Down in the campo, the flagpole is holding up under an enormous flag, so high for the mast that it drapes down nearly to the ground. One of the newspapers came with a copy of the text of the constitution. The streets are quiet for the one-off national holiday, most of the shops closed. Many of their windows have tastefully color-coded pieces of nationalism in the country's three colors. The canals are quiet too, with no deliveries.
The Casinò has free entry this evening, in honor of the celebrations, but three-fifths of us did not think to bring ID to enable us to look around the building. We wait for the remaining two-fifths in an entry hall approximately three times the size of my entire house, although the decorations are second-rate. On the way home, we pass clusters of drinkers outside of bars, many of them wearing high-topped Guiness hats in honor of the day, whatever it is.