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DANISH CULTURE

Fastelavn: What is the Danish childrens’ carnival all about?

On Sunday, kids all across Denmark will dress up in costumes, take aim at barrels and eat sweet buns. Here's your guide to the Danish holiday of Fastelavn.

A barrel takes a beating during Fastelavn festivities
A barrel takes a beating during Fastelavn festivities in Copenhagen in 2014. File photo: Thomas Lekfeldt/Ritzau Scanpix
Fastelavn can roughly be described as a Danish version of the pre-Lent Carnival tradition associated with Roman Catholic countries, in which children wear costumes and go out asking for candy or money.
 

We know what you’re thinking: that sounds more like a Danish Halloween. Careful now. Fastelavn versus Halloween is a topic that can raise heated discussions. The former is rooted in medieval tradition seasoned with Danish touches, while the latter concept has only began to grow in popularity over the past generation.
 

“Kids love it. They get to dress up in costumes twice a year, and it’s a big thing at school and day care,” says mother of three Tove Spissøy Gerhardsen. “But costumes are expensive so we don’t make as much out of Fastelavn as we do Halloween.  And of course, a youngster cannot go dressed as, say Superman, for both days. In general – and I believe a lot of other parents share my opinion – Halloween costumes may have a higher priority, but everybody still enjoys Fastelavn.”

 

 
While Halloween may cause many people to shake their heads at what they consider to be nothing but a money-maker for businesses catering to a non-Danish holiday, Fastelavn is a more integral part of Danish culture. Few people would attach any religious significance to either, though both are directly connected to Christianity, but with obscure links to good old paganism.
 
OK, so Fastelavn is not Halloween. What is it, then? Glad you asked! Here are a few things you need to know about Fastelavn.
 
 
‘Something to do with Lent?’
 
Flæskesteg

Flæskesteg or roast pork is also eaten by Danes at Christmas. File photo: Ida Guldbæk Arentsen/Ritzau Scanpix
 
Fastelavn will be celebrated all across Denmark this Sunday, but few people seem to know why. Although the name of the day ought to give some kind of hint, not one of the 16 random Danes polled by The Local on the streets of Copenhagen could explain the reason for celebrating Fastelavn. “It either begins or ends the fast [Lent, ed.],” was the closest guess.
 
 
Fastelavn was basically the feast before the fast, the 40 days of Lent beginning on Ash Wednesday and ending on Easter Sunday. It was originally a three-day binge: Flæskesøndag and Flæskemandag – Sunday and Monday when flæsk (pork, but akin to flesh) was eaten – meat, as in the Latin carne, hence carnival; and, White Tuesday, when revellers consumed dairy foods and the special buns described in the next point. Lent disappeared after the Reformation, but celebrations continued. Scrap the fast, but keep the feast.
 
Fastelavnsboller

Fastelavnsboller can take a range of forms. File photo: Thomas Lekfeldt/Ritzau Scanpix
 
Fastelavnsboller (buns) are these days mostly eaten on the Sunday now known as Fastelavn, but traditionally the sweets were for White Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday.
 
What are Fastelavnsboller? Well, one website had more than 70 recipes for “traditional” Fastelavnsboller. Our favourites are cream filled and topped with chocolate. Many families will involve their children in baking and decorating the buns, but of course eating them is the most fun part. 

 
Dying traditions
 
 
In some places, various traditional celebrations live on such as ’tilting at the rings’, that is: galloping at full speed on horseback and trying to place lance through a ring. Leave this one to the pros.
 
Other traditions have mercifully died out, like hanging a goose upside down, greasing its neck and holding a competition to see who could yank the bird’s head off. Or, trying to smash an inverted clay pot with a bat while blindfolded. Under the pot was a live rooster buried up to its head. It’s probably little consolation, but the birds were eaten afterwards.
 
The one tradition that has thrived through the years is “knocking the cat out of the barrel,” a game played in schools, day care institutions and around homes. Like a piñata, a barrel is hung and youngsters try to smash it with a bat. When they do, a pile of sweets fall out. In the old days, a live cat was used, preferably black as a symbol of evil.
 
Knocking the cat out of the barrel

Knocking the cat out of the barrel on Fastelavn in 2014. File photo: Søren Bidstrup/Ritzau Scanpix
 
The winners of the modern day cat-in-a-barrel game are crowned as the Cat Queen (Kattedronning – the one who knocks the bottom out of the barrel) and the Cat King (Kattekonge – the one who knocks off the last remaining board), although the goodies are divided evenly among the kids.
 
Kids may knock on your door. They will be rattling coins in what look like non-piggy-formed banks. The ditty they sing warns that if they don’t get those sweet buns they will make trouble (see below for Danish and notes).
 
