SLOVENIA: Slovenes are not overly excited about joining the EU tomorrow. In fact, Enda O'Doherty detected a whiff of nostalgia for the past.. .
Pet, stiri, tri, ena, nic (five, four, three, two, one, zero in Slovenian). Slovenia's countdown to EU membership is almost complete and the whole country is looking forward to the great day tomorrow with - well, what must be either dignified calm or total indifference. I have managed over the past week to travel from Ormoz in the northeast to Piran on the Adriatic coast without seeing as much as one EU flag fluttering.
Certainly there will be a holiday spirit abroad at the weekend and events are planned in many towns and villages. But how much of the gaiety will be due to the traditional feasts of St John's Eve and Labour Day and how much for EU accession it is hard to say. Then again, perhaps the flags are neatly stored in town halls across the country and will appear miraculously on poles at dawn on Saturday.
Efficiency and lack of fuss are what one quickly comes to expect in this small central European republic, which has always been more peaceful and ordered than its often turbulent southern Balkan neighbours. As a people, Slovenes are somewhat reserved, inhibited one might almost say if one had not seen them at a Saturday night country dance.
Their tourism product is distinguished by spectacular scenery, excellent food, modest prices and spotless cleanliness - at the moment they appear to be preparing for the toilet olympics - but Slovenian waiters have yet to master that cheerful insincerity which adds such lustre to the Irish fáilte.
Joining something bigger than themselves is nothing new for Slovenes. They were a peaceful part of the Holy Roman Empire at a time when Ireland was a collection of warring clans. Later came rule from Vienna under the Habsburgs. The Habsburg province of Styria straddles today's border - Steiermark in Austria, Stajerska in Slovenia - and the links are still strong. After the collapse of the Habsburgs in 1918, Slovenia became part of the new state of Yugoslavia, which went communist under Tito in 1945. In 1991, after a brief war which left 66 people dead, it became independent.
Communism enjoyed considerably more popular support in Yugoslavia than in, say, Poland or Hungary and its achievements were not negligible. Monuments to the war dead are to be seen in many villages on which the partisan star still encloses the communist hammer and sickle. Who would remove it?
Here in Piran, an Adriatic jewel whose future, for better or worse, must surely be as a playground for the international yachting set, a photograph of Marshal Tito looks down on the customers of the working class Bar Fornace. The nostalgia is perhaps not surprising; more bizarre are the nearby street signs - Leninova Ulica, Engelsova Ulica and Bratstva Trg (Lenin Street, Engels Street, Brotherhood Square). Clearly there are still some old believers on Piran's town council.
Some Slovenian intellectuals have expressed fears for the survival of the country's language and culture. Will this nation of two million people be able to retain its identity in the new Europe?
Piran (Pirano in Italian) was for many centuries a Venetian city and its most distinguished architecture dates from this period. Its most famous citizen was the baroque violinist and composer Giuseppe Tartini.
Today Slovenian, Italian and German are commonly spoken on its streets. In the bars, however, it is the music of Anglo-America which blares out everywhere and on the T-shirts and baseball caps of the young there is never to be seen a Slavic word.
Perhaps if there is indeed a threat to Slovenian culture it does not come from Brussels.