Home sweet home.
Or more precisely — wherever our home happens to be.
Jabba:
You know, Jojo… I think I already know where I like Christmas best.
Jojo:
Under the table.
Jabba:
Very funny, but I’m being serious here!
Every place has something special about it.
Jojo:
Alright then. Let’s start with Poland.
Twelve Christmas Eve dishes.
Jabba:
Lovely. I am getting emotional.
Jojo:
And after two days, no-one can look at them anymore.
Which means, plenty left for pugs!
I can definitely handle that!
Jabba:
The Netherlands was fun too.
Gourmetten!
Like some kind of indoor BBQ.
Jojo:
The smell of fried meat lingering in the house for the next two weeks.
Even with the windows open.
Jabba:
That version worked for both of us.
Jojo:
And Greece?
Jabba:
Walks.
The beach.
Swimming.
Sunshine.
Citrus fruits and pomegranates.
Light, but still delicious food.
Jojo:
I’ll give you that one.
This is clearly the Jabba version.
Jabba:
In Poland people share oplatek bread.
In Greece, on New Year’s Day, they share pomegranate seeds that they break open on the doorstep.
Jojo:
And everywhere people wish each other well.
I like that part.
Jabba:
In both The Netherlands and Greece, children go from house to house singing Christmas carols.
Jojo:
And receive sweets.
A very sensible tradition.
Jabba:
And then there’s Vasilopita!
A cake with a coin inside.
Whoever finds it will have good luck all year round!
Jojo:
I’m happy to give you the coin, Jabbi.
On one condition.
Jabba:
Which is?
Jojo:
That I get to eat the entire Vasilopita.
