The Three Good Old Men: Slovenian Christmas

 Slovenian children are particularly lucky in the Christmas period, because they get visits from not one but three "good old men" bearing gifts. Of course, books could be, and are, devoted to each, but here's my summary, with my favourite facts. (I wrote a quick Grandfather Frost blog last year, but didn't have time for more. I guess 2020 cleared my calendar.) The usual festivities will be quieter this year, but the three good old men will not be abandoning children in Slovenia - or anywhere in the world.

Is this a rap battle for supremacy? (Credit: dnevnik.si)

December 6: Saint Nicholas Day

One of my favourite days in Advent, celebrating one of the most-beloved saints. The original Saint Nicholas was a third/fourth-century bishop of Myra. Legend says he came into the bishopric very early, hence the tradition of selecting a boy bishop in some places on this day. His main association with gifts comes from the legend that he secretly saved three poor sisters from being forced into prostitution (the cleaner versions say he helped them get husbands) by secretly dropping coins into their stockings hung up to air at night, to provide them with dowries. For this, he is the patron saint of prostitutes. He also reputedly came to literal blows with Arian at the Council of Nicea over the latter's heresy - not quite the jolly old elf of modern times. 

In Slovenia, he is known as Miklavž and appears in his bishop's robes. In parades around the country, he is often followed by angels who help to give out gifts - and by devils ready to scare the bad children. Back at home, Slovenian children follow the tradition of leaving out a shoe, or maybe a stocking, for the saint. In return they get small gifts of chocolate and dried fruits. I can only imagine the reaction of most American and British children on getting dried fruit for Christmas. Actually, no, I can really imagine it, which is why our remaining little one gets chocolate and a mini panettone. We picked up this tradition before coming to Slovenia as part of our Advent observance, and it's a lovely precursor to Christmas.

Ok, this is from our trip to Zagreb, but it's a favourite memory - this St Nicholas was roaming the streets spreading good cheer and gifts. I won't forget his kindness towards the mentally disabled young adult behind him

Last year, I took Alcuin down to the old salt warehouse in Koper to greet the saint, but it turned out that there was such a long programme prior to his arrival that we had to give up, as it was beyond a small child's patience. This year, we are still in a strict lockdown and it was bucketing with rain most of the day, but he was happy tucked up at home with the above, plus a bonus Christmas book.

December 25: Father Christmas/ Santa Claus

A relatively later comer, the gift-giver of the Anglo world has managed to sandwich himself between two more traditional figures on the calendar. According to friends, celebrating December 25th, and Saint Nicholas' Day for that matter, were not encouraged during the Tito regime. For this reason, while Saint Nicholas has been welcomed back to this culturally Catholic country,  the more protestant, and commercial, Father Christmas/ Santa Claus tradition has not gained the traction it has elsewhere. I recall that the first time we lived here, nearly twelve years ago, there wasn't a hint of Christmas stuff in the shops until we were into December. Not quite the case now, but still not a frantic period. The 25th is a religious holiday, and the 26th is Independence and Unity Day, less family days than public holidays. Here in Koper, you'll find people thronging the streets and cafes, or skating on the winter rink. Father Christmas is known as Božiček here (božič is the word for Christmas). He is still the main gift-giver in our family, of course.

December 31: Grandfather Frost

The origins of this ancient figure of winter are many and tangled, but he was promoted during the times of communism as an alternative to the Christian saints. His names include Father Frost, Grandfather Winter, and Grandfather Snow. In Slovenia, he is known as Dedek Mraz (Grandfather Frost). He is associated with slavic pagan figures, and his identity has morphed and merged over time. He is alternatively, and simultaneously, Morozko, a Russian spirit or wizard of winter, a hero or smith who chains water with his iron frosts, a being who kidnaps children for ransom, as happy to freeze bad children to death as to reward good ones. At one point recharacterized as demonic by the Orthodox Church, he was eventually adopted as a propaganda figure by the old Soviet empire, by which path he made it to Slovenia. However, by the time the Yugoslavs decided to abolish Christmas, they had also split from the Soviets, so Father Frost had to be Slovenised.

Leaner than fat old Santa and tougher than heretic-punching Saint Nicholas, here Dedek Mraz appears in a leather coat and a hat made from dormouse fur. He is said to live under Mt Triglav, the country's highest mountain, from whence he emerges at the end of the year to bestow presents from a traditional Slovenian woven basket. In the capital of Ljubljana, he rides through the streets in the last days of December, in a carriage drawn by Lipizzaner horses.

In saner times, we have enjoyed attending the little Dedek Mraz celebration the University puts on for children earlier in December, but that of course has not happened this year. I don't know if Father Frost will visit us, as I always give a final gift on the last day of Christmas anyway (Epiphany, January 6).

