Glaedelig Jul!

The Christmas season has begun in Denmark!

How do we know? Because there are more candles than usual, everyone is drinking "Juleøl," and we have been invited to at least three Julefrokoster. (A Julefrokost is literally a Christmas lunch, but these days it's pretty much just a drunken pre-Christmas revel of great cultural significance).

It all really begins with "J-Dag," the day on which one is officially permitted to begin drinking Christmas beer. This year it was on Sunday, 7 November.

This might seem really early. But consider that here in Denmark, we went off of "Sommertid," or daylight savings, on 31 October. So it's basically dark all the time now. You really need a special beer and some extra candles to make up for that.

Juleøl. It's special beer. It has licorice in it. Not in chunks, just licorice flavor, along with barley and hops and stuff. It's pretty good. (Dane-ification is clearly progressing nicely if I've just endorsed a licorice flavored beer).

The big business, though, is Julefrokoster. Every possible entity has one. Families, businesses, departments, apartments, etc. B and I attended our apartment buildings' Julefrokost last night, and we have plans for the biology Julefrokost, the computer science Julefrokost, and the International Club Julefrokost. (That's also why you have to start early).

It's hard for us to say if last night's Julefrokost was traditional. Some people said it wasn't; that if it had been traditional, there would have been a lot more meat and fish. (There was still a lot of meat and fish). Also, nobody drank schnapps or gløgg. (There was still a lot to drink). And it was not, in fact, at lunchtime. (Nobody cares about this. You can have Julefrokost at pretty much any time of day, I think). It was a good time.

Some people told us that you can count on Danes pretty much giving up all of their habitual reserve at Christmas lunches and airing all their dirty laundry. The day after, of course, everyone will pretend none of it happened. So we went into the whole thing pretty excited. Nobody told us about their secret lovechild or Swiss bank account, but they did tell us what they don't like about Denmark--and Danes don't like to criticize Denmark, especially in front of foreigners.

As I write this, it's 2:45, so the sun is setting. Then again, B claims it never really rose. But we can't complain too much, because Friday night we exited the cinema (Harry Potter #7! Of course we were there!) and it was snowing as we walked home. It was perfectly picturesque.

It's not snow, and it's not (technically) at night. But it is out our window and it does look great.

All this talk about Christmas lunches always reminds me of something, and it's so charming and hilarious that I really want to share it. It's the Vicar of Dibley "Christmas Lunch Incident." Go find it online and watch it. (Try youtube.) And stay tuned all the way past the end credits so you can hear the Vicar tell her joke. (Especially you, R. I know you will love the Vicar and her classy jokes).