Day 18: A Surprise Birthday Party

Sunday was our travel day, so we made sure we were packed up and checked in to our flights. We went to Vanni down the street for a light breakfast, then met our car to take us to the airport. Mary Beth and I took in one last look at Rome before our departure.

We got through the Rome airport and onto our plane with little incident (other than having to wait in line to pay for an extra bag to check). We did, however, vow to be a little smarter with our bag-packing strategies to economize.

After a three-hour flight, we touched down in Amsterdam en route to Luxembourg. After asking, the social media consensus was that a stop at the airport does not count as “visiting” a city, so apparently I don’t get to add Holland to my list of countries. I do wonder if there is a critical mass of souvenirs purchased at the airport to change that rule, though.

We got back on the plane for the short hop to Luxembourg. After picking up our luggage, we took a remarkably expensive taxi to the hotel in downtown Luxembourg City.

It didn’t take long to tell that “remarkably expensive” could very well be a theme for our stay in Luxembourg. After our time in the noise and chaos of Rome, Luxembourg felt positively pastoral. It was a beautiful day, with bright blue skies and the green of the trees setting against the houses and businesses of the city.

In many ways, it was a question of scale. Rome has a population of 2.7 million. Luxembourg City has a population of less than 100,000. Rome is dirty, noisy, loud, and chaotic. Luxembourg City is quiet, peaceful, and very modern.

Our taxi driver informed us that we have arrived on Luxembourg’s national holiday, the official birthday of the Grand Duke. Luxembourg, like many other European countries, has a ceremonial monarch, in this case the Grand Duke. His (or her, if it’s the Grand Duchess) birthday is officially celebrated on June 23 with fireworks at midnight the night before and a day off of work.

We checked into the Park Inn, a modern hotel right in the middle of downtown Luxembourg City. Everything the Hotel della Vittore was—old, filled with history—the Park Inn was not—an elevator in front of a shoe store leading up to a reception area and bar filled with modern furniture and fixtures.

We settled into the hotel room, and rearranged our luggage to avoid an extra bag fee when we leave. We then headed out to find dinner. We ended up at a Brazilian restaurant, ordering from a waitress who knew as much English as we knew French. But we ended up getting dinner ordered, salmon for Mary Beth and beef for me, both of which were excellent.

We headed back to the hotel, figuring that we would have the day tomorrow to explore. The plan was to rest up and go out to see the fireworks. But by the time Mary Beth got back to the hotel room and showered, she was just done. So around 10:30, I ventured out on my own.

I will admit to feeling intimidated again. There were a lot of people out on the streets who were way younger, way cooler, and way richer than I was (although admittedly on all of those fronts, not a terribly high bar), and I wasn’t really oriented yet. So I just wandered a little, trying to make sure I was somewhere near where the fireworks were going to go off.

There were a lot of street concerts going, playing an amazing collection of music. Basically, it seemed like the music would go from God-awful techno music to American classics like “It’s Raining Men,” “Mainac” from Flashdance, and the Monkees’ version of “I’m a Believer.”

But this was Luxembourg’s version of Independence Day, and there was no Lee Greenwood. So, the point is awarded to Luxembourg.

As it got dark, the assembled crowd waited for the fireworks to start. I really had no idea where anything was, so I was following the crowd who were assembling around the edge of a valley with a large castle on the other side of the gorge. But the fireworks started going off behind us. The crowd, seeming surprised, started moving towards the fireworks.

It got a little nuts at that point. As the fireworks got going, the crowd started going from a walk to a trot to something bordering on a sprint to see the show. I discovered that Luxembourg City has a number of very tight, hilly streets with cobblestone pavers. As the fireworks went off, the explosions thundered down the narrow streets, while lights and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. With the street signs in French and the Luxembourg flag bearing a striking resemblance to the French flag, running through the streets did have a little bit of a “Les Miserables” feel to it. But don’t worry, I didn’t embarrass America by breaking into song (although I was tempted ...)

I did end up finding a nice place to watch the show, after seeing another guy in a USA jersey preparing for the Portugal game later that evening. The music never stopped (although it never went Lee Greenwood, so bonus) as the fireworks went off. Once the show was over, I packed up and began to head back to the hotel.

Or, at least that was the plan. Funny thing about running with a crowd. You don’t really pay a lot of attention to exactly where you’re running.  Couple that with my sense of direction being bad enough that I need GPS help to find my way out of a parking lot and I realized I had a bit of a problem. I was in a foreign country, where pretty much no one speaks English, near midnight, and I really had no earthly idea where I was or how to find my way back to the hotel.

I summoned all of my navigational skills (meaning I took a wild guess) and started down one of the streets. I figured, how big could Luxembourg City be, this won’t be so hard. Well, about a half hour later, after fighting my way through crowds and coming upon unpassable congestion, I became concerned I would miss the start of the USA-Portugal game.

I kept walking, looking for something familiar. Everywhere I went, the thumping sounds of techno music or DJ collections from various bars filled the night air. But, again, no Lee Greenwood, so I was totally cool with it. My concerns became less about missing the game and more about missing the flight out of Luxembourg on Tuesday. The good part about the whole experience was that I was seeing a whole bunch of cool stuff that would be neat to see the following day. The bad part was that I was so lost, there would be little chance I could find it again.

But eventually I did find the Place de Arms, which our taxi driver told us about, and was able to navigate the streets from there back to the bridge and our hotel. Once I had figured that out, my confidence returned. Much like the night before in Rome, I felt pretty good about myself, heading out into the Luxembourg night to experience their holiday, and finding my way back home. I even got a couple of heavily-accented "Yoo-Ess-Ehh" chants from very drunk (but very friendly) locals as I walked by. The bridge was closed to vehicle traffic, so I walked back right down the middle of the street.

Like a boss, baby.

I got back to the hotel when I noticed the Golden Arches just past the hotel entrance. I thought, why not, and stopped in for a midnight snack. Just as I walked in, the USA-Portugal game was beginning. It couldn’t have worked out much better.

I ordered a quarter pounder with cheese (OK, it said a “royale” on the menu, but we all know what that means) and a soda and sat down to watch the game. As I sat looking at the assembled people, speaking French and German and Portuguese and Japanese and probably two or three other languages while eating their Big Macs, I couldn’t help a little feeling that America had won something already.

I noticed that a number of Portuguese kids had assembled inside the restaurant to watch the game as well—Luxembourg has a fairly large Portuguese population, and it seemed for that moment like they were all in the McDonald’s watching the game with me. It became particularly clear when Portugal scored in the fifth minute (off a horrendous clearance from Geoff Cameron—perhaps playing a right back as a center back in a World Cup against the no. 4 team in the world might not be the best idea) and the restaurant erupted with a huge cry of “Naniiiiiiiiiiiii!”

At that point, I was pretty sure that my white USA jersey was glowing in the dark. I shrunk down and kept quiet as the Portuguese kids celebrated. I stayed for the end of the first half, with the US losing 1-0, and headed back to the hotel room. I got in, turned on the TV, and streamed the ESPN radio call (Tommy Smythe and all—not Lee Greenwood, but a close second in teeth-gnashing awfulness) through my headphones to avoid waking Mary Beth.

I did manage to not wake her up when Jermaine Jones hit a thunderbolt to tie the score. I did not manage to stay quiet enough when Clint Dempsey gave the US the lead off his stomach (like a boss). And I’m not at all proud of the noises I made when Portugal tied the score just before the end of the game.

So, happy (official) birthday to Grand Duke Henri, and thanks for letting me share in your party. Tomorrow’s sightseeing will, hopefully, be a little less exciting.