“Christmas Eve without Carp would be like Thanksgiving Day without Turkey”

 

Prague at Christmas! I play along with the Angels

I had to stay. I had just completed my Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) course in Prague, Czech Republic. My apartment was new and so was the job at Berlitz language school.

I was not going to be flying back to Bermuda for Christmas. It was the first time I had spent the holiday away and I was slightly worried about how I would handle it in this landlocked country.

Where would I find a beach? What crazy Canadians would I watch swimming on Christmas Day? And then I saw the kiddie pool on my Prague corner. Huh?

The temperatures had descended below freezing and mittens upon mittens captured my hands, and the Czechs had pulled out bath tubs onto their streets.

What could possess them to do such a thing?

Well I wasn’t sure either when I spent a Christmas in Prague seven years ago. So as I walked home one day, trying to keep my toes from falling off in temperatures more suitable to snowmen, I watched as a crazy Czech dove his arm into a pool of water. Seconds later his arm and a massive fish (carp) came out.

I had to ask my Czech friends. This can’t be right. Is he really doing this? Why would he be doing this? Why wouldn’t they just go to a butcher counter in a warm supermarket? All of that seemed sane to me.

Unfortunately, for the butcher that is, warm and Christmas Eve dinner do not go hand in hand in Prague. Instead carp, which is the Czech’s Christmas Eve dinner, is supposed to be kept alive as long as possible before chow-time. That means tubs on the side of the road until they are butchered. Some Czech’s even forgo the butchering and take their carp home alive to sit in their bathtubs until Christmas Eve! Forget the goldfish pet!

Even crazier? Carp is supposed to be (I was never brave to try it) salty and boney, but it’s tradition. Don’t believe me? Don’t think the Czech’s are up for the cold? Check out this video:

Llama in Peru also on the menu?

Go figure. Christmas traditions around the world can strike the odd chord. Of course we have our own in Bermuda and sometimes they make sense (cassava pie) and sometimes they don’t (Elbow Beach boozing), which is why I’m writing about them this week for my Rock Fever Column in The Royal Gazette.

But last year I was not in Prague or Bermuda. This time last year rather than trying to decide which slippers I’m going to give my mom (ooops there goes the surprise) I was navigating Peru.

Well Peru and then Bolivia! These would be my last stops on my trip around the world. I would not, however, be spending Christmas in either place. Nope.

After 12 months on the road, I was ready to go home.

So I missed the celebration. But this year as I sit comfortably at home I was curious. What are the traditions in South America? What do Peruvians eat/do for the holiday? Well good thing my friend and soon-to-be travel buddy is from Peru.

According to my STB travel buddy, Christmas in Peru? It’s Turkey. Yeah, not very exciting or different from home (Bermuda).

I mean this is a country that eats guinea pig on a regular basis. No, I am not kidding. They eat what we call pets. Maybe they’re good? I wouldn’t know. Unfortunately all the menus I saw in Peru made the guinea pig look completely revolting.

However, according to my STB travel buddy: “People in different regions will vary their Christmas menu so some people may actually eat the little gerbil creatures, but for the majority, it’s turkey with various side dishes (often including tamales) and champagne. Panetón and hot chocolate are very popular too.”

Mmmmm….tamales. They were with a massive hit with me when I was in Peru! How can they not be? Wrapped in banana leaves, completed with corn flour and filled with meat there is literally nothing I can think of that would stop me from not loving them!

Want to learn how to make them? Yeah me too so I found this somewhat long-ish film on youtube for our enjoyment: 

All this food is eaten at a get-together, party or dinner on Christmas eve which culminates at midnight and everyone wishes everyone else Merry Christmas!

Of course this is the hottest time of the year (we are talking the Southern Hemisphere here) so in Bolivia Christmas food generally focuses on picana.

Pic…what? Picana. It’s a soup made of a soup made of chicken, beef, corn and spices and is eaten usually on Christmas. Well it could be the Eve or the Day, but that just depends on the Bolivian family.

Accompanying the soup? Salads, roast pork or roast beef, and an abundance of tropical fruit and for a sweet it will be eat taffy-filled wafer cookies called “turrón“.

Unfortunately I never indulged in this amazing feast because I was whisked away by American Airlines.

As I touched my toes to Bermuda soil I was, in what can only be described as ironic, directed to arrive in London, England. My family was spending Christmas abroad.

With four days in Bermuda I packed a new bag and was set for London. Of course in England they have their own traditions for Christmas: It’s Crackers! Which of course we have in Bermuda.

Cross your arms for Crackers!

But not ones you can eat. Well I suppose you could and then you’d probably be quite sick. In any case, the Cracker tradition is not one I have ever seen in the United States.

It requires using one of these (pictured to the right) of bundles between two people and pulling them apart. Out pops a toy, a joke and a hat!

The history of it?

