Christmas, the one thing that arrives early in Colombia

@wwaycorrigan

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Back in my largely innocent childhood days one of the most depressing times was when Christmas came to an end. In fact, the painful comedown started to kick in shortly after 25 December.

Decking out the place for Christmas ... in October.

Everything was building up to the giddy excitement of early on Christmas morning, discovering all the goodies Santa had delivered — they were never in doubt, seeing how I was such a little angel all year.

Quick-fire Christmas

So, while the afterglow lasted for a period, the sad realisation that I'd have to wait another year for Mr Claus' arrival didn't take long to set in. Within a couple of days, the spectre of a return to school and 'normal' times began to play on my mind.

Now, I do recall the official — that is to say, putting up the decorations — Corrigan run-in to Christmas being fairly short. 

Amongst my village friends, our household would invariably be one of the last to be decked out. It wasn't unusual for some frantic decorating to still be happening on the 24th. 'Time enough for it', was the thinking, I guess. I'm pretty sure if it was left to my father, decorations wouldn't go up at all.

At the height of the Celtic Tiger years as Ireland embraced US-style flashiness, or superficiality you might say, and as I moved on from Santa, it pretty much became unacceptable for any respected family not to have their house 'Christmas ready' by mid-December. (At about the same time, again mimicking our Yankee cousins, Halloween decorations appeared to have become mandatory in many households.)

That being so, for what I assume is the majority of Irish people, rolling out the Christmas decorations before December is still a no-no. Five weeks of Christmas is enough, almost one-tenth of the year as it is. The fact that most radio stations hold off on playing festive tunes until at least 01 December is a sign of that.

'As a sufferer of depression, I can't help but think of her state of mind when she has to take down all these Christmas decorations, in mid-January at the earliest as it most likely will be.'

For a fair number of Colombian families, in contrast, the Yuletide yearning tends to show itself in earnest in October. While some might follow the 'let's at least get Halloween out of the way first' mantra — do note, the 'night of the dead' is a lively affair here — others have their sights set on Christmas.

Radio stations are complicit. The end-of-year hits are being banged out as soon as September ends.

In my current house share, the landlady is very much in this bring-on-Christmas brigade. For the last week, she's been, slowly but surely, kitting out the place. By the looks of things, not one inch of the house, the ground floor anyway, will be free from a festive covering.

Emotional moment

It doesn't bother me, as long as I don't have to do any of the decorating. I'm kind of indifferent to Christmas at this stage.

I do, however, slightly worry for the landlady herself. As somebody who appears to suffer from depression, I can't help but think of her state of mind when she has to take down all these decorations, in mid-January at the earliest as it most likely will be.

Of course, we all have downers after highs, it's natural. 'What goes up' and all that.

Yet, the lady of my current 'manor', considering her condition, seems to be putting herself through an unnecessary emotional high. I just hope she can manage the inevitable comedown when it's all over, when everything from the Santa dolls to the glittery balls has to be packed away.

You might say I'm being a bit of a curmudgeon, a Grinch even. I beg to differ. I like a party as much as the next person.

It's just that experience has taught me to try to not get too lost in the moment when surfing the high waves. That way, you'll generally be in a better position to manage the crash when it envelops you, you'll be able to avoid being drowned by emotions.

That's the theory, anyway. As ever, executing it in practice is usually much more difficult. At least we've covid-19 to keep us all in check this year.
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Pimp my isle

We Irish have been, and are, called many things but ostentatious can never really be one of them. In comparison to our brethren across the pond (the bigger pond that is), we tend to be quite a reserved bunch; then again, who isn’t when viewed in such a light?

Halloween — less substance, more shabby style?

Even at the height of the Celtic Tiger when many people had more (borrowed) money than sense, we never really became too brash or cocky. 

Sure we may have built to excess but we tended to stick to the ‘less talk, more action’ mantra. Things were ‘grand’ (in Ireland that means an ordinary 'fine'); you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone use that flamboyant, quintessentially North American word ‘awesome’.

Perhaps much of this was due to the fact that deep down, even if we didn’t outwardly acknowledge it, we knew our newfound (borrowed) wealth wouldn’t last.

So now that the arse has well and truly fallen out of our ‘mighty little’ economic miracle, you would think being showy is the last thing on our minds – considering, that is, that we traditionally don’t do it, it just doesn’t sit well with us at all. Rather than things being awesome, they’re just awkward.

Yet, as the dust settles on our gluttonous years, one obvious legacy, very much in evidence over the Halloween period, is the desire for young families to pimp up their homes for various events and festivities. 

OK, one might have expected a scaling up in this regard when the country was awash with (borrowed – get it?) money, but there appears to be no sign of scaling back now that we’ve returned to our ‘normal’ financial state (hard-pressed that is).

Christmas decorating predates the boom years and it’s not something we’ve too many misgivings about, although its arrival seems to get earlier and earlier each year with an accompanying increase in the lavishness of these Yuletide manifestations.

It’s the relatively recent uptake of Halloween folderol that has us scratching our heads. 

We’ve always recognised the day, of course – in fact, it’s an Irish festival, its roots going back to pagan times on the island. But the odd costume and trick-or-treater aside, we were never too bothered about jazzing up our houses and streets with a host of Halloween paraphernalia – we left that to the Yanks, in much the same way we ‘let’ them outdo us with the St Patrick’s Day celebrations.

That all seems to have changed now. Decorations are a prerequisite these days – fake spiders’ webs are hung up (while at the same time frantically sweeping away real ones), figures of witches and skeletons put on display and pumpkins are ‘planted’ in every corner of the house.

Decommissioned. 

Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with such practices – you could argue that they bring some lesser-spotted cheer to surroundings in these hard-pressed, almost gloomy times (the current state of play being far spookier than any contrived Halloween scare). 

However, when you’re preaching poverty to strait-laced neighbours who happen to be paying your way, being a bit flashy doesn’t send out the right signals, does it? 

It’s a bit like the struggling parents, who apparently never have money for anything, hiring a private photographer when it comes to their little Johnny’s or Mary’s Communion Day. Well come on, they couldn’t be expected to share the one laid on for the group or, whisper it, take their own amateur photos on such a momentous day.

Back to Halloween, how about returning to some of our more, um, traditional, simpler customs? 

The innocent days of kicking some old man’s hard-saved cabbage, launching fireworks and mild explosives at legitimate targets and subsequently getting chased by An Garda Síochána (the Irish police) appear lost in the past. Solid substance has been replaced by shallow style.

Come on guys, you know this showiness doesn’t suit us. It’s not always best practice to slavishly follow Mr and Mrs Jones.