Latvian Santa Claus goes by the charming moniker of Ziemmassve'tku veci'tis, or "Big Zimmer" for short. Old Zimzy is required to bring presents on each of the twelve days of Christmas — they work their Santa like a mule, make no mistake. Latvia also apparently holds the honor of inventing the Christmas tree. The next time you want a peek into the thought processes of a Latvian, keep in mind that they were the first people to decide, apropos of nothing, to chop down a tree and cover it with sprinkles.  

Like Estonia, J.C. is nowhere to be found among the Christmas festivities. Instead, Latvians commemorate the rebirth of the Sun Maiden, a shifty-sounding girl who goes by the names Saule, Saulé, Motule, Saules, Mate and many others. If you think it sounds a little suspicious to need this many names for the relatively simple business of pulling the sun around the sky on a golden-wheeled fire chariot, you're not alone.

The best-known Latvian Christmas tradition is an odd custom called mumming. "Mummers" wear an assortment of masks, the most traditional bearing the likeness bears, horses, goats, haystacks, gypsies, and, delightfully, living corpses. A bear or a goat would be pretty easy to pull off, but you've got to hand it to any Latvian designer given the thankless task of coming up with a haystack costume. Getting instructions like "It has to look exactly like a haystack, but with arms and legs and eyes and a face" every year would dampen the spirit of someone who didn't live in Latvia.