Christmas In Hungary - An Awkward Guide
It’s already Christmas in Hungary! Yeey!
I never had this ‘wakin’ up at the 25th and find gifts at the end of my bed’ experience. Since here we celebrate at the evening of the 24th all I could do is running up and down madly, waiting for the skies to darkening. I’ve learnt how to be patient.
But it worths. You know why? Because other bitches can get Santa, we get Jesus Christ HIMSELF!
HE’S LIKE COMING DOWN THE HIGH HEAVENS JUST TO GIVE US PRESENTS.
Well, a younger version of him, called Jézuska (Jesusie…kinda), the ‘children Jesus’, which is very confusing since he grew up & died on the cross about 2000 years ago… whatever.
You know, you just hear a bell ringing about 16:00~18:00 and you mom’s like
OMG DID YA HEAR THAT THIS MUST BE JESUSIE
And you’re like
MUM Y U HOLDING A BELL WASN’T IT YOU RINGING
NO CHILDREN IT WAS THE GOOD LORD’S SON HIMSELF AND ALL THE HOLY ANGELS AND STUFF SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND RUN TO THE TREE
…and so I did every year.
- Since nobody really have a fireplace here (sadly enough) it’d be difficult to use Christmas socks and all lovely stuff. When we expect Santa (it’s on the 6th of December!) we put our boots
in/on/at/WHATEVERthe window and get some pre-Christmas stuff. Chocolate, nuts and orange. Mostly.
Back to the proper Chrismas, we don’t really eat turkey (must because we used to be under the occupation of Turkey for 200 years, ahaha—-ehhh). The traditional dish is some pinkish fish soup called halászlé, but no one’s really like it in my family (or in the world) so we eat whutever we want, mostly szaloncukor. (This stuff is like a candy but it’s made of chocolate and filled with sweet and fluffy love.)
And we make horrible amount of gingerbread.
And we get fat and die.
You say “Merry Christmas!” with the terrible expression of “Boldog karácsonyt!” which sounds really awkward. Good news: “Happy New Year!” is only “B.Ú.É.K.!”, since “Boldog új évet kívánok” would be way too long to yell. (The longest Hungarian word is megszentségteleníthetetlenségeskedéseitekért, but you hardly ever say it on Christmas. Except you give a gift ‘for your things which can’t be desecrated’)
We are good at words but better at curses, so the highlight of the celebration is the jolly time when my stepfather tries to ‘put up’ the tree, swearing.
(& the Midnight Mass. <3)