A nice summary from the Slovenian perspective can be found at Total Slovenian News, where you can also find an account summary of how Dedek Mraz came to be. Merry Christmas! Vesel Božič!

Medieval Days 1: Kubed

The village of Kubed, within the municipality of Koper, and not too far from the more famous Hrastovlje, puts on a yearly medieval festival. It runs over two days, with evening games and entertainment Friday night, and a pilgrimage-style hike of the region Saturday morning (apparently with goulash thrown in), followed by festivities on the grounds of a ruined castle fortress. With our teenager away in the UK digging up the Dorset landscape, we had no extra help with the hurricane that is our four year-old, so we had to opt for one event that looked child-friendly. We went for Saturday afternoon.

Taking a chance on the thunder showers sweeping across the region (see photo above), we set off up the ubiquitous winding roads, forearmed against the satnav inevitably missing the crucial hairpin turn. When we got to Kubed (someone was there to direct parking, hurrah), we got to wind uphill again, but on foot this time. But we were rewarded with free shots of local liqueurs - except Ted declined because he thought he'd be facing insane drivers on the mountain road home responsible.

In a fun (and clever) marketing ploy, we had to exchange our euros for the festival currency, the cubidum. And we had to exchange that within minutes for a child who saw all the food stalls and decided he was starving.

Not much was going on yet, though it was past starting time. There was a ring with assorted 'medieval' weapons for children to kill each other with. Alcuin was itching to jump in the fray, but it was mostly monopolized by older children, and he couldn't understand why it wasn't a good idea to throw himself in the middle of no-holds-barred eight year-olds. Eventually, the small(ish) kids got to take over, and he had his time in the ring.

At last! Something happened: a bunch of cosplay people processed up and down the pathway. As you can see below, included in the procession were people in national costume, who proceeded to put on a little play for bystanders. From my amazing grasp of Slovene, I can tell you it was about eggs and sausages, and then they played the accordion.

After that, it was historical reenactment time: players hung out by the armoury and practice areas, interacting with anyone who wanted, with music and dancing. And medieval drinking, which they deserved for wearing all those clothes - and armour - in the heat. One fun addition to the festival was a full-size combined trebuchet and catapult. When they felt like it, the players livened proceedings by lobbing some (non destructive) ammunition at the castle wall.

This isn't a great picture, but you need to note the chairs, because they appear in the next post, too!

Someone rashly let Alcuin handle a bow twice as big as he is. I stood well back to take the photo.

Finally, much later than advertised, and just as we were about to give up and leave, the combat began. And, after the wait, it was pretty good - professional and well scripted. But we had been there too many hours: Alcuin had reached the end of his attention span, and it was time to head off before all was over, thankful that we had missed the thunderstorms, and wiser for the next visit.

Ted pronounced that it was the sort of thing that would be more fun if you went in a group, with a designated driver (i.e. not him). I have to say that worrying trying to outrun (outdrive) the storms also made it less of a good time for him. I'd like to participate in some of the other events as well, so maybe there will be an update post coming!

Postscript. On the way to the car, Alcuin tripped on the pavement. It was a seminal moment - his first bad fall on concrete. He wasn't badly injured, but he was so traumatized he refused to walk for the next 24 hours. I had to carry him everywhere. Honestly, he is the most single-minded child we have, and that is saying something.

Touristy stuff. The festival, Medieval Days in Kubed, runs around the beginning of July. Here's a link to this year's festival (still working at time of posting), and one to a tad of history about the place. I promise, it's far from the worst mountain road we have been on. It's Slovenia, so you might want to turn up a little later than advertised - that's what the locals in the know seemed to be doing. If you are dedicated to efficient tourism (don't have small children), you might also squeeze in the famous Dance of Death fresco at nearby Hrastovlje.

Grandfather Frost

"We are entering a messy area of eternal discussion," wrote my friend from the International Office.
What were we negotiating? Deciding on gender neutral translations for a highly gendered language? Precision vs readability?

In fact, it was the annual children's party, and the question he threw in my lap was how to translate the name "Dedek mraz" in the invitation, "because there are many different good men delivering gifts in December."

I am a purist. I voted for the literal name: Grandfather Frost. Because that's who was coming.

Grandfather Frost is the communist answer to the saintly Nicholas or decadent western Santa. He has his origins in Morozko, the stern, often deadly god of frost and ice. No ho ho ho here. As far as my research can tell, there is no clear-cut story of his transformation from Slavic god to gift giver. Labelled a demon by the Orthodox church, legends of Morozko grew and developed over the centuries (here is a popular one), until Dedek mraz eventually became a useful figure for the soviet regime, diverting attention from Saint Nicholas and Christmas with his New Year's gift-giving.

