FOR the cantankerous non traditionalists, irreverent individualists, misanthropic misfits and downright difficult people, among us, Christmas has become a crass commercial bore characterised by incessant TV gross over indulgence and family discord.
There are many whose thoughts turn airport wards when the tinsel and glitter make their annual appearance. Scrooges be warned, Norway is not a good place to seek refuge during the festive season. "Bah, humbug!" doesn't have a Norwegian equivalent, and most Norwegians would sooner support a Swedish skier than express doubts about Christmas.
Once the Advent candles are ceremoniously lit, the festive season begins with the ubiquitous company julebord. Julebord literally translates as Christmas table and is comprised of a feast fit for an oriental king, with goodies ranging from the traditional and weird to the delicate and sumptuous. The usual office party howlers are committed, but against a background of abundant good food and strong booze rather than bad wine and cheese.
Those whose companies are into serious team building may invite, or rather summon, employees for a weekend of heavy julebording at a mountain hotel. The response to the traditional dinner speeches laceg with in house anecdotes is stilted at first, as people come to terms with having to spend a weekend holed up with colleagues.
Deafening roar
As the evening wears on, smiles broaden, erstwhile office bores take on a dangerous fascination and the volume reaches a deafening roar. In the morning, the sheepish ghosts of julebord past can be seen fumbling with the orange juice dispensers, while the really rowdy revellers are still ordering half litres of beer and arguing a long forgotten, yet salient, point.
The julebord tradition has its roots in the pagan Viking celebration of Jol, which is still commemorated in some circles on December 22nd. This was a sacrificial feast for the dead when animal blood was consumed with great gusto in the name of the Norse gods Odin, Froey and Njord. The tradition of brewing a special beer for Christmas also has its roots in this festival.
Most latter day Vikings quench their thirst with supermarket Christmas beer and content themselves with roasting the odd ox outdoors.
The challengingly proportioned Christmas dinner is consumed late on the 24th. Those who expect turkey are in for a big surprise, as lye fish and salted lamb ribs are among the most common of Christmas dishes. A rack of birch twigs is laid in the bottom of the pan in which the salted lamb ribs are steamed for hours on end.
Wobbly appearance
Lye fish is dried cod which has been soaked in lye and is served with flat bread, mushy peas and bacon. It has an unpleasant, wobbly appearance to the foreign eye and its texture is gelatinous and blobby. It is the most beloved and intrinsically Norwegian of dishes. Liberal quantities of aqua vitae are drunk with lye fish, and this may explain the almost fanatical preference that some patriots display for it.
Most EU residents think of Santa Claus as hailing from the North, due to the prevalence of reindeer and snow. Yet Norwegian children await the visitation of a gnome or elfin figure whose diet consists solely of porridge. This diminutive Christmas elf looks like a cross between a traditionally clad cross country skier and Santa Claus as he appears in department stores around the world.
A special type of Christmas sour cream porridge is laid out to encourage swift delivery. Many Norwegians tuck heartily into this sturdy stuff on Christmas morning. After Christmas Eve dinner, the gifts are ritualistically opened.
Foreigners take note failure to show up without a gift for each member of the party will not be commented on, but it will cause you many a sleepless night as you recall the waves of shame and embarrassment that washed over you as you realised you had nothing for oul aunt Ingrid, who had hobbled through the snow and ice manfully until she hit upon the perfect coffee table book on Hardanger for you.
Strong drinks
Everyone sits up most of the night chatting and drinking strong drinks, if their beliefs allow it, and strong coffee if not. Thankfully, the habit of dancing around the Christmas tree appears to have been discarded but the television will certainly be scorned in favour of cosy, communicative activities.
Christmas Day and St Stephen's Day are spent sitting around playing convoluted card games of unrivalled intricacy and duration. This is the time of the siege of the visitations, when relatives pay their annual dues. If you are the sort of malcontent who tends to quit the fireside for the pub at Christmas, you are left with the option of bailing out and being considered downright rude, or sitting it out. You will probably not get out politely until the 27th, by which time you'll be bilious as a bullfrog.
Understandably, many Norwegians skip to the Canaries at this time of year. Many more, however, prefer the frenzied feasting, lazy lounging and renewal of relationships that makes a Norwegian Christmas, well, traditional.