But don’t worry, you don’t need to have baked goods on hand – despite the song’s lyrics, the kids really want you to put a few coins in their banks. A few generations of parents have frowned upon the practice, as have miserly neighbours. Modern parents, perhaps influenced by Halloween, often prefer their youngsters to ask for sweets.
 
Some grown-ups may wear a costume when accompanying their kids to a Fastelavn function, but they do not hold parties for Fastelavn as they might on Halloween.
 


Photo: WikiCommons

Article originally published on February 14th, 2015

For members

DANISH HABITS

Why don’t foreigners ‘get’ Danish humour?

Many an awkward encounter has come from a foreigner's first taste of Danish humour. Whether to be offended, flattered, laugh or hide? It's complex.

Why don't foreigners 'get' Danish humour?

From the quick-as-a-flash quip, to the straight-faced silence – Danish humour can take a bit of getting used to. The national sense of humour is often spoken about by Danes with a sense of national pride, but for foreigners in the country, Danish jokes often just don’t land.

“Danes think our humour is very kind and friendly and hyggelig, so we think we have a very inclusive sort of humour. But foreigners have exactly the opposite view,” Lita Lundquist, co-author of the book ‘Danish Humour – Sink Or Swim’, told The Local.

“I started interviewing internationals working with Danes, such as in the European Parliament and asking them how they perceived our humour. What many said was Danish humour is rude, inappropriate, in your face, blunt and impolite. Many feel hurt, even insulted. So that’s a paradox,” Lundquist said.

As a linguist and Professor Emeritus at Copenhagen Business School, Lundquist has spent over a decade researching humour. After some awkward responses to her own Danish humour, she decided to write a book about it.

“The traits of Danish humour are firstly the quick reaction; we don’t ponder too much if it’s appropriate or not.

“Another thing is that Danes are very ironic. In order to understand irony you have to understand the context and society you’re in and that’s very difficult for newcomers to Denmark – they don’t know the special references,” Lundquist explained.

“We are also not just ironic but often self-ironic, meaning that in Danish society we’re not pompous and do all we can to lower ourselves, pretend to be smaller than we are. Irony is a pretence and you are pretending to be small and not smart but actually you want to convey that you are very, very smart.

“But it’s our way of showing you’re part of our community. I see you as a friend of mine so that’s why I can take the liberty to be so direct,” she said.

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Lundquist teamed up with British translator and co-author Helen Dyrbye to write the book, so Helen could share her own encounters of Danish humour, after living in the country for 30 years.

“Often Danish humour involves irony and self-irony and they’re quite complicated. Sometimes you don’t even realise it’s humour,” Dyrbye explained to The Local.

The authors hope their book can be used in integration packages for foreigners and have presented it to various municipalities.

“What foreigners often find difficult is the setting. The book deals mostly with humour in the workplace because this is where people least expect it. Danes use humour as a way of levelling the playing field because Danish society is very flat [hierarchically, ed.]. So it can be very disconcerting when a boss says something that undermines their own authority – but it’s self-irony to level the playing field,” Dyrbye explained.

“There’s also the fact the participant can be someone you don’t know and that the timing is so fast and then the fact they keep a poker face.

“Part of the fun of irony is you pretend that what you’re saying is true but it isn’t. That’s part of how you know they’re joking, when the conversation stops and there’s a pause and you think, ‘they don’t mean that, do they? Could they mean that?’ Then after about 10 seconds they smile.

“The best reaction is to smile or joke back but don’t jump to conclusions. There are high levels of trust in Denmark and they trust that you know what they’re saying is a joke. Foreigners are not as trusting so don’t have that common ground and you need that in irony,” Dyrbye explained.

The book uses many real-life examples of Danish humour gone wrong in international settings.

“One example in the book is about a Chinese student who was starting his studies at Copenhagen Business School,” Lundquist explained.

“He was in class with students and had a ‘buddy’, who was a Danish student to take care of him. The Chinese student politely said, ‘I have heard that the Danes are the happiest people in the world.’

“The Dane, quick as a flash replied,  ‘That’s because of our excessive use of alcohol and sex.’

“The Chinese student was surprised and didn’t know how to react. In his culture you would never have dared say such a comment, it was breaking taboos on both reaction and the mention of alcohol and sex,” Lundquist said.

“Danes are quite blunt and don’t have small talk as such and they can talk about subjects that would be a taboo in other countries,” Dyrbye said.

“There are also softeners in Danish which are untranslatable. Lots of tiny words like jo‘, which mean ‘take what I’m saying with a pinch of salt.’ But when Danes use English for their humour, which they often do, they miss these softener words and it sounds very direct.

“I think there’s a lot of learning to be done on both sides. It’s about foreigners learning how Danes think but Danes also understanding how their humour could be misinterpreted, so needing to take a beat rather than dashing straight in there”.

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