His name and appearance vary across Eastern Europe. In Slovenia, he is dressed in pale robes, with a dormouse fur hat (here I have to pause to say that Slovenian dormice are large creatures, not the tiny ones you might think of).

In case you are feeling outraged at these cute little creatures being killed for their fur, let me reassure you that it is also known as the edible dormouse...

Nowadays, instead of freezing maidens to death, in Eastern slavic countries, Dedek mraz is sometimes accompanied by his grandaughter, the snow maiden Snegurochka. 

Coincidentally, I just read a retelling of the Morozko legend involving the Russian folk heroine Vasilisa the beautiful, The Bear and the Nightingale, by Katherine Arden. If you like your fairy tales dark, I recommend it.

And the party? I was afraid Alcuin would be scared, but the education students warmed up the audience with a cute play about a mouse who lost her house. Then they got the children to chant for Dedek mraz, and by the time he appeared, gift bags in hand, Alcuin was ready to leap over and grab his loot. He was so quick, this is the best photo I could get.

Indeed, many good men have come gift giving. We modestly celebrated Saint Nicholas Day on the 6th, and we'll have the traditional December 25 visit from Father Christmas, with a final present from the Wise Men on Epiphany. I think our new Slavic tradition is going to go down well in our household.

Days of Autumn

After several rainy(ish) weekends, the one of the 20th managed to play nicely for two events - and no one had any new illness, just the dying remnants of coughs from old infections. On Saturday, we joined our daughter´s school community hike up Monte San Leonardo, beginning from the Italian hill town of Samatorza. But, to immediately backtrack, many of the hill towns just over the border are pretty much Slovene communities that stayed put when the borders were established after all the conflicts of the first part of the twentieth century.

Our daughter gloomily predicted that she would be the only teen compelled to go on the walk. And to be fair, she was right. We had both the oldest and youngest child there. But she got to engage with teachers outside of school, and be dragged out of bed before eight on a Saturday, so what does she have to complain about?

The drive to Samatorza through several villages convinced me once again that I will never be a fully-fledged motorist here. "What are you talking about?" said my husband. "Compared to English country lanes these are highways."

The three year-old was happy to be in his backpack once again, though he apparently expected a cave tour, remembering the excitement of Skočjan. It was not so exciting for us. He acquired that annoying childish habit of growing over the summer, so he was considerably heavier than when we last hiked. What to say about the hike? There were children, there were many small dogs, there was conversation, there were country lanes in fully-fledged autumn, like England, except the light was more golden.

Our son´s wish was unexpectedly granted when we stopped off for the adventurous to explore the entrance of a cave, and for the puffing and panting among us to be grateful I had overpacked when it came to water bottles.

The climax of the walk was the ascent up Monte San Leonardo. This was the point at which we could not even backpack (can that be a verb?) the toddler between us, so he got to climb the last part of the way.  We stopped just in time at the top of the hill, to rest in the shell of a (probably) fifteenth century church, where our boy was outraged that I had not packed a full picnic.

From there it was a thankfully downhill trek, stopping for kids to climb what is known as the pointless lookout, and for an adventurous dachshund to roll in fox poo. Lunch was at an Agritourism farm, Gruden Zbogar. They are popular around here, as restaurants and/or accommodation. You know you are passing a cultural milestone when you are thankful the menu is in Slovene as well as Italian. I followed a recommendation to order something that included a local dish, chifeletti, a sort of combination between gnocchi and a potato croquette.

Home to naps between continuing to work on the mountain of washing from all the shipped clothes which were rather less than fresh after five months in storage.

Sunday, we went along to the Days of Agriculture festival down in Koper. It was more a giant food fare than expo, but it did have tractors kids were allowed to climb on, and a mini farm animal exhibit, so the toddler was just about happy (apart from screaming when I walked past a cube of cheese that he apparently had to have or die).

The photo turned out like this accidentally, but I think it says it all about boys and their toys

The main tent was a marketplace for Istrian agriculture. Cheese, meat, honey, wine, lavender, and pumpkin oil abounded. I also bought some scrummy fruit cake that was almost like Christmas cake (and I was enthusiastic about getting a whole cake nearer Christmas until we figured out that the woman lived a three-hours drive away). There had been a honey competition for local beekeepers the day before, which is why I think everyone included three particular types of honey on their stalls: acacia, bay, and woodland. It was fun to compare the types. I swear I could catch an aftertaste of pine forest in at least one of them.

