Finally: One of the Christmas traditions here in Spain that I approve of wholeheartedly is the preparation and consumption of an enormous amount of seafood. Until I came here, I had no idea how large a percentage of the Spanish diet came from the sea. This is true year-round, but at Christmastime, it really gets out of hand. I'm one of those who feels no particular affinity for religious holidays, but can enjoy some of the rituals (and food) associated with them. Christmas in Spain has always been a joyful time for me.

Until this year.

The wreck of the oil tanker Prestige has inundated the Spanish coast with black, gooey, toxic crud. Thousands of Spanish fisherman are now unemployed due to the massive fishkill. President Jose Maria Aznar has not yet gotten around to visiting the disaster area personally, and the cleanup effort is progressing at an excruciatingly slow pace. Some 60 million tonnes of oil remain in the sunken tanker's hold, and appear to be slowly leaking out and making their way to the surface.

No fish?

This year in Spain, people are rushing around looking for alternative recipes for their Christmas dinners. Sausage appears to be the replacement meat of choice in my neighborhood. I may stay home and make grilled-cheese sandwiches (plus vodka).

Thus.

In a real and a metaphorical sense, this holiday season seems to be steeped in oil. George W. Bush is bound and determined to start a war over it. People all over the world are oppressed so that a small handful of powerful men can keep control over it. And I'm not getting my Christmas fish dinner because of it. Oil, I'm starting to believe, is no damn good for anybody.

The End: It isn't really the end, of course. There's no such thing as "the end". But it is time to close the doors, sweep out the cobwebs, and get everything ready for next year's big premiere. Should be quite a party. I hope to see you all there.

All the very best,

Newton