Christmas celebrations are wonderfully diverse.

Forget coal in your stocking—Austrian children face something far more frightening: Krampus. A demonic half-goat, half-devil creature with horns, fur, and chains, roams the streets looking for misbehaving children during early December.

Krampus originated from pre-Christian pagan rituals for the winter solstice and was incorporated into Christian traditions by the Middle Ages. The name comes from the German word "Krampen," meaning "claw." He serves as the evil counterpart to Saint Nicholas—while St. Nick rewards good children with gifts on December 6, Krampus punishes the naughty with birch switches or, according to legend, carries them away in his basket.

Today's Krampuslauf (Krampus Run) features elaborate parades where young men dress in handcrafted costumes—masks can cost up to €1,000—and parade through streets with clattering chains and cowbells. The tradition was actually banned by the Austrian government in the 1930s and again during fascist regimes, but it experienced a powerful revival in recent decades. What began as a frightening deterrent has evolved into a beloved cultural spectacle that attracts thousands of spectators annually.

Icelandic children don't get one Santa Claus—they get thirteen troll brothers called the Yule Lads (Jólasveinar). Starting thirteen nights before Christmas, one lad descends from the mountains each evening, leaving small gifts in shoes placed on windowsills. Well-behaved children receive candy or treats; naughty ones wake up to rotten potatoes.

These characters first appeared in 17th-century texts but were codified in 1932 through a popular poem by Jóhannes úr Kötlum. Each brother has a distinctive name reflecting his quirky personality: Sheep-Cote Clod (who harasses sheep), Spoon-Licker, Door-Slammer, Candle-Stealer, and more. Originally portrayed as frightening kidnappers of misbehaving children, they evolved into more benevolent gift-givers in the 20th century, influenced by the Santa Claus tradition.

The Yule Lads come with equally fascinating relatives: their mother Grýla, a child-eating ogress who makes stew from naughty children, and the Yule Cat, a massive feline that devours anyone not wearing new clothes by Christmas. These folklore figures reflect Iceland's harsh historical conditions and served as powerful incentives for good behavior during long, dark winters.

Portuguese families observe a poignant tradition during their Christmas Eve feast called Consoada (from the Latin consolare, meaning "to comfort"). They set extra places at the dining table for recently deceased relatives, complete with candles burning throughout the night to warm and comfort their souls.

This custom, rooted in ancient agricultural practices, also involves leaving breadcrumbs on the hearth—a remnant of the old tradition of entrusting seeds to the dead in hopes of a bountiful harvest. The meal typically features bacalhau (salted cod), boiled potatoes, Portuguese cabbage, and eggs, followed by regional desserts.

Families believe this practice brings good fortune and keeps loved ones spiritually connected during the festivities. After the meal, many leave tables undisturbed, allowing the spirits of ancestors to partake in the feast's remnants. This centuries-old custom beautifully bridges the realms of the living and the departed, making Christmas a truly inclusive family gathering.

In Japan, where Christmas isn't even a national holiday, an estimated 3.6 million people celebrate with a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. This isn't ancient folklore—it's modern marketing genius.

The tradition began in 1974 when KFC launched a wildly successful campaign with the slogan "Kurisumasu ni wa Kentakkii!" (Kentucky for Christmas!). The company convinced Japanese consumers that fried chicken was a traditional American Christmas feast. Combined with small Japanese ovens that couldn't accommodate roasting turkeys, the campaign created a phenomenon.

Today, families reserve their KFC Christmas meals weeks in advance. The "party barrels" have become so popular that people queue for hours to collect their festive fried chicken. While it may seem commercial compared to centuries-old traditions, it demonstrates how new customs can quickly become embedded in culture—and how Christmas traditions continue evolving worldwide.