Now is the best and worst time to travel, for the holiday season is upon us.
It is the best time to travel because there is a definitive excitement in the air. People scurry about in airports and onto buses clutching larger-than-necessary bags. The RyanAir flight attendants were actually nice to me on my last trip. Jerome kindly handed me a napkin to put under my drooling neighbor’s chin as he napped upon my shoulder.
All over the world people are willingly scrambling into the mad crush of pre-holiday shopping to accomplish last minute errands. To me this manifests hope. No, I am not impressed by the ridiculously-sized-bright-red-box-that-you-are -struggling-to-carry-down-the-street-sir, nor am I impressed with the commercialism of it all. But I am impressed with the best kept secret in the world, Santa Claus. I am impressed with the people who take time to indulge in age-old family traditions. And I am impressed with the load of customs in the world which I have yet to discover and participate in!
The Irish are preparing for Santa’s arrival by baking Shephard’s Pies and buying extra pints of Guinness to be left by the fireside on Christmas Eve. Apparently Santa stops in Ireland for dinner before heading to the USA for a desert of milk and cookies. I have been informed that like Valentine’s Day, Saint Patrick’s Day and Halloween, the tradition of placing a round wreath of holly in the windows and the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe originated in Ireland. Holly is a dominate bush here, and mistletoe can be found on almost every tree. The red berries of the Holly are said to bring good luck to the family as long as they are in the window. It is considered bad luck to take down any Christmas decorations before Little Christmas (January 6th). Also, in case you want to know, originally mistletoe was only good for as many kisses as there were berries on the sprig…Nollaig Shana Duit!
In Holland bakers create intricate window displays composed entirely of marzipan sweets; you have but to imagine any figure you like and it will be made for you. Street vendors selling frites, appleflappens and steaming Stroopwaffles, dripping molten Caramel, temp the browsing shopper at Christmas Markets. Saint Nicolas and his servant Rupert often appear at the markets, miraculously starring in simultaneous appearances all over the country it seems. On December 6th every child in the family receives a treat in his or her shoes, rather than getting presents in a stocking on December 25th. On the eve of December 6th, children place Marzipan carrots out on the doorstep for Saint Nick’s horses, shine their shoes and decorate a place-matt upon which to leave their shoes. If the child has been naughty during the year he or she is given a birch switch rather than the traditional chocolate initials of his or her first name…
Vrolijk Kersteest en een Gelukkig Nieuwjaar!
In France families in the country have begun burning their yule fire and will continue to do so until Christmas Day. In the city people have yule cakes, cakes wrapped into log shape, to eat instead. The tradition of having a Christmas tree is still rather new for the French, but is catching on quickly. The tree is brought into the house a few days before Christmas and left undecorated in a stand. On December 24th children leave their shoes out by the tree and overnight Pere Noel fills the shoes with presents and decorates the tree. It is also a new tradition to leave a yule log cake out for Pere Noel, he needs a snack between dinner in Ireland and desert in the USA apparently…Joeyoux Noel!
Even I must concede that the holidays can be the worst times for travel. Every year thousands of people get stranded in airports due to over packed flights, snowstorms or delays. People over-spend on epic vacations and presents, drawing-up debt with Scrooge collectors. Sometimes all of the travel just does not seem worth it even after you arrive, once in a while you realize you would rather just be at home.
“The holidays are lonely for adults” Pat-the-dictionary-man sagely observes. His wife died in July, this will be the first year in fifty-six years she isn’t at his side on Christmas morning. “This holiday season is for the children really”, my employers tell me with condescending head nods. Their extended families do not get along, therefore holidays simply present opportunities for strife…
But for me the holidays are what you make them. This year I have been granted the privilege of introducing Thanksgiving Day to the Irish neighborhood of Dunany. Though this is a traditional USA holiday, for me it is the meaning behind the day which carries the significance, not the place or the specific holiday dishes. My Irish neighbors were intrigued by my customs, participating fully in the days events including eating my slightly-crispier-than-normal-meal and fulfilling my Thanksgiving Day to the utmost carrying-on a rousing discussion of what we Should and Should Not be thankful for in general…
It is my hope that as the holiday season progresses I in turn will be able to partake in their traditions as gracefully and joyfully as they did in mine, celebrating the event and the time itself, no matter where the shoes and stockings hang, no matter where I am, nor who I am with. And may that be truly said of all of us; so as Tiny Tim observed “Gee that goose is as big as me!”
intrepid trekking 
