Narrator: Imagine a hollow log with a painted-on smile, tucked under a warm blanket. For weeks, children carefully "feed" it scraps of food and water. Then, on Christmas Eve, they gather around, beat it with sticks, and sing a song demanding that it… poop out presents. In another corner of the world, millions of families celebrate the holiday by lining up at a fast-food restaurant to pick up a bucket of fried chicken, a tradition born from a clever marketing campaign. These scenes seem a world away from nativity plays and carolers, yet they are as integral to Christmas for some as a decorated tree is for others. They reveal that the holiday is far more complex and wonderfully strange than many assume.

In the book The Atlas of Christmas: The Surprising Stories Behind the Holiday's Worldwide Traditions, author Alex Palmer takes readers on a global journey, charting the incredible diversity of customs that have sprung up around this single holiday. The book demonstrates that Christmas is not a static, monolithic event, but a dynamic cultural canvas, constantly being repainted by the unique histories, values, and quirks of communities around the world.

Narrator: While Christmas originates from a single religious story, its true power lies in its adaptability. Across the globe, communities have infused the holiday with their own local heritage, transforming it into a reflection of their unique identity. A powerful example of this is found in Mexico and other parts of Latin America with the tradition of Las Posadas.

This nine-night festival, running from December 16th to the 24th, reenacts Mary and Joseph's search for lodging in Bethlehem. The tradition began in the 17th century when Augustinian missionaries sought a Christian alternative to an Aztec festival. Each night, a procession moves through the neighborhood, led by two people dressed as Mary and Joseph. They stop at a pre-selected house, or posada (inn), and sing a plea for shelter. From inside, the "innkeepers" sing back their refusal. This call-and-response continues until the homeowners finally recognize the holy couple and joyfully welcome the entire procession inside for prayers, carols, and celebration. For many, especially Mexican American immigrant communities, this ritual of being repeatedly denied before finally finding acceptance and shelter holds a profound and deeply personal meaning, connecting the ancient story to a modern reality.

Narrator: Many Christmas traditions have roots that stretch back to pre-Christian, pagan celebrations of the winter solstice, and some of these have evolved into practices that are delightfully strange. Perhaps no tradition better captures this festive peculiarity than Catalonia's Tió de Nadal, or "Christmas Log."

Known more colloquially as Caga Tió ("Poop Log"), this tradition begins on December 8th. A family brings a small log into their home, gives it a smiling face, a little red hat, and a blanket to keep it warm. Every day, the children are tasked with "feeding" the log, leaving it nuts, fruit, and water. On Christmas Eve, the ritual culminates. The children grab sticks, and as they gently whack the log, they sing a traditional song with the memorable refrain, "Poop log, poop nougats, hazelnuts and cheese, if you don't poop well, I'll hit you with a stick. Poop, log!" After the song, the parents, who have sneakily placed gifts under the log's blanket while the children were away "praying," reveal that the log has "pooped" out a pile of small toys and sweets. This charmingly scatological tradition is believed to be a remnant of ancient rituals celebrating the earth's abundance and the hope for a bountiful year.

Narrator: In the modern, commercialized version of Christmas, especially in North America, the holiday is overwhelmingly positive, filled with good cheer and benevolent figures. However, the book reveals that Christmas has a dark side, a legacy of ancient fears about the cold, dark winter. In many parts of Europe, this darkness is not ignored but given a face and a name. The most famous of these figures is Krampus.

In the folklore of Austria and Bavaria, Krampus is Saint Nicholas's sinister companion. Described as a half-goat, half-demon creature with horns, a long tongue, and a body covered in dark hair, his job is the opposite of Santa's. While Saint Nicholas rewards the good children with gifts, Krampus is there to punish the naughty ones, threatening to swat them with birch branches or even carry them away in his sack. On December 5th, known as Krampusnacht ("Krampus Night"), the tradition comes alive. People dress in elaborate and terrifying Krampus costumes, complete with carved wooden masks and clanging cowbells, and run through the streets in a chaotic parade, playfully frightening onlookers. Far from being a forgotten relic, Krampus has seen a major resurgence, a celebration of the holiday's more mischievous and sinister side.

Narrator: Not all Christmas traditions are ancient; some are surprisingly modern, born from unique cultural circumstances and even corporate ingenuity. The most striking example of this is found in Japan, where the go-to Christmas dinner for millions is a bucket of chicken from KFC.

In the early 1970s, Christmas was largely a foreign novelty in Japan, where only about one percent of the population is Christian. There was no established culinary tradition for the holiday. As the story goes, a group of American expatriates, unable to find turkey for their Christmas feast, settled on fried chicken from one of the country's first KFC restaurants as the next-best thing. The store's manager, Takeshi Okawara, saw a brilliant business opportunity. He began marketing a "party barrel" of chicken as a perfect way to celebrate Christmas.

In 1974, KFC Japan launched a massive national advertising campaign with a simple, catchy slogan: Kurisumasu ni wa Kentakkii! ("Kentucky for Christmas!"). The campaign was a phenomenal success. It filled a cultural vacuum, providing a festive, Western-style meal that was easy to share. Today, the tradition is so entrenched that Christmas Eve is KFC Japan's biggest sales day of the year, with families often ordering their special Christmas buckets weeks in advance. It stands as a powerful testament to how a tradition can be invented and embraced in a single generation.

Narrator: Beyond feasts and folklore, Christmas is also a time for communities to come together in celebration, often through friendly competition and displays of local artistry. In the city of Oaxaca, Mexico, this spirit is captured in a truly unique event: La Noche de Rábanos, or the "Night of the Radishes."

Held every year on December 23rd, this tradition began in the late 19th century when local farmers at the Christmas market started carving intricate figures into their radishes to attract customers. In 1897, the city's mayor made it an official competition, and it has been a beloved local spectacle ever since. Growers cultivate special, oversized radishes, some weighing five pounds or more, specifically for the event. In the days leading up to the competition, these humble root vegetables are transformed by skilled carvers into elaborate sculptures. The city's main square, the Zócalo, fills with incredible scenes—detailed nativity displays, local historical figures, and fantastical creatures, all rendered in radish. Thousands gather to admire the temporary masterpieces before judges award cash prizes, and the night ends in a city-wide party with fireworks and music. It is a celebration of agricultural heritage, artistic skill, and the communal joy of the season.

Narrator: The Atlas of Christmas powerfully demonstrates that there is no single, "correct" way to celebrate the holiday. Its central takeaway is that Christmas is a living, breathing cultural phenomenon, a global language spoken in countless local dialects. From a reverent procession in Mexico to a demonic parade in Austria, and from a pooping log in Spain to a bucket of fried chicken in Japan, each tradition is a window into a culture's soul—its history, its fears, its sense of humor, and its definition of joy.

The book leaves us with a compelling thought: to look at our own familiar traditions not as universal truths, but as one of many fascinating variations on a theme. It challenges us to ask what our own customs—whether it's leaving cookies for Santa or watching the same holiday movie every year—reveal about us, and to remember that to an outsider, they might seem just as wonderfully strange as a radish carving or a Christmas devil.