In this episode of the How to Live in Denmark podcast, host Kay Xander Mellish explores February’s Danish traditions, focusing on Festelavn (the Danish Carnival) and its evolution from the historic ‘cat in the barrel’ custom to today’s candy‑filled barrel game. He discusses how animal‑rights concerns have removed the cat from the ritual, turning it into a children’s activity where the “Cat King/Queen” breaks the barrel for candy. Mellish describes the festive pastries (festelavnbund) and the social chatter they inspire, while noting the secular stripping of the event’s original religious meaning tied to Lent. He reflects on Denmark’s broader secular attitude toward religion, citing how Danes view faith as odd or a sign of ignorance, and how this perception affects interactions with Christians, Muslims, and other faiths. The episode highlights the rare overlap this year of Lent with Ramadan, noting Danish Muslims will be fasting. Throughout, Mellish promotes his website, books, and event services.
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Hello and welcome to the How to Live in Denmark podcast. I'm Kay Xander Mellish. This is the second in our series on the Danish year. We're going to look at events associated with each month and put them into context about where Denmark has been and where it's going. February. Put a cat in a barrel. Hang up the barrel, maybe from a tree. And then hit the barrel with a stick hard. It doesn't sound very nice, but that's the way Danes used to celebrate Festa Lauen, which is the Danish version of Carnival or Mardi Gras. These days, the Danes are great fans of animal rights and often the drivers of animal rights laws in the European Union. But back in the day, hitting the cat in the barrel was the way that superstitious Danes tried to ward off evil. That poor cat! Fast forward to today. The barrel is still part of the event, and so is the stick, but the cat is long gone. Now, hitting the cat in the barrel is something that Danish children do. The barrel contains candy, and when the child with the biggest swing breaks it open, the candy spills all over the floor, a bit like a piñata. All the children run to collect their share, and the kid who broke it open is named the Cat King or Cat Queen. They get a paper crown to wear for the rest of the party. Festelavn is one of the Danes' favorite holidays. It takes place in February, when the light is finally beginning to come back after a long season of winter darkness. The kids dress up in cute costumes, and sometimes they rasle, or ask neighbors for treats. One of the things they ask for is a festelavnbund, which is a kind of pastry. Pastry and cake are always a critical part of Danish culture. Now, Festelauern buns are a light, flaky pastry full of custard, topped off with frosting in various colors. I noticed that a chef quoted by the BBC said they were beautiful to look at, but ugly to eat. And that's true. Do not wear anything that needs to be dry-cleaned when you eat a Festelauern bun. That custard explodes all over the place. Oof. Anyway, you can generate a great deal of small talk with the Danes about which local bakery makes the best festelavn bun and what type of stratospheric prices they charge for it. What you will not have is a conversation about the meaning of festelavn, which according to tradition is a day to celebrate wildly before the 40-day lockdown for Lent. The Danes have kept the party while stripping away its religious background, much like the nonfirmations some Danes choose over traditional confirmations, or the name-giving ceremonies that have replaced baptisms in some circles. Traditionally, Lent is a solemn period of reflection. You're supposed to use the time to think about all the bad things you've done. And repent. But not in Denmark, where Lent is pretty much ignored. So ignored that after 2 decades of speaking Danish, I had to look up the Danish word for it. It's fastetiden, or the fasting times. But I've never met a Danish Christian who fasted during the period. I once read that the safer a society is, The less likely it is to be religious. The more comfortable and secure people are, the less likely they are to turn to a higher power to sort things out. That's certainly true in Denmark. The majority of Danes I meet find religious faith strange and perhaps a sign of ignorance or moral weakness. I have had Danes tell me that believing in God is like believing in Santa Claus. They'll go to church on Christmas Eve, or for a wedding, or maybe a funeral. But if you tell Danes that you go to church on a regular basis because you like it, they will suddenly become very suspicious and maybe a little angry. They may assume you have backward views That you don't like gay people. Perhaps you believe that women should be subservient. Or maybe that you don't drink alcohol, which is a serious charge in Denmark. Other religions don't fare much better in their estimation, although they're less likely to directly insult a Hindu or a Buddhist, especially when they're trying to recruit them for some hard-to-fill technical role. What's ironic is that many Danes and other Western Europeans see themselves as internationalists, as citizens of the world. But most citizens of the world are in fact religious, or at least spiritual. It's the people with no faith at all who are the outliers. Anyway, this year some people in Denmark will indeed be fasting during Lent. They are Danish Muslims. This year, Lent falls at the same time as Ramadan. And that's the How to Live in Denmark podcast for this week. Check us out at howtoliveindenmark.com for transcripts of all our episodes. You can also buy our books at books.howtoliveindenmark.com. Or book me for an event, Kay Xander Mellish, at events.howtoliveindenmark.com. See you next time.