People here still tend to eat seasonally, and feast on cherries, apples, squash, chestnuts, whatever has just been harvested. After years of American supermarkets offering everything all year round, I am trying to get into this new habit. Right now it is the end of apple season, and squash, chestnuts and Croatian mandarins are in. I am still sporting a cut and blistered thumb from my attempt to remember how to peel hot chestnuts.

A second tent was more informational, with a death-defying display of edible funghi (below), and a very scientific-looking olive oil stand.

By the end, the bottom of the stroller was full, and my purse was literally empty. Luckily, sitting on tractors one last time does not cost any money. On writing this, I reflected that the tractor company should have stocked up on toy tractors. They would have made a killing, and we would have had the beginnings of a tractor collection.

Festival of Desserts and Sweets

At last, the event I have been anticipating for several months - and the autumn rain even held off! Three whole days of dessert and sweet tasting (plus sweet and dessert wines) at four squares around Koper. I´m not even sure what to say about this, because right now you are probably either salivating as you book your flight for next year or about to click away. For the dessert addicts among us, here is the low down.

Photo credit: Sweet Istria site - just to add a decent photo or two :)

I had planned to check out the festival solo on Friday while I was down in the town at work, but our three year-old got last week´s cold back (hazard of moving to another country) and really needed a day off kindergarten. But I had to take him down to the pharmacy in his stroller for cough medicine. So we got some syrup of root extract of something from the pharmacist that Google translate did not know about, but it was really sweet and my son liked it so that was okay. Once we had made it down the hill, I thought I might as well push him further because you feel, and breathe, so much better in the fresh air when you are bunged up. And then we made it down to the sea front for some thalassotherapy (aka sea air) and ice cream for his throat - and what do you know, there was the desserts festival. We only visited two squares, and it kept an under-the-weather boy quite happy, so really, I am not a selfish mother.

The festival venue was divided into thematic sections. Down by the sea, in Carpaccio Square, were mostly chocolatiers. Slovenians are very into all sorts of dried fruits coated in chocolate, not my favourite, but I gave some a try. Lots of organic chocolate on sale, too. I bought a bar of truffle (as in the mushroom) chocolate because truffles are big in this region, but I haven´t opened it yet so I can´t report back.

Yes, they are chocolate

Up in Tito Square, in front of the cathedral, were local, Istrian desserts, including a gluten-free stall. Figs figure heavily here, as do nuts and apricots. Lost of local olive oil and honey for sale, too.

BTW, I ride my bike through here to work

 Back down by the old town walls, in Prešeren Square, were Slovenian sweets. They are not as saturated with fat or sugar as American or British desserts, but are heavier on pastry cream. A lot of them remind me of the sorts of recipes you get in historical cookbooks.

And along the road from that, in Gortan Square, were more Slovenian desserts and general sweet (candy) stalls, including stand for a vegan bakery newly opened by the people who run our son´s kindergarten. Their chocolate hazelnut cake was pretty yummy.

 There were demonstrations, cooking shows, activities for children, and, something I really feel needs a shout-out, extra water stations laid on for people to refill drinking bottles. You had to buy coupons for tasting samples - five for three euros, and all samples were one or two coupons. There were desserts available for purchase with real-time money, but not as much as I had expected. That didn´t stop people loading up on coupons and taking trayfuls of desserts home.

Photo: Sweet Istria

Saturday, three of us went down at the end of the day (our daughter plead homework), and the place was much more crowded. Good for business, not so much for introverts. I bought a huge jar of local (Ankaran) honey in Tito Square, good for all the coughs, colds and general sniffles sweeping in waves through our house, plus a large bag of chocolates in Carpaccio Square, good for nothing except our spirits. Our daughter met us for dinner - and wow, prices have gone down now that the tourist season is waning. Dinner for four with wine was 25 euros. I spent over twice that amount all told at the festival - purely for purposes of investigation, of course.

Sunday morning, we were meant to meet some people down in Koper and have a last walk through the festival afterwards, but the venue got changed. The only problem was that I still had coupons left over. So, heroically, I gave my husband some peace and quiet to work on his lecture notes in the afternoon and took the little one down once more, plastic container in hand. We used all the coupons to get a dessert selection to bring back for the family and WE DID NOT EAT ONE PIECE  down there, just a tasting of organic dulce de leche. How selfless is that? A trip to the park and a lucky find of a discarded balloon placated the toddler.

Now, a whole year to get my blood sugar levels back to normal before the next festival :)

Touristy stuff. Come see us and the festival! There is still some beautiful weather in this part of the world in September, and prices are getting cheaper! There is even a pre-arranged wet weather venue for the festival, so your sweet tooth will not be disappointed. I believe the website is kept up and running all year, and if you click on the Slovenian version, you can get recipes, though I cannot vouch for what Google translate will have you end up cooking :)