Of course this tradition started with who else? A Brit. Thomas Smith in 1846 to be precise. Why? Well because he had been in Paris and seen bon-bons wrapped in tissue paper. He took the idea back to England, wrapped poems in them and eventually transformed the entire idea with a banger (chemically impregnated paper that explodes when pulled).

His sons took over the business and in the 1900’s and in the 1930’s love poems turned to jokes. Ahhh the Christmas traditions explained.

Cassava Pie!

Unlike Americans, however, the British are not happy with one day-off and instead have two! Boxing Day (like us of course!), which is December 26th or Boxing Day. Want to know where our day-off comes from? Well that was a day when boys used to go round collecting money in clay boxes. When the boxes were full, they broke them open.

This year, however, I will take a break from traveling. Yes, I will be in Bermuda and will only have to travel as far as one parish to another to indulge in Turkey, ham, beans, carrots and the traditional Cassava pie!

You don’t know what cassava pie is?! Sacrilege! It is of course based on cassava, which is a starch-filled root that grows in poor soil. Hence why the early settlers, dating back to 1612, made it into everything they could.

But just because it grew-up in poor soil doesn’t mean it tastes poorly. Never! And the best part is that it is totally safe for celiacs! Well, that is, once it is cleaned properly. Cleaned improperly and you have some serious cyanide poisoning.

Bermudians, me, traditionally, now, buy it frozen, drain it, fill it with eggs and plenty of butter, chicken and even sometimes pork.

It’s a weird tradition because though everyone eats it on Christmas Day, not everyone makes it the same way. Some make it sweet, some make it savory. It’s all about your taste buds.

Which has made me hungry! It’s time to enjoy and indulge wherever you are so have a Happy Holiday, visit the Bermuda National Museum for more traditions, and of course visit here tomorrow for all your vacation needs!

Fishing for…..

On our way.....

the prize! And I got it…without catching a thing. Yes I managed to split the Female Angler prize in the Hungry Bay Fishing tournament because well…there were only two of us in the whole tournament.

Why? I don’t know. For some reason women don’t enter our tournament (the one hosted in the bay, Hungry Bay, where my family lives)

My father and family friend Peter who go out every year? No prizes, but they did get two fish so the day wasn’t a complete wash for them. But while they got to eat some beautiful fish I got to eat…ugh I didn’t want to eat at all.

What do I mean? Well let’s start with my day traveling by boat. For my day out I planned ahead.

1. I didn’t go out the night before.

2. I got up early enough to take stugeron (anti-seasick pills)

3. Ate some breakfast and had coffee to wake-up.

4. I wore a hat.

But I should have known as the sun rose above the boats on our way out of Hamilton Harbour that it was going to be a hot day. It was going to be hot day, it was going to be a rough day and I was going to get ill.

All was good on the way out. We escaped the harbour, went under Somerset Bridge, wandered down South Shore and found the entrance to Hungry Bay.

Anchoring wasn’t easy. But it had to be done to try to chum for the fish. Three times and I convinced my dad to wait and see if we moved. We didn’t . The anchor was down and we were free to fish.

I take credit for this.

My line went out first. It came in last. It didn’t catch a thing. But not all was lost. I wasn’t just a dead-weight on the boat.

My dad’s line went off. Fighting and fighting, the fish flew into the air, fighting and fight……it was a Barracuda. A big one.

The Robins circled the boat. Swarming left right and centre they were easy pickings to be used as bait fish and that’s what kept my dad busy.

Peter, a family friend, was also on the boat. His line brought in three Coneys and almost another barracuda until it saw the boat and gave him the shake.

Robins waiting for their turn as bait

The weather turned and grey clouds meandered onto the island and over our boat. Sun burn was replaced by goosebumps as we got belted with air juice.

Nothing was biting. I thought rain was supposed to help. My dad kept raising the issue of moving.

“Do you think we should get some of these Robins and start trolling? I think we should get going. We haven’t had anything in ages.”

“Yeah  but dad we’ve already spent hours chumming the water. I think if the Robins go we’ll get fish.”

His line went off. A four-pound Bonita was on the other end.

Peter’s line went-off soon afterwards. A five-pound Bonita answered his call. We were not going to get skunked (see previous post if confused).

But the day was catching-up with me. My well-planned attack on fishing was letting me down. I couldn’t speak. I sat in the bow of the boat. I tried to keep my eyes open. I fell asleep. I would roll awake. The waves were picking-up. Ugh I feel ill. There’s no way they’re going to take me in.

I’m done. I’m done with boating. I want to travel by land. I want to walk and nothing moves below me. I want to be able to get a glass of water without falling into something.

“Shall we call it a day?”

“YES!” is all I could say. Salvation. We got the anchor in and we headed for the breaking waves of the mouth of Hungry Bay and home…and solid land.

That might be enough boats for me ….until  tomorrow! Bring on the non-mariner’s race and check back here for traveling by non-boating mechanics. Or at least enjoying them with a Dark n Stormy.

Bermuda’s Cup Match continues.