As New Year’s Eve approaches, the most significant holiday in Russia, Sergei, a 30-year-old IT professional now living in Romania, shared his plans to watch the full version of “The Irony of Fate,” the beloved 1975 romantic comedy traditionally viewed during the New Year celebrations in Russia, for the first time.
“It’s a peculiar ritual that dates back to the U.S.S.R., yet there’s something comforting about it,” Sergei remarked.
He is among the approximately 650,000 Russians who left their homeland after the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, many of whom have yet to return due to fears of persecution for opposing the war, severed familial bonds, or a moral aversion to a country that continues to wage conflict.
For these individuals, embracing classic Russian New Year traditions can provide a sense of connection to their homeland from a distance and allows them to share elements of their culture with their new communities.
In a discussion with The Moscow Times, seven Russian émigrés who relocated following the invasion of Ukraine recounted their New Year celebrations in various countries around the globe.
What emerged was a narrative of a diaspora community welcoming the new year, infused with nostalgia for their lives before the war, an eagerness to embrace their new environments, and a commitment to hold onto familiar traditions—complete with plenty of Olivier salad.
Some names and identifying information have been withheld for safety. Interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.
Manya Koneva, 28, Dubai
“This year, I celebrated Christmas on December 25 for the first time. In Dubai, I’ve made friends with some Europeans who invited me to Christmas dinner. I can’t say it differs significantly from our New Year’s festivities, except for the date, and the absence of a clock striking midnight or an address from Putin.
My mostly French friends had never tried Olivier salad, so it was important for me to prepare a large batch. However, sourcing doctor’s sausage in Dubai was a challenge since it includes pork. I visited several shops with non-halal sections to find it. My friends loved the salad, and we enjoyed the leftovers for breakfast the next morning. It reminded me of home, where we always have Olivier salad for breakfast on January 1. I think it tastes even better then.
Celebrating New Year’s Eve in Dubai is surreal: summer warmth and sand instead of snow. But it’s still a reason for me to gather with friends from Russia, toast with champagne, and momentarily feel at home. On January 1, I plan to rewatch ‘Ivan Vasilyevich Changes His Profession’—this time with French subtitles.”
Sergei, 30, IT professional, Bucharest, Romania
“Olivier salad is an essential part of our New Year celebrations. The trio of Olivier salad, mandarins, and salmon roe embodies the essence of New Year’s for me. Although I’m currently in Bucharest, I’ll be ringing in the New Year in Serbia with my partner. I still hope to create a proper celebration this year—cooking salads and watching ‘The Irony of Fate’—a film I’ve never seen in full. It’s a quirky tradition from the U.S.S.R., but it has a certain warmth to it. Will I succeed? I’m uncertain…
Since leaving Russia, I’ve come to appreciate New Year’s more. It feels like a meaningful way to stay connected to my culture and traditions while abroad. Yet there’s still a part of me that thinks, ‘Well, we could just skip it and go to bed,’ a sentiment I often had back in Russia.”
Anfisa, 29, animator, Paris
“This is my first Christmas and New Year’s in France. For New Year’s Eve, I’m planning to gather a big group of friends to prepare Olivier salad. My mother used to make New Year sandwiches: baguette, pesto, and melted Camembert, and I want to recreate those here. These are quintessentially French items, yet they remind me of family gatherings. Luckily, there’s a Russian store nearby where I can buy red caviar to share with my friends.
I’ll probably watch ‘Home Alone’ as it resonates with my childhood and feels like home more than Soviet films. I never cared for ‘The Irony of Fate.’ At midnight, we will ring in the New Year with chimes—minus Putin—and we’ll tune into Yekaterina Schulmann’s New Year’s message.”
Lena, 34, Tbilisi, Georgia
“For me, having a real Christmas tree is vital. Growing up, that was the tradition in my family home. I thought I’d give it up when I moved from my small town to Moscow, as finding the perfect tree is more challenging in a big city without a car. But I couldn’t let go of the tradition. The hunt, the joy of finally finding the right tree, and the struggle to get it home on public transport became part of the ritual.
In Tbilisi, they don’t carry my favorite type of tree, and I had to search each market for that distinct pine scent we have in Russia. I paid quite a bit for it, but once I bring home that fragrant tree, I feel like I’m truly home. Decorating it transports me back to my childhood, bringing back carefree moments filled with simple joys and memories of my parents’ home.”
Dasha, 30, Canada
“This will be my third New Year’s Eve in Canada, living with my Lebanese husband. For him, and for many Canadians, New Year’s isn’t the primary holiday—Christmas holds more significance.
I’m piecing together my New Year’s customs: making Olivier salad, buying kilos of mandarins, and searching for red caviar in Russian stores to recreate the essence of a familiar holiday.
This year, my friends and I attended a screening of the Soviet cartoon ‘The Snow Queen.’ It was surprisingly shown at a small independent cinema, in Russian with English subtitles. For an immigrant, this opportunity to share my culture with others is invaluable.
At times, the absurdity of cultural differences becomes clear. I tried explaining the plot of ‘The Irony of Fate’ to my husband: a group of men gets drunk in a banya, send the wrong guy on a plane, and he unexpectedly enters the flat of a woman who is not opposed to it, and then they fall in love. This is the film that the entire country watches every New Year.”
Yekaterina, 29, Valencia, Spain
“I don’t sense the New Year’s spirit in southern Spain. The juxtaposition of a palm tree next to a Christmas tree feels so disjointed to me. This will be my second New Year’s celebration here. Salads, sparkling wine, and 2000s musicals are essential—at least they help create a festive mood.
This year, we’re celebrating with a small group of Russian speakers and have invited friends from other nations. Salads are our mainstay—herring under a fur coat and Olivier. New Year’s Eve is the only time I indulge in so much mayonnaise. I haven’t fully embraced Spanish customs yet because they don’t have many traditions for this holiday.
I can’t say I genuinely miss my past New Year celebrations, but I do long for those childhood moments spent with my parents. Everyone was healthy and lively, I received numerous gifts, and life was carefree. I fondly remember 2005, which was just beginning; I felt excited for the festivities and riding a pony by the Christmas tree, then watching animated films like ‘Shrek’ and ‘Ice Age’ until January 7. Everything seemed different then—it could be that I was free from worries, or perhaps life genuinely was easier. Who can say?”
Kirill, Berlin
“My girlfriend and I left Russia about a month after the war broke out, right after I spent 15 days in a detention facility near St. Petersburg for participating in an anti-war protest.
I have mixed feelings about celebrating New Year’s abroad. On one hand, there’s an adventurous quality to it since every year is unique. On the other hand, it’s challenging to accept that I’m not celebrating midnight simultaneously with my family and friends.
The easiest path is to maintain my Russian identity and celebrate in the traditional way. Typically, we would buy the same products we would in Russia, making it a bit more complicated to organize. Nonetheless, even without Russian television, we still watch classic Soviet films, as that has become part of our tradition. We will likely tune into some kind of address, possibly even Zelensky’s instead of Putin’s.
Overall, if I can fulfill these traditions, it’s possible to recreate the ambiance of a Russian New Year and feel less isolated. Yet, there are subtle differences—like time zones, political dissimilarities, varied tastes in food, and being separated from friends—that constantly remind you of your distance from home.
Still, I’m willing to navigate the inconveniences of celebrating New Year’s in a foreign land if it means avoiding a return to Russia. In Russia, media outlets frequently discuss how our soldiers are on the front lines, urging a sense of unity with them. I don’t desire that sense of unity at all. I don’t regard them as fellow citizens, and I have little interest in how they celebrate the New Year. In contrast, I prefer to maintain as much distance from them as possible.”
