j'accuse

This year’s fireworks heralding the New Year in Luxembourg kicked off fifteen minutes too early. I don’t know whether it was the rush to end a not so glamorous 365 days or a simple lack of communication between the two main squares in the Duchy that precipitated the early launching of the firework bonanza but whatever the case, we found ourselves looking up in awe at the multicoloured frozen spectacle much before the conventional ten seconds to midnight.

The extended family affair is almost over as I type and it has been an exhausting whirlwind tour of the Greater Region in subzero temperatures compounded by excess humidity and strong winds. We spent most of the last day of 2009 driving back to Luxembourg from the lowlands of Belgian Flanders and the Nord-Pas de Calais – only to just make it for the very Mitteleuropean style booze up in Place d’Armes. It’s not exactly Time Square or the London eye set ablaze but Luxembourg City’s gambit on extending the Christmas market’s stay in the main squares until the 3rd of January did reap its profits.

Ever the eager party-lovers we got to the center of town around an hour before “Heure-H”. After an early reconnoissance mission I concluded that this would probably be an assembly of misfits, passers-through and hangers on. Let’s face it – up until last night I do not think anyone must have put spending New Year’s Eve in Luxembourg high on their agenda. Still we soldiered on. It would be a warm up of mulled wine, raclette, fondue and the regionally ubiquitous “spaetzle mitt lardons” (it’s pasta Jean-Luc, but not as we know it) that would have to serve as the run up to the fateful countdown. Numerous checks and counterchecks on Tourist Board websites had provided the reassuring information that a “firework display” of some sort would be heralding the anno novo in the smallest European member state this side of Calabria.

There really was no need to worry whether this Christmas would be a white one or not. At least for the inhabitants of the Grand Duchy and their guests. It was the whole of Europe actually that got covered in a white mantle and experienced sub-zero temperatures of the coldest order. Chaos ensued as the trans-continental flight system was submerged in a flurry of delays and cancellations and some airports succumbed to Jack Frost by closing their doors completely.

Baggages and luggages got lost, misplaced and/or temporarily misdirected and more often than not holiday plans had to be redrafted. There is nothing worse than finally making it to your winter holiday destination and discovering that your luggage has not managed to stay the whole ride with you. Actually there is. It’s when you finally make it to your holiday destination sans valises and discover that the weather outside averages minus nine and there are seven inches of snow on every pavement.

It ain’t no laughing matter when you are obliged to navigate through the white, cold stuff wearing nothing more than what you chose to don before you left sunny Malta.

This article and accompanying Bertoon were published on The Malta Independent on Sunday (20th December 2009).

The business of gifts is in full swing now as we approach the celebration of another saturnalia engulfed in the final, rushed and panicked search for presents. Have your shopping habits shifted to the net? Are you still running around from one shop to another in search of that final elusive gift that will definitely be to the liking of the receiver? Or do you, like Sheldon, subscribe to the theory that there is no such thing as giving “gifts” but rather the granting of “obligations”? Or, as he put it more concisely: “The essence of the custom is that I now have to go out and purchase for you a gift of commensurate value and representing the same perceived level of friendship as that represented by the gift you’ve given me. It’s no wonder suicide rates skyrocket this time of year.”

Well yes, Christmas is also about exchanging pleasantries and receiving those odd gifts that you will dispose of at the first opportunity. In politics it is a time of fraternal love and happiness – a welcome truce that allows the hardened men and women a deserved rest from the business of representation and government. A time in which to calmly share the spoils of the past year with party members and constituents without having to worry about anything more than who will be driving home tonight – unless of course you are a Nationalist MP.