You’d think that the Catalan tradition of beating the crap out of a pooing log would be a hard holiday celebration to top. But not far away the locals’ Christmas tale involves suicide and being burned to death. Yup, that’s what happens when you mingle Spanish and French blood – a fiery disposition and way too much melodrama, even if it is the holiday season. But every culture needs its own version of the spirit of the winter solstice, and if you are Basque, a fat guy dressed in red shimmying down chimneys is just too festive and ain’t gonna cut it. ‘Cuz where’s the doom and gloom in that?

In the Basque Country they tell the tale of Olentzero, a Jentilak (giants in Basque mythology) who lived with his tribe in the forests of the Pyrenees mountains. One day his peeps discovered a glowing cloud in the sky. They feared that this celestial phenomenon was the divine sign of the arrival of the imminent birth of Jesus. While the rest of the world took this sign as a positive one, began rejoicing, or packing their camels to head to the little town of Bethlehem, the Jentilak saw it as a ominous one, possibly correctly foretelling the eventual rise of a Catholic Pope and the hundreds of years of war, torture, and death that passed as the manner in which one celebrated religion in those days. But unless you are Mayan, you don’t make predictions of the end of humanity as you know it lightly. So they turned to a blind grumpy old man for confirmation. That was Olentzero, and he confirmed their wildest fears. “Yes, this is the sign, Jesus will be born soon,” he told them.

If they’d checked with someone younger who had better eyesight, the tale would end there. But as you know if you have ever had to listen to an octogenarian ramble on and on and on and on, old people love to hear themselves talk. And Olentzero went one better, since his vision was lacking he shared his visions instead. And like with those grumpy old men who routinely post on the Gay Thailand forums, nothing he had to say was productive or positive.

Now the similarities between Olentzero and Pattaya expats don’t end there. He too was a thick glutton who could eat huge quantities of food which he washed down with strong liquor. No surprise, he was frequently drunk and almost always irritable. And like the board pundits, he had a fondness for predicting the demise of established institutions. So in the spirit of the winter solstice (because Christmas was still a holiday of the future, or at least until the no-really-I’ve-never-been-with-anyone-else Mary dropped her little brat) Olentzero foretold vast changes in the world and the end of the Jentilak’s way of life, blaming it all on an under-aged boy born in a small rural village far, far away.

Of course Olentzero too believed his own story, as depressing as it was, because like board pundits once he said it he assumed it was a fact and had to defend his assertion regardless of the consequences. In those days they did not have balconies. But they did have cliffs. So Olentzero did what despondent, drunk, old men too often do and decided to end it all with one mighty flying leap from the heights. But being not only old but almost blind to boot, Olentzero couldn’t get up to the cliff himself, so he asked a band of his fellow not-merry men for an assist. Unfortunately, they too had been downing copious amounts of 99 baht beer and ended up tripping head over heels and falling to their own deaths instead.

Olentzero was the sole survivor. And boy was he pissed that the damn losers he’d thought were friends had stole his limelight. So he hiked to the villages in the valley below and used his sickle to brutally cut the throat of the people who were enjoying their 24th of December holiday. Because even centuries ago, like today, grumpy old men dissatisfied with their fate in life absolutely hate anyone who is not as miserable as they are.

Olentzero’s tale isn’t exactly the cheery Christmas feel-good story that other cultures went with, so the Basque people decided a rewrite was in order, much in the same way as the studio just recut Tom Cruise’s Jack Reacher movie for its Christmas Day release because of an equally not feel-good recent current event. But just like Tom can not help himself for being gay, the Basques can’t keep themselves from being Basque, so the newer version of the story of Olentzero isn’t much better. Nor do I expect Jack Reacher to be much improved since they really fucked up in casting Tom in that part to begin with. I hope Lee Child enjoys the money they paid him because he just doomed a literary franchise.

Olentzero, The Sequel starts off nice enough – the story’s details I won’t bother you with because they are as unimportant as Tom’s sham marriage to Katie was, though I will mention that Olentzero’s tale too miraculously produced a baby girl. And who said fairy tales can’t come true? The good part is the ending, and the rewrite ends with Olentzero burning to death in a cottage fire. Which at least isn’t quite as brutal as his previous Texas Chainsaw Massacre tale ending. But it did leave the Basque people stumped, having to choose between sliced opened throats and death by fire, so they adopted both for their current holiday festivities.

As you’ve probably figured out if you’ve been reading this year’s 12 Gays of Christmas posts, the one thing every culture can agree on when it comes to Christmas stories, is that there has to be an element to terrorize your children with. The Basques tell theirs that if they don’t behave Olentzero will come to cut their throats; often they drop a sickle down the chimney as a warning of things to come. Their nod to Olentzero II is the popular holiday pastime of burning effigies of the giant in the city’s streets. Exterior household light displays must be a real bitch to pull off well in the Basque Country.

Today Olentzero is celebrated all over the Basque Country and coexists with the Magi, Père Noël and Father Christmas, with some families choosing to celebrate one or more at the same time just like the Thais in Pattaya are Buddhists but embrace any other religion’s gods who will bring some money their way. Just don’t tell them about Olentzero because they deal with his dopplingers every day and might end up losing their faith.

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