Halloween is the one day each year when I miss my home in North America more than any other. Halloween in Europe reminds me that I am a stranger in a strange land.
Halloween is about empowerment. Kids are encouraged to be someone else, to ask boldly of strangers. By contrast, two teenagers stood on our doorstep in Belgium some years ago. They were dressed as bedsheet ghosts, the lamest of costumes. They mumbled “Tricks or Treats”. Clearly novices. I gently pointed out that (a) I had no candy, because (b) it was October 29th so, wrong night, and (c) it was technically the singular, Trick or Treat, no “s”. But they only spoke Flemish. So things sort of broke down at that point. I gave them some apples. We looked awkwardly at one another through the eye-holes in their sheets before they wandered off.
Halloween is about excess: mountains of candy, over the top decorations, sugar-induced meltdowns. These are not only tolerated, but celebrated. Europeans are just hardwired not to go there. Tonight we placed our jack-o-lantern and a bowl of candy at the far end of our long Swiss laneway. Several times this evening I walked out to replenish the bowl. I need not have bothered. Apparently each Swiss child only took one candy each. Only one item from an unsupervised bowl of free candy? Come on! That would NEVER happen at home. Where I come from, this is what happens.
Halloween is about being unselfconscious, both for kids and parents alike. But our Euro-neighbors never let it all hang out. They stand together in svelte black slacks eating canapé and sipping wine while their kids circulate politely around the neighborhood. By contrast, my neighbor in Maryland used to rig a microphone to a speaker hidden in the pumpkin at the end of his driveway. As trick-or-treaters approached his home, to their delight the pumpkin would comment on their wonderful costumes. But in the spirit of unselfconscious excess, this neighbor also hit the booze pretty hard on Halloween. As the night progressed, the talking pumpkin became more belligerent. Alas, no drunken pumpkins in Europe.
Halloween is an intoxicating mix of fun and fear. At the consulate in Switzerland, Marines in camo hide in a darkened hallway that leads to the family Halloween party-room. They step out of the shadows as families pass down the hall. The result is lots of screams and more than one soiled unicorn costume. Take that, Geneva Convention!
I truly love living in Europe. But on Halloween, I miss my home.
Bonus – This just in from stateside friends as this blog post went to press: I had to stop tricks or treatsing early this year because I spilled my red wine all over the head and back of my youngest in her stroller. Don’t worry, the Asian costume makers didn’t use cotton, so the polywhateveritwas fabric didn’t absorb the red wine. Add that to the fact that the costume was way too big for her anyways, and that magic means she can wear it again next year! Woot!!! I’m totally winning at this parenting gig, let me tell you!
[If you know someone else who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them the link to WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]
