr. Pupil (as his name translated) did not answer the door.  His teenage son did.

“Good afternoon sir, we were just telling your neighbor here that we have a tradition in Slovakia of giving money to garbage men on this day of the year.  He said that if you would confirm such a tradition for him that he would give us a just gift at this time of year for us and our families….”

The man who was definitely not our garbage man kept talking.  Each time he averted his eyes away from my teenage neighbor, the neighbor would try to make eye contact with me and to shake his head no.  Two or three times he failed at doing this and stopped himself.  He was evidently really scared at the situation he was in.  He did not at any time make eye contact with me when the men dressed as garbage men were looking at him, but made eye contact with me each time that the men dressed as garbage men were looking away from him.  Man, did he look scared.

The kid wouldn’t say “no,” but I understood the answer to be “no.”  I thanked my neighbor and suggested to the garbage men that we leave Mr. Pupil’s family alone.  But they didn’t get the hint.  I had to suggest it a few more times before the men dressed as garbage men would walk far enough up the stairs with me for Mr. Pupil’s son to feel comfortable closing his door.

They came back up the stairs with me and stood talking to me outside my apartment as I went in.

“Gentlemen, the problem is that you are not my garbage men.”

“Sir, we are collecting for your garbage man, he has a very long route and he cannot cover it all in one day.  For your convenience, so that you will not have to be bothered tomorrow by your garbage man, we are helping to collect.”

“Why are you wearing uniforms from the garbage company?”

“To make us look more authentic.”

“Sir, thank you for coming.  I will not be giving you money.”

“Sir, I have just come today to wish you and your family a …..”

“Again, thank you for coming, I wish you and your family a happy new year.”

“Stastny novy rok” it’s said in Slovak. The word “stastny” is, however, not a perfect translation for “happy.”  “Stastny” means happy and lucky.  The same in one word.  A happy new year and a lucky new year travel together in the Slovak greetings.

“Sir, might you at least invite us in to give us something against the cold, something that would keep us warm on this cold day?”

“What is it that you would like?”

“Sir, just a small drink to keep us warm?”

“Like tea?”

“Yes, like tea sir, with a little something extra in it.”

“With sugar?”

“Sir, sugar is good, but it does not warm the body and the soul.”

“What warms?”

“A small drink of something harder.  Could you reward us for the time here by giving us a drink of something harder?”

“No, not right now ‘mister neighbor,’ but I wish you a happy new year.”

I tried to close the door, but he put his foot in and proceeded to present his case again:

“Dear sir, I’m sorry to bother you on this blessed holiday, I am your garbage man and just wanted to pay you a visit….”

I thought about what I had behind the door.  I thought about where my roommate was, too.  The situation was still very much under control.

I opened the door back up, and I kept my voice calm with the garbage man, but spoke firmly: “Sir, what you are doing is very rude.  I will not give you money or alcohol today.  Go away.  Go away now.”

The man dressed as my garbage man pulled his foot out of the path of my door stood up straight again and looked at my unhappily.

“Thank you for coming.  I wish you both a happy new year.”

They had conclusively decided that the last 20 minutes of time wasted on me was a real waste of time and they went down the stairs, the quiet one first, the talkative one second.

“Stastny novy rok” I said to him.

“Nebude stastny pre tebe”

“It won’t be lucky for you,” he said to me.

And I closed the door.  A month later, after a very difficult month of January, I looked back on that day and wondered if I had had a gypsy curse put on me.

A gypsy curse?

I have a friend in Chicago whose family came from Poland and who has had every male in his blood line for many generations die at the age of 56.  It was said that generations back, a gypsy put a curse on his family – all males would die at the age of 56.  The idea is surely easy to laugh off as some silly superstition, but then what causes it to continue?  Even his father, perfectly healthy at the age of 55, died a year later from skin cancer.

Every gypsy I’ve known has had a lively, almost magical spirit to him. There’s something mystical to the culture that tells me curses are possible.  There’s something to the “Old World” and there’s something to “New Europe” that says life here can not be explained as simply as the black and white understanding of the world that I know from home.

In a land like Slovakia, where every other kid seems to have a grandpa who loved Stalin and a second grandpa who fought for Hitler, it’s hard to look at the world as black and white.  Do these actions make the child’s grandparents bad?  Maybe.  But I’ve lost my interest in passing judgment on every person who liked ideas that came from Stalin – strong central government, large government programs, forced redistribution of wealth or ideas that came from Hitler – strong central government, large government programs, forced redistribution of wealth.

These ideas are popular even in the U.S. today.  Are all of my countrymen bad?  No.  Having grown intimate with Slovak culture, I find it almost impossible to define the world as good or bad.  It’s especially hard to pass judgment on most people as simply good or bad.

In a place like Slovakia, a place where black and white are so fuzzy, it’s easier to imagine that a thing such as a gypsy curse can exist.  It’s hard to believe that the world can be explained as simply and as rationally as Yahoo news, the New York Times, or the Boston Globe seem to present.  News stories are written so that in 500 words, we can all feel like we really understand a given topic and after years of reading such stories we are left with a false security that we can easily understand all that there is to know on any given topic.

In 500 words, few things can really be explained.  Is it possible that there are things as mysterious as curses?  Is it possible that they actually have an effect on people?

I don’t know.  What I do know is that throughout Europe, it was recognized that these shorter, darker days and longer darker nights that come in the month that we now call December, were a time where the earth felt like there was a battle between the good and the bad.  The light and the dark.  In time, Christianity would come to these places, and the story of Jesus would fit well with the pagan tales from this time of year.  The mystery of religion would supplant the mystery of superstition.  But not entirely, and it seems at least a little hint of the superstitious remains in the old world, even during the most meaningful of Christian celebrations.

Does the superstitious remain because people have a hard time parting with traditions of the past and beliefs of the past?  Or does the superstitious remain because aspects of the superstitious continue to offer valid models for understanding things that are mysterious in the world?

Allan Stevo is an author from Chicago. He is writes about Slovak culture once a week and posts his columns to “52 Weeks in Slovakia” as well as sending them to a few small newspapers and magazines in the U.S. If you’ve enjoyed this column, sign up here to receive it in your inbox weekly (for the next 41 weeks), or share it with a few friends through email, facebook, twitter, or a host of other social networks using the buttons below.

So what Christmas traditions did you have?  How did your home look different from the neighbor’s home?  How were your celebrations different?  Did you celebrate on December 24 or the 25?  Do you know the origins of any of your family traditions?  Do you continue to keep those